torch, flambeau@strangeplaces.net
August 7, 2011

Disclaimer: no. wah. Written for porn battle XII. The request was Zabuza/Haku, which this... sort of is, and the prompts I chose were devotion, tool, senbon. Do not archive without permission.

who understands and loves

Haku spread his tools out neatly and set about the familiar work, his hands moving at a steady pace. Senbon needed maintenance, just like any other tool, any other weapon. They needed to be kept sharp and well-balanced, untouched by any hint of rust; the poison, if any, needed to be fresh. He knew how to care for them, and he needed his weapons to be perfect.

If they weren't perfect, he wasn't perfect. In doing this, he was performing maintenance on himself. He was a weapon, too, for one man's hand only. He would do whatever Zabuza told him to do. Whatever Zabuza wanted.

Last night, Zabuza had stripped out of his sword harness and shirt, and Haku had watched that broad expanse of well-muscled back and felt hot from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. Seeing Zabuza like this... it made him want something, only he couldn't quite say what it was. And that confused him, because he had no wishes or wants of his own. All he wanted was to make Zabuza happy, and this confusion roiling in the pit of his stomach certainly didn't make anyone happy.

With a slight shock, Haku realized that he wanted to see Zabuza with his shirt off again. That was ridiculous. There was no call for that, no reason, no need for it to happen unless he was called upon to bandage a wound, and he didn't want that. He didn't want Zabuza to get hurt. Just naked.

With a gasp, Haku dropped the senbon he was checking for cracks, and it clinked against the others on the spread-out cloth. The strange heat was back, and he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to contain it. The pit of his stomach twisted, but then the heat sank lower and settled between his legs. The smooth line of his clothing wasn't so smooth any more. Haku looked into his own lap, looked away quickly as if someone would catch him at it, then looked again. He was hard. That kept happening, and he didn't know what to do about it; ignoring it only seemed to lead to waking up to a horrid mess in the morning, and trying to hide said mess from his travelling companion.

He knew, from various overheard comments, that he could touch himself, but Haku couldn't see why there'd be any point to that. He didn't have any interest in touching himself.

Now, if he could touch Zabuza--

A jolt went through his body, and his head fell forward. No. No. He had to stop these thoughts. He was a tool, a weapon, his only purpose to be what Zabuza wanted him to be, and if he kept thinking about Zabuza and wanting, he was going to soil his clothes.

Despite his best intentions, one of his hands crept lower, disappeared beneath his waistband. It was just his hand, the same uninteresting hand as always, and he'd already touched himself all over so many times, tending to basic hygiene. This was nothing that interested him. Haku's hand closed around his own hard shaft. This was nothing -- but if Zabuza touched him--

Haku moaned out loud. He imagined that the hand touching him was Zabuza's hand, just for a moment, a single blinding instant, and a feeling blazed through him that was like nothing he'd ever felt before. His nipples drew tight, the hairs on his legs stood up, and he thought he'd break his back when he jerked and shuddered and finally slumped forward, feeling a warm trickle over his fingers, rapidly growing cooler.

Well. At least he hadn't accidentally stabbed himself. Haku flushed hot and looked around for something to clean himself up with, anything. And then he was never going to think about this again.

At least not until the next time Zabuza took his shirt off. Haku hoped they weren't headed for any warmer climates.

* * *

naruto || e‑mail
porn battle comments