Title: Feels Like Home
Author: Timothy Wren
Fandom: Naruto
Relationship: Momochi Zabuza/Utakata of the Hidden Mist
Genre: Anime, Smut, Established Relationship
Warnings/Tags: Shower Sex (it works if you’re a ninja), excess slick, praise kink, asphyxiation/choking, begging, healthy communication, kink negotiation, barebacking, enthusiastic consent, come inflation/excess come kink, very explicit
Word Count: 3693 (complete)
Author Note: This is the fic I wrote in 2017 the very day I established my discord server– y’all helped. At the time it was incredibly risque for us. It deserved a banner, some editing, and a place of pride on my site. This banner is perhaps my favorite of all I’ve done to date. Please enjoy.
Summary: Zabuza has trouble asking for something. Utakata has no trouble providing it.
“Do you want to come on my fingers, Zabuza?” Utakata murmurs, enjoying the raspy inhale his words elicit, the way it echoes over the pouring water, rides with the steam to the bathroom ceiling.
Or maybe it’s the way he doesn’t pause as he asks, three digits pressing merciless into his lover, spreading and contracting them in intervals. He stretches them as far apart as he likes just to hear a groan tear out of Zabuza’s throat.
“Beautiful.” Utakata breathes, out of breath himself. And Zabuza is: his arms are braced above his head on the shower wall, quivering with exertion. The muscles of his back are drawn taut, gorgeous. Swinging Kubikiribōchō around did good things for a body.
Still. Utakata pulls his free hand from Zabuza’s hip, where he’s been holding him still, and uses it to yank him back by the hair. The angle is awkward. Painful, has to be. Zabuza pants in the hot air, Adam’s apple bobbing. Utakata appreciates it because he can now see dark brown eyes, nearly swallowed by pupil, sharp cheekbones and a slack jaw.
“Do I need to ask again?” And that is Utakata’s voice, harder than before. His cock brushes against the back of Zabuza’s thigh, slick enough to glide. Zabuza’s jaw tightens.
Utakata’s fingers pull tighter in his hair.
The fingers of the other hand, he twists in just that much harder.
Zabuza makes a wounded noise, eyes slamming shut. He rocks back into the motion, one arm giving out from under him. It buckles and he catches himself on the elbow, one temple pressed to the flesh of his forearm. Utakata does not loosen his grip.
“Fuck,” Zabuza bitches, even now being difficult. “No, alright?” His voice shakes.
“Oh? Then what is it you want?” Another cruel twist of his fingers, forcing them hard against the man’s prostate. It makes Zabuza keen his way through a moan. He comes down panting.
“Don’t– fuck, Utakata, don’t make me say it.” He whines. “I lost the spar.”
“You underestimated me in the spar,” Utakata corrects silkily. He lets his hand slip free of brown hair painted black by the shower spray, slides it lovingly, appreciatively down Zabuza’s neck. Even when released, Zabuza doesn’t tilt his chin back forwards.
He keeps his head thrown back, to better see Utakata, braced half on his one arm to make it more comfortable. Blown-wide dark eyes don’t look away, even given the opportunity, and Utakata feels himself flush with pleasure under the scrutiny.
Utakata slides his hand around and, without warning, wraps it loosely around the front of Zabuza’s throat. He turns it into a light choke almost leisurely.
With his head thrown back like this, his body angled just so, Utakata can see the way Zabuza’s cock jumps the moment his airway is closed off.
“And for that,” He continues, unable to resist half a smile, “you lost. And now I’m going to fuck you.”
It sounds odd in his mouth, a word his tongue has to roll over. He’s never fucked anyone before, though he’s had plenty of lovers over the years, here and there during his time running around the countries. Fitting, for Zabuza to be the first; he’s the first for so many other things.
He curls his fingers tighter around Zabuza’s throat, feels the flesh under them work as Zabuza tries to gasp, swallows thickly.
Low sound escapes from his chest in the form of a deep groan; Utakata isn’t choking him that tightly.
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” He asks, rhetoric. It’s not as if he can answer. Still, there’s no denying the effect the words have on his lover. He clenches tight around Utakata’s fingers.
Utakata lets his hand fall.
He wants to hear Zabuza.
“Talk to me, baby.” He coaxes, dragging his hand down Zabuza’s exquisite back, enjoying the way muscles ripple under his touch.
Zabuza coughs, then laughs.
“Pretty sure,” He manages roughly, only to swallow and continue. “That I’m supposed to be the one begging here, princess.”
“Do you want me to make you beg?” It’s an open question, honest and as clear as Utakata can make it. He wants Zabuza to remember this, wants it to be as perfect as possible.
Wants him to ask for what he wants.
“Agh,” Zabuza lets his head drop down, forehead pressed to his folded arm. Most of the sweat from their spar has washed away, but judging by his color he’d managed to work up a new one.
“God, you’re so good.” Zabuza says, shaking around his fingers. He pulls them out a little just to turn them upside down, knuckles down, and rub the edge of Zabuza’s hole with his thumb. The way he crooks his fingers rubs the knuckles into his opening, stretches it wide.
“Oh, fuck!” Zabuza laughs, winded. “Babe.”
“If you want something…” Utakata lets his voice trail off, doesn’t try to hide how breathless the sight of his boyfriend is, arched in front of him, rocking back on every thrust. He wants to see it again so he slides his fingers as slowly as possible back in, doesn’t stop until they can’t go any further. His own eyes are wide, too.
“Love the way you take me,” He finds himself saying, before Zabuza can even think about an answer to the other thing.
“Oh fuck,” Zabuza gasps. “Fuck, fuck, Utakata please.”
“How pretty,” Utakata sucks in air, awed. “Say it again.”
“Utakata!” Zabuza growls, or tries to– it breaks off into a moan.
“Yes,” Utakata murmurs. “My name, just like that. Now beg for me,”
It feels odd, this role. But it’s not difficult, and Zabuza had asked so nicely when he talked about it earlier. Utakata is surprised by how naturally it comes, how easily.
“Please,” Zabuza swallows. “Please, please, oh fuck, Utakata.”
“What do you want,” Utakata demands, punctuating a particularly rough thrust, and his voice is deeper than usual with want. Awe. Lust.
“Say it,” He growls, and Utakata growling is an entirely different thing to Zabuza doing it. A jinchuuriki growling, being driven to growl, adopts a wild quality, an animal quality, overlaying the human sound with something primal.
Zabuza’s dick spits slick, clenching tight around Utakata’s fingers. He can’t even thrust with the tightness of it, settles for pressing up against his prostate, applying pressure and rubbing.
Zabuza screams, short and aborted as he closes his throat abruptly and grinds his teeth.
“Fuck me, okay?” He almost shouts. “Get in me, fuck, I want your cock.”
Sheer surprise forces him still and Utakata stares. Zabuza makes a sound that’s almost a sob, barks out a “Please! ” that sounds like a demand.
“Well,” Utakata swallows heavily, has to inhale to regain his composure. “Since you asked so nicely.”
He pulls his fingers carefully from Zabuza’s ass, drags them to his own neglected erection that’s positively soaked. He takes himself in hand and has to bite back a groan.
“Finally,” Zabuza gripes, as though he’s not strung out like a bow, shaking like a leaf, dick so hard it’s practically purple.
“Don’t make me draw this out,” Utakata threatens, though they both know he doesn’t have the patience for it.
“Do me,” Zabuza rocks his ass out, adjusting so he’s got both palms against the glass of the shower. The water is still warm, though it’s a far cry from the near scalding it had been when they stepped in.
“I love you,” Utakata says, voice almost raw. “I’ll give you anything.” And he lines himself up and presses in, too far gone to even tease, no matter how compelling the notion of painting Zabuza’s hole with slick and making him be more specific, beg and beg into incoherency with how badly he wants it.
Utakata loves him, loves knowing he’s wanted. Loves that Zabuza asked for this, was comfortable enough with him– the trust, the love, it’s perfect.
His head slides past little resistance. Utakata isn’t prepared for how good it feels around him. The thick head of his cock pops in and they both pause to groan at the feel.
It’s tight, so tight and hot and perfect. More fluid weeps out, slicking the way. By the time he’s gathered himself enough to continue sliding forward Zabuza is wet.
“Oh my god, princess.” Zabuza laughs, rough. “Did you– fuck, that’s good– leak all in me?”
“Yes,” Utakata hisses, licking his lips to wet them. “All this slick you like so much, all the lube I put out that you love to have in your mouth,”
He thrusts his hips until his pelvis is flush with Zabuza’s tight ass, perfectly muscled just like the rest of him. He’s thinner than Zabuza, lithe, more graceful even on a bad day no matter how cleverly Zabuza wields his overcompensation of a blade, and having this perfectly rugged man split around him is unexpectedly arousing. Powerful.
The feel of it is outstanding. Utakata finds himself hot all over, squeezed perfectly. He doesn’t want to move. Red has painted its way up his chest, his cheeks. He’s hot despite the cooling water.
“Babe. Utakata. Move!” Zabuza squirms back, impatient, and that’s another factor to how good this is, how right and exciting. Utakata laughs, holds tight to his hips. Tries to ignore how he’s shaking, now, too.
“What if I don’t want to?” He asks, sly and mean as requested. “What if I want to stay right here, surrounded by your perfect ass, enjoy the way you sheathe me all day?”
“What– fuck, Utakata. Since when do you–”
“Since. You. Asked.” He rolls his hips back and slams them forward, wringing a shout from Zabuza. “Good things happen to those who ask. Communication is–”
“Babe I swear to– hnng– every goddamn deity ever. If you try to give me a lecture on healthy relationships right now–” He breaks off to gasp, forced forwards on a hard thrust. The head of Utakata’s cock drags against his hole as he pulls out almost all the way before sliding forwards again, a slick, heavy push that spreads him wide.
“Oh, fuck,” Zabuza groans. “I have the best ideas,” He hangs his head, water dripping pretty from dark hair. His biceps are huge, lovely. Utakata kind of wants to get him back for all the sleeveless shirts he wears, the way his muscles don’t seem to notice he’s been holding himself up for the better part of half an hour as Utakata had slowly stretched one, two and three fingers into him for the first time.
“Do you?” Utakata laughs, genuine and amused.
“Fuck, yeah, I do. Fuck me, c’mon, babe, harder.”
Utakata obliges.
“Talk to me, next time, instead of–” Utakata grinds into him, hard and mean. “Making some dumb bet and–”
“No communication lectures with your cock in me! ”
Utakata huffs, grins.
“Yes, dear. But if you poison Haku and Hotaru with that macho bullshit–”
“Oh my fucking god, babe, no talking about our goddamn kids, either–”
Utakata yanks his head back again and kisses him, slides his tongue past shark teeth to fuck his lover’s mouth in time with his thrusts. It’s more instinctive than when he’s on the receiving end, surprisingly overwhelming in an entirely different way.
“Clench for me,” He pulls back to pant, only to make a strangled noise when Zabuza immediately does, yelling himself at the sensation. God, it almost hurts for him. How must it feel for Zabuza?
Well.
“Do you like that?” He breathes, amused into Zabuza’s ear. “Again.”
Another vicious clench and he hisses out air through his teeth. Zabuza, though, whines, long and loud and breathless.
“Good boy.” Utakata says, dropping it like a weapon and it strikes true. With an almost wounded noise, Zabuza flexes open around him, sucking him into a slide that’s only gotten slicker, thick lube guiding the way and dripping out of him, denser than the water and too viscous to wash away easily.
Utakata thinks later he might lick it out him, watch Zabuza turn absolutely pink with embarrassment, want, and impatience.
“So good for me,” Utakata gasps, blushing himself at the words coming out of his mouth. It’s nothing to what it does to Zabuza, though, and it’s all true. “So perfect.”
Zabuza clenches entirely without prompting and Utakata barks at the sudden halt in his thrust, the pull and the– “So goddamn tight,” He yells, entirely uncouth.
Zabuza manages some shaky laughter, voice wrecked–
And it’s a deep, raspy thing to start with. He sounds now like Utakata had fucked his throat raw.
“That’s how I know you’re close,” Zabuza grins, sharklike and great. “You get a dirty mouth, princess– oh fuck. Fuck.”
Utakata tightens the hand in his hair, merciless, loves the way Zabuza’s mouth drops open, cheeks red and flushed and he is sweating now. The water is either finally going cold or they’re both hot with exertion– Zabuza has definitely worked up another sweat– and it hits cooler on flushed skin. Probably both.
Utakata’s sweating, too, though it’s nothing to what his dick has produced. Zabuza’s perfectly taut thighs are covered with it, his hole almost sloppy, barely any resistance at all now.
He says as much just to watch Zabuza squirm, surprised by the way it gets Utakata going, too, though that might just be how into this Zabuza is.
“Work me,” He commands, this time using the grip in Zabuza’s hair to shove him forwards, bows his head so he can see the long line of the back of Zabuza’s throat, stretch to his toes to bite. It’s not far, Zabuza’s barely taller than him, for all that he’s wider and more muscular but not– as the spar proved– physically stronger, not at all with Saiken’s strength pouring through him, and the sound Zabuza makes when Utakata’s teeth close around his neck is pure animal, a long sound of want and desperation.
Zabuza complies, when he comes down from it, arching up to his toes– Utakata nearly purrs– and bearing down for a lengthy moment that makes Utakata see stars. He relaxes and then, unprompted, does it again. And again. With each clench he moves, just a bit, lifting off Utakata’s cock and then falling back down on it, thigh muscles straining. It’s mesmerizing.
By the fourth time he’s shaking, quivering around Utakata with needy little sounds leaving his mouth.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this,” Utakata manages, utterly fucking smitten. He wants to– God, he needs a better view. He spends a few moments rubbing his thumb along Zabuza’s hole, enjoying the way that makes it flutter around him– okay, maybe longer than a moment, he dips the tip of his thumb in–
“Utakata!” Zabuza croaks, except some of the A s in his name turn into panted sounds that stretch beautifully.
Utakata slips out of him, ignoring the betrayal Zabuza shouts with.
“Oh my god fuck you, fuck me, come back,” Zabuza snarls, half-wild.
Utakata spins him roughly and gathers him up, using the barest touch of chakra to stay upright with all the water. He keeps his hands under Zabuza’s knees, lets the long line of the backs of his thighs brace on his abs as he pushes back in, slow and big.
The break and the position had apparently given his lover time to relax because this thrust is like the first thrust, resistance just that much higher and Utakata feels his sweat erupt along his back, immediately washed away with the cold water. It’s a maddening contrast, the icy temperature at his back compared with the molten hot vice he’s pushing his dick into.
The backs of Zabuza’s thighs are still coated with slick, a cool sticky mess that glues pretty much instantly to Utakata’s torso and he thinks, blind with pleasure, Good. Mine.
It feels like it takes ages to sink all the way flush, this time, and Utakata doesn’t take his eyes away from Zabuza’s face for the entirety of it. He was holding up the other man with only his arms for the entire slide, purposefully taking his time and it’s worth it for Zabuza’s face, the way his lips are open to breathe, the way his eyes are fucked wide.
Utakata’d half expected them to be clenched shut with the way Zabuza’s so tight and almost unyielding around him, it must burn, but Zabuza watching him is all different kinds of better. Possessiveness curls in his heart, a dragon.
“I’m never letting you go,” He growls, and again with the sound. This way he can see how it makes Zabuza shudder, go tighter around him for a breathless moment.
Fuck, he’s close.
Long experience has taught him that Zabuza is, too, though the signs are slightly different when he can’t measure by how messy the swordsman thrusts into him. Still, the way his thighs clench up is similar, how glassy his eyes are, the way his balls are drawn up–
Impatiently, Utakata drags one of Zabuza’s legs to his shoulder, abandoning the grip underneath his knee. He uses the freed hand to slide up Zabuza’s chest, glide through the hair there and wrap right back around Zabuza’s throat.
He doesn’t look away from Zabuza’s face but this close he can tell when his cock gives a jerky little jump.
At first it’s a light touch, no pressure at all, and it still managed to produce that response. Yes, Zabuza had ached for this. Why didn’t he say something sooner?
Angrily, Utakata tightens his fingers so much they might as well be claws, cutting off Zabuza’s air entirely.
“Come,” He snarls, for the way it makes Zabuza’s eyes go wide and startled.
For one weightless moment things are still, Zabuza’s throat spasming under his palm, and then, obediently, he does.
White stripes his abs, bent in half as he is, Zabuza’s release arcing from untouched cock.
Utakata feels his eyes unfocus at the sight, barely breathing himself.
His first thought is what!? Quickly followed by OH. and then wordless pleasure punches him at the base of his spine and he shakes through his own orgasm, nearly insensate.
He thrusts once, twice, three times before he’s finished and then a few times after that, riding the afterglow until it’s too much. Then, because Utakata knows his body, knows he stays stiff for a little while after the fact– as it were– he stays right where he is as he catches his breath.
There’s silence except for the cold water spraying down.
“Um.” Utakata says, and his face is red but it still somehow pinkens. He feels delicate heat rush up, the gentlest touch of embarrassment.
Zabuza stares.
Utakata sheepishly takes his hand away from his throat, though it had long since stopped being a proper choke– about as soon as Zabuza came all over himself, actually.
He’s both flustered and a little proud of the ring of purple that’s unearthed there, a perfect handprint. If by ‘a little proud’ one means ‘an echo of dark, pleased satisfaction curls through him’. He shudders, a little.
“We are so doing this again,” Zabuza says, and if before his naturally deep voice had transformed into a rasp, now it really is a croak, breaking in three places from the damage to his throat.
“I.” Utakata pants. “I mean. Are you sure?” He clears his throat to banish the feelings. Stupid to be embarrassed now. He rolls his eyes at himself.
“As long as we can talk about it first, what you liked and what you didn’t.” He corrects, offering a lopsided smile.
Zabuza scowls at him, which is less effective when the back of his leg is still glued from Utakata’s waist to his shoulder, and the other is atop one. Utakata turns his head to kiss a conveniently placed thigh.
When he looks back, Zabuza is pink, too.
“You’re so goddamn affectionate,” He grumbles.
Utakata raises an eyebrow and, deliberately, lays the hand that had choked him palm-flat on his stomach. Pressing down there makes Zabuza choke on a moan because his stomach is very, very nearly distended with the amount of ejaculate still trapped in him.
Utakata produces a lot.
“Ah, fuck, and the showers cold,” Zabuza complains, bringing on hand up to Utakata’s shoulder to slowly edge himself off the large cock he was still impaled on. Utakata watches, helplessly amused and a little mean.
“Don’t help, or anything,” Zabuza bitches. Utakata laughs silently, but does as bidden. He eases out, intrigued by the way a veritable flood starts oozing out of his lover. The expression Zabuza makes is one of abject betrayal, even before he notices Utakata’s fascination.
He turns bright red as Utakata pulls him close again, rests his chin on Zabuza’s shoulder from behind.
“I love you,” Utakata reminds. “Thank you for telling me this.”
The icy water chills them, but does the job of rendering them a little cleaner. Zabuza hasn’t stopped leaking.
“Yeah, well, you were really good about it, so.” Even the tips of his ears are flushed, despite the cold shower. “Thank you. And.” He brings up one hand to rest on the arm Utakata has wrapped around him.
Utakata waits, smiling angelically. He can’t see Zabuza’s face like this, but he can imagine it well enough.
“I love you too,” Zabuza says, gentle as anything.
Utakata wraps their fingers together. “I know.”
And then, because he’s literally got a demon in him, who is kind enough to give him space during private adult activities but generally chimes in with ways to embarrass Zabuza during their day-to-day life, “We wouldn’t have two kids together if you didn’t.”
“For the love of fuck, always with the kids. We’re wanted missing nin. We aren’t playing goddamn house!” Zabuza, as expected, puffs up.
“Yes, we are.” Utakata smiles.
Zabuza deflates. He turns around in Utakata’s grasp, wincing a little with what must be the first hints of soreness.
“Yeah, we are.” He admits, repeating easily enough.
Utakata leans forward and kisses him.
No matter what village or country they’ve run to, or where they are geographically: this, in his boyfriend’s arms, is home.