The boy was cold; Zetsu could feel it from through the walls. He was small, delicate and dangerous; a combination that Zetsu could never quite resist even as the plant within him withdrew from the searing hot pain of frost that he'd only felt once before. The plant quivered, unsure and angry against his skin, throbbing with the subhuman urge to curl away from the frost. Zetsu smiled, liking the plant scared, tucked close and tight to his body, hugging and tense with blood--his blood.
It wouldn't be hard, he mused, to separate the child from the great hulk of muscle and anger that strode before him. He'd seen those slate colored eyes watch him, wide and oddly innocent for one spattered in the gore of an enemy. He'd sneered at the muscles and bravado as they'd entered his village. Mercenaries for hire never inspired anything but contempt?and hunger. However the hunger wasn't his. The plant swayed to the soft ebb and flow of chakra around him, spiny protrusions practically vibrating with the need to close and trap--to devour. Zetsu was used to the feel of it by now, it made his mouth water and his thighs ache. It was deeper than sex; the need to feed was essential and orgasmic, tinged with that slow succulent scent of pain and death.
Zetsu turned the corner, feeling out the cold cautiously, as if he would run into nothing but a wall of ice when it was only just the boy. Haku--a strange quiet name that begged whispering.
Zetsu liked when things begged. It reminded him he was human.
The smell of him, ice and breath, was thick here by the washing well. The boy's wrists were thin and birdlike as they shook away the water before flipping his hair back over his shoulder with a little thrumming noise. The plant was pleased; it liked the chakra here, thick and wet in the air. Zetsu was good at finding powerful people. They smelled so sweet, like the marsh flowers that bloomed late at night in his homeland. It ached into his bones and he tilted his head, feeling the small soft cilia along the inside of the plant's mouth tremble.
It wanted, and what it wanted Zetsu took.
He didn't need to speak to draw the boy's attention; he just let the air feel heavier as it did during an intrusion. To his credit the boy didn't startle and instead simply turned to look at him. Zetsu loved the small shape of his mouth and the calm understanding of his gaze. Zetsu smiled, realizing that the boy was used to being used. He liked that the boy was pale, not as white as himself, but pale and hard under his skin. There was no softness to him, no fleshy points for fingers to linger over, to skim across and sneer. Haku was hard under his feminine clothes, a sword hidden in silk.
Zetsu never approached too swiftly, he preferred his prey to find its own way. He stopped a few feet from the boy, clothes settling in a soft rustle as the plant moved in a slow undulating of roots along his skin--harder and more volatile than fingers could ever be. Zetsu was used to touch. He lived with it and abided the slow, creeping intrusions along his ribcage with the barest of acknowledgements. He understood though, that penetration was possession. And he wanted this boy with his sweet mouth and the slow pulse of chakra.
"Is not here," Zetsu finished, not caring much for what the boy had begun to protest. Everything protested giving up, even if it became nothing more than the feint and play of show.
He watched the boy?s eyes, observing how they turned down momentarily before flickering slightly to the right; how the small frame took stock of readily available weaponry and the dance area that could be contained in a small fight. He couldn't stop from wetting his lips, the plant was aroused, subhuman in its desire to devour, to suckle and savor each drop the boy could bleed for it.
Zetsu liked that the boy squared his shoulders--that he was proud and unwilling to just be taken. "You smell so sweet child." He heard himself say, briefly uncomfortable with the idea of the plant taking control.
He couldn't deny the thrill of the brief shiver that coursed under the boy's skin, however. It was undeniable. He could feel the plant, slithering and curious along his blackened charred half, thudding and slippery. It was like watching a mouth salivate, but still fear the heat of food. The boy blushed so sweetly. The smell of blood was a thick tang, coppery and salt on the breeze and the plant grew bold as Zetsu hardened in his clothes.
"He could kill you." He heard the boy whisper.
"You can't kill the forest with only one axe," Zetsu replied, feeling his mouth turn up at the corner. He was enjoying this, the slow hypnotic fading of will.
"I could kill you," the boy replied, his head tilting back slightly. Zetsu could have mistaken it for defiance, but he'd seen too many people just give in to mistake acquiescence for anything but what it was.
"You could," Zetsu agreed. "But you won't."
And he knew the instant the boy believed. He watched the small sandaled feet move closer, allowing the plant to fold surreptitiously around him. He could feel those small soft hands touch the cilia within the mouth, curious. Zetsu understood that every creature loved the feel of death, especially when it hugged tight and firm around it.
"Don't tell," the boy whispered, hair catching at his wet lips.
Zetsu didn't have to reply, just felt through the soft velvet of the plant how the boy quivered. Zetsu knew when words were useless. Plants didn't need to ask how to find the sun, it was instinctual.
He always felt raw and naked when the plant moved to feed. It slipped from his body, leaving a wet, slow ache of emptiness that left him momentarily dizzied. He felt himself, the other part of himself, extend. It moved, slipping roots--thick and knobbed--along the boy's fair skin. He could feel, vicariously, the way those small fingers grasped at the bits of the plant as they spidered slowly under his silky clothing. He could catch the gasp of shock as they wrapped around bony sharp hips.
"It was never dead," Zetsu replied, aching and tight near his bones as he reveled in the slow claiming of the boy's pale skin. It was as if the plant had always been there. As if it had always known the soft ridges of ribs and the pliant feel of young belly as it corded and wrapped tighter, always cautious of where to go to ground.
He watched from under heavy, blissful lids as the plant moved to quiet the boy. Gasping as it probed, pushing slowly past that small porcelain doll mouth to touch quietly along teeth, feeling the heat and slick of tongue. He knew the taste of the plant, thick and earthy, tinged with the salt of blood and the heat of his own body. Zetsu kept the plant alive even as it killed him slowly.
The plant never moved quickly and Zetsu had learned a terrifying patience as he grew alongside it. He felt the slow pull of chakra, the soft succulent pull as the plant moved to plunge further into the boy to probe and find new places to root itself with the soft purring vibrations of velvety cilia. He heard the muffled whimper and moved to touch the boy himself.
The small jaw was cold against his palm, clammy with the feel of vague terror and the slower desperation of arousal. Zetsu loved the feel of fear. He could tangle it around his fingers as the plant tangled itself around the boy's hips, between his thighs and around the slim hardness it stroked with slow pulsing ripples.
Zetsu felt the boy struggle. Felt the way his thighs moved to jerk closed and his hips pull back as his arms tensed, entire thin body going taut. Zetsu knew the fight. Everything realized being devoured did not make it part of the whole. The plant gloried, even as it browned under the sudden cold, withering along bits of the pulsing skin as Haku fought.
"Shhh," he murmured, grin curling his mouth halfway as he rubbed fingers along the mouth filled with his plant. He smiled serenely at the eyes--wide and black with dilated pupils--as he felt the slick wet of saliva around the root of him.
The plant moved slowly, and it felt so much better than sex as it pushed, pushed, pushed--nudging at the two small openings on the boy's small body. It thinned, slithering forward as if it were nosing at the welling wet slit at the tip of the boy's small cock. Zetsu knew the feeling; it was like being invaded with a strange heat that coursed and throbbed. It was a sick pleasure and Zetsu pet the boy's hair as his eyes welled, leaking tears as the plant slipped past the small heat and deeper to soothe slowly down the length of him.
Even as Haku cried out, tense and quivering as he was filled, the plant widened across his young tongue, muffling the sound, devouring the surges of panic filled chakra with a delight that almost scared Zetsu sometimes. It was primal, larger than anything Zetsu could have ever felt on his own. Basic. Need.
"The more you fight, the more it will hurt. If you surrender--" A slow stroke of his thumb along the boy's jaw smeared the slow tears under the callused skin. "--then all you will feel is joy." He nearly came himself at the feel of the plant finally pushing past the tight ring of muscle of the boy's ass. Inside, Haku was hot, blistering and slick.
The plant wasn't afraid anymore.
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