[Old piece that I wrote for Ariel. Seeing a trend here?]
Rated MA (As in not work safe, not kid safe, not ‘delicate sensibilities’ safe–Have I warned enough?)[Hmm, maybe not]
Warning: SMUT. As in gay sex. Oh yeah–and blood play. Watch the cliff edge, I can attest that it is a doozy.
Lesser warning: POV skips back and forth. Apologies if it’s slightly annoying.
Note: This was a “short” guest piece that I was asked to do. It was to be added as an insert into the middle of Chapter 12 of Kiss Me. It got a tad too long and a tad too dark. Cut to ribbons it was, but here is the complete work.
In a completely different area, even with a different authoress (What the heck is going on here?! The consistency! The storyline!)(It’s KM. Bite me.), Kisame and Itachi are still cleaning mud off themselves.
Deidara had complained, but after a dead flat stare from Itachi and a looming leer from Kisame, the blond had yelped and scurried for Pein’s office.
Leaning back on his bed, Kisame considered the ceiling. Black. He slid his gaze to the right wall. Black. The floor. Black. He quirked an eyebrow. Colour. That’s what he needed. Red preferably.
Across the room, the Uchiha ignored him. The genius was still cleaning the same goddamn kunai.
“Hoy! Look up from your anal probe for a second.”
Itachi continued to polish. And rub. And admire.
Fucking tease. “I swear, I’ll coat it in hot sauce when your back is turned.” That got a reaction.
Twin pinwheels of tomoe spun and pinned him to the bed, flaring and whirling. “That was you?”
Blueboy grinned and sucked in a breath through constricted airways. Shit, the adrenaline rush was always a kicker with this guy. “Not me,” he replied and it was the truth. He hadn’t. Technically.
Ever so slowly, ever so grudgingly, the pressure from Itachi eased off. Partners didn’t lie to each other. We can’t, Kisame grinned at the other man, we know each other too well. So well, that high and mighty Itachi knew exactly what reactions those tomoe incited.
Barking out a laugh, the blue ninja eyed his crotch and smirked. “Shi-it man, hold that on me any longer and I swear, my balls wouldn’t be so blue.”
Itachi sniffed. And turned back to the anal – er, kunai. The sharp end.
Kisame rolled his eyes. He wanted to play? The big ninja rose up off his futon. We’ll play.
Looming doesn’t do much when it comes to Itachi. Works even less when the loomer is his own damned partner. But there’s a certain tension sometimes, and it makes the hair on his neck rise and certain parts quiver. And Itachi never quivers.
So when his big blue oaf of a partner came stalking over, shedding garments like a nudist in a private sauna, Uchiha gritted his teeth and commanded his body to obey.
No, it never did work before either.
He ignored Kisame as the ninja stood before him: proud, erect, taunting.
He ignored his partner even as those rough hands pushed the muddy cloak from his shoulders.
Ignored with a will when the cloth pooled around his hips and the weight of a blue-scaled annoyance settled on the bed behind him.
Denial can be used in different ways. Denial of what you see for instance could break the illusion of any technique, you just needed the will. Denial of defeat could give you the edge needed to find an opportunity to triumph.
That moan for instance, could be denied as his. That shuddering breath rattling out in a silent room was someone else’s. Just as the teeth that had clamped down on his shoulder to near penetration were not his.
About right then, denial just didn’t work shit anymore.
Fuck it. Itachi arched into the hot mouth at his back and groaned. He let go of the polishing cloth and reached up for blue spikes, shoving his entire body back against the rigid chest that scraped like sandpaper.
When working with a partner, there was always an adjustment period when the arrangement was new. Kisame grinned around a mouthful of sweet warm Uchiha flesh and rumbled in satisfaction at the sounds the smaller man-made.
Itachi had been a long chase. Avoidance, rejection, retaliation; the fucker had gone through the entire gambit. Until his persistent partner had finally pushed him down onto a futon in some fancy inn and they had come to an agreement.
Sex wasn’t necessary, but holy fuck, violent bloody rutting just did it for them both.
Kisame clasped both hands around a slim pale waist and pulled the Uchiha along with him as he reclined back on the futon. Back to front, Itachi wasn’t able to do much but writhe; his shoulder caught in jaws he knew could slice deep and his hips anchored, firm butt cheeks to pulsing erection.
What he could do though, was make things interesting.
A sharp edge drew along his thigh, the pressure firm and precise, and Sharky nearly bit down completely in response. A line of pain–hot, prickling, intentional–shot a burst of burning, throbbing, need straight to his groin, kicking his heart and head in the process.
Fingers clenched on muscled flesh and Itachi let out a sigh as sharp nails bit into the skin. Twisting his wrist, the pale man flipped the weapon in his hand and ran the pommel along the bleeding wound. They were fucking on headquarter grounds; the play would have to be short, to the point, and above all, satisfying.
Below him, Kisame grinned and let go of the shoulder, trailing instead to the spine where he let his teeth nip and pinch between the vertebrae. One hand eased off its bruising grip and glided under the robes still covering Itachi’s hips. Teasing, it avoided the twitching length and instead shoved past to grasp the back of the ninja’s thigh.
Uchiha growled and wrenched the robes off entirely, then rolled against the holds, gasping out a groan as Kisame smirked and dug nails in. Bloody lines–scraped and torn into hot skin–wept.
Stretched out, bloody fingertips painting streaks across scaled abs, Kisame grinned up at Itachi.
“So, you gonna use that toy or am I going in tearing?” he asked flashing a grin up into the activated eyes of the Sharringan user.
If possible, the tomoe spun faster. His partner leaned in and snarled, ‘Both,’ and Kisame’s grin morphed into something more predatory and far less friendly.
Anticipation, lust, want, need. Everything was there. Laid bare and unashamed before the eyes of a skilled illusionist. Trust had nothing to do with it. Partnership was a footnote. Compatibility or complimentary personalities were a dismissible asset. Complete and utter taking. There was no giving, no sharing. It was purely a coincidence that their needs, their preferences, their desires matched and fulfilled the other’s.
Itachi leaned back, shoving the slick kunai point first into the futon, the black eyes of Kisame following his movements with an expectant hunger. When Itachi rose up on his knees, the shark’s hips rose as well, and when Itachi paused with the rigid purple shaft nudging his entrance, Kisame had already positioned himself over the pommel.
The blue ninja growled a sharp curse and grabbed Itachi’s hips just as he let himself drop. Snarls from both men echoed into the room, Kisame grinding down into the mattress as Uchiha shuddered above him.
Skin glowed and glistened. Muscles clenched and spasmed. Fingers clawed and clenched on already marked flesh. And if a mouth wasn’t full of blood-slicked flesh, then it was grunting out wordless sounds of lust.
It was never about giving. Expecting someone to give repeatedly and reliably was foolish. Taking, however, there was always someone to take from. It just happened to be his partner.
A/N: I’m not sure where this came from. Ariel said write, and I wrote. The kunai was a prop from an earlier scene in KM and it just followed into this one. From there… ~shrugs~ I feel like I should be putting up police tape and alarm bells. This is far more explicit than anything I’ve ever written. I still don’t know whether to be proud of it or horrified.