Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Dream ❯ One-Shot

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

When Itachi was twenty-two, Sasuke finally beat him.

Itachi overestimated Sasuke's hate for him. Instead of killing him, Sasuke dragged him back to Konoha in chains. He put out those bloody Sharingan eyes, hog-tied him into immobility and offered him up to Tsunade as the price for her forgiveness. The humiliation was the worst thing Itachi had ever experienced in his life. Perhaps he had underestimated his brother's hate.

But it didn't stop there. In the few years that it took Sasuke to learn all he could from Orochimaru (and kill him), the younger Uchiha had done a lot of thinking. And slowly, slowly his goal had changed, from avenging his clan, to restoring it. And for that he needed Itachi.

Itachi didn't know, didn't want to know what concessions the Uchiha heir had made to the families of all the girls they brought to him. Perhaps none at all, perhaps they paid him for the privilege of bedding the Uchiha prodigy. He had wanted death, but all he received was a cycle of lust, greed and darkness.

But he wouldn't let it continue forever.

For the first six months he had been broken, shattered by betrayal and defeat. But just as he considered just biting through his tongue and ending it all, a startling revelation occurred to him.

Itachi wasn't a prodigy for nothing. Even after years of using the Sharingan constantly, even after six months of total despair, his body had been adapting to his handicap. When he lost his eyes, his other senses took up the slack, his body honing itself into a new discipline. And with it came possibilities.

Itachi was blind, but it didn't mean that he was helpless. He could no longer use the Sharingan, but he still remembered all the techniques he had witnessed with it. He even remembered the advanced regeneration used by Kabuto, if he wanted, he didn't have to be blind. Although he decided to hold off on regenerating his eyes until he escaped.

And escape would be easier than he expected. He didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed with his brother. Sasuke was overconfident; the wards imprisoning Itachi and the guards who watched him would be easily disposed of. All Itachi needed now was time to build his strength and to plot.

When Itachi was twenty-three, he found a new goal in life.

Now however wasn't time to be planning his escape.

He could always sense when he would have an 'encounter'. Something in the air, an extra tension in the ANBU who were his guards. It was confirmed with his evening meal, a little extra sweetness from the drug. Not a true soporific, a tranquilizer, just enough to keep him docile.

He heard his brother enter the room. Cold hands stripped him, freeing him from the rough prison clothes. "Kiss me," he ordered Sasuke. A second's hesitation, then he felt his brother's soft lips cover his own. Itachi took advantage of that, thrusting his tongue into the other's mouth, while the chains were attached to his wrists and ankles. The chains themselves were not that tight, but the bands around his flesh cut in. He was reminded of something he had seen with the Akatsuki, of someone being stretched out like this, then pulled apart.

Sasuke shifted, moving until he was kneeling, supporting Itachi's head. The same cold hands stroked over his body, bringing him quickly to arousal. When Sasuke was satisfied he pressed a kunai against Itachi's throat, then called out, "Enter."

Itachi ignored the two who entered the room. A participant and a watcher, perhaps some nervous father making sure that the murderer of the Uchihas would not be able to harm his daughter. Or was it someone like Orochimaru, someone who paid for the pleasure of watching the elder Uchiha be violated. He didn't care. Instead he concentrated on his brother. He turned his head, nuzzling into the soft silk robes Sasuke wore, blocking the scent of the woman's cloying perfume with his brother's own musk, almond and orange. He paid no attention to what the other's in the room were doing, focusing on the younger boy's quickening breaths, the sting of the kunai against his throat, the press of his free hand against his torso, holding him down. But most especially on the growing warmth just below his head.

Itachi bit back of laugh. He wondered what they looked like together. Pale skin over silk, Sharingan into empty orbs, long black hair intermingled (Sasuke had grown his hair out over the years), mirror images staring at each other. That thought, more than anything else, brought Itachi to his climax, gasping and arching into nothingness (for that's what the others were to him). He couldn't wait see again, so that he would have a chance to test his fantasy.

It had taken Sasuke ten years to be worthy of the Uchiha prodigy's attention. Itachi was going to make sure his brother was adequately rewarded for his efforts.