Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Finished Concerto ❯ Finished Concerto ( Chapter 1 )

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

Teaser: Kakashi tilted his head back against the couch arm. Headphones covered his ears, pouring a classical concerto into them. Beautiful, distant, long dead but still retaining its beauty. There was evident pain in it. He had wondered what idea the composer was trying to reach when it was written. Had he found it? Could anyone?

Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Psychological / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.05.2005 | Updated On: 11.05.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 681 | Status: Completed

Author's Notes: Hmm..Well, I'll let the below info tell you about it. It's my first fanfic in Naruto.

Title: Finished Concerto

Author: Anna Tailer (Red Rose Touga)

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: ItachiXKakashi

WARNING: Y-A-O-I. What does that spell? You got it. Don't know what it means. I'll tell you. Male X Male. Don't like it, don't read it. If you read it anyway, don't leave a flaming review when you were warned.

Summary: ONE SHOT. ItachiXKakashi. YAOI. snipet Every day he stayed alive, the despair tried harder and more fierce to drag him down. He smiled , though more rarely then people seemed to remember, he created victory through his fingertips, and yet it was never enough.

Beta Read by : Ohtori Akio. Please check out his works! He's awesome and a ItaKaka writer! Those are hard to find!

Disclaimer: Do I look like Masashi Kishimoto to you? ...That's right, disclaimers are pointless and I don't own Naruto.

Finished Concerto

By: Red Rose Touga

Every day, he stayed alive, the despair tried harder and more fierce to drag him down. He smiled , though more rarely then people seemed to remember, he created victory through his fingertips, and yet it was never enough.

He couldn't find that spark, that hint, that one shining of faith, shining hope that he could sense just outside of his reach. Once, a long time ago, a time when children laughed together and had dreams of being a ninja, he held that shining thing. Youth was fickle; it let value slip through its fingers and shown the path to hopelessness instead. Some things never returned when they were lost, yet people looked for them. Life, virginity, hope…

One might find a facsimile, but one would never know the true value of hope. He wondered when he had lost his. A long time ago, Itachi was too far buried in the facsimile for it to have been recently. Sasuke…more recently. It sat around him like a dark, violent storm. He saw it whenever they were closer, but it had caused the rift between them. Naruto didn't need anyone but himself. Sakura, that was easier to name. Sasuke. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Kakashi tilted his head back against the couch arm. Headphones covered his ears, pouring a classical concerto into them. Beautiful, distant, long dead but still retaining its beauty. There was evident pain in it. He had wondered what idea the composer was trying to reach when it was written. Had he found it? Could anyone?

Delicate, slender fingers unzipped his olive green vest and slid down inside, warm cold flesh. Breath whistled past Kakashi's lips, but he couldn't hear whether it had been compliant, gasp or a moan. The melodious tune covered all background noise.

The deep black hair had brushed gently against his jawbone under where the headphones were placed. He closed his eyes and titled his head back, listening to the music as his body reacted. His breathing fell into automatic synchronization with the pulse of the music. From Tocata to Fugue. A-B-C-A-B-A, Basic chords, well tempered music. That person was talking, or at least, a whisper was reaching Kakashi's ears through the melody. It was in time with the beat. He couldn't make out the words spoken. It didn't matter. Kakashi knew who it was and what he wanted.

His shirt was off. He hadn't taken it off. It didn't matter. Reality bent around that person. His back arched and if he made a noise, he couldn't hear it. Music rose, teasingly, fell back into a low rush of notes. Only the left hand was playing now, deep, hard music. He could hear a word now and them from that person's speech. No complete sentences.

“Pain…consuming…hope…sometime.”< /b>

It didn't matter. His eyelashes fluttered. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't need to see. The Copy Ninja knew what he looked like…Youthful…Sharingan Eyes…Long, dark hair…Mechanical voice…

“Like…beautiful…far…mine.” He felt a burning sensation as the music sped up.

The couch was hot and sticky against equally hot and sticky skin. When had his pants been gone? It didn't matter. Hands everywhere, mouth and heat; the music was fast the composer of the concerto had been talented indeed. The notes dropped, though still rapid. Lower, lower, louder, vibrant, shaking his body. He was shuddering, heat pressed down atop of him. It was sequencing into the final movement, the drowning out more of the red eyed figure's words. The repeat of the A-B-A sessions. “ Make you mine…love…deep…passion…long time…love…only you…why?...why?...why?” It was speeding up, a sudden leap in tone. Pain. Perhaps he cried out, strong arms caressed him mechanically. He couldn't hear his own voice. The music swelled around him, inside of him, through him.

Beauty created by hands, but never quite enough. Deeper again, harder again. It was moving to the final section. His throat was raspy. Was he yelling? Warm and slightly pained face. Was he crying? Was he moaning? It didn't matter.

There was beauty here. It wasn't enough, but he lived with it. Whenever it got too much to bear, this happened. It gave him a taste of his paradise now lost that snapped him alive enough to keep fighting, struggling, falling, rising, giving in.

Humanity thrived on hope, even if they couldn't find it and knew somewhere deep inside they never would. A piece of hope stuck inside him.

Something alive.

Music pounded in his ears. He didn't open his eyes. Hard chords, complexity, moving into the finale that would end it. Moving from minor to major. An explosion of light, hope, pleasure, the final chord of music in the piece. It rocked his body with it, drawing out to the faintest after-echoes. There was no noise outside of it.

His mind lost itself in the final dying echoes of the music as his body lost itself in the few last rocking waves of pleasure and his mind bobbed lightly above the surface of despair, seeing that…that…glimmer of hope within the confines of those red, blazing Sharingan eyes in the distance, to far to reach now, but with effort, with hope, with trail, with the pure miracle of being able to tread water, with the hope of not drowning with the weight of knowing he'd be buoyed up again whether he wanted to be or not.

Itachi disengaged, and in the tiny bit of dying music Kakashi could hear through the headphones, he heard a chuckle.

His eyes came into focus.

Silence.

There was nothing but shadows present in the dark room around him while he lay, hot, nude and panting heavily.

The concerto was finished.

END

A/N: Done! This is my ode to Oneesan no Miroku Houshi. I love her fanfiction, so I decided to write about her favorite Naruto couple! Maybe one day, I'll write a KakaSaku fic too. Please R&R!