Warnings: All the normal. Incest, angst, violence, unhappiness.
A/N: -shrug- Comment porn. XD; Gotta love friends asking for porn in their entries. Really gotta love reciprocating. 8D (LJ stuff. Silly FFnetters. Get a god damn LJ account!) It was fun. But...PWP often leads to OOC, so, yeah, I dunno. .. It is the first time I wrote TJ!ItaSasu, though, I am kind of happy with it in that regards.

"Will you walk into my parlor?" Said the Spider to the Fly.

This is not how Sasuke imagined it. He's been dreaming of this for years, and this is not how he wanted it. Itachi's body, hard, hot, pressing his up against a tree trunk and he knows he's better than this, this is just a bunshin, he should be able to break free, but it's so hot, so heavy, he's scared, back to his pathetic childlike self and he's not even thinking of escaping, he's just thinking.

Itachi's tongue. Moist. Against the back of his neck, so close to the curse mark, too close, he feels like he's dying a slow and painful death. Teeth bite down, just like Orochimaru's, over that spot, that horrible spot, and all Sasuke can do is count the seconds, the minutes, waiting for this to just be over.

It's been about four minutes since Itachi first shoved him up against the tree, each moment dragging on into infinity. A small noise slips out of his throat that he can't really identify, but he hates, he hates it very deeply, it sounds too much like a whimper, high pitched, in the back of his throat. Frightened. Why isn't he trying to get away? What is he doing?

"Fuck," he hisses, because it hurts even more when Itachi's teeth pull away, cool air stinging against ripped skin.

"Ototo," comes a coo at his ear, before teeth bite at his lobe, not so hard, almost gentle, a tongue sliding against the skin. Itachi's pressed so close to him it's impossible to avoid the hardness against him, and he tries to get closer to the tree than he already is to get away from it, but that is entirely fruitless, there's no farther he can go. Bark digging hard against his forehead as Itachi suddenly pulls away from his ear, planting a hand against the back of Sasuke's head and shoving it against the trunk. The pain is welcome, though, that hot mouth on his ear feeling almost. Good. And he certainly doesn't want that.

There's hands fumbling with his pants and he bites harshly down on his lower lip to stop another one of those awful, pathetic sounds from escaping. He thinks it's been maybe seven minutes now, maybe, maybe. His perception of time seems off, his perception of everything seems off. The hands are touching him, and it feels kind of good at the same time it kind of hurts and he's arching his back, and there's a different sort of sound that wants to escape, and he really, really doesn't want those sounds to slip out.

"Stop," he pants, and how long has it been now? Maybe eleven minutes, or thirteen, or. Fuck. He can practically hear Itachi's smirk, even if he can't see it. Not sure how one might "hear" a smirk, but he just can. He can sense it. He grits his teeth and grinds into Itachi's hand, hating every single moment of it.

"You like that?" A bored, amused drawl.

"No," he forces out, and he can almost believe it, especially when there's two fingers pushing against him, wriggling forcing hurting. At least it's some sort of preparation, not like his first time.

"Oh?" And that perpetually calm voice is practically sounding breathless as the fingers are replaced by something entirely different, but maybe Sasuke's imagining that part. And he can't even help himself anymore, letting out a small grunt, pleasured, the hand wrapping back around him. Seventeen minutes in, and he can't pretend anymore. How sad. How easy his self-control has been ripped to shreds.

"I don't believe you," comes a flat, almost bland statement. Hard pushing thrusts, unrelenting, and that doesn't surprise Sasuke one bit. He--he couldn't see it any other way.

"Fuck," he growls, the word slipping out again, ineloquent, but yet the only adequate word he has to describe the turmoil in his mind. The hand speeds up. It feels better. Twenty-one minutes, and he can feel himself peaking, everything seeming rather lovely and white and tingling, he's almost there, almost to that place, that addictive place he discovered, like everyone else, when he was younger.

Except.

It doesn't come. The moment passes and suddenly he feels like he's back at the very start, skipping over the climax entirely, and it aches, in a very psychical and very mental way, suddenly craving the feeling he's just missed out on, more than he's ever wanted it before.

"Seventy-one hours and thirty-seven minutes to go, ototo." Sasuke can hear Itachi smirking again.