Title: Nightshade, Part 1
Fandom: Naruto, way post time-slip
Rating: Seriously M
Archive: No archives unless I put them there myself, no MSTings.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters I write about in fanfiction. I’m only a little bitter about it.

---

Nightshade, Part 2

Sakura was so stunned she forgot to be miserable. She hadn’t expected he would kiss her; kissing wasn’t necessary for what needed to be done. There was no other contact, just his mouth moving softly over hers before he stroked his tongue against her lower lip. Sakura blinked, unmoving, as her overstressed body lay dormant, wondering if the casual handling as he undressed her had burned the drug out of her system. When she didn’t respond he stopped trying to deepen the kiss, instead taking her lower lip between his and suckling gently. Sakura’s body reacted instantly. Her back arched as nerves sparked everywhere. Her moans, smothered by his mouth, sounded less painful and more needy. Itachi settled comfortably against her, elbows braced by her head to take his weight, fingers threading into her hair to hold her head in place as he slanted his mouth across hers. He kissed her as if they weren’t naked preparing to have sex that was practically medicinal in nature, as if they weren’t going any further than this, as if he meant it.

Sakura’s hands clenched into the bedclothes. She wanted to touch him, but was afraid to for several reasons. For one thing, as necessary as this was she was being unfaithful and she felt guilty; touching Itachi meant tacit acceptance of him under this most intimate of circumstances. Most importantly, she was afraid of hurting him. She was one of the strongest shinobi in existence, which meant it was important she kept herself under control. She could unintentionally break bones if she wasn’t careful.

As if he read her mind, “It might help if you touch me,” suggested Itachi, lifting his head to look at her. As usual, his face lacked any discernable emotion.

Sakura considered pointing out that they were already skin-to-skin almost everywhere except her hands. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hmmm.” It was a non-committal noise. Itachi shifted his weight to one elbow as he drew a finger from her temple, across her cheek, down her throat, watching her face carefully the entire time. He spread his hand across her shoulder before trailing his fingers down her arm to where she clutched the sheet. He firmly pulled at her fingers until she released her death grip on the cloth. For a moment he only held her hand, thumb rubbing across its back, before he lifted it to his face. Sakura wasn’t sure if she thought he was going to kiss it or cup it to his cheek, but he did neither. Instead he brought her palm to his mouth and bit down on the fleshy bit beneath her thumb. Sakura gasped and jerked in shock. “I think we can both take a little pain,” he murmured into her skin, eyes gazing into hers intently. His tongue flicked out, lapping against the slight impressions of his teeth.

Heat coiled deep in Sakura’s stomach. She told herself it was the drug kicking in again.

Lacing his fingers between hers, Itachi pressed her hand next to her head and leaned in to kiss her again. This time when he ran his tongue over her mouth Sakura parted her lips, closing them around his tongue and gently suckling. They lay like that for a while, exchanging slow, wet kisses as Sakura calmed down. Having someone to focus her attention on seemed to control those horrible involuntary spasms, although it did not repress her overactive sexual drive. She was very conscious of the way Itachi shifted over her, her breasts rubbing against his chest, his hips between her restless thighs. Contractions too small to be true orgasms periodically wracked her body, making her shiver against his muscular frame and moan into his soft mouth. Unconsciously she began to undulate her lower body, trying to grind into him.

“Easy,” Itachi whispered, finally lifting his mouth from hers. His fingers squeezed hers before he released her hand. Fascinated by the dark hair that spilled over his shoulder onto her skin, Sakura began to run her fingers through it. It was soft as silk, far longer than she had ever realized. He made a tiny little noise and leaned into her touch, his eyes closing. It was the first indication she had that Itachi was receiving any pleasure from the situation. It probably should have annoyed her or made her feel he was taking advantage of the situation; instead, Sakura felt emboldened to broaden the caress to the skin under his hair, the nape of his neck and the muscular shoulders. Itachi dropped his head to her chest and nipped just under her collarbone. Suddenly Sakura shuddered in a spasm as strong as any of her earlier ones, nails digging into his flesh. Only this time, it wasn’t painful.

“Sorry,” Sakura gasped out when she could. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Itachi murmured even though she could feel the imprint of her fingers on his skin when she smoothed her hand across his back. He tucked his chin and softly kissed her nipple, causing Sakura to again tighten her grip as she moaned through her gasps. He opened his mouth across the nub, not sucking but stroking the broad part of his tongue across it, and Sakura left more gouges on his skin as she flared up again.

When she came back to herself this time Itachi had shifted again, mouth pressed against her temple, hand covering her breast pressing in gentle circles. Sakura was restless, hooking her knees behind his thighs and running her feet up and down his calves. “You’re so responsive,” Itachi said quietly. “I would be flattered, if I thought it had anything to do with me.”

It does, thought Sakura hazily. She might have even said it out loud, except Itachi covered her mouth with his in another languorous, drugging kiss and any sound she made was caught against his tongue. Her body quieted once more as she lost herself in the illusion Itachi was weaving, hands moving slowly over his hair and stroking the skin of his back through the dark strands. It has everything to do with you, she thought again. As long as Itachi acted as her anchor for these uncontrolled sensations, everything was less painful and humiliating

Itachi eased out of the kiss, tucking his face against the curve between her shoulder and neck. He opened his mouth, stroking his tongue over her skin. He was probably trying to disguise the downward trek of his hand as it left her breast, but Sakura was acutely aware of every movement he made. His hand paused on her lower stomach, fingers spread and pressing slightly. Raising his head, he looked into her face. Sakura smiled involuntarily. Whether it was the fading light or her altered perspective, his expression seemed softer than usual.

“You’re good at this sort of torture,” she told him.

His mouth quirked slightly at a corner. Sakura only noticed because she was so close. “You sound more coherent.” He lowered his head and Sakura closed her eyes, expecting another of those languid kisses. Instead Itachi paused with his lips just above hers and whispered, “I’ll have to do something about that.”

With that, Itachi plunged two fingers deep inside of her.

Sakura screamed. She was fairly sure she also babbled. She might have even shouted her husband’s name, although she hoped not. All she was really sure of was that her oversensitive core finally had something solid to grip against, and that it would be a while before some of those million pieces she just shattered into would ever be found.

And that Uchiha Itachi was leaning over her with hooded eyes and a predatory cast to his features she never expected to see on that cold, emotionless face.

His fingers twisted inside of her again. Gasping Sakura dropped her hands from his back to the thick part of his upper arms, gripping tightly as she tried to find something to anchor against.

If she survived this, she was going to have to remember to heal him in the morning. Some of those scratches were likely to scar.

“Too much, too fast?”

“Gods, no,” Sakura managed to pant out.

“Good.” And he kissed her again, a far different kiss than the earlier ones, rough and hard and borderline violent. Sakura moaned and clawed at him like an animal, the drug and the contrast from his earlier careful handling combining to render her as incoherent as she had been when he stripped her, but without the agony of seized muscles and personal embarrassment. Her skin was still on fire, only now she associated the burning sensation with his touch.

He sat up on his knees and hauled her after him so that her thighs spread wide over his and his erection was trapped between their bodies. Sakura wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders and hung on for dear life as his fingers worked her into another orgasm. Panting helplessly with her forehead pressed against his shoulder, she became aware that Itachi was murmuring into her skin as he pressed closed-mouth kisses along her neck. What he was saying was so soft she couldn’t hear it clearly over her own breathing, but it seemed to feature words like ‘want’ and ‘tight’ and ‘need.’ His legendary control appeared close to breaking. “I want you, too,” she moaned against his flesh.

Itachi froze, arm tightening around her.

After a moment he lowered Sakura back to the bed. Her hands clung but he was insistent, holding her firmly down with one large hand spread across her chest. Pulling his fingers free of her body, he stroked them across her stomach and breasts in an abstract pattern that left wet trails. His coal black eyes roamed over her, taking in the sweat-slick glow of her skin, her erect nipples, the wide, wide eyes. Stretching over her, he buried his hands in her hair again, as he had in the beginning when he surprised her with his kiss.

“Say that again,” he growled, and the voice was low and rough and unrecognizable.

Sakura could feel it building in her again, feel the press of his most intimate flesh between her legs, feel the warm breath against her face as he spoke. “I want you.”

Dipping his head he brushed his mouth against hers, raising his head before she could try to deepen the kiss. “Say my name.”

“Itachi,” she whispered. He took her lips again, a slow kiss like the first one, and flexed his hips at the same time, and Sakura arched against him and screamed into his mouth as he took her body as well.

He kissed her through the scream and the moans and whimpers that followed, mouth shifting lazily in counterpart to the irregular thrusts that were sometimes slow and sometimes sharp. Sakura couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything for his pleasure, couldn’t do more than gasp and writhe, no longer sure how much was the drug and how much was the man holding her. She was out of control and Itachi seemed to like that. He didn’t tease and didn’t try to slow her down. If anything, he worked to drive Sakura to her peak over and over again without seeking relief himself.

When he finally couldn’t hold on any longer and released with a smothered gasp against her throat Sakura felt pleasure rather than the uncontrollable spasms of before. She ran her fingers through his hair and smoothed her hands across his back, shifting experimentally against him. He breathed against her skin for a few minutes before raising his head to gaze into her eyes.

“I think it worked,” said Sakura softly.

Itachi made a non-committal noise and rested his forehead against hers.

“I suppose we should wait to be sure.”

Another non-committal noise, although this one was close to an amused snort. Itachi shifted off of her, to her side, one arm draped across her midsection.

“Until morning at least.”

“Sakura,” Itachi rumbled, sounding half-asleep (and sexy, although Sakura told herself she did not really just think that), “I’ll be here in the morning. We can evaluate if the nightshade is out of your system then. If it is and you want to forget,” he added, “I can use the sharingan to—“

“I don’t want to forget, Itachi,” Sakura said, so sharply it was almost her normal speaking voice.

He opened his eyes for a minute. His heavy-lidded stare made her so hot that Sakura wondered if the drug was trying to take her over again. “Good,” Itachi said quietly. He tugged her closer to him and closed his eyes again.

---

And, smut’s over! There’s an epilog when I get around to it, but if you read for the smut, consider the story done.