Enter standard disclaimer here.  Nope, not mine, not mine at all.damn.

Stranger Than Fiction

Chapter 2 - Undeniably Complicated

By: Wicked Innuendo

And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
Soft notes as yet musician's cunning
Never gave the enraptured air)*

Come with me.  Those three words were a sweet melody, bewitchingly mesmerizing, softly spoken under hushed voice and downcast black eyes, as dark as starless nights, rimmed in thick obsidian lashes.

How could she resist such a request?  She couldn't.  And so she followed him.

They left the tavern together, his grip loosening at her wrist, slipping lower to entwine with her manicured fingers.  He led her through empty back streets and alleys, away from Konoha Village, beneath an evening sky painted in the deepest hues of indigo, the stars and the moon were absent leaving the occasional streetlamp as the only source of illumination.

"Sasuke-kun, where are we going?"  She timidly asked while her heart pounded anxiously in her chest.  Did it really matter where he took her?  This is what she had always wanted, Sasuke's acknowledgment, for him to see her as anything other than a burden. 

He didn't reply, only placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her through the empty streets to the village's only Inn. 

The desk clerk was asleep as they entered.  A plump ruddy cheek rested on the shabby butcher block counter, making the right side of his face look squished out of proportion, while a drizzle on saliva fell from his open mouth onto the countertop creating a watery pillow.  The clerk didn't even budge as the pair walked past him and up creaky wooden stairs down the long hallway to the last room on the right; room 12.  Itachi pulled an old brass key from within the folds of his Akatsuki cloak and unlocked the door. 

The room had that musky smell that old things have, combined with the faint tang of stale cigarette smoke and an even weaker scent of generic pine cleaner.  Suite 12 was sparse, furnished with the bare necessities; two futons, a table, two chairs, a dresser, lamp, and a door leading to what Sakura assumed was a bathroom.  It wasn't a five star resort, but it was a place where they could be alone and away from the world outside.

Itachi slid the heavy cloak off, laying it on the back of the wooden chair. 

Sakura's eyes widened in surprise, 'When did Sasuke loose that huge blue shirt and replace it with a black net top and black pants.'  Gods, he was beautiful, more breathtaking than she ever remembered him to be.  Had it been that long since she had been allowed the luxury of his company?  He seemed taller and stronger and.and he seemed weary and exhausted at the same time; absent was the cold fire that always blazed behind those dark eyes replaced with a dull, listless shadow of what she was so accustomed to seeing in his gaze. 

 "You look so tired," she took a step forward, cupping his face and smoothing her thumb across the noticeable lines beneath his dark eyes.

"I am tired, I'm ready for it all to be over," his voice was soft and smooth and beautiful.  He was always so beautiful and so very untouchable.

"Over," Sakura repeated.  Her inhibitions numbed, she stood ever so boldly on her tiptoes to press her lips to his in a chaste kiss, though her intentions were far from innocent.

"Yes, over. A means to an end." He whispered against her lips.

A means to an end.  A means to an end of what?  Of being alone?  Of being the last?  Her mind attempted to rationalize his cryptic words.  Sasuke had always been straightforward with her; this waltzing with riddles was so confus.

Inebriated attempts to analyze him were halted as his mouth was on hers, kissing her, touching her, marauding her kisses as if he wrote the book on it.  He had taken her by surprise, his velvet tongue was passionate and demanding, all she could do was melt into him and try to remember to breathe.

Where the hell did he learn to kiss like this?

She didn't remember crossing the small room; her thoughts were focused on experiencing all the new heady sensations. 

He was guiding her down onto the futon.  Cotton candy pink locks splayed out, surrounding Sakura like a pastel halo.  His hands were everywhere, unzipping her red dress and removing everything underneath. 

He wasn't gentle as she always imagined he would be.  She had always envisioned that when he finally returned her affections that it would be a night of slow touches as they mutually experienced their first time together; clumsily fumbling towards ecstasy in the confines of the massive Uchiha estate.  Not this.  This alcohol heightened experience, of perfectly placed kisses and hands moving over all the right places.  His mouth hot like liquid fire, searing her, making it hurt so good.  When did he ever learn to touch like this?  The thought was gone as fast as it had come, Sakura, quickly becoming lost in the ambrosia of Itachi's delicious body.


The golden rays of daylight peered through frayed auburn curtains.  A sense of misplacement washed over her as she looked around the unfamiliar room, realizing that she was nude beneath the covers and a muscular arm was loosely draped across her midriff.  Sasuke, she recalled, images of the night before dancing through her mind.  He was amazing

Sakura sat up on her elbows; her head began the dull ache to throb, evidence of her hangover.  She pinched the bridge of her nose, her head pounded with the reminder of inability to consume more than three shots without loosing herself.  Her head felt like miniature shinobi were using her temporal lobe for kunai practice.

"Headache?" he asked.

"Ya," she groaned her affirmation and added, "among other things."

"Look at me," he said in that soft, smooth, beautiful voice.

Pale green met crimson, tri teardrop pupils dancing dizzying circles around the single stationary one.  The pain melted away as it never existed replaced with extreme discomfort as she realized for the first time that the warm body on the futon beside her was not that of her school girl crush but his murderous kinsman.  Scarlet faded to black, Sakura pulled the dingy white cover over her bare chest, hissing his name. "Itachi."

Beneath the blanket her hand crept to her discarded dress and the kunai pouch within it, slim fingers found the small weapon.  He crawled over her, kneeling between her thighs, finding humor in the distress that played across her face like an open book.

As fast as she could she brandished the iron weapon, holding the kunai above his heart in an unsteady fist.   

"Have I given you any reason to wield that against me?" His face a blank visage, "Use it.  Carve my heart out and rob Sasuke of his revenge."

"He would hate me," she choked, voice shaking with unshed tears.

"Use it."  He leaned into to her stealing a kiss.  "Kill me, kunoichi." 

The sharpened tip of the kunai bit into his pectoral.  He ignored the pain, instead leaning in to take another kiss, swirling his sweet tongue around hers. 

Beads of red seeped through the small wound trailing over the weapon's length to pool over her palm and knuckles. 

It would be so easy to kill him.  He was Akatsuki.  He was a missing-nin.  He has wronged The Leaf in countless acts of treason and murder.  His death would surely make her a hero, but at what cost.  At the cost of Sasuke's camaraderie?  At the cost of her reputation, and be branded a whorish Black Widow?  At the cost of her sanity, knowing she slew the first man she allowed to touch her like this?  Could she even do it?  She was only a Gennin and he's a former Anbu Captain.  He could just as easily snap her neck and not think twice about it. 

Fighting him was futile, his kisses were persuasive and his hands felt so right. 

She conceded, dropping the blade and melted into his caress.   Her bloodied palm cupped his face, fingers threading through his black locks releasing the soft tresses from the binding.  Silky black spilled over his shoulders tickling her breasts in featherlike touches.

It was happening again and she wanted it.  She knew who he was, she knew of his past and she still wanted him.needed him.  She needed him with her, there filling the empty ache between her legs.  She needed him to remind her she was alive; she needed him to make her feel beautiful.  She needed him to make her feel desirable and wanted.  She needed to imprint this experience in her mind and hide it away in heart because this would never happen again...it could never happen again.

"Itachi," she moaned his name, arching her back, loosing herself in the blissful rhythm of his thrusts. 


He waited nearby, trying to remain as inconspicuous as a man with greenish-gray skin, a face full of gills and a six foot long sword could do.  If that comrade of his wasn't thrice his strength, he would've killed the man weeks ago and hacked his body into bite sized pieces and ate like a king for a month.  Too bad he wasn't stronger than the missing-nin Uchiha.  So, fear and a respect for his partner's seemingly endless strength kept Kisame in line and at the beck at the call of the Sharigan Master.

He sat in the nearby tree listening to them.  He could scent the loud aroma of their coupling with his shark like heightened sense of smell and Kisame felt a pang of jealousy for his fellow Akatsuki partner, his sexual encounters only happened through force and rape, his victims always becoming lifeless corpses before he even had the opportunity to get warmed up and have a little fun.  He hated Itachi for being stronger and easier on the eyes.

Kisame saw them first, the silver Leaf emblem on the forehead protector shining brightly in the morning sunshine.  So, they knew they were here.  Kisame smiled, jagged teeth bared like a mouthful of razorblades, serves that upstart advanced bloodline bastard right to have his whoring fun interrupted.  He whistled once long, twice short, pause, and short again.  His cue to Itachi that Leaf shinobi were present.


He rolled off of her, his naked body glistening like some dew kissed mythological god.

"Now what?" she asked, her words coming in pants as her fingers traced circles over the faint trail of dark hair on his muscled lower abdomen.

He sat up, pulling her into his lap, scowling slightly, "Did I say I was through with you yet?"

"Again?" she smiled, wrapping her long legs around his torso.

He kissed her swollen lips with bruising force, her finger rakes down his chest eliciting a gasp as her hand passed over the kunai wound.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his mouth.

"Don't be," his hands kneaded her inner thighs, his mouth on her collarbone tasting the salt on her skin. 

High pitched, but not too loud, he heard it. Once long, twice short, pause, and short again; Kisame's signal.

"I have to leave now," he lifted her from his lap, placing her beside him on the futon.

"So soon?  Is something wrong?"  Sea-foam green eyes looked at him hopefully; she was holding her breath waiting for his response.

"I'm a missing-nin, you know this," he pulled his pants on and slid the mesh shirt over his head.  "Take a bath, go back Konoha."

"Will I ever see you again?" she watched him tie the marred hitae around his head and

pick the cloak up from the chair.


He was leaving. Itachi was going, walking away just as simply as he walked into her life.

"Wait!" Bare, she ran to the door threw her arms around his neck, savoring one final kiss farewell.  "Good bye, Itachi-kun."

Then he was gone.


A kunai flew past his ear, imbedding itself in a nearby tree. The weapon's owner appeared in a poof of grey smoke shrouded in a black cloak, face hidden behind a white and red feline mask.  "And so the prodigal son returns," Itachi's attacker calmly speaks.

"Aa..little brother." He nods, "So it seems."

"Are you ready to die?" Sasuke lifted his mask and unsheathed his kitana.

"Death is a gift you give to your enemies.  Do you hate me enough, little brother?  Am I your enemy?"

"I hate you; I've hated you for fourteen years since that day."

"You're not ready to kill me, you're too soft; soft like your kunoichi ex-teammate, Sakura.  I enjoyed her very much.  I'm surprised she remained untouched until.last night." Itachi let the barest hint of a smirk cross his stoic face, meeting his brother's eyes; twin Sharingans watching one other intently, daring the other to look away in a dizzying staring contest.

"Liar!" Sasuke broke the eerie silence.

"She has a scar spanning from her hip to navel," Itachi began baiting his brother.

"I don't believe you" Sasuke's voice wavered; he remembered how she received that injury all too well.  It was during their last assignment as Team 7.  She always saw that mission as her downfall, Sakura being on a team with two Chuunins on the cusp of promotion and their former Anbu sensei.  She constantly did have trouble keeping up with them. If Sasuke had not been there to grab her from behind and pull her to safety then they would've buried her in two pieces five years ago.

"Believe what you like." He felt a pristine sense of joy as he noticed his brother's complexion blanch.

"Lies.  All lies!  Sakura would never allow it." He shook his head right to left, denying what his instincts screamed were truths.

"I take what I want little brother, what is and isn't permitted means little consequence to me," he taunted the younger Uchiha watching the words cut deeper than any kunai possibly could.  "Does it anger you little brother that I took what you so easily discarded.  Does it anger you that I could fill her with the next Uchiha heir as effortlessly as I could slit her throat?  Let your rage fuel your strength, lest your docility pave the road to your surrogate family's funeral.  Hate me, little avenger.  Hate me."

"Lies, I would never let you hurt them." He gritted through clenched teeth, gripping the sword handle until his knuckles turned white and the curse seal throbbed at his neck.

"Whatever gets you through the night, little brother."  He reached into his cloak, removing the dark blue cloth, tossing it to Sasuke.

It was a Leaf hitae.  Sasuke's eyes darted from the pale strands of pink to the dried blood smeared from Itachi's chin to ear.  Sakura, his lips mouthed her name.

"That little kunoichi is quite the screamer.  Could you hear her shrieking your name last night Sasuke?" 

Sasuke's heart lurched in his chest.  He knew what Itachi had been capable of nearly a decade and a half ago.  He had discovered the carnage of Itachi's killing frenzy years ago as a child. 

Red.  Red everywhere.  Red painted the walls.  Red stained the floors.  Sticky red coagulated crimson on small hands as they shook his Okasan's cold arm begging her to just wake up. 

Sasuke left his brother standing there, sprinting in the direction of the village. A cruel smile touched the corners of Itachi's mouth, he was pleased with himself.


The place between her thighs ached with emptiness; she craved to feel him there again.  She knew her drunken escapade with the enemy was wrong, indecent, and immoral; but Sakura still wanted more.

She was confused now that it was over.  A myriad of emotions played tug of war over her mind; sadness, regret, wistfulness, bittersweet content, desire, want, uncertainty. 

She tucked a misplaced tendril of freshly washed damp mauve hair back behind her ear.  

"Itachi," she whispered his name.  He was an enigma to her; undeniable and completely complicated.  How could a man as passionate and beautiful as him be responsible for the deaths of so many?  What were his intentions for her?  Was she merely a pawn in some elaborate mind fuck?  Screw her senseless until she's forgotten everything but his strong body riding atop hers?  But, he did do that.twice, didn't he?

"A means to an end." She recalled, remembering his breath hot against her jaw, "An end to what?"

"Sakura!"  The sound of her name pulled her from her reverie.

"Sasuke?" She turned around, surprised to see her former teammate standing there in full Anbu uniform.

"What are you doing here?" He asked quickly, sharply, accusingly.

"It was late.  I stayed the night here instead of coming straight home," she told the half truth, but didn't meet his gaze as she spoke.

"You should be careful.  There were confirmed sightings of Akatsuki members here last night." He chastised her making her feel like the child she used to be when they first met years ago.

She faltered then glared, "Well thank God you're here.  Whatever would I have done without a Leaf Shinobi here to protect little defenseless me?"

"Sakura," he pretended to be unfazed by her sharp tongue, "C'mon, I'll walk you home."

"I'm a big girl, I can walk myself home.  Besides, escorting a client home is a D rank mission, not worthy for an Anbu Captain such as yourself.  Go find your Akatsuki, I'll be fine." She turned away to began her trek home.

"Sakura," he tossed the Konoha Village forehead protector to her, "You forgot this."

Her eyes widened in recognition, guilt and shame flashed across her face and in that instant he knew and she knew that he knew, but he couldn't find the words to call her out on in it because deep inside he wanted it to not be true.  And she would never tell another living soul about last night but should their paths cross again, she would merrily accept any rendezvous Itachi might suggest.

"Where did you find that?" Sakura ran her fingers through wet hair held back with Itachi's leather binding.

"It's not important," His voice was cool and collected as ever, but his eyes never lied.  The hurt and betrayal shone through the twin black mirrors to his soul.  But the way he looked at her displayed more than pain, there was anger in those onyx orbs, intense loathing and she was left with the distinct impression that if looks could kill, she'd be lying facedown in pool of her own blood.

She put on an unaffected façade, refusing to act guilty.  "Whatever," She flipped her hair over to tie the forehead protector securely in its place. "Well Captain. Don't you have an Anbu team to lead and some bad guys to catch?"

He nodded, feeling unsure of what to say for the first time in his camaraderie with Sakura.

"Anyways, thanks for returning this.  I'm gone, see you around Sasuke."  And that was it.  She didn't look back.  She didn't tell him to be careful.  She didn't invite to dinners that she knew he'd refuse.  She didn't smile.  She didn't call him Sasuke-kun.  This was it.  It was now his turn to watch her walk away.

He watched her go and he knew things between them would never be the same again.  He hated Itachi for stealing her away.  She was his and had always belonged to him, regardless of how cruel he could be to her.  She belonged to him and him alone, whether he chose to act on that claim or chose to set her on a shelf like some random possession for a rainy day.  It was their unspoken understanding, she was to love him one-sidedly for eternity and he would utilize her uterus when he was ready to restore the Clan and make little Uchihas.  Sakura was the only woman whose company he could fathom to tolerate and now his agenda might very well be blown to the four corners of the wind.  She was his.that was, until now and he hated Itachi for taking her.

With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.*

* - The Pied Piper of Hamelin, by Robert Browning

A/N:  OOC?  Most definitely!  But that's what makes fanfiction fun.   I'm still undecided whether I intend to continue this a few more chapters or not, but for now this is the tentative ending.  So how was it?  Reviews and constructive criticisms are welcome; all flames will be forwarded to the kitchen and used to grill chicken fajitas.