Chapter 7:

Itachi had never has sex with a man before. As a teenager, he had been too preoccupied with living up to his father's ridiculous expectations and keeping Sasuke's childhood sweet. When his father had died, his mother had been overcome by grief, wasting away until he was a sunken-eyed husk. Itachi became the patriarch of the family at the age of 16 while his mother slipped into obscurity. Uchiha Mikoto now lived in a small cottage on the coast, and left the running of the family company to Itachi.

Even a romantic relationship had been entirely out of the question for the majority of Itachi's life. He wondered whether it could be counted as an achievement that he was still a virgin at 24, or an extreme failure. It did not matter, of course. He was going to sleep with this wild mercenary tonight, in exchange for his help. It was a price he was willing to pay.

Or, at least, that was what he told himself as Kisame slammed him against the door roughly, sharp teeth nipping his neck. An involuntary noise escaped his bitten lips, somewhere between a hitch and a gasp. Kisame chuckled, his voice husky, and gripped Itachi's arms with brutal fingers. Itachi knew he would hurt tomorrow, but he didn't care.

His hair was down. Kisame had pulled out the ribbon that kept it neatly in place sometime during his assault, and now carded the fingers of one coarse hand through it. It tugged and hurt a little when Kisame encountered knots, but it was nowhere near agonising, and Kisame's ministrations on other parts of his body felt so glorious that the pain in his head seemed insignificant.

"I haven't had someone anywhere near as hot as you for a while," Kisame told him, drawing back slightly. Itachi's chest heaved, and he belatedly realised that his arms were linked around Kisame's neck.

"I can assure you, I'm flattered," Itachi gasped out, sounding winded. Maybe he was. Kisame had been awfully rough with him. Did he not know that Itachi never did this sort of thing? It was unlikely that he did, and Itachi wasn't going to tell him. He didn't want to be treated with kid-gloves.

"Of course you are," Kisame said with a predatory grin. Then, Itachi's clothes lay around his feet in a puddle of silk. In a single motion, Kisame had cut the clothes away from Itachi's body like he was gutting a fish. Itachi shivered. It was cold.

But Kisame was warm, and Itachi pressed himself closer to Kisame's body. Kisame was still wearing his warm travelling cloak, while Itachi was nearly nude, wearing only his sturdy boots and his underclothes.

"Are you ready?" Kisame asked. Itachi wanted to tell him that he wasn't ready to have sex with a man he barely knew in a dingy room (one that didn't even have a bed) above a pub like a cheap whore. But he didn't make a sound. Instead, he removed Kisame's cloak from the man's shoulders and laid it out on the ground before lowering himself onto it.

Kisame followed. His body draped over Itachi's, bringing instant warmth. Itachi pulled him closer, fingers digging into the broad expanse of back beneath his rigid touch. He readied himself for a kiss, but instead grunted as Kisame lowered his mouth to Itachi's chest and sucked and nibbled while rough hands firmly rubbed Itachi's sides. His stomach tightened in pleasure. His legs fell open, although he didn't realise this until Kisame's crotch made contact with his own.

The resultant hiss that escaped his mouth made him sound like an angry cat. Kisame's teeth nibbled his jaw line as fingers expertly found a nipple and pinched sharply before rolling it in a soothing motion. Itachi couldn't help it- he whimpered past his clenched teeth and bitten lips.

"That's more like it," Kisame said quietly, the vibrations of his deep voice rumbling through Itachi's chest. Itachi didn't deign to answer. He simply closed his eyes as he felt Kisame pull his underwear off roughly, baring what little skin remained unexplored.

There was the gentlest of touches to the supple skin of his cock, causing him to draw breath sharply. The familiar feeling of needy arousal engulfed him. His groin felt heavy and all too sensitive, like a fresh paper-cut, but the discomfort felt good. Itachi found himself tilting his hips towards Kisame's taunting finger tips and quickly stopped the action. He wasn't going to make more of a fool out of himself than he had to.

Itachi shivered with relief when Kisame finished tormenting him, wrapping a firm hand around Itachi's cock and slowly beginning to stroke. Almost thrashing with pleasure, Itachi forced himself to keep all noises in check and dug his fingers into the floor boards on either side of the cloak he lay upon. He knew that he would have to remove at least one splinter from his hand, but he didn't care. What was one splinter compared to the indignity of his current position? He may have liked and respected Kisame, but he certainly didn't want them to end up here. He thought it unlikely that they would ever become friends now that this had developed into a business transaction.

The injustice of his situation was driven from his mind at the first cool sticky-smooth touch to his entrance.

"It would be better if you were on your knees," Kisame told him, sedately circling Itachi's hole with a lubed-up digit. Itachi didn't want to have sex on all fours, like an animal, but he offered no protest. Kisame had begun what Itachi had asked of him already, and now he was collecting his payment. Itachi would have to deliver, would have to satisfy Kisame, if he wanted his plan to succeed.

It was with a heavy heart that he turned over and placed his hands on the floor on either side of his head to hold his upper body up as he kneeled like a bitch about to be mounted by a male dog. In this position, the discomfort the thick finger inside him caused was greater, and the degradation Itachi felt increased too. He didn't know how people did this all the time. It seemed incredibly undignifed. He hoped Kisame was going to make this worth his while.

"Have you done this before?" Kisame asked suddenly, sounding suspicious, "You don't feel like you have to me,"

Itachi inwardly snorted. Did a virgin feel different from a person who had previously had sex? Itachi didn't know. He dealt with neurosurgery, at the opposite end of the spectrum. It would be a cold day in Hell before he even thought about touching another person's anus.

"Does it matter?" he asked calmly, although the way he shifted had probably given away how testy he was.

"If you want to be able to walk tomorrow, yes," Kisame answered.

"Just do it," Itachi said evenly.

Something shorter and thicker than a finger- a thumb, perhaps?- was pressed inside him slowly. The stretch really was quite pleasurable. Itachi's entire body was suffused with a flush of colour. Then the thumb curled and wriggled slightly, the short nail scraping in a not entirely unpleasant way.

"Hmm, very nice," Kisame said, his deep voice sounding terribly loud in a room that was silent but for the occasional grunts and Itachi's increased breathing rate. Itachi was about to reply scathingly, when he felt a sharp pain, first in his right buttock, and then in his left. Itachi ground his face into the rough cloak, trying to keep all noise at bay. While he wasn't too keen on walking around with two angry-red bite marks on his ass, the act itself was disgustingly arousing. The fact that Kisame would put his mouth in such a place was simultaneously dirty and heavenly, and it made Itachi desire things he had never before desired or even thought about.

"Tastes nice too," Kisame said, adding further fuel to Itachi's fire. Was he supposed to be enjoying this so much?

With both hands, Kisame parted his cheeks, that thick thumb still firmly entrenched within Itachi's hole. Itachi breathed in sharply through his nose, his face going slack with shock. Turning his head to the side, he looked back at Kisame.

"What are you doing?" he asked, wanting to clench his buttocks but knowing that the act would cause the sight to become even more lewd than what it already was.

The thumb was pulled free, and was replaced by something slick, flexible and a little rough, resulting in Itachi's face flaming.

"Please tell me you're not-," Itachi began, stopping mid-sentence as a shiver of desire passed over him. Kisame's laugh was answer enough, his hot breath puffing onto Itachi's hole.

"Oooh...," Itachi said, unable to stop himself as Kisame's wet wet tongue slid into him like a knife through butter and caressed him from the inside. Itachi thought that Kisame seemed to like that response, as he grunted like an animal in heat in response and began to plunge his tongue in and out and in and out to a choppy rhythm that had Itachi's toes curling in his boots.

"Do you like that?" Kisame asked with a deep chuckle, his tongue having slid free from Itachi's body with a wet sound. Itachi could feel saliva cooling in his crack and on his testicles, where it had dripped down in Kisame's frenzied attack.

"I said, do you like that?" Kisame asked again, sounding self-satisfied. Clearly, he knew the answer, so Itachi wasn't going to give him one.

"No answer?"Kisame questioned rhetorically, "I know I'm good, but...,"

He stretched Itachi's hole with two thick, coarse fingertips, and what little air that was left in Itachi's lungs escaped him on the heels of a muffled noise of dirty pleasure-pain.

"...I'm not that good, am I?" Kisame finished. Itachi could almost taste his satisfaction, like a particularly pungent scent. He gnawed the cloth in his mouth to prevent anymore reactions. Kisame had told him that he was very domineering with his partners and subscribed to the philosophy "the kinkier, the better", but, for some reason, Itachi hadn't expected something like this.

"Are you still in there, or have I overloaded you already?" Kisame asked, rapping his head softly in an uncharacteristic and bizarre spur-of-the-moment instant of playfulness. Itachi's pride roared in response, although Itachi's outward reply was much more composed.

"Do what you want," he said, glaring over his shoulder, "I won't complain, and I won't break like any of the weak people you have had in the past,"

"I'll hold you to that," Kisame said, making it sound like a warning rather than a promise. Itachi could see why. Several fingers were roughly jammed inside him, until he felt violated. It was almost funny that he hadn't felt violated until this point.

And then there was the pain- the burning stretch that was the price for engaging in this kind of activity. Itachi solemnly swore that this would not be happening again. He then realised that he had promised Kisame another session, and marvelled at his own unusual display of stupidity and lack of foresight. An oily liquid was sloppily drizzled onto his backside, and Kisame was suddenly able to move his fingers without making Itachi grimace. Itachi didn't wonder what it was, because he didn't know if he would like the conclusions he would come to.

"So pretty," Kisame sniggered. Itachi, unable to resist, kicked out, catching Kisame on the left thigh.

"Shit!" Kisame swore, "I was joking!"

"If you say that again, I'll kick you again," Itachi vowed darkly, "But, this time, I won't be aiming for your leg,"

"If you aim there, you're aiming for my third leg," Kisame said. Even Itachi was unable to stop his lips from twitching slightly at that tastelessly bawdy yet oddly amusing remark.

"You're foul," Itachi said shortly, surprised by the suddenly less serious atmosphere. However, the brief reprieve did not last long, and it was over in a flash of pain as Kisame buried himself in Itachi's body with one great pistoning thrust, while, at the same time, sinking his teeth into Itachi's back. Itachi's eyes watered.

"It's always better to get it over with," Kisame gasped, tongue easing the residual throbbing of the clean bite mark he had cleaved into Itachi's skin, "It shouldn't do much damage,"

Itachi didn't respond. He was too busy worrying that he would have to wear a diaper for the rest of his life as a result of Kisame's less than gentle entry.

"In my defence," Kisame continued, his fingers digging in to Itachi's hips painfully, "I did ask if you were a virgin, and you didn't answer,"

"Don't use that word," Itachi said, having begun to get over the sudden dull pain and lingering soreness, "It makes you sound like you are talking to a woman. And I am definitely no woman,"

"I can see that," Kisame countered, his large blue hand leaving Itachi's hip and grasping his cock in a grip that was agonisingly good. Now raised up onto his hands and knees, Itachi had no cloak to press his face against, and instead pressed his mouth against his own arm to minimise the noise. His shudder was enough of a reaction for Kisame to understand anyway.

"I'd normally tell you to make all the noise you want, but we wouldn't want anyone coming to investigate-," Kisame gave a short thrust that rubbed Itachi's insides the right way, "-would we?"

Itachi's muteness spurred Kisame on. He reached forwards and pushed Itachi's hair out of his eyes, his fingers trailing down Itachi's jaw until his hand was settled on Itachi's mouth. His hand smelled musky, but Itachi didn't mind, because it was then that Kisame decided he should hammer into Itachi with the force of an enraged rhino.

At first, the pain was blinding and the sensation disorientating. But, Itachi was soon moaning against Kisame's hand, his voice tremoring to the rhythm of Kisame's thrusts. Itachi hazily thought that it was, frankly, astounding that Kisame could cause such a reaction just by slamming into him like a possessed demon. Although it still hurt slightly at every inward push, his body didn't dislike the pain. Itachi suspected that endorphins were the culprit, soothing to such an extent that Itachi was able to receive a great amount of pleasure from the act.

His cock bobbed, throbbing and neglected, and he longed to touch himself to give himself some relief, but he didn't like the thought of doing something like that in front of Kisame- even if Kisame was currently abusing his slick hole from behind. It seemed shameful, which was stupid, as his rational mind told him.

His fingers twitched against the cloak, his knuckles red and his nails encircled by dried blood from his earlier actions. Slowly, they began their journey towards his body, shaking from Kisame's ceaseless pistoning action. They were half way when they stopped, nails sinking into Itachi's own thigh as Kisame struck his prostate with the precision of a sniper bullet and the force of a ballistic meteor. He couldn't stop himself; he fell forwards, his cheek hitting the floor even as a shout of surprised delight exploded out of him before he even knew what was happening. In fact, he was unable to prevent himself from shouting the next time, and the next, and the next, and then he stopped trying all together. Kisame seemed to like that.

"Yes," he hissed in Itachi's ear, heaving like a bull, his forehead glistening with sweat from the furious, no-holds barred punishment he was dishing out , "Scream louder,"

He punctured his request- no, his order- with a swivelling motion combined with an shove. And Itachi did- he screamed until his throat was sore, saliva sliding between Kisame's fingers, back arching painfully, scratching at the cloak and his thigh, eyes rolling like he was having a seizure...and then Kisame slowed down.

"Shit," he panted, "I know I said louder but...shit, people are going to think I'm murdering you!"

Itachi whined into Kisame's hand, hating the fact that he was letting go so easily, but loving the emotional release. He was never able to scream and rage like his brother did- if he did, how could he stop Sasuke when things got out of hand? And, should Uchiha Itachi show the slightest hint of distress, he would be given strange looks and asked if he was alright to continue with whatever he was doing. Kisame, though...Kisame would not judge him. In fact, he seemed to like it when Itachi was loud (when he wasn't worried about causing a scene and being discovered, that is). So Itachi let it all out. He could always kick Kisame again if he said anything after the event.

He pressed his backside against Kisame crotch, feeling their balls touch together, even as his round buttocks fit snugly against Kisame's hips like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Kisame bit the same spot on his back again and grabbed his hip, yanking him closer as he thrust forwards powerfully. Itachi wondered why his vision had narrowed, black spots dancing across his gaze, but then he realised that he was coming all over his own stomach and chest and even onto his enraptured face. His arms hung limply at his sides as Kisame continued, body trembling with aftershocks and the new abuse Kisame was subjecting his sensitive body to. Despite this, Kisame was able to make Itachi hard again, and Itachi was propelled forwards even as his eyes remained at half-mast, gasping and groaning because he couldn't bring himself to scream past his raw throat.

Kisame came first this time. The only indications that he had reached his peak were his erratic thrusts and a grunt of Itachi's own name. Itachi's head dropped, his teeth biting into the cloak, even as his hand snuck up his body to finish him off. He didn't realise Kisame was pulling out for a moment, continuing to slump against the floor, face down and his backside exposed. The warm trickle dripping over his balls alerted him. That, and the way Kisame's breath hitched, his finger pushing into Itachi's sore hole, playing with the cum and letting it drip out slowly. Itachi hissed and pushed his hand away before turning over onto his back.

He knew he must have looked a mess- a universe from his usual, impeccable appearance and unflappable composure. Yet Kisame was looking at him like a hungry lion might look at a young antelope.

Itachi found that he liked it. At the same time, he was worried. What if Kisame's admiration was sexually motivated, and had nothing to do with Itachi himself?

Itachi reminded himself that this was an exchange of services- a business transaction of sorts.

It didn't stop him from wanting, though.

Maybe he was being overly sentimental because Kisame was his first, and people were normally incredibly attached to the first person they ever slept with. Or maybe he was attracted to Kisame's unique personality and bizarre looks. Whatever it was, Itachi was certain that he would soon he in for a world of emotional hurt. He let out a long breath, legs sliding from their bent position until they were lying flat.

Kisame's eyes became alert again and he grinned, flashing sharp teeth. Itachi's lips turned up slightly.

"Are you...alright?" Kisame asked, almost as though he didn't quite know what to say. It was official; Itachi looked a frightful state. He nodded, trying not to wince as his throat throbbed.

"I've ruined your clothes," Kisame said, nodding at the pile of silk that had been kicked into the corner at some point. He regarded Itachi speculatively for a moment, and then picked either side of the cloak up and wrapped it round Itachi's body as though he was swaddling an infant. Itachi, still pleasantly buzzed due to hormones, didn't react, happy to absorb Kisame's warmth through the cloak and think about where he hurt.

The answer was, unsurprisingly, everywhere.

"Your place or mine?" Kisame asked.

"My key is in my clothes," Itachi croaked, overlooking Kisame's self-satisfied grin. Kisame placed him gently on the floor and went to get the key. By the time he returned, Itachi was asleep.

Neji didn't know why Gaara has suddenly decided to lock him in a bedroom, and nor did he care. What he really wanted at the present moment was a way out of that room so that he didn't go insane. He had tried all of the tricks he knew on the door, many of them illegal, but it refused to budge. Not only that, but the handles themselves were rather uncooperative, and shouted at him for grabbing and twisting their noses (or, rather, the knobs).

He settled down on the bed with a sigh...


...And promptly fell off the bed in shock as a voice shouted impatiently. He looked around wildly, but the only thing in the room was the furniture.

"Up here, idiot," spoke the brusque female voice again.

Neji looked at the armoire, which was twice as tall as him, and discovered that the armoire was looking back at him.

"You're the first person I've seen for years," she said, "What's Gaara doing, locking you in here?"

"I haven't any idea," Neji said, running his hand through his hair agitatedly.

"Well, he must have a reason," she said, "He always does. His reasons can be twisted, but they're still reasons,"

"Maybe he wants me to die from starvation," Neji said darkly.

"Nope," she said, emphasising the p, "He wouldn't lock you in here for that. He would have kept you in the dungeon. Or he'd make you work yourself to death. That's more of his style,"

"How do you know that?" Neji asked, curious in spite of himself. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm his sister," she said, "Or, I was. I don't know what I am now,"

"An armoire?" Neji ventured. The armoire glared at him.

"Am I glad he's locked a comedian in here with me!" she said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry," Neji said sincerely.

"Yeah, whatever," she snorted. Then, her wooden face brightened with comprehension.

"You know," she said slowly, "There could be a reason he locked you in here specifically,"

"No doubt that reason is one I won't like," Neji sighed.

"Open my doors," the wardrobe ordered. Bemused, Neji did as he was asked. Hanging down from the metal rail was row upon row of doublets and hose in every colour Neji could think of- crimson, gold, cream, mint, black, purple, silver...

The top shelf was filled with gem-studded hats made from silk, wool, velvet and taffeta, and, nearby, were an array of codpieces that were so obscenely large and flashy that Neji flushed a little. There were mantles of thick fur, pale woollen undershirts, scarlet gowns with hanging sleeves, silver-gold jerkins without sleeves, fur-lined gowns, a collection of rounded shoes made from velvet, silk and buckskin, and many other items of clothing that even Neji, being a tailor's nephew and a training tailor himself, could could not recognise.

"Pick some clothes," the armoire said, waving her doors to emphasise and nearly knocking Neji to the ground in the process. Neji snapped out of his awed stupor and stared at her.

"I'm sure that Gaara didn't plan on me wearing his clothes," he argued.

"Don't be stupid," the armoire snorted, rolling her eyes, "These aren't his clothes. They're too small,"

"Then to whom do they belong?" Neji asked curiously, unable to stop himself from stroking a magnificent fur-lined burgandy gown.

"I don't know," the armoire shrugged, "But they've been there since I was cursed, so they probably don't belong to anyone. So feel free to wear whatever you like,"

"Why would Gaara put me here just so that I could wear clothes that look as though they belong to the King of England himself?" Neji asked, frowning.

"I don't know," she said, "But, out of all the rooms he could have locked you in, he locked you in here. This room is so far away from the rooms he normally uses, so it seems kind of odd that he would take you to the other side of his castle for no reason. So I guess he wanted you to meet me, and knew that I could pass up the opportunity to dress up a pretty boy,"

Neji frowed. He supposed that she was right. Afterall, it had taken 10 minutes for Gaara to carry him here, and it seemed entirely illogical that Gaara would go to all of that trouble for no reason. Making his decision, he regarded the beautiful clothes.

Reluctant and eager in equal measure, Neji tried to decide what outfit he would suit the most. He knew Sasuke normally wore darker colours, such as reds and blacks, but Neji felt that he would look like he belonged in a morgue if he combined such dark colours with his pale skin. However, he really liked that burgandy robe. He chewed the inside of his cheek with indecision for a moment, and then chose his clothing, hoping that he wouldn't look stupid.

A while later, he had stuggled into an array of clothing that he was sure made him look at least one hundred times richer than he actually was. The undershirt had been the easiest to put on, but the hose took a little more time to figure out. Temari looked away while he changed, which he was glad about. It wasn't a case of embarrassment over her seeing him naked, but, rather, it was a case of how stupid he probably looked as he tried to put on clothes that were worth more than his house. He had less trouble with the cream and gold doublet and jerkin that he had anticipated, although the amount of padding and the way the high collar dug into his chin when he looked down was a little uncomfortable. When he slipped on the burgandy gown, any residual cold left him immediately, and he suddenly saw the practicality behind these elaborate garments, even if they were predominately made for aesthetic purposes.

"Don't forget the hat!" the armoire said, her wooden face grinning. Neji paused in the act of slipping on some soft buckskin shoes and picked up a velvet hat, from which hung a large plume.

"Perfect," the armoire smirked. Neji sighed and looked down at himself. He did not suit such finery.

"Are you done yet?" Gaara asked through the door. Neji bit his tongue to keep himself from forming a barbed retort.

"Yes," he ground out, still angry at Gaara for everything he had done.

The door was unlocked and Gaara came in, a grin lighting up his mad eyes as he stared at Neji.

I know, I know. I suck at updating. But I hope I've made it up to you by writing such a long chapter. I also hope that the description of Neji's clothing wasn't too complicated. The clothes he wears in this chapter haven't been in fashion for centuries, so I'd understand if you don't get understand what the hell I'm talking about. I've included a link to the source of Neji's outfit:

http : / / upload . wikimedia . org / wikipedia / commons / 4 / 4f / Edward _ VI _ of _ England _ c. _ 1546 . jpg

I would make a disclaimer, stating that these clothes belong to Edward VI of England, but, as he's currently entombed in the floor of The Collegiate Church of St Peter at Westminster (Known as Westminster Abbey by normal people), and has been since 8th August, 1553, I doubt he cares overly much.

Please review. It would make me very happy :D