sigh Well, I know it has been a long while since I last wrote something for Fanfic, but things have been happening lately. n.n

Well, first off, I've moved out of Mom and Dad's house so mostly I type up things on my no internet computer at home and I can upload it via ninja-ing onto my parent's internet. I have a job, so no more writing at school. I get to do it in my free time at work in a spiral notebook I now take everywhere with me.

I decided to do this one, not only because it was asked of me by one of my readers like….. forever and a day ago, but I decided to use a first person POV for once. It's a big change for me and it was a little hard, but I think it turned out okay. Excuse its shortness, but I wanted to keep it simple. Either way. Here we go.

Oh, and there is a bit of a spoiler warning. 3


When it was that I first knew without a doubt I was in love with Itachi-san, I can't quite say. When Leader had appointed him as my partner, we had been equally indifferent to each other, spending as little time together as possible. But we began missions and the more I was around him the more I was certain he wasn't like the rest of us in Akatsuki. He was different in some attracting way. We didn't say much to each other, but the silence we shared was far from awkward. It was companionable to some extent; He, used to saying nothing, and I, happy to be around someone who didn't give me disgusted looks.

I gradually started to notice twinges of possessiveness I felt towards him. I detested going into villages together for the mere fact of the way he was looked at. Women fawned over him to the point of making me want to rip their slender little throats out. I was in denial that it was jealousy (Not of him getting all of the attention, but because deep down I already thought of him as mine), and though it angered me, I forced down my feelings, knowing that he would never want me…. I was a male, and as if that weren't reason enough, I looked horrid. This I knew from the way others averted their gaze from me, or how they made appalled expressions at my very presence.

The first time I'd been able to really touch him in an more personal way, he'd been injured. It was no more than a minor stab wound, but the scent of his blood had been an irresistible tease to my senses. I had insisted on bandaging him. He pulled his shirt off, my gaze following the trail of the shirt as it exposed his torso. I looked to the jagged wound in his side and moved close to lean down to it. There is really no way to explain what was going through my head at the time. It was a jumble of thoughts and impulses I wished to act on. The smell of blood was driving me near insane with want. Just a little taste, you know you want to. Do it…

I leaned down and licked the part in his pale flesh, coating my tongue in red. I could feel him watching me and I chanced a glance up. He let out a barely audible sigh and relaxed slightly, his eyelids 

drooping just a bit… but he continued to watch me. He didn't move away or get angry… he didn't even look revolted by my touch and seemed to be getting some semblance of pleasure from it. Though his eyes kept that far off look, their perpetual sadness lightened a bit. I ran my hand up his unmarred side and licked my lips, the taste of him still in my mouth. I looked back down, focusing on the stark contrast of my blue skin against him and the drastic difference in the texture. My hands were rough while he was surprisingly soft. He reached out and ran a hand against my cheek… and in that one touch I felt nothing but silent acceptance.

It had ended with that but he allowed me to touch him freely when we were alone. I loved to hold him against me, to watch him sleep in my arms, or to just feel him near by. He always changed when we were together. It was a slow opening up, but , though his demeanor never changed, his eyes seemed more alive.

Even now that he's gone, I can still remember what it was like to run my fingers through his blue-black hair, or to run my hands over his body as I push into him. I savored the small sounds of pleasure he made and how he touched me in return. We would come together, always out of breath as we collapsed together, sheer ecstasy robbing us of strength.

He'd told me, not too long before his death, exactly what had happened when he'd killed his clan. I can see in my mind's eye the look of pure grief that had clouded his beautiful features as he relayed the story.

"I died the same night my clan did…"

He'd said softly. I'd pulled him to me and held him. It now made sense, why he was so much different from the rest of us. He had been forced into the role of villain while the rest of us had chosen it. This had been the first time I told him I loved him and he had responded "You have all of me that is left."

As I lay here now, I can almost feel him next to me. My heart has been hurting since I heard the news of his death and it's been a struggle to keep from succumbing to my anguish….

I miss him already. . .


It wasn't until I was typing this, transferring it from pen and paper to my Microsoft Word that I realized that this story was, surprisingly (and unusual for me), a lot of cute fluff…. O.o

Not to mention… I really hate having to write and then type it… I think I right a whole crap load of stuff… then I type it…. One page written is equal to one paragraph typed. -.-' Mneh…Anyways…

Well, I guess it's like everyone else says, Review if you would be so kind. Until later.