By: Alexx Riott (Karasu8, Morbid Alex)

Intelligent hands slid over ample flesh, drawing lazy circles and other shapes as they went. Sasuke shivered under the touch, trying to avoid the crimson eyes eagerly attempting to meet his. They were shadowed by perverse, twisted pleasure; they were something of a kind he wished to learn more about, but found to be a curse, something he could only dream of never wanting to see again. He tensed until his muscles ached, hoping beyond hope that his tormentor would simply disappear. That wasn't going to happen, though, was it? No, there was no way it would until he gave in.

But could he admit it to himself? Could he speak of such things out loud? A murderer, in his mind, that would forever haunt him…meant to be refused all kindness and adoration the child in him had once gushed so freely. Another shiver passed through him as he tried to shimmy away – the teasing pain that wasn't quite pain, the feelings of butterflies trapped in his stomach. He hated it. He loved it. He wanted to kill the bastard for emotionally tearing him in two – destroying what made sense in his life and everything that had been left for him to sew back together. It made him so angry…so very angry.

Itachi was smirking at him, he was sure, and he certainly hadn't looked away from anything he had managed to expose in these short minutes. He could feel the searing heat from the man's gaze on his skin, and if it weren't for pride, he might scream. How dare he do this? After all they had been through; after all that Itachi had caused! Itachi's fingers slid over the fabric of his pants before grasping it. They wrapped up securely and ripped at the fabric. Sasuke flinched.

"You look worried," the elder of the pair breathed, and Sasuke nearly threw up. The honey-sweet lilt in his voice resembled poison to his ears. The butterflies turned into angry bees and beat in irritation throughout his abdomen. Helpless? Check. Distressed? Check. Pissed off? Check. Aroused? …check. The fucking bastard. The words that reached the teen's lips died there and fell pathetically into nothingness. If only he had the strength to wrap his own fingers around something, his brother's slender neck, and snap it! Ever-darkening onyx orbs narrowed with every broken thought of violence, and other things that taunted him as they danced through his mind. His throat burned, he noted dimly, and there was a rather acrid taste lingering in his mouth.

"Are you?"

Sasuke didn't bother to offer a response, turning his head further away. Perhaps there was a chance he could suffocate himself on the floorboards? No, but it would be worth a try. The radiating cold chilled any piece of him that lay untouched by Itachi's hands. Did he forget to turn on the heat? He couldn't remember. Maybe there hadn't been time to, what with his sibling making his way into his home unexpectedly…unwanted and abhorred. Wait, did he even realize that he was unwelcome? Hated?

Of course he did. Uchiha Itachi had always known – reveling in the feel of such things and not caring a bit. Of course.

"I hate you."

Ah! There it was! A fairly reasonable sentence that made some sense had finally sneaked its way from his mouth, and a scowl smeared across his expression. Though, through the fogginess of his own thought processes, he realized it was childish, too. Meaningless. Pointless, even, as he laid trapped on the floor at the exiled shinobi's mercy. Itachi's fingers slid over his hips, thumbs rubbing enticingly on the inside of his thighs. He could feel the vibrations of his brother's chest as he slid down to rest on top of him. Chuckling, was he? Laughing at him! Anger bubbled up higher, but nothing more came for him to speak. Powerful, calloused hands were dangerously close to a place he'd rather he would move from.

I hate you, so much, Itachi. You aren't my brother. You can't be doing this to me. You're disgusting. You're nothing to me!

A hot palm rested against his member, then. Sasuke's dark eyes shot open and he unwillingly gasped. Son of a fucking bitch! Itachi was laughing at him soundlessly, pressing his chest again his own – one fully covered and the other bare. He swallowed a groan at the weight, the head. That hand wrapped around him, hard, and pulled. No.

"I don't see why you bother, little brother. You can't stop me."

Itachi's breath was fanning against his cheek, even more reason to want to get away. He needed to escape. A sizzling heat trailed from his groin to all the nerves in his body. A delicious, forbidden friction at that hand moved back and forth, up and down. What was wrong with this man? Was there a reason for this? For tormenting his last and only blood relative this way? Another groan, but this one squeezed through, pushing the man on. He was starting to squeeze and release as he moved in strong intervals, attracting him, torturing him. Sasuke's hips bucked, and his mind was gradually going blank. How dare he…! How dare…

Breaths came in shorter puffs, and the words spoken to him were making less and less sense. Why was that? His hips ground upwards. He was losing it, that was why. He knew…somehow, deep down, that this was yet another fight he could not when. Elegant, but significantly jerky motions, Itachi had…tempting him to the very edge. The heat in his stomach swirled, and then intensified as he felt his own brother's erection pressing against the lower planes of his abdomen. Why? Pearly white teeth gnashed together, the teenage shinobi not wanting to give up without a fight of some kind; even if it was to be a fight with himself. His eyes clenched shut, his head inclined, neck straining. Why?

Harder, faster, firmer…losing control.

A mouth slipped onto his flesh, and he forgot whom it belonged to. Sharp little bites leaving bloody red marks all over him, mindless except for the urge to bring his carnal pleasure to its highest level. Itachi pushed harder, repositioning himself lower, more fully over the other. The smirk on his face was gaining a sicker, more untamed expression that spoke volumes. It was something Sasuke wouldn't see, a dangerous edge as simple, black cotton pants were slid down, and a hard, aching cock was positioned at the youth's entrance. Itachi pushed in violently, without warning. Unadultered pain intermingling with the utmost sensations of bliss, of excitement. Pants of heavy breath, mewling for more, abandon of reason…

"You'll always be mine," a gruff whisper that came out nearly as velvet to Sasuke's distracted soul, from a mouth he wanted, right now, but would hate so soon.

"You'll always be mine, and I'll make you love it."