I honestly started this somewhere in February and never finished it.. mostly cuz I didn't know what the hell to do with it. But I decided I was going to complete it (somehow) or so help me I would never be able to live with myself.

Anyways, this is kind of weird. Incestuous non-con/dub-con/you-decide-kind-of-thing.

Don't like any of the three possibilities? Don't read, please.

I disclaim all characters, kay?


The night is black.

The night is grim when the stars are always so bright and so gleaming.

The window is open, yet he cannot bring himself to close it.

He's known for a long hour now that he is cold, that his breath escapes him in clipped and wispy chills. Clouds of hot smoke, thin flames of white, swaying side to side, so that the warm pulse of life bleating yet throughout his body besets itself like an aerial haunting before his eyes.

A ghost. A wraith that taunts him.

His hands are shaking. His skin stretches sickly into a thin sheet of warning, wrapping the bone, fucking it softly, attempting to warm him.

But he cannot close it.

The fridge is empty. The lights in the kitchen are fickle and they blink repeatedly. Only the gentle humming of the television set fills the lonely void, a quiet and insidious reminder that the blinding flare of vehicle lights may soon enough greet him within the next second. Within moment.

And with the lights would come then his brother.

Wretched brother, older brother, the star to the night.


Their skins differ by the hue.

One is lighter, one is taller, one is dark-eyed, graceless, trembling, and cold.


The name feels familiar to him, strikes a chord, everything else, does not. "Didn't think you'd come."

"And why not?" Sasuke steps aside, staring at the ground and at the bottle in Itachi's hands. "It's your birthday."

"Because." Sasuke stammers and hesitates (because he knows and feels the rapid pulse in his chest, knows what he writes at night, knows what fantasies come to life in his head at night; the journal underneath his bed, the drawings hidden safely inside his desk), but he closes the door shut without the lure of indecision, anyway. Locks, latch, everything and all, his hands falling awkwardly to their sides again. "It's been four years and you never come even when you say that you will."

Yes, Itachi never comes. Never came. He never comes when he says, and it hurts this way.

Cleaves, burns, until it can only wither and cinder into a lovesick swoon that needles you deep.

Because Itachi is beautiful, because his hair is long and his eyes are a lovely crimson red. Because Sasuke's hair lies short, never grows, insipid pools of shriveled ink for eyes, and it isn't fair.

"I went overseas," Itachi says, shutting the open window, closing the cold, doing what Sasuke could never do, setting the bottle down. "You knew that. Didn't you?"

Sasuke stares, nodding absently for all that he has left, weaving heart and soul into strong and able chain so that the thoughts may be kept away. Thoughts of plans he'd written down, thoughts of skin, thoughts of him, of Itachi; the envy and the shame.

Always better, always ahead, always older, further and further away. Too perfect and too warm and always too lovely. The favored, the treasured. Kind and flawless and always giving.

"Come sit with me," Itachi chuckles. He settles down on the only sofa, motioning at the empty seat beside him."Sasuke? Are you alright? You look cold and sick."

Yes, brother.

So cold for you, so sick of you.

"I'm fine."

Sasuke's legs weigh several countless tons as he approaches, out of breath, heart racing as he sits. He swallows, eyes stony towards the bottle, stiff-necked and with a nervous shaking of the thighs: a habit he'd never grown to rid himself of.

Sasuke never truly believed Itachi would visit on that day, on his twentieth birthday. No, not after so many hollow promises. No matter how many hours he'd spend at the windows, staring, hoping, and shamefully praying..

Only once did Itachi visit him at.. the place.

The place with the white walls. The place with the pills.

Where the bulimics cried and sobbed for food, where the anorexics wept and begged to puke. Where the cutters would cut and cut and cut. Where Sasuke talked to ceilings, to cracks on the walls. Where loneliness grew. Where he grieved, pined, and loathed the older brother he'd only possessed torn photos and old memories of.

The brother who never visited. The brother who seldom wrote back.

Itachi comes much too near amidst bitter thoughts when he pulls Sasuke in for a tightening hug.

And so Sasuke can repress his necessities no longer with big, older brother so very close by. Like that, his warmth. The sway of Itachi's hot breath, the seamless black sea of his long, loose hair.

The bottle on the table jests Sasuke in cunning and dangerous whispers. Thoughts and possibilities.

The drugs in the cupboard, hidden away, drugs that pled to be bought earlier that day. The drugs that would shut older brother's eyes into a sweet and sudden sleep. Drugs that were meant to be used on that night, and only that night, lest Itachi never come visit again.

"Forgive me, Sasuke. I meant to see you when you were gone, but life is so much cruel, and I could not."


My brother, you lie. Lies and more lies. Charming snake of all that are lies.

Itachi's hand caresses Sasuke's hair, tightening the embrace, whispering softly into short tendrils of thick and lurid hair. "Know that I missed you. That I love you."

Sasuke, so cold and malign, child of a starless night; his eyes begin to sharpen. He stands, conjuring whatever smile was left un-smiled throughout time, and offers the older brother a lecher bane in the form of an innocent glass of wine.

Sasuke struggles with words. He stutters: another woeful flaw–

"Would you.. like s-some?"

–but Itachi is trusting, lovely, and kind.

"Why would I not?"

And so came the death and end of all things for having smitten wicked sin.

The young brother, scorned child. Mother's pain and Father's mistake.

The psychotic and depraved.


The powder disappears in gentle circle-knit whirls.

The powder is odorless and tasteless. A quick and painless promise lingering quietly in red wine.

Sasuke watches, dreams, and lusts, for Itachi is slow to wet his lips from the taste of his drink, choosing instead to tease the excitement hardening in between Sasuke's trembling thighs.

"You were released a few months ago. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did."

"I would know if you did."

"Then you don't know much, I guess."

Itachi chuckles a baritone chuckle, a chuckle that shoots wisps of shivers down into Sasuke's spine. "You're coy, little brother."

It's sharp, it hurts, it makes his cock quiver: the way Itachi tosses the small glass side to side, swaying the liquid, teasing fate, tempting time to quicken, forcing Sasuke to loudly breathe in. He shifts to his other foot as he stands, intent on the wine in the other's perfect hand.

"What have you done all of this time, Sasuke?"

Waiting, wanting, and wishing for filthy, filthy things with you, brother.

So much, every night, sheets painted wet with a thick and heavy white.

No, but he cannot say. He would not understand.

Sasuke's tongue darts to lick his lips so that he may begin to clear his throat and speak again.

"Nothing. I work," he whispers, voice rasp and broken from having gone so long unused. "Down the street, behind a counter."

A lowly clerk. A dirty, lesser being, brother.

Nothing compared to what Itachi is or could become. The esteemed lawyer. Rich, educated, and so very pretty.

Father's pride. Intelligent, with the long hair that mother spent long hours gently brushing before a tall mirror.. whilst the belt hurt and stung in just the other room against Sasuke's bare skin every night. Infinite, as are the scars and burns on his back, seamed wherein each one, helpless screams and helpless cries.

Because he was dirty, never washed his hands. Because he did things wrong, didn't think right.

"That's good. It's a start. I'm proud of you, Sasuke." And it is then that Itachi finally lifts his glass to his lips, sipping softly.

And, oh yes, by all that is fleeting, Sasuke stares with so much zeal, eyes wide and heart racing–

Swallow, brother, pleasepleaseplease, quickly now, for I can no longer wait to love into you: fast and so quick, until you scream and beg me with my name, cum dripping from your hole as I fuck it all back into you again–

Because he knows no other way.

"I was going to bring Konan with me, she wanted to meet you. But I deemed it'd be too fast, and I wanted to share this day with just us, after so much time without having seen you."


"My wife. Haven't I told you?" Itachi chuckles, wretched and lovely, breaking and tearing and burning whatever is left of Sasuke with the mere click of his honeyed, fucking tongue, "I sent to you in a letter that I could not come and visit during the fall and winter because of our honeymoo-"

Sasuke's words come short and clipped. A chime of warning. His brows begin to furrow, creases of ire, of killing intent; a hatred for this whore he's never even met. Her neck clenched into his hands, riding her hard, maiming her skull with hard cock. Vulva wet and pulsing and soiled greedily upon so that perhaps brother wouldn't dare to want her anymore–

"You didn't. You lie."

"I wouldn't lie to you."

A respite.

And so he finally swallows. Itachi swallows it all. The wine and all of the powder in it. Gone.

Mere seconds pass before Itachi leans forward, hand reaching to rub warily at his temples. His eyes begin to lid, mouth subtly opening in a quiet distress. He must be feeling it now, as his mind begins to fade; body numbing into a listless, painless haze..

As from the quick nick of a spider's stealthy kiss.

"You like it?"

Sasuke comes forward then, snatching the glass away from Itachi's hand and shattering it against the wall. The noise bellows loudly into the empty apartment. Itachi falls back. Defenseless, weakening, cherry-blessed eyes dilating sleepily towards Sasuke.

Purple-painted fingers reach for the other's pale face, lips dry and twitching, as if asking for aid. And Sasuke almost feels tempted (almost feels) for just a second, but the glowing gleam of the silver ring that bejewels Itachi's reaching hand with the promise of marriage frees him from any further distraction.

And so Sasuke, whose dark eyes alight only with the hellish bane of the past, snatches and twists his brother's wrist back, instead.

"Why should I help you when you've never once helped me? When father beat me? When they threw me into that horrible fucking place so that I would rot and die? Huh? You stupid, lying fuck!" Sasuke hisses spite, so sharp and poisonous, fresh from a snake. He brings a hand to wrap firmly around Itachi's neck, grating him harshly against the sofa, strangling away any precious air that might've remained. "You never came, never wrote back. Married some cheap bitch when I want you so much.. And then.. And then you walk in here the way you do.."

He's sobbing now, like he has many times before. Tears fall and mar his pallid face. He hardens his hold, squeezing for all that he can.

A gagged noise escapes Itachi's throat, eyes dwindling back into the reef of his skull, mouth agape in a mixture of dread and shock. But Itachi cannot move, cannot breathe, and instead further weakens, losing thought and strength as his struggling hands fall from Sasuke's sturdy arm and onto the couch; lifeless and useless.

"Break you. Take you. Taste you. Have you. Itachi.."

There is a faint shake of the head.

The faint sound of choked breath. The faint rustle of helpless clawing at Sasuke's chest..

And then there is silence.


Sasuke would beg to sleep in the same bed, underneath the same covers.

Attempt to slip his hand beneath clothing whenever Itachi feigned his slumber. Children would do this. Children must do this. Innocent gestures of warmth, of attention. But the behavior never ceased, and Sasuke continued to consistently beg up until he was nearly sixteen.

Odd noises at the door as Itachi showered, things out of place. White stains on photographs, on hidden picture frames.

But when all was underneath light, in clarity, during the day, nothing was ever this way, and so Itachi would smile the silly thoughts away.

Up until today. The sick understanding of it all. On this night, on a bed. Cold and entirely undressed.

Thick tape sealed Itachi's lips, head heavy with nausea, eyes dull with fatigue. His wrists lied roped and fastened against his ankles, neck hurting at an awkward angle, chin stabbing against his heaving chest. A position so revealing, so vulnerable and so filthy. Itachi couldn't move. His breathing grew frantic, back curved against the headboard, thighs spread so open wide. Panic settled in, muffled words that hurt, the threat of tears, for Sasuke was there, right at the foot of the bed, watching.

Sin. Sick sin, and more sin.


No, it couldn't be this.

Sweet little brother. A dream wherein another, maybe, anything, but never this.

And so Itachi shook his head, eyes wrenching, willing the nightmare away as he twisted and flailed his bounded body to useless avail, awarded only with a soft chuckle that forever proved reality's permanent stay.

"Shh," whispered Sasuke. "I like you this way."

It was the loud creak of the mattress that began to speak in actuality's devilish tongue as Sasuke began to climb upon the bed.

The hand resting now against Itachi's cheek felt warm and alarmingly real, albeit his sight remained blurry. White fingers grazed his trembling face, threading slowly then through his long and cindered hair. This was no dream. He'd been drugged and tied. Vulgarly transgressed. Not by a stranger, not by a friend, but by his..

Itachi froze frigid, a single tear of decrepit denial tracing against quivering skin.

Pleased by the sudden simmer of the other, Sasuke peeled away the tape, revealing the tempting lips of dearest, older brother. There was no scream, no cry for help. No word, and no struggle; only a long and empty stare that managed only to solidify the entirety of Sasuke's pulsing cock in under the breadth of a moment.

"I need you," he whispered, bringing his lips to Itachi's own, brushing them, tasting them, licking away all that he could. "You'll pay, brother. You'll scream. I'll fuck your ass until you gush my cum, salivating at the thought of me"

Itachi said nothing, his breathing growing shallow against Sasuke's cheek. Greedy hands began then to loom across his figure, falling lower and lower to caress the sensitive tract underneath the navel. Itachi's breath hitched. He lied helpless and tied. Carnal need began to almost instantly froth throughout his body, a bitter feeling churning within his stomach.

Sasuke was swift, wasting no time.

His hand quickly encased Itachi in a firm and practiced grip, causing an evident hardening of the other's flushing cock. Sasuke leered sharply, a wicked flame in his dark eyes that shone with the thrill of triumph, of dominance.

"I knew you wanted me. You always have."

Itachi shook his head softly, breathing louder than before, weakly struggling still with the knots that held his wrists and ankles.

"Sasuke," Itachi swallowed, "Untie me," –a long and steady stroke to the cock, a consequent bite of the lip, white fingers tracing knowing circles on the underside of his prick– "We.. We could both forget this.."A kiss to the cheek. A hellish lick to the jaw. "Sa.." He could feel Sasuke's clothed prick against his thigh now, pushing in hard. "S.. Sasuke.."

But he did not stop.

Pre-cum began to leak, quickly coating over Sasuke's fondling fingers. He grinned. All else was a blur.

The watch, the jeans, the shirt: all gone. The bed moved and creaked loudly at Sasuke's frantic pace, yet there was a haunting silence in the air that never truly went away. Both lied naked now, bare skin against the other. Sasuke knelt before Itachi, left hand steady and rough against his own arousal. He stared. Slowly, deeply, every inch of skin. His lips parted slowly, eyes dwindling at the sight of the other's puckered asshole. Virgin, tight, and oh so ready.

"See these?" he whispered, bringing two long fingers before Itachi's face, "Lick them."

Itachi did not move. Did not react, didn't speak. His eyes rose slowly towards Sasuke's own, an empty glare that spoke volumes wherein itself that caused Sasuke's brows to immediately crease. There was a silence. And within the next second, Itachi turned his face away, growing limp in his position.


His voice was soft, his voice was empty. Once so loving, now so hollow and so distant. A breath of cold and lonely wind. A wraith. The sound of grief, of heartbreak.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Sasuke hissed, his hand shooting to the back of Itachi's hair, pulling back harshly. "Open your fucking mouth." There was no struggle. Both fingers slid right in, roughly invading every nook of the other's mouth. Itachi gagged, eyes weak and wet, lashes still so lovely..

The sight drove Sasuke mad, drove his own cock to begin twitching hard against the other's bare stomach in a frenzy. Sasuke lent down eagerly several which times, kissing thirstily, each with a sharp nip, each with a growling hiss. Having grown satisfied, Sasuke snaked his two newly drenched digits below, teasing, pinching, until he was finally left tracing against Itachi's hole.

Itachi's eyes immediately snapped open, a loud exhale escaping his throat. There was a tremble of sheer panic, and with that panic, came a palpable tightening from beneath Sasuke's fondling fingers. Sinfully amused, Sasuke smirked, chuckling quietly.

"Whore," he whispered, beginning to push inside, "You dirty, kinky fuck. You love my fingers there, don't you? Look at you, tightening up."

"Sh.. Shut-up.."

"You'll be screaming for more when my cock's finally inside."

Gasping and knowing fully well now what was then to come, Itachi bit harshly onto his tongue. It stung horribly. Sasuke was impatient, relentless. It was all too much. Helpless, Itachi began to struggle against his restraints again, desperately shaking his head side to side, willing the embarrassment away. But it only made matters worse, as Sasuke grew angry, instantly shoving the entirety of his fingers into the other's vice-like canal down to the root of his knuckles. Wet warmth encased him. He shivered, watching Itachi's face break into a fleet of pain.


"So lovely.. Like you."


Sasuke sneered, grating in further 'till it hurt, not daring to stop until Itachi's eyes clenched shut, a hissed curse of hurt caught dry within him the moment Sasuke began to roughly pull out, only to ram back inside. The impact was loud and visible, clubbing the headboard of the bed against the wall, denting it, chipping the paint.

Sasuke repeated this for several long minutes, Itachi's head slamming back each time, helpless in his restraints. Itachi began to see double, unable to focus his eyes, for the pleasure was as overwhelming and vindictive as the shame was. A string of saliva fell from the corner of his lips, panting loudly now at the other's inhuman pace.

"Sa.. Sasu.."

Sasuke's cock gave a violent jump the moment he felt his fingers begin to coat themselves in the other's fluids, finding less and less resistance. He leered, leaning down to whisper into Itachi's ear.

"So wet," Sasuke hooked his fingers, violently shoving in and out as he stared into the other's disoriented gaze, "I know you want this, brother. Just look at you. You've no shame." He chuckled, pulling his hand away in order to place his cock flush against Itachi's plundered hole.

A faint shake of the head, hardly there. Itachi gasped weakly, eyes dead towards Sasuke's own, breathless.

A kiss to the lips.

Sasuke's prick soon found warmth and friction from within contracting walls, exploring hot flesh that no other had ever come to maim before. He slow-fucked by the inch so that he could savor every last pulse of the other's tight ass, wishing he could see from beneath just how perfectly his dick slid deep inside. The thought was ecstasy, causing Sasuke's hand to frantically dig itself into Itachi's long hair, pulling hard to the side, dark eyes retreating into their sockets from the sheer amount of pleasure enclosing against his cock.

A soft moan escaped Itachi's throat, one that Sasuke hadn't faltered to hear. He grinned lazily, digging himself to the hilt whilst he arched his back to watch more closely.

"You feel so amazing, baby.." he hissed, reaching to caress Itachi's cheek, "You look like a dream."

Itachi flinched weakly, overcome by Sasuke's newly settled pace. He could feel as the other's heavy cock began to slide out of him, gentle and wet, stretching him open again and again. Each thrust stripped the room of its remaining innocence with the sensuous clamor of flesh against flesh. Sasuke never stopped watching, never stopped from making it feel so hellishly good.

Itachi lied powerless, too far gone to ever resist. The cock in him made him shiver in insatiable thirst, thighs trembling further open for more 'till it hurt. The recurring knowledge that it was his own little brother that continued to skewer his asshole raw made Itachi writhe helplessly in perpetual guilt, yet he could no longer bring forth the courage to tell Sasuke to stop.

Instead he moaned loudly and wantonly into the air the moment Sasuke began to pick up his pace, causing Itachi's mouth to snap open wide in a long string of baritone curses. His eyes dwindled, ass clenching tight whilst his cock twitched hard against his own stomach in impassioned release. Words quickly faded into mumbled breaths, into shameless mewling. Itachi came senselessly, soiling his own chest and face. The world spun. He breathed loudly as his body grew limp against Sasuke's relentless fucking, the headboard beginning to make a distinguished, deep hole against the battered wall.

Sasuke never stopped.

His cock was a ravenous flash of light, pillaging and fucking Itachi into a mindless, drug-like daze. He began to pull out in sporadic intervals, watching the older's hole drool shamelessly with his pre-cum and fluid. The sight drove Sasuke crazy. He rolled his hips against the other's exposed cheeks, grating against them, laughing softly.

"You should take a look at yourself, Itachi," Sasuke whispered, tracing his brother's sodden lips with a single finger, "to see just how fucking eager my cock drives you. How much you love it when it's in you."

"P-pl.. ease.."

"Sh sh sh."

And with several long minutes of savage, pummeling thrusts, the euphoric coil of orgasm soon began to approach the youngest one. Sasuke lent forward, balancing with one hand on the headboard as he fucked his aching prick forward into Itachi's loosened hole one final time.

He came. Hard.

A thick river of seed escaped him, filling Itachi to the brim. Choked cum streamed from Itachi's spread cheeks, soiling the white sheets beneath. Sasuke groaned quietly in completion, milking himself gently from within Itachi's desecrated hole whilst he lent and murmured into his ear.

"I hate you," he said.

Emptied and quenched from his thirst, Sasuke pulled out with a wetted, disgraceful sound that left Itachi's chest feeling void and hollow. His lashed eyes opened slowly towards Sasuke, still so lovely and so crimson.

"Have you.. attained your goal now, little brother?" was the broken whisper. "Must you still.. loathe me?"

Sasuke lent then, reaching for a kiss that Itachi cringed softly to. Shocked by the reaction, Sasuke froze, dark eyes falling towards Itachi's own, saying nothing.

Itachi's gaze spoke to him in silent heartache.

Of sadness.

But never once speaking of hatred.


The night is black months after.

The stars are gleaming. She stands there, her hand in his.

Her hair is tied up, a flower in it. Her belly is big, her other hand tender upon it.

The door is open, yet he cannot bring himself to close it.

"You must be Sasuke."

She smiles. Itachi smiles, too.


Wicked needs wherein sinful memories.

More than just once; always haunting. Ghosts. Wraiths that taunt them.

Hellish cravings woven into sickness and into godless secrets..

And so they cannot dream of ever stopping.


Uhm.. yehh. o-o

Alms for a starving author? xx