Chapter Text
For a brief second, Sasuke wondered if Itachi had managed to ensnare him in some sick illusion, except the idea of Itachi coming up with this particular scenario was just too ludicrous. Not that it wouldn’t have been effective as a distraction—an army could have been charging at Sasuke right then and he wouldn’t have noticed. His eyes were glued to Itachi’s form atop the ridiculously large throne, the Sharingan mercilessly cataloguing every detail: the way Itachi’s head was thrown back, eyes shut, sickly pale throat glistening with sweat despite the damp cold permeating the cavern; the way Itachi’s breathing and pulse were hurried and more than a little erratic, the way his toes flexed and stretched arrhythmically, the hand that gripped the armrest so hard its knuckles shone white—but, most of all, the other hand that was furiously pumping Itachi’s cock as if his life depended on it.
The pathetic strangled sound that escaped Sasuke’s throat was too silent to reach Itachi in his frenzy, but the clang of Sasuke’s sword falling from his hands did. Itachi’s eyes flew open even as his hand continued moving, and Sasuke found himself staring into eyes more black than red, Itachi’s pupils blown wide and bleeding into his Sharingan.
Sasuke opened his mouth and then closed it when no sound came out. He settled for pointedly moving his gaze down to Itachi’s lap and back up.
“Sasuke,” Itachi gasped. The lust lacing his voice made an unwelcome shudder run through Sasuke’s spine, the feeling lodging itself somewhere in his lower back. “Go—leave!”
It was the raw desperation in Itachi’s voice that told Sasuke Itachi was not in control of himself. The last time he’d heard Itachi speak like this was after Shisui died. That time, Itachi had ended up on his knees, begging forgiveness. The memory morphed into Itachi kneeling before Sasuke, looking up while opening his lips, leaning into Sasuke’s crotch to—“No,” Itachi groaned, and Sasuke realised he had unknowingly crossed the distance between them.
He too was now painfully hard, the slide of fabric against his cock teasing him further. He stood before Itachi paralysed and bewildered, gaze once again locked on Itachi's lap. He licked his lips. With a sigh of, “Foolish brother,” Itachi pulled Sasuke to stand between his knees, unbuttoned Sasuke's trousers and slid them down his thighs. Without preamble, he engulfed Sasuke's cock with his lips, tongue running in flat come-hither motions over the sensitive underside of Sasuke's exposed tip, sucking him further in with each lick.
The hot wet sensation was irresistible; Sasuke’s hands shot up to take hold of Itachi’s head, and he shoved himself deeper inside, the resistance of Itachi’s throat a mesmerising contrast to his outward pliancy. Sasuke was experiencing a rush beyond anything he’d felt before. Not only was the act of stuffing his cock deep inside his brother’s mouth deliciously filthy; it left no room for mocking words, no way for Itachi to sneer or act superior. There was nothing Itachi could do except take it, swallow Sasuke down, accept whatever Sasuke chose to give him.
Predictably, Sasuke didn't last; his orgasm tore through him like a storm. On impulse, he pulled out to spurt strings of come all over Itachi’s face and hair, smearing his release across Itachi’s flushed face with the tip of his cock. Soiled like this, Itachi was even more alluring than before, and Sasuke’s arousal returned in full force. He whined, pressing himself against Itachi's face again, seeking contact and friction.
Instead of giving in, Itachi responded by divesting Sasuke of his trousers and pulling him onto his lap. The warmth radiating from Itachi’s body drew Sasuke to lean into it. He grasped Itachi’s shoulders to press himself closer, wishing away the layers of clothing between them so they would be skin on skin, heart to heart. If he could, he would crawl inside Itachi’s body, coil within Itachi’s ribcage like one of Orochimaru’s snakes and never come out again, truly become Itachi’s flesh and blood.
Itachi must have had the same idea, for a slick finger ran along Sasuke’s perineum and prodded at his entrance, dipping inside until it met with resistance.
“Push me out,” Itachi commanded, and covered Sasuke’s mouth with his own. The kiss was laced with Sasuke's taste, and, wrapped up in Itachi’s scent and warmth, Sasuke’s body obeyed, and gave an experimental push. As the muscle gave, Itachi pushed his finger further inside. The feeling was both alien and glorious, the nerve endings around and inside Sasuke’s hole seeming to lead directly to his cock, making it twitch and pulse.
“More,” Sasuke breathed into Itachi’s mouth.
Itachi nipped at Sasuke's lower lip in response, then circled his finger around, pressing against the rim, forcing it to stretch. Sasuke breathed out and bore down again. A second finger joined the first; this one was drier, making the insertion sting a little. Sasuke’s muscles contracted automatically in an effort to evade the pain, yet this made it hurt more. He gasped, breaking the kiss, and gripped Itachi’s shoulders. Itachi’s hand stilled, then his other hand wrapped around Sasuke’s cock and started caressing it in slow strokes, the press of fingers alternating between soft and hard, until the pleasure overrode the soreness and Sasuke began rocking up into Itachi’s hand and back down on his fingers.
When the fingers were pulled out and replaced by a much larger, blunt pressure against his hole, Sasuke didn’t think at all, couldn’t think for the sheer need of being filled by Itachi’s cock, of feeling Itachi deep inside himself. That was where Itachi belonged, just as Sasuke belonged inside Itachi, until they became one person, a double helix, two ourobori swallowing each other in an infinite loop.
Sasuke sank down in a single impetuous move until he was fully seated--fully impaled. The world around him melted, and started to spin and swirl, disrupting his centre of gravity until the pressure inside his gut was the only grounding feeling, the only anchor in the maelstrom of sensation and need. He moaned when pain trickled into his awareness, his rim burning and flexing, trying to expel the intrusion. Itachi’s hand resumed its stroking and squeezing, and Sasuke gradually relaxed around the stretch. Then Itachi started to move, fucking into him, slowly and shallowly at first, then deeper, encouraging Sasuke to meet him half-way.
The double stimulation of thrusting up into Itachi’s hand and down onto his cock overwhelmed all of Sasuke’s thoughts; a tingling tension was building behind his balls, increasing every time he bore down. Itachi angled his hips a little then, and a wave of pleasure crashed through Sasuke’s body, leaving him quivering and breathless. When Itachi threaded his hand into Sasuke’s hair to draw him into a half-embrace, Sasuke let himself fall forward, his mouth finding Itachi’s throat and biting down hard. It was so good, but it wasn't enough--with a frustrated growl, he pried Itachi’s hand from his cock and began riding him, wild and free like a storm, a bowstring drawn and held, trembling, until let go with a snap. Sasuke came and came, wave upon wave of tension followed by release that didn’t end even though his cock had long stopped spurting.
As he slowly came down from his orgasm, he felt Itachi slide out of him, followed by copious amounts of viscous fluid that trailed down to soak into Itachi’s trousers. Blissed out but still needy, Sasuke leaned back to look at his brother. Itachi was breathing hard, face white as a ghost, and his hands had stopped holding onto Sasuke, gripping the armrest instead. He looked like he was about to puke. The sensible thing would have been to move away. Sasuke moved closer instead, seeking Itachi’s mouth with his own, attacking it with teeth and tongue until he felt Itachi give in.
For a moment, Sasuke let the kiss be leisurely and slow, a soft spar of tongues and lips, then he moved away to trail kisses along Itachi’s cheeks. The salty wetness he found there reminded him of warm summer evenings on the engawa, the world holding its breath against the clammy dusk. He chased the memory with his tongue, up to Itachi’s half-closed eyes, lapping at the drops hanging from the long eyelashes—like a girl’s—and pushing down the lid with a soft kiss that was all lips. Moving to the other cheek, he repeated his pilgrimage with equal dedication, a supplicant worshipping his god.
His unspoken prayer was answered when Itachi surged up against him, toppling them both to the ground but catching Sasuke so they collapsed into each other like pieces of a three-dimensional puzzle. It was almost right, almost perfect. Itachi was beautiful above him, hair and face a radiant mess, his eyes focused on Sasuke like he was drinking him in, and Sasuke would have given Itachi anything—everything—then. Itachi understood and moved to take it, pulling off his trousers and taking hold of Sasuke’s cock, smearing the remnants of Sasuke’s release all over the tip, so he could impaling himself in one swift downwards move.
Being inside Itachi like this was heaven and hell—too much and not enough. Sasuke’s arms shot out to pull Itachi down, tugging at his cloak in annoyance until Itachi cooperated in taking it off. Too impatient to bother with their shirts, Sasuke contented himself with feeling Itachi’s weight on his chest, Itachi’s breath hot at his throat. Pinning Itachi against himself, Sasuke began rocking his hips until their flesh collided in wanton slaps that echoed from the walls, a rhythmic point-counterpoint of sound and echo broken only by Itachi’s whimpers.
Much too soon, Sasuke found himself teetering on the edge. He thought about pausing, making it last, because there would never be enough of this. But they had all the time in the world to do this, make love, again and again, and Sasuke couldn’t wait. He dug his fingers into Itachi’s buttocks, thrusting impossibly deeper, submerging himself in the feel of Itachi’s body on and around him as he climaxed. Dimly, he was aware of Itachi following him, coating his stomach and shirt with his release, and it was perfect, they were perfect together just like this.
Perfect, right up until Sasuke’s mind cleared up and his afterglow was replaced by horror.
“What the fuck?!”