Summary: [YAOI] [SHIITA]The rainfall signals the end of the battle and the start of a new one...
A/N: 'Uke' and 'Seme' are not really used in Japan. Instead it's 'Tachi' and 'Neko' (neh-ko)
Weapons clashed onto the ground, which was being pierced by the rain finally falling from the sky. The two Uchiha superiors battled fiercely, as if it was for real (they had to, the spar had to be as realistic as possible. But as if they were going to ever find their level of skill). Their chests heaved heavily, each one on the new mud, crouching. The older Uchiha picked up a stray kunai on the ground. His opponent narrowed his crimson eyes, (the true heir to the bloodline…according to whom?) eyes that held bloodlust. When the other flashed to strike (running was pointless; it was too slow) he found that the other boy was too fast. The boy turned around to face his cousin with his mind already set: Knock. Him. Down. Raven hair stay in inertia with his speed, he dropped down to the earth, swinging a leg over with enough force and chakra to break bones. But an invisible scowl was shown in the tightening of his lips only a little though, a small millimeter of a twitch)
“Don’t drop your mask, cousin.” The older boy said, whispered huskily against Itachi’s ear. “You’ll end losing your guar.” And that was when the battle ended. A kunai in the prodigy’s (he hated being called that) back finished it off. At least…that’s what would happen in a normal ANBU battle. Water clone. Damn, he’s good.
“Or perhaps it’s the other way around, Shisui-san” Itachi’s speed was surpassing his cousin’s. He held a kunai against the other’s neck, pressing lightly (though not enough for blood). The irony hit Itachi was soon as the Shisui copy fell onto the ground with a ‘splash’. Water clone.
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s you!” The other Uchiha slammed a fist against Itachi’s perfect (he hated perfection) face. Shisui sent the younger boy literally flying.
The raven landed against a tree, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth (slipped past those soft lips. Compared to Shisui’s chapped ones, his were those of an angel’s). he groaned softly at the hit taken. In the end, Itachi settled for the rain on his flesh, soothing some of the pain into nothing.
Shisui walked calmly to the tree directly across from his beaten-opponent. Ready to quit already? I suppose so, you’re dead. Somehow, the rain on Itachi’s tilted head and closed eyes (keeping away the Sharingan; hiding his heritage; ashamed of it)…it was peaceful. Death was so peaceful, so relaxing, so inviting. That’s why it was weak in the eyes of the Uchiha clan.
Leisurely, a hand slipped to pull out a kunai. Shisui swung the metal circle around his finger before he flung it against the tree, pinning Itachi’s shirt.
“I told you not to drop your guard.” Shisui threw another one, pinning the other side. “You’re not dead yet, Itachi-kun.” (Sometimes he wishes he was.)
The younger raven didn’t finch when the blades pierced the cloth. He had lost, he was going to accept that, and he wasn’t going to go against that fact. All in all though, he was starting to drift to sleep.
“Don’t dose off on me, ‘Tach.” A few hand signs and Shisui was the one holding his cousin to the tree. He hovered deathly close above Itachi’s lips. “I might do something to those pretty lips of yours.” (Pretty, but not untainted by blood.) It was the scent of his kin, the warmth of being that close to him, that caused Shisui to be intoxicated so much.
“I. Dare. You” He half mocked and half begged for it. (He could never being himself so low as to actually beg for anything.)
Shisui smirked, “I bet you do.”
It wasn’t really determined who started it, (maybe they both did) but somehow their lips collided against the rain. It was fierce battle of pure dominance. (A dance on each other’s tongues, inside their mouths that had molded into one.) They didn’t labels themselves lovers, nor friends, not even kin. They hated labels; even their own names were labels they despised. However, everything disintegrated in the drizzle of rain and kisses. (They became one.)
When Shisui started to grind into cousin, he wasn’t taken aback when the other returned it. Fingers traveled subconsciously, trailing over scars and clothes covering up flesh. (Underneath them. Underneath the skin. They needed it.) Roaming hands got caught up in the calmed thrill of slow passion. Soft and rough caresses existed in the act of a simple spark. Light gasps and moans enough scare off birds were extracted out of a simple brush of the seldom-naked skin.
“Why” kiss. “Do we.” grope. “Always” moan. “Do this?” Shisui asked. Itachi smirked, as if he knew the answer his cousin didn’t. (The satisfaction was tugging at his lips.)
“Becau -moan- se”
Itachi and Shisui kept on; their touches getting fiercer and rougher with each passing moment (kisses accompanying teeth and exploration.)
The arm guards were the first to come off, followed by the ANBU vest. (The trill of exposed flesh getting to their fingers.) Next were their shirts, rain stealing the first touch (it came down harder now.) The act of foreplay was dragged out so painstakingly slow. Itachi moaned loudly when his cousin played with the nubs on his torso.
“Oh cousin, if you think that feels good.” Shisui grinned, “I know you’ll like this even better.” The older Uchiha slipped a damp hand down his kin’s pants. Itachi nearly fells over had it not been for Shisui pinning him up on the wood.
“Do…do that again.” Itachi strained out.
I’ll do more than just that. Shisui though, removing his koi’s (dare he call him that?) pants. Soft kisses were abandoned in the act (known simple as an act, for labels were discarded), choosing rough licks and nails, teeth. (They would come out of this battle with more than just kunai marks.) But the use of Shisui’s lips became what Itachi was most sensitive about. (How could Shisui’s chapped lips feel so good?) The feel of Shisui around him was enough to make the younger raven arch and cry out his koi’s name, (They both secretly called each other lovers.)
“No, no. Don’t cry for me just yet.” Pulling away, Shisui literally clawed his way up Itachi’s sculpted body. The latter chocked back a groan of protest when his cousin refused to further tingle his senses (though Shisui could hear everything). When the other Uchiha got up to Itachi’s neckline, he dragged his tongue all the way to his lips, tasting his kin. As a result, a shudder was sent down Itachi’s spine.
“You’re holding back, Shisui.” (Usually Itachi wouldn’t drop the ‘-san’. Funny how he would say it in the first place.) The younger Uchiha practically growled the words out of his moist lips (wet from his cousin’s tongue, not the rain.)
“Holding back from what, dear cousin.” Shisui mocked him, teased him, and dared him to speak again.
And Itachi took that dare.
He grabbed a fistful of Shisui’s hair and pulled him closer (ay closer was nearly impossible), whispering madly,
“Holding back from fucking. me.”
Shisui didn’t need to be told twice. But then again, he hadn’t been told to do anything yet. He loved this endless game of teasing Itachi. It never got old. (Itachi secretly liked it too.)
“So what do you want me to do?” His voice was calm and almost monotone. His body (ready for battle), sill flush against Itachi’s; it stayed completely motionless, still in the same hold Itachi had placed upon him.
The rain let up, as if on cue. The two stayed silent for a moment, locking inside a strange embrace (if one would be allowed to call it that.) Nightfall was almost there, it’s place being taken by twilight.
Shisui was three years older than Itachi (The younger boy was still only 13). In his life he had learned how to have sex with his clothes on. (But he needed to feel, flesh against flesh. He needed to feel.) In any other human he would have kept his pants on. This time…he didn’t.
Agonizingly slow, Shisui entered his kin. A deep groan escaped him wile a twisted look of discomfort and pleasure played across Itachi’s face. (Agonizingly slow.) Again and again, Shisui penetrated his cousin. (Sweet ecstasy mixed with the satisfaction of breaking a forbidden law.) Over and over, the demand of the both of them was increasing. (Much like the tempo of passion, dare they call it that.)
A sharp of Itachi was followed by one word, “More.”
(Reminisce of the past, the past when Itachi was only eight, the past when Shisui was only 11…those days of innocent enjoyment had been replaced. But it was worth it. This was worth it.)
The older Uchiha complied, receiving a louder moan of appreciation. (They still couldn’t decide whether this was out of hormones or the forbidden emotion of love.) He pounded into Itachi, who dug his nails into Shisui’s battle scared back 9both from kunai and previous nights). The act was neither from frustration nor deprivation. It simply acted like a flame. A spark that had lit the candle that had fallen over to light their entire bodies on fire (spread throughout slowly, inch by inch.)
“SHISUI!” Itachi came out onto their stomachs (but it should have been singular.) The other followed quickly, letting out a pent-up moan (saving it for the last moment.) They rode out the waves of the storm, slowing down to a rocking motion, panting for air.
“Damn…” Shisui commented.
Itachi let his head fall against the tree, looking into the fresh night sky. He could’ve lied there forever, Shisui against his spent body (their spent body). He could’ve slept there; stayed the night, right there. He would’ve been happy.
“We need to leave. Father will be expecting me soon.” Itachi helped Shisui off of him.
“It’s always your father.” Shisui replied, sighing.
“Sorry. I’d stay if I could.” It was only a mutter, but Shisui could hear him. (Shisui could always hear Itachi.)
And just like that, he was gone, clothes and all.
Kid’s getting good. Perfecting my jutsu. Shisui smiled softly. I’d better get the hell outta here.