Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9542822.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Naruto
  Relationship:
      Uchiha_Itachi/Uchiha_Sasuke
  Character:
      Uchiha_Itachi, Uchiha_Sasuke
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Sibling_Incest, Sex, Anal_Sex, slight_cbt, Bondage, Dom/sub
      Undertones, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Sorry_Not_Sorry, Itachi_is_a_bastard,
      sasuke_loves_it
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-01 Words: 3637
****** Beyond words ******
by Thesoma
Summary
     Our encounters always follow the same pattern: We watch each other
     carefully, then try to deceive each other with Genjutsu before we
     really get down to business and proceed to destroy our entire
     surroundings within a radius of several hundred meters while using up
     all of our Chakra, spearing just some sparks of it to keep us alive.
     Then, when we can’t hurt each other anymore and can be absolutely
     sure there is nobody alive nearby to bear witness to what is
     happening, we have sex.
Notes
     This is my first time posting something in english... and it's not my
     mother language ^^"
     So if you notice any mistakes (or if it just doesn't sound right or
     something), feel absolutely free to point them out to me and I will
     be happy to correct them.
     But yeah, anyway... I wrote this years ago as a present and yesterday
     I was bored out of my mind, but didn't feel creative enough to write
     something new, so I thougt: Why not translate something? I translated
     a lot of stories from englisch to german already, but never the other
     way round... it was an adventure, but absolutely worth it! I loved
     doing it and I hope at least some of you love this little peace of
     smus as much as I do
  This work was inspired by
      Unbeschreiblich by Thesoma
What connects me and my brother goes much deeper than anything another human
could ever possibly understand. What connects us is deeper than the same blood,
the same black hair and pale skin, even deeper than our bloodline limit, which
in it’s way shaped our whole lifes by making us outstanding Ninja.
No. What’s between us, what is there, was there and will always be there can’t
be described with words alone. He couldn’t destroy it by wiping out our entire
clan and I couldn’t destroy it by letting my hate for him eat up my soul. Maybe
that is the reason why our meetings are always the same. Since I left Konoha to
train with Orochimaru and find Itachi, I met him seven times.
Our encounters always follow the same pattern: We watch each other carefully,
then try to deceive each other with Genjutsu – which, of course, doesn’t work
because we both have the Sharingan – before we really get down to business and
proceed to destroy our entire surroundings within a radius of several hundred
meters while using up all of our Chakra, spearing just some sparks of it to
keep us alive. Then, when we can’t hurt each other anymore and can be
absolutely sure there is nobody alive nearby to bear witness to what is
happening, we have sex. I don’t know why, I really don’t – what in all hells
drives me to fuck my big brother mere minutes after trying to kill him?
I don’t know the answer to this question, but one thing is clear: My desire to
fuck him is almost as big as my desire to kill him. I guess if I can’t have one
thing, I simply take the other.
Today marks the eighth encounter, this time I found him in a forest some miles
south of Kumogakure, far enough from the village that probably nobody will
notice us. And even if they notice, at the earliest the scouts will be here an
hour after the start of the physical fight (nobody can detect the Genjutsu-
duels after all) and we don’t even need an hour if we include sex. So no
problems whatsoever.
But something is different this time. Itachi didn’t attack me yet, he didn’t
even move from the spot in the middle of the little clearing I found him on.
Suspicious of his passivity, I haven’t attacked either.
“Sasuke,” he says in his monotone voice, this voice that seems far too deep for
his frail looking body. “We both know what will be happening. Why don’t we skip
the painful part and go straight to sex?”
My jaw literally drops at his words. For a whole minute, I just stare at him
incredulous, before stammering: “W-what?”
“Do I have to repeat myself?,” he asks. “I at least hoped for some basic
comprehension of human language, as I correctly guessed there was no hope of
proactivity from your side in this matter. But in easier words so you may
understand me correctly: I want to fuck you, little brother. Now, preferably.”
The vulgar words seem so wrong from his mouth, so inappropriate for the image
of him I keep in my head, that I close my eyes, open them again and stare at
him for the second time, before activating my Sharingan to stare at him a third
time through them just to make sure it is really him standing there.
But it is him after all, which just makes what he just said even more
unbelievable. Unable to cope any other way, I do what I trained for so many
hours, days, years: Automatically I use the right hand signs, process the
perfect amount of chakra and seconds later there is a giant fireball headed for
him.
The intended effect doesn’t quite come to be as where he was standing just a
moment ago, there is now only a spot of burned ground. Itachi already was long
gone from where I aimed at when my jutsu arrived. But… where is he now?
My whole body goes rigid when I feel the cold steel pressed so my throat and
the warm body at my back. He is far too professional to only use the blade, if
you know how to do it you can escape a knife to your throat in no time at all.
But if the knife is accompanied by a twisted arm and a kick to the legs, it’s a
whole different matter. Nonetheless I have a feeling that there is a lot more
bodycontact between us than strictly necessary to immobilize me.
Wait a second – I’m immbolilized? When did this happen?
Suddenly clear again I check my options, just to come to the very frustrating
conclusion that I have none. Itachi needed a whole of three seconds to render
me completely helpless. This will go down in history as the shortest of all
short fights. What a humiliation.
Aside from all the acute problems I have with this situation, there is also the
matter of what this means for all our previous fights: If he is able to beat me
this effortlessly, I never was a challenge for him at all. I never was a threat
for him.
Like so many times before, it seems he is able to read my mind. “Of course you
never were threat, little brother. Our fights were for the sole purpose of
keeping your self-respect intact while simultaneously getting you in the right
mood.”
It might sound strange for civilians that a fight for your life gets you in the
right mood to fuck somebody’s brains out, but it’s not that uncommon. Almost
every adult ninja could tell you stories about things that happened after hard,
straining missions in dark forests and isolated caves – but none of them would.
It’s an unspoken rule that none of this ever happened. How many ninja children
were conceived during things that didn’t happen will never be known.
Of course this normally happens with your comrades, not with the person that
just tried to kill you… but what is nomal between Itachi and me?
“And now you don’t care for my self-respect anymore?,” I ask tense.
“…no.” The little pause before he utters this word surprises me, but not as
much as what comes afterwards. “But I don’t have much time left and I don’t
want to waste it in pointless battles.” His warm breath tickles my neck and I
can’t suppress a little shudder anymore. We both know why I only asked about
the self-respect and not the mood.
I want him. I want him so much I even played with the thought of having sex
with him without trying to kill him first in the past. Of course the idea
seemed far too absurd to ever act on it, not even speaking of blatantly
requesting it from him. I’m not like Itachi, even if a lot of people seem to
think we are very alike. But the truth is, he was always far braver than me.
He meets his challenges head-on.
I run away from them. Or I run onto them. But I run in all cases.
He always had his very own tempo of doing things, no matter if it’s fighting,
living or fucking.
Where was I?
Oh. I want him.
Now.
The really absurd thing is, he still has me on my knees in front of him, a
kunai pressed to my throat, and the situation does not get less strange when he
leans over me to press a hard kiss to my lips. He is neither gentle nor
affectionate and his movement maneuvers my arm into an even more uncomfortable
position, but I nonetheless respond to his kiss, I even open my mouth a bit.
It might be a sign of our in a unique way messed up relationship that I do
that, but refuse to give him more room or any kind of control aside from what
he already took without asking. His response is brutal. He yanks up my arm
until I cry out, which of course goes soundless since he doesn’t seem to take
my cry as a reason to stop kissing me. Instead he uses my moment of weakness to
shove his tongue into my mouth.
I try to bite him, he let’s go of the kunai to slap me across the face, once
from the right and once the left. His hits are so hard I need a moment to
regain my senses and he uses this moment to get me fully to the ground and grab
my other arm. I can feel him moving and then there are rough ropes on my skin,
securing each of my hands to the elbow of the opposite arm. It’s a pretty
uncomfortable position and it also serves the purpose of making it impossible
to close handsigns.
Rot in hell, perfectionistic asshole.
“What the fuck are you doing?,” I shout, angry and slightly concerned and with
a mouth full of grass. Fuck, it’s really not that easy to talk with your face
on the ground.
“What does it feel like?”
“I meant, why are you doing that?,” I snarl back at him.
“Because this will be the last time, Sasuke. And I don’t intend to have it
ruined by your childish desire to resist your feelings.” Then he laughs, and
Itachis laugh really is not something you hear very often. To be exact, I can’t
really remember having him ever heard laughing, even if it has a sad undertone.
Something is wrong with him and it’s even more obvious with this laugh than
with his second hint that… what? That he will die? I can’t even imagine that.
But something is definitely wrong.
But I’m neither in the mood nor in the position to think about this thoroughly,
I’m much to… trapped by this situation. (Holy fuck, what the hell is wrong with
me? Not able to think straight, but horrible puns are totally doable? Sometimes
I really wonder what went wrong in my head and when. But this, too, is a
question for another day.)
Itachi pulls at my bound arms and if I don’t want them to be dislocated, I have
to follow the movement and get back to my knees. He is still behind me and it
really irritates me that I can’t see what he’s doing, but being on my knees in
front of him is still better than eating grass.
Something touches my burning cheek and with surprise I realize it’s Itachis
hand touching me there. The same hand that just hit me caresses the cheek
that’s still red from the slap, and it does so with a kind of tenderness that
disturbs something deep inside of me.
What disturbs me about this touch is as hard to describe with words as the
whole rest of our relationship, but part of it might be that sex for us always
was something more resembling the fight that just ended than an intimate
experience.
This is… different. Not really caring, his slaps are far too recent to be, but…
there just are no words.
“What are you doing?,” I ask weakly, and even just these few words need all of
my attention to leave my lips. Most of my blood has gone to a different region
of my body and left my brain with absolutely inadequate resources to function
properly.
Instead of an answer I feel his second hand gliding below my shirt (I stopped
wearing Orochimaru’s rags a long time ago, it’s a plain black ninja-shirt now)
and caress my back. Each of his touches feels like little sparks for me and he
can hardly miss my arousal now, the tent in my trousers is far too obvious in
my pants and considering our situation, even harder to misinterpret. When his
teasing fingers wander to the front and begin to explore my chest, I finally
can’t resist anymore and arch my back in a hopeless attempt to kiss him. But
all I get from Itachi is an arrogant smirk – like a mirror of the one I used to
make Naruto furious – and a brush of his lips over mine before he brutally
yanks on my hair to get me back into position.
“Ita-chiii,” I more hiss than say and even I myself don’t really know if it’s
an upset hiss or a pleased one. My breathing is ragged and I’m already at the
limit of my patience. He knows too good how to play me, how to hit the right
nerves… or more like, all of my nerves. It’s this mixture of brutality and
tenderness that makes me weak. And horny as fuck.
Finally one of his wandering hands decides to go where I so desperately want it
and slowly pushes the waistband of my trousers down. I’m helping as much as
possible, wiggle my way out of them and can’t suppress a moan anymore when cold
air touches the hot skin of my dick for the first time. I’m kneeling there in
front of him, only half undressed, bound and helpless, trembling with something
between fury and arousal. My own ragged breath keeps me from identifying his
sounds and with the pants still around my legs I can move even less than
before, so I’m forced to wait what he will do next and it drives me nearly
insane. This fucking bastard of a big brother… although it’s questionable if we
should even call each other brothers anymore considering what we are about to
do. But whatever he is to me, he should cut me loose, he should touch me, he
should get his fucking act together and finally fuck me like he said he would,
he should go to hell and die right at this instand – I don’t care as long as
something happens. Just him sitting there behind me where I can’t see him, only
feel his warm breath against the skin of my neck and not know what he is up to,
that’s worse than everything else he could do. Dying and going to hell
included.
Then, finally, after what feels like an eternity, his hands grab my hips and
pull them back and down, guiding me where he wants me to be. I can feel his
erection hard and hot at my backside, gliding into my crack and slightly
touching my entrance. He would not… not without any preparation… he… oh, he
would and he will. Slowly, but without any chance to escape, he presses me down
onto his hard dick. It’s painful, but not as painful as it could be as I can
feel something like lube on his dick and I can’t help myself but think that
sometimes it’s not that bad to have a perfectionistic asshole for a brother
since who else casually carries lube in his pockets? But 'not as painful as it
could be' is still pretty damned painful. I cry as his cock widens my insides,
much too fast even though he goes so slowly, his considerable girth taking up
every millimeter of space there is to be taken – how in all hells a man as slim
as him can have a dick like this is beyond me and no wiggling and twisting gets
me away as his hands still have me in a grip that will probably leave bruises.
But then it’s done and I’m awkwardly sitting in his lap with his dick up my ass
and my bound arms pressed to his chest. Like before his cold hands brush my
skin, soft, caring, nearly affectionate.
He gives me a moment to regain my senses before he starts moving and I do as
well, still in pain but too horny, too desperate for sensation, too much
lusting after him not to do it. Like I said, his mixture of pain and pleasure
is absolutely deadly for my self control.
We move slowly but with a lot of force and it’s either the position or simply
his skill, but he needs only a few thrusts before finding my prostate. I throw
my head back and oblivious to all surroundings moan my pleasure out for the
world to hear, no longer in any kind of control, no longer angry. No longer
Uchiha, but only Sasuke.
Itachis hand closes around my bouncing dick and just this touch is nearly
enough to make me come undone, only his hard grip stopping me.
“Tell me,” he whispers in a strained voice, “tell me what you feel.”
“Argh,” is my very eloquent answer, I’m too far gone to speak. But he doesn’t
let go, goes even further by using his second hand to stroke the tip of my
penis, slowly, maddeningly so.
“Tell me,” he demands and the pressure gets harder, painful now, and I gasp for
air helplessly, finally resorting to crying out loud – but not because of the
pain, but because he stopped moving inside me.
His one hand still keeping me from coming, the other one torturing my dick,
rubbing, pinching and teasing it, even going as far as slapping my balls, which
causes me to whine like a wounded animal… but the stars I see are definitely
not from the pain alone. I’m far beyond all borders between lust or pain, it’s
all pleasure now, painful, wonderful, fulfilling, maddening pleasure. I want
him to fuck me so badly I’m willing to do pretty much everything.
“So good,” I gasp, “so deep – agh – inside. So hot. Painful. Hate you! Oohhhh –
want you…” My next breath is cut short when he rolls his hips in promise of
what I want so badly but at the same time presses the head of my poor cock so
hard that the next sound coming from my mouth doesn’t sound like a human
anymore.
I cry out, tears streaming down my face and finally he goes back to fucking me,
but I don’t have to be forced anymore, the words are now coming on their own.
“I hate you! I hate you, I – ah fuck – aaaahhhhhhh… love you… Itachi!” And then
just: “Itachi, Itachi, Itachi…” until my voice breaks and he finally allows me
to come. Then everything goes dark.
 
Seconds, minutes, hours later I wake up in his arms, lying half on top of him
and pressed to his chest as if he fears I disappear as soon as he releases me.
There it is again, this tenderness I don’t understand.
For a long time, we are just lying there. I’m not even bothered by the ropes
anymore, I’m just happy to be able to touch him, to breath in his scent, to
feel his warmth. I don’t even have to think.
But after some time, a single, nagging thought creeps into my head, tired and
slowly, but nonetheless important.
“What about you?,” I ask him softly. “What do you feel?”
Just the hint of a smile touches his lips as he looks at me as if I asked him
something as stupid as if it’s dark at night.
“I love you,” he simply sais. “I always have.”
That’s exactly the difference between us that I mentioned before: He needed to
force and very nearly torture me to the brink of sanity to hear it. All I had
to do was ask him.
A second question joins the first one, a lot less pressing, but important
nonetheless.
“What did you mean when you said it would be the last time?”
Again my question seems to have been extraordinarily stupid, or at least that’s
what his facial expression is telling me.
“I’m dying.”
“W-w-w… WHAT?”
I’m even more shocked now than I was an hour ago when he announced he intended
to fuck me. (Holy shit, was it really just an hour ago? It seems more like
ages.)
“I’ve been dying for the last twelve years, Sasuke. It’s really about time
now.” He doesn’t look at me while saying this, but his grip around me gets so
strong I have trouble breathing. “I’m twenty-two now and that’s at least ten
years older than even the most optimistic estimate ever gave me. But I wanted
to see you growing up, so I refused to give up. Now it’s time for me to go.”
With slow, thoughtful movements he pushes me down from his chest and onto the
grass, makes sure my clothes cover everything important and even strokes a
strand of hair out of my face, before leaning over me and pressing a kiss to my
forehead.
“Goodbye, Sasuke. And don’t follow me.”
I watch him confused as he collects chakra in his fingertips before touching my
neck slightly. Then he finally cuts the ropes binding my arms to my back. I try
to grab him as he leaves, but realize I can’t move my arm. Or my legs, as I
soon notice. Or anything else. Grinding my teeth in frustration I have to admit
that he really paralyzed me to make sure I don’t follow him.
It takes two hours before I can move again at all and another hour before I am
able to walk properly again… although I will probably limp for several days
thanks to his very cautious and restrained way of treating me and this has
nothing to do at all with his use of chakra.
I pick up my backpack where I left it behind when going to face Itachi and take
a quick snack to fill up empty energy reserves.
Then I’m on my way to find Itachi.
Demons shall eat me alive if I allow my beloved big brother to die alone
somewhere, without a grave, without remembrance, without… me.
I will find him.
I found him eight times, how hard can it be to find him a ninth time?
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