#28--"Blood Limit"
Header: #28/"Blood Limit"/ItaSaku
Title: Puscifer
Author/Artist: Lady Kyoshoku
Claim: Uchiha Itachi and Haruno Sakura
Theme: #28, blood limit
Rating: M
Disclaimer: IF I OWNED NARUTO, I WOULD HAVE KILLED OFF SASS-GAY LONG AGO.
Summary: For them it was a source of pleasure, but for her it was revenge. He knew she had the control, and he knew it was over. ItaSaku, AU, warned for OOC. Done for 50_themes.
I murdered these characters. OH WELL.
Warned for OOCness and some clichés. Oh yeah, and AU.
Written for Callie because she went OMGOMGOMG when I mentioned the song, hurhur. Enjoy~
"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."
- - -
It was night. As the moon rose over the sky, three women stepped out of a car. One was blonde, one with hair like the wing of a raven, and the last with a mane of shocking pink. Those who had heard of them gave the girls space. Their aura was knowledgeable and deadly, sending a near tremor through the masses of people.
No one said anything. They would not question why the Sisters where here. Their business was none of the Mundane…
The Hunters would arrive soon.
- - -
Midnight was approaching fast, but time stilled when the telltale car pulled up in front of the club. After all, Redmoon was their territory, their home.
Once again the crowd parted to allow people through, but this time a group of men. People were used to seeing four, but instead three emerged from the black vehicle. One with blonde hair, then a giant with skin that glowed blue in the dim neon light, and finally a medium-sized man with dark hair and eyes like blood.
They made not a sound as they entered to be surrounded by loud music, the bass thudding through the soles of their dress shoes. It was odd to see them in anything but their suits, though this time they removed their jackets to appear more common.
The effect they had was obvious, being not only handsome but nearly ethereal, as some dense female tried to reach out and touch the blonde man.
She did not make contact, but when the man glanced over she cringed and shrank away, as if she were burned. His eyes glimmered with something akin to pride, but his smirk was more alluring than she would have expected—almost enchanting.
But he said nothing, turning back to his group to enter the club. Once inside the doors shut, and those in the lines knew they were not going to get in until the job was done.
- - -
"Are you sure they're here, Itachi, yeah?"
The dark man looked over at his partner, then to the blonde that had voiced the question. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be sure?"
"Because there are firstly too many females here, yeah. And," the blonde looked nearly angry, "we don't know what they look like. That's why Sasori was killed."
Kisame laughed and smacked the blonde hard on the back. Deidara scowled. "We got nothin' to worry about, boy. Sasori was alone and didn't have warning: at least someone called and said something."
"True, but they could have at least told us what they look like, yeah."
"If they did that they know they'd be dead. The Sisters are just a bunch of bitches."
The conversation was unimportant, and Itachi took it upon himself to drown it out and think nothing of the voices as he concentrated on where and who they could possibly be. The Sisters had been eluding them for far too long, and their boss was growing impatient. As a group of turned Hunters they had flocked to Pein's call, knowing that it was as good as they were going to get for this life.
Pein knew what he wanted with those they hunted, but would not tell his members what his reasons where. So they hunted without purpose, bringing in the strongest and most desired of the Night Children.
It was hard enough without losing members left and right to a group of renegades, let alone females. They were said to be beautiful to the point of hurting ones eyes, but those who got close enough to them were never seen again. It was a dangerous job, and that was why it required the best.
And they were the best. Born and raised as Hunters, gifted with mutations that would make them stand out and survive. He with his eyes, and Deidara with his hands… but to use the gifts in such a public place would be disastrous, especially being in their own club.
A small comfort to be on their territory, he supposed, but Itachi did not get long to dwell on it before he was hit in the ribs.
He glared at the bluish man, who merely grinned and pointed. "Looks like we got us some hotties tonight."
As stupid as Itachi thought it was to ogle women on a mission, he still turned and looked, only to see a group of three women dancing. For a moment there was nothing special about them, but the longer he looked the more he noted the silvery glow surrounding them: the slight amount of room they had been granted in the crowded space.
They all moved in their own ways. The dark one with the pale eyes had a sort of fluidity about her, much subtler than the blonde, who was bordering on risqué. But the one in the middle, the girl with the pink hair, captured his attention.
He heard Deidara comment, but it was merely a droning in his ears as he lost himself watching her. Soft curls hung to her waist, framing her face. Downcast eyes sparkled with shades of silver and purple, lashes brushing her cheekbones as her lips parted from the exertion. She looked to be breathing harshly as her hips swayed, bringing her already shirt-short skirt up higher around firm, silky thighs. Her midriff showed as her arms raised, and it was then that he realized she noticed his gaze, and was staring right at him with the greenest eyes he had ever seen..
Who was this woman? Nothing else filled his thoughts as she gave him a sultry smile, lowering her lashes as if to invite him over. He hardly noticed that the other two girls had moved on.
It was rare for him to act on impulse, but before his mind could register what was going on he was separated from Deidara and Kisame, making his way over to the delectable creature that had captured his attention, hardly touching anyone else until he was in front of her.
Instead of saying something, her arms went around her neck, pulling him near. He could smell her skin: honeysuckle and jasmine, sweet and feminine. He should have noticed the lack of sweat, but the feeling of her cold breath on his ear was an excellent distraction as she danced.
Her hands drifted over his body, sending shivers down his spine as her verdant eyes locked on his own crimson. She seemed unperturbed by the colour—it was evident by her smirk that she knew who he was, but didn't care. The woman turned, pressing her back against his chest.
Itachi then found his voice. "What's your name?"
Her grip tightened on his neck: he could feel welts forming where her nails dug in. "Call me Sakura… Haruno Sakura."
"May I ask what brings you here, Sakura?" The rosette's name was pleasant on his tongue, and she nearly purred in her reply, like the sound of his voice alone was a turn-on.
"You, of course… I heard the Sisters were here, and then I knew you Hunters would come too." She tossed her hair, tilting her head to meet his gaze. "I wanted to know if you were as attractive as my friends say."
"And where they right?" Any other night Itachi would have thought her conversation a bit suspicious, but she had the face of angel. Why would she lie?
"Mm, so they were… A shame I cannot take you home with me."
His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her close against him so he could speak in her ear. With the motion there was a sharp, stinging pain on the back of his neck, radiating down his spine until he could feel pressure at the base of his spine. It was hardly unpleasant, though the closer he got to this woman, the weaker he felt.
"I suppose that's why they have beds here," His velvet voice betrayed nothing of how he felt, rather than the lust. "Just in case of things like this."
"Are you saying you want me, Uchiha-san? I would have expected more resolve from someone like you." Sakura's tone was teasing, and he wondered how she knew his name. Before he could respond she cut in. "And yes, I do know your name… Maybe if you come with me I'll tell you why."
The woman—Sakura—pulled away, disappearing within the mass of writhing people. He glanced around until he saw her, beckoning him with a single finger. He followed as if on a string, the pressure in his back growing greater as he came closer, losing himself to her spell.
He hardly noticed her lead him upstairs or into a room, closing and locking the door behind her. Instead he was on her, pressing her hard against the door, threading his fingers into her hair.
She was smirking when he pulled her face up to his, but she met his kiss readily enough. Her lips were soft and full as they appeared, and tasted of sweet cherries and cream. His hands were on her hips, pinning her where she stood—as if she were complaining. Slender fingers curled into his shirt, tugging at the buttons.
He allowed her to loosen the first few as he parted her lips with his tongue, probing the ambrosia of her mouth with great care. He was not met by heat, however, and when her hands touched his skin again, this time scratching him hard just above his heart, he knew that something was amiss. He knew who she was now.
It was too late, however, and he knew it. Fire coursed through his veins as her nails dragged over his chest, leaving shallow scratches that burned in contact with the cold air. He brought his mouth away from hers with a ragged gasp, his hands fisting in the sheer agony he was in. "You…"
"Come on, Itachi, there's not that much venom in your system. Say it." Her words were a sensual hiss, her face so terribly close. His back was now pounding, and the pain of it caused him to buckle forward and lean against her.
"You… Are the third Sister." By the smirk on her pretty face he knew it was true.
It was her legend: she was the Second, being turned by the First. Sakura fit the description to a T—she had the face of an angel, smelled as sweet as the finest powder, but her touch was her victim's demise. She was notorious, just like the rest of them, but she had killed the least… Sakura was selective with her victims.
"So you know who I am, then…" Her lips pressed against his jaw; he could feel the smooth coolness of her skin on his. It was relief, like a glass of ice water on a hot day. "And you know how to make the pain go away. You know what I'm going to do to you."
"You wouldn't kill me," Itachi ground out, his teeth clenched. "I can see through your illusions."
"I have no power in illusions. This is my true form, and that is real venom… You're already feeling the effects."
She was right: the sheer desire, the feeling that she was the only cure. He knew in his head that she would not kill him, but had no way of confirming it unless he allowed her to work. He was already succumbing to the pressure, his lips trying to find hers as they trailed kisses on his face and jaw. He could feel her nails in his back, drawing the blood, forcing him to give in.
He watched through half-lidded eyes as she brought her bloodstained fingers to her lips, sucking the tips to take in the crimson. Her face contorted in pure bliss, a low purr escaping her throat. His mouth went dry as he brought it closer to hers, uncaring of the fresh stain on those perfect lips.
"Sakura…" With the one word she knew he was giving in, and finally brought her mouth to his.
Itachi crushed her body against his harder one, the contact bringing flooding relief to his highly sensitized body. The pressure lifted temporarily, replacing itself with a stab of pleasure, but she was quick to part.
He groaned as she guided him back against the bed, sitting him on the edge as she straddled his hips. Strong hands held her close as she took her time, tracing the lines of his face and sending tinges across his skin. He knew better than to ask her to have him, to kiss him all over, to take the one thing he knew she wanted. If he did, he was dead, and both of them knew it.
She took her time until finally, her mouth slanted over his and she kissed him fully. He took it as permission to roam her body, sliding under her barely-there shirt to play with the trim of her lacy bra, to feel that silken skin against the calloused pads of his fingers. Itachi heard her purr, felt her pull away to tip her head back as his hands rose higher.
His mouth pressed to her neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her skin as he unbuttoned the back of her shirt. Her fingers threaded into his hair, drawing him nearer. His senses were flooded with her feel, her scent, her sounds—it was the terrible relief he needed from her taint.
But he was eager, and she had plans for him. "Slow down, love. I have time."
His only response was a growl against her skin, biting down hard to elicit a gasp from the woman above him. Her back arched against chest, pressing her barely-clothed breasts against him. She loved the feeling, he knew, but he was not the one in control—she proved it by pulling his hair back until he was looking up at her, verdant eyes burning with power and dominance. He didn't know when she pushed him back, but soon enough she was hovering over him, gravity pulling her hips downwards against his arousal.
The sight of her slightly disheveled and even there was enough to send his lust-fogged senses into overdrive. Her hands pulled his shirt apart, the remaining buttons popping under the pressure, before it was thrown to the floor. His wounds stung as the air made contact, and he hissed between his teeth when she traced them with her tongue.
Blood ran in streams against his skin—anticoagulants in her saliva made it run—but he didn't care. She could see the devotion in his features, knew that he had surrendered. But she wanted to hear him say it, she wanted his partners to know.
"Do you want me, Itachi?" He nodded, thumbs tracing feverish patterns on her skin.
"Yes…"
"How badly?"
He groaned, straining against her hips, but it wasn't enough. "I said how badly, Nephilim."
For a moment he stiffened, but answered regardless. "More than anything."
"Will you be mine? Do you surrender your soul?" Itachi could feel the venom in his body, cutting of the blood flow to his fingers and toes, his heart slowing. Sound rushed in his ears, his vision becoming unfocused, and he knew he was afraid. He didn't want to die: not like this.
"Yes! I'm yours, I will always be yours. I am…" His breath hitched as her nails bit into his skin again, the resulting pain nearly making him shout.
"You're what, Nephilim?"
"Nothing. We are nothing." His voice was hardly a whisper, his throat tight and dry. "Now please…"
His hands lifted her shirt, but she stopped it from raising any higher with a glare that would make the earth split. He knew she hated him, and that was why she was doing this, but it didn't matter…
"Louder." He repeated himself, louder this time, but it was not enough for her. This time her voice got quieter, dripping with a viscous, deadly honey. "Scream it, boy."
He would not lower himself to that, even while under her control. Once again he felt the bite of nails, but this time his vision blurred completely, his lungs burning with the exertion to just keep him alive. It was hurt beyond everything he knew, his body shaking and writhing to get away from the fire within his veins. His bones were melting inside of him, blood vessels bursting as his heart rate sped up.
He said nothing, however, until he felt her hands through the pain, pulling his head back by his hair before marking his throat. Blisters formed where her venom entered, his throat closing as he thrashed fruitlessly. He couldn't take it, no one would know… It was one thing, but the thing that she wanted to hear.
"We are nothing compared to you! We are worse than Mundane! Just please, please make it stop…!" She had heard many a scream from a Hunter, but nothing like that. It wounded genuinely painful for him to say such a thing.
Her grip on him eased, and he could finally breathe again. "Good boy… Now just relax."
It was a useless request: both of them knew he could not. His body was tense and sweaty, trembling when her cold hands steadied him against the bed. She was strong enough to hold him down as her lips touched his neck, causing a jolt to run through his body and send him off the bed.
The feeling of her touching him in this state was better than a high: he could only make soft noises of pleasure and relief as her hands roamed for a moment, guiding his to the back of her shirt once more. It was off in moments, her hands removing his remaining clothing with blinding speed. Large hands stroked her thighs beneath her skirt before lifting it until it bunched around her waist, tracing the line of her undergarments.
He knew she didn't want him, but it didn't matter. He had to have her—he would die without it. And she knew it, too, as she positioned herself over him, looking like some glorious creature (without a doubt he knew this was untrue) as she slid onto his turgid length. His groan was choked, instead coming out as a growl from deep within his chest as she began to move.
It was a hard, fast past, slick muscles contracting and pulling him deeper, her soft noises only stimulating him further as he grew nearer. His hands tightened on her hips—hard enough to leave bruises now—but she seemed not to notice, the cold skin beneath his hands unyielding yet soft. His eyes drifted shut, the sensation within his body lessening with each moment she rode him, release coming close to blur out the immense pain…
And then it was gone, replaced by a sharp pain in his neck. Her hair was tickling his shoulder, but he could not feel it—a cry of anguish left his throat as the blood left his body. His breath left him and he could no longer scream… His sight dimmed, his extremities went numb.
She was off him now, though still pressed intimately close. The young man knew that she was withholding the anesthetic she could use… Why would she torture him so?
As she pulled away, he voiced the question with his last breath.
"Why…?"
Her gaze was hard upon him, like the emeralds they held such likeness with.
"You killed them. My friends, my family… Everything I held close. I know you care for nothing but your duty, and now that will be torn from you."
She smirked. "I hope you enjoy Hell."
- - -
"Kisame, where did Itachi go?" The blue man blinked.
"I thought you were keeping an eye on him."
The blond scowled. "I was, yeah, and then he was just… gone."
Kisame looked a bit panicked, a sheen of sweat plastering his indigo hair to his face. "Well shit. We'd better find him."
A blonde brow raised in amusement. "We? I'm content to just stay right here, yeah. Great view. And it's not like I—"
"—cared for the asshole anyway, I know." Kisame rolled his eyes. "But it's your duty to keep him safe anyway. He is a comrade."
A snort, then a grunt.
"What the hell, yeah?"
Kisame's face split into a toothy grin. "You're comin' anyway, or I'll tell every chick here you're one gay bastard."
The blond paled. "You wouldn't, yeah."
"On the contrary, Deidara, yeah, I would."
- - -
Ino tapped a foot impatiently, clicking her nails against the bar. "Where is she?"
A sigh. "Ino… Sakura said she… just might be a b-bit longer than usual." Poor Hinata was the new girl: she didn't quite understand how close it was getting to dawn quite yet.
"Like that matters. I don't want to end up a crisp, thanks." The blonde was rather irritable-looking as she glanced around, only to be smacked upside the head by a slender, feminine hand.
"Relax, Pig. I'm back." Sakura ignored the exclamation of pain from the other girl, a smirk pulled on her now-stained lips. The blonde muttered under her breath before rounding on Sakura.
"Yeah well, they're gonna find us if we don't hurry, damn it." Hinata raised a hand to say something, but was ignored. "And please, please tell me he's dead."
"'Course he is. He was tasty, too, for a pretty-boy." Sakura flipped her hair, stole a sip from Ino's drink, and turned towards the door. "Now let's go before they find the calling card."
- - -
Everything was shrouded in darkness. The only thing he could feel was the pain of his heart struggling to beat, to pump the blood that the she-demon had taken from him. His body screamed for death, but he knew what she was doing.
He was not dead yet… No, she had instead half-turned him. He could still taste her blood in his lips—his blood—but it would do no good: there was only one way for him to be Turned, and that would be to be buried.
Would he remain like this? Is this what happened to Sasori as well? Itachi did not know… They had grown accustomed to burning their dead.
But would his allies notice him, suspended in this state until he was to be burned alive? He could not think of that now… All that echoed inside his mind were her parting words.
"I hope you enjoy Hell."
He could not go to Hell. He was one of the Divine… Yet she had damned him and brought salvation in the same breath.
So this eternity would not end until he was burned. It was a cruel fate, yet fitting for someone with a past such as his.
A rattle of a breath left his lips as his chest collapsed, and his world went black once more.
- - -
"Well, this is not good."
"Nope. Definitely not, yeah."
Both men stood in the doorway, staring at the pale and lifeless body of their colleague as he rested on the bed, perfectly dressed but tied up. Deidara supposed that at least they had given him some dignity—as much as he hated the guy, it must not have been pleasant.
They wandered around the room, looking for clues as to who the killer was, when a red, blinking light caught Kisame's eye. "Hey Deidara, pick up that thing."
The blond reached for it, revealing a camera that was set on a shelf. It was still recording: he hit stop before bringing it back to Kisame and hitting the playback button.
The image, blurred but visible, snapped into vision. They watched as the door opened, and Itachi came into focus, being led by a woman with vibrant pink locks in a backless top. Fascinated (albeit a bit disgusted) they watched as he woman seemed to entrance him, pulling him close before kissing him. The spectacle continued, and when she settled him on the bed, her back to the camera, a black mark caught Deidara's eye.
"Stop the picture, yeah. Zoom in." Kisame did as he was told, and that was when they saw it.
A swirling insignia, a matrix of three lines in an impossible pattern on the porcelain skin of the woman's back.
"The Sisters." Kisame breathed, zooming out and starting again.
It was not surprising what came next. Her venom was obviously spreading through him, making him compliant to her wishes as his body shut down.
What did surprise them, though, was that he screamed. Itachi never admitted defeat.
It was a mixture of horror and allure, a film noir with an erotic twist. The woman was obviously a sadist, finally sucking the poor man dry before adjusting her clothing and walking to the camera, and leaning over to look right in the lens.
She was beautiful, her skin white and her eyes vibrant even in the darkness. What stood out the most, though, were her lips—stained red and in direct contrast to her face as they pulled into a smirk.
"I suppose if you're watching this, you know who I am, Akatsuki. I want you to take this and the death of your other as a warning: We do not appreciate being followed or tracked.
Continue and you will all meet a similar end. Goodbye for now, loves."
With that she pressed her lips to the camera, leaving behind a print. Deidara turned it, and sure enough there was a mark in the exact shape of her lips. Both of them breathed a shaky sigh.
Turning off the camera they both headed out, locking the door to go and get their leader.
"At least he got laid."
"Amen to that, yeah."
A/N: Alright, I will say right now if this offended you I sorry. :3 Not really, but don't like, don't comment. Song was "Puscifer" from the Underworld Soundtrack, performed by A Perfect Circle.