A one-shot written in 10 minutes. I was avoiding homework, which seems to be my routine up here in college. I was so good in high school, what happened?

Anyway, Warnings: incest, nonconsensual, too sexy of characters to be in a story together

I hope you like it, I may add more and develop a two-shot. I don't know.

Enjoy!

Fulcrum

There is a fulcrum within every system. The balances will sway- spinning and shuddering upon this supporting structure. Wear, tear, and erosion lead to this fulcrum eventually breaking. And then what's left? Only the heavy weights that balanced either side and the plank connecting them. Atop a pile of rubble are two equal parts and one, thin connection.

Sasuke can feel it, the dirt and grit beneath him. He can smell it in the air too, the heavy stench of sweat and fear. Sitting on his bed, he watches his door with rapt attention. He has been doing so for hours. Sasuke wants the knob to turn, for some presence to break this limbo he's in. He's here, but he's not. Fingers digging into his scalp, scraping at black roots: I'm not real, this isn't real. But he can feel it, the horrible pressure in his groin, the potent sting of desire. Like a thousand wasps biting into the flesh of his stomach, he is rocked by sensations of driving pain.

Why won't it leave? He agonizes and, as if to mock him, the hall light flicks on outside. Itachi is up. He should be asleep, Sasuke remembers, he had finished his work much earlier in the evening. Then, Sasuke looks at his clock. Five in the morning—his brother is waking up. He prays to god now that the door won't open because he doesn't want Itachi to see him like this. In the shadows and dispossessed of his pride: an animal crouched among the midnight blue covers of his bed.

Sasuke makes out the distinct sound of water running. He heaves a sigh of relief, but that only sends a tremor of pain below. Maybe it hasn't been an hour—but the dreams have been for months. All he can do is dream of salacious acts with his kin, taking him and being taken. Sasuke groans as memories resurface, balling the comforter tighter in his white fists. He refuses to touch himself. If he doesn't feel it, if he doesn't see it: then it's not there.

After 15 minutes and a few billion thoughts of grapefruits, Sasuke sees a shadow pass by his door. He throws the blanket over his head, but can't bring himself to lie down. He just stares out from beneath his manufactured hood, watching as the wood slowly gives to the pressing hand. Then Itachi's head follows, glistening from the shower, his wet hair covering perfectly sculpted shoulders, and his blacks slacks snug on his waist. Sasuke hates him for having long hair and, thus, refusing to wear a shirt until it dries.

Itachi's face flashes recognition, which Sasuke can make out perfectly even if the light is low. Itachi can't see very much, so he slowly enters the room. "We need to talk, Sasuke," Itachi intones. Sasuke knows what it's about. He knows because he did it and then didn't have the guts to explain himself. He was all one way and then the next he was the opposite. He remembers childishly yelling that he had hated Itachi after he had just kissed him. "You're awake, right Sasuke?"

And the concern in his voice, in his carriage, in his heart just frays Sasuke's restraints all the more. The pressure he had worked to alleviate before is now building again and the natural sashay of his brother's walk is not helping. Don't come closer, he wants to warn, but his hunger only augments as the distance closes. He seems willing enough. He's practically offering himself to me. He wants me. He wants me, Sasuke convinces himself a million times over in the few seconds it takes for Itachi to sit beside him.

Then he looks into the face—the face so much like his own save for the lines of exhaustion under the eyes. He also notices how much slighter Itachi is than he and this renews Sasuke's confidence. He'll have his way, he decides selfishly, because where Itachi is selfless, Sasuke is selfish, and he can't stand waiting anymore.

Sasuke pushes forward, grabbing Itachi's wet hair with one hand and pinning his shoulder with the other. His brother begins to curse at him, but the ugly words are smothered by Sasuke's hot mouth. Sasuke can feel the lips work against his in protest, but he somehow molds the sensation into reciprocation. He rubs his hardness against his brother, the tough fabric of the slacks creating friction through his boxers. He groans into Itachi's mouth, loving the feel of Itachi's teeth as he goes to bite him. Then Itachi tries to push up and Sasuke gives a little before slamming him back down further on the bed, arcing Itachi's neck by use of his hair.

Sasuke begins to nursing the expanse of pale, smooth flesh of Itachi's neck. He can feel the vibrations from the trachea as more protests are voiced, but Itachi's getting hard now- it's beginning to become worth it now. "Sasuke, no, stop. We can't. This isn't." Itachi cries meekly, his body overwhelmed and his mind flickering. Am I dreaming? Am I awake? Is this really Sasuke?

Sasuke bites hard on the juncture between Itachi's shoulder and neck, drawing blood he mostly shares. The tang is bitter, but he sucks furiously to gain more. Sasuke feels as if all the fluid that enters his mouth goes to his groin because he gets impossibly harder. Itachi renews his struggles and Sasuke pauses to admire his brother.

Everything is silent, the darkness cradling the pale, exposed form beneath him. Itachi is winded and disheveled. His lips are bruised. His shoulder is bleeding. His neck is welting. The eyes, though, are practically glistening with the subdued tears. But in their dark pools, Sasuke can make out himself. It's not a lot; just the basic shape of his face and his hair and the bright red of blood by his mouth. The sight of the carmine streak seems to break Sasuke's stubborn, selfish possession. He looks at the wound he had just inflicted and, although shallow, his teeth had worked more furiously than he had thought. His eyes return to Itachi's face to find his older brother crying.

Shit, what have I done?

And much like before, Sasuke vacates his position and leaves. He retches in the bathroom, blaming the tears he sheds on the force of his vomiting. Soft sobs sound from down the hall and medical tape is being ripped in the kitchen. Sasuke shudders as he stares at the reeking mess of blood and bile in the toilet. Will Itachi continue to let him live here? Will he be kicked out?

Can I ever be forgiven?

Let me know what you think. The more reviews I get the more likely I may write more fanfics.

I've actually been looking into some Final Fantasy VII, but I don't understand the characters too well. As much as I love ooc-ing, I would hate to destroy Cloud- he's such an awesome character.