I do not own Naruto by means of the characters, show or manga…
BEWARE THE SPOILERS (Naruto chapters 393-394)
Author's Note: So there I was in my Psych./Soc. class when it struck me: I haven't updated my account for a long while. So, feeling bad for my peers, I decided to create a new story. On top of that I have just read most of the Naruto manga chapters and I must say I am pleased and yet very upset. Those who have read chapter 394 understand what I mean. But it sparked my sick mind sadly. There are only a chosen perverted few that can take something so beautiful and destroy it… much like me… Please try to enjoy this, my sick friends, and know at least I care.
Death-fic, One-shot, please review if you have the time.
Sasuke's POV
There He WasSo there he was. I never thought I would see this glorious day. The day he would be drenched in his own blood. The day he would be lying on his back. The day his lungs beckoned no more. I could not help but smile. Smile at the delightful scene of painted blood and stone. His eyes were blind but not by misuse. This was his fault and he begged for this. Underestimating someone gained a lost cause.
And so there he was. No longer abusing power. No longer heaving deep sighs of disappointment. He deserved it. I cannot say I did not want to make the most of this. This deadly scene. This great destiny revealed through such blooded means. How I begged for this day. The day I would finally smile with completion. I would no longer face a facade of self-confidence. I deserved this and he deserved what I gave him. One might say I gave him a path to a greater world, but I'd rather believe I gave him the worst.
Lying there, motionless, breathless, timeless. Lost in our past. Full of sunken glory whilst writhing in sullen agony waiting for the reaper to guide his dark soul to the sour depths. Where he belongs… Bruises and blood on broken bone could not complete this day for me. Not yet.
I fell to my knees, unwilling to guard them from the hash stones. All I could do was stare. My eyes fixated on the broken trust that lay before me. Not one regret passed me by without a whisper of anger and conclusion. I placed my hands on his chest. That cold flesh beaming through rough clothing. His image ran past, oddly enough causing me to dig my nails within his body. How good it would feel to have the flesh under my nails. How magnificent the scene of crushed ribs with scratch marks. I could do anything I wanted with him.
Overjoyed, once again a slick smile broke out. I let loose my grip, guiding my hands to his throat. So limp, so pale. That vein no longer beats does it? My hands wrapped around that perfect form, tensions raised.
There was nothing. No matter how hard I could have gripped, it would have made no more of a difference. To have such a dank thing under me. Something so fearful, when those sunken eyes moved, brought down under their own hell. That blood would make great face paint wouldn't it?
Forgetting the time I released the frigid neck, breathing heavily as if my hands had grasped my own body. I forcibly shook my self of the temptation to destroy this hard form. Laughing, I patted his forehead, unable to grasp a calm concept.
"Here you are…" I whispered, wiping my own blood from my bottom jaw.
My weakness finally took effect, as I knew it would. With a joyous sigh my body sunk down, down against that cold chest. Turning my face aside to view his head, I rested. I love the sound of breathlessness. It's so peaceful when nothing is around.
Though… it is too bad I feel so incomplete. There was so much more he had to suffer. For every thing he had done, this was the best I could have given him. I wanted to pound his chest in, but what good would that do now? My eyes drifted up. His neck was so moist with red. It was so magnificent.
But… wait? What was that? I sat up, my dull eyes focusing more greatly now. His neck… There! Again!
"It can't be…" I gasped.
That damned vein. That cursed pulse. That disgusting grip on life. It was there! Present in a world where no one wanted it! How rebellious could it be? How irritating. I pressed my index and middle finger to that living tube. I needed a second opinion from my trusted hands.
Again. And again… And yet again. It grew rapid. How dare this old vein pump new blood. I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't believe it until those disgusting orbs made their presence again. Our eyes met again. Sadly, it was there …again. Those sunken dark eyes gazed at me, still meaningless and calm. My brows furrowed.
"Go back to hell." I hissed.
He replied with a large breath. I became shocked. He was challenging me. I would win again of course. Did he really believe he'd win in the end? I scoffed loudly.
So many thoughts ran about my mind like a stampede of animals. I could slowly wring his neck until his final breath was brought to me. My remaining kunai could imbed itself within his stomach and I could watch him bleed gradually until his heart could give no more. A swift and strong twist of his neck could grant an owl effect to his abilities. My God, these plans… These plans were devious but delicious. I licked my lips to them. I cracked my knuckles. What great options, what delectable and deserving options.
Of course, pain did not always have to come physically, did it? I could ravage his mind like he did to so many others. What great irony: The magician to be tricked.
"I can do to you what you probably never had to guts to do…" I said to him, twisting my head slightly, glancing all over his body.
"I hope you feel every bit… We can only pray your nerves are still at attention." My heart began to race.
He must fail. He must not only die but also suffer. I've been given a second chance. A chance to make him feel more than just pain. He deserves this. I deserve to do this to him. It is human nature to want revenge. I am just playing my part in society.
Not a word left him. Maybe I broke his speech through my earlier actions? I can only hope so. His dry and cut lips parted slightly to let out a weak breath. Blinking dimly, he reached out. A shaky and sad hand wriggled my way. Before it even gently laid upon my cheek I grabbed it, roughly slamming it down to the ground. I can only beg that it had broken. I could see him mouth my name. It made me smile when I saw a bit of blood leak down the corners of his lips.
It was easy to restrain him. Once roughly thrown to the floor his hands remained there, pathetic and harmless. I bent forward, breathing delicately on his neck before nicking his pale flesh with my teeth. He barely jerked. He must be distracted… He must be in so much pain.
I laughed.
I reached onto his shirt, easily ripping the clothing apart, thread by broken thread. I sat up to see what I was dealing with. It was easy to see why he was so strong, with his well-built body. His light skin was hard to differentiate from the blood that painted him and the bruises that damaged him. He was strangely attractive, for a disgusting man…
I bit my lip hard; giving negative punishment to myself for having such soothing thoughts towards someone I hated so very much. After swallowing a good amount of pride I returned to reality. He deserves this. This embarrassment of being used by someone like me. I bent over, giving a firm press to his sore chest. His back painfully arched as he grunted. As his back created a bridge I could see every true rib upon him, it sickened me to think that not even one was broken. Quickly I grabbed his torso, lying my own against him and hugged in a harsh manner, pressing my thumbs into his skin as my other fingers scratched him. He coughed a spattering of blood and squirmed. His numb arms rose slightly only to lie flat again. I could tell he was in a great deal of discomfort… Wonderful.
As he appeared to calm his chest positioned to the floor. I took the time to slide my body onto him. It was then he looked upon me. Looked at me with those dark, dreary eyes that gave false tears. I sneered at him, grabbing his jaw with a firm hand. I could not stand those familiar eyes. Those nasty eyes that judged in the worst way: indiscreetly. Forcing his head aside, digging my nails viciously into his cheeks and jawbone, I shoved his eyesight from my own. I cannot stand when people stare at me…
It was so cold there, upon his disgusting form. Hopefully I crushed his torso. If the Gods were on my side, everything would turn out so well. Someone important to him would see. He would die while being humiliated. He would die under my body. Die under my burning flesh to his ice skin. Die while twisting and turning, arching and moaning. My hands would be at his sides, ripping into his flesh. He would be forced to wrap around me and he would HAVE to enjoy it. He would have to fight the stagnant feeling of his own brother taking him. His own brother, his younger brother, having his flesh like a harlot. Using him like so many other people before him. And he would mourn. Mourn his manly-hood, mourn his calm demeanor, mourn his torn body. Maybe he would cry? That would be simply amazing…
My hand dipped down, unfolding, twisting, breaking, unbuttoning useless shielding. I could feel his head trying to move under my other grip. It was so easy to keep him still. I could here him grunt slightly. My heart might have skipped a beat then. That scrumptious pain, yes, I will turn you inside out.
Those pants were soon off. I hope he is cold. It was for sure that I was. Against that horrid body of dry blood and rigid flesh. I refrained from looking at his manhood though. That was something I could live without seeing. I didn't need to make sure it was there to give myself confidence. Besides, I knew it was there. It wasn't about him… This is all about me.
"N-no…" His voice said in a faded, grunting tone.
I couldn't help but laugh as he attempted to grab my shoulders only to have his slippery, clammy, bloodied hands slide down to fall on my forearms. This is where he weakly gripped. How superb it felt to have this once poised and great man plunge to such a low. Gaining control easily again, my lowered hand began shifting his body. With help from my own legs I parted his. Avoiding the calming touch, I raked my hands about his thighs, hoping to return my hand to my sight with blood upon my fingertips. I could feel his legs twitch. I hope they're bruised.
All that entered my mind is the fact that he deserved this. I didn't realize how truly sick I was. How horrid of a person I am to do this to a family member. Although… It's good I don't recognize him as a brother. Currently, he is nothing but a sickening doll that needs a time-out. For all that he has done… For everything he would have done in the future… for everything he is thinking now… He deserves whatever happens within the remainder of his time. This is my society and revenge is rampant.
He will beg to be in hell.
My hands came to my body's attention. My pants dropped. His legs were raised to my hips. I released his tender face to get a firm landing. Everything for one last time.
He will cry for me.
So cold… His body was so cold. His eyes were suddenly shot wide open. A horrifying grunt filled my eardrums. I was in. In his mind. In his distraught, heavy, corrupt mind. Picking at his emotions like a fork to a meal. Prodding his figure. A sweat drop ran down my cheek… But it didn't burn my eyes oddly. I watched his eyes widen then fall into a scrunch. He can feel! How glorious! He can feel my size upon him, forcing his corruption out and the pleasure in. Did he feel pleasure?
His ironically gentle hands faintly gripped my forearms, trying to gain my attention to the pain I caused. Such a fool, I knew what I was doing. I felt another sweat drop trace the same trail as the first. My fingers dug into the tough ground. My body pushed forward until his spine turned up. I think I heard his pelvis creak. I gazed upon his face and smiled feebly.
Was this my brother?
There he was. Squirming, groaning, bending, gripping: all to a harsh rhythm. I remember when you were strong. When you over estimated my will power. You didn't expect this did you? You never expected this and now you must drown in it.
It was there that, until recently, undetectable weakness was provided to my sight. His fears brought out by my body. His blood brought out by my hands. I grabbed his hips and rapidly moved. He shook his head. His toes curled and his eyelids tightened. Sweat and blood mixed upon his skin, pulled by gravity to the floor. So moist. He was so moist down there. Was it blood? Oh, how I hope it was blood. Whatever it was, it made it softer.
Another sweat drop replaced the previous one.
"Sa…Sasuke." He groaned in a whisper.
His voice made my body freeze. Quickly I picked up his legs and slung them over my shoulders. I lifted his hips and began roughly thrusting. A gasp left him. Panic took me when I heard him speak. That name. I know that name, but I can't know it now.
Yet another sweat drop fell past my cheek.
"Shut up…" I moaned, leaning onto his chest.
His hips cracked, I heard them scream.
"Shut up…" I whimpered.
I could feel my body tighten. The urge to release was approaching me so suddenly. Ah that image, that wonderful image of my liquid upon his ruptured body. Who would find you? Who would care?
My heart raced, my grip tightened. His hips cried. His legs twitched. I would not release with him like this. Someone has to find him… find him ravaged and dead. As I thrust in him, my hands landed on his supple neck. His frail grasp came to my wrists. How wonderful he felt. My hands firmly clutched. He coughed a few smatterings of blood.
A pain-less sweat drop came to my attention again.
I watched him struggle. His eyes tightly shut, his hips shattering under me, his hands squeezing my wrists to release. Blood… so much blood… I laughed in a cracked voice.
That same sweat drop…
My body closed itself. It purged into him. Something warm finally filled him. My hands remained tightly around his throat. One last powerful jerk forward caused my length to completely sheath within him. I leaned over, my forehead against his. My hands began searching.
Gone? Where was it? That disappointing pain? That noticeable life? My fingers searched about. Where? It was gone? That wicked vein was gone again… Gone again…
I returned my posture upwards. I dropped his legs aside. I gazed upon his face. Motionless. Soul-less. Heartless. Painless… He looked so distraught. His hair was a mess, his body was distorted. His mouth was slightly parted, ripped. His eyes… gently shut.
Gone again. My brother. I writhed at that term. My brother is gone, my brother is gone. He deserved it. He deserved the humiliation. He deserved to leave this world… It was too pure for him. And maybe me too…
And that damned pain-less sweat drop entered my premises again! I wiped it away from under my eye… Do people sweat there? The moisture came again… I removed the drops again.
Wait…
Are these tears?
I wiped them away for a final time.
"Ridiculous." I claimed, sitting back with my knees to my chest.
Gazing upon the once great Sharingan user, the now molested corpse…
End
Author's Note: Cheesy? Yes? Anyone have catharsis yet? :P
Please try to remember this is a FANFIC, not the actual story. I understand Sasuke would never lay a sexual hand on Itachi, especially a near death Itachi, just deal with it please. :D
Any grammar?