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Itachi sighed softly as he layed back on the giant bed, pulling his novel closer to his face. The dim lights and his ever fading eye sight could make tasks like reading seem almost impossible now. It was oddly quiet in the Akatsuki base, the full moon gave the weasel a sense of tranquility in his blood stained world. He almost felt at peace if not for one problem.
His lover and uncle, Madara, was still away from home.
Usually helpless romantics would see this situation as a tragedy, that their star crossed lover was off trying desperately to return to them and whisk them to a happy litte world where flowers bloomed delight and the sun shone with ecstacy. But Itachi knew better. A late night home meant he felt too good to return to the younger Uchiha, that he wasn't a worthless old dog who had to beg for a belly rub or who was the one to crawl back to the weasel and plead for a second chance. It meant he was playing the role of a pleasuring deity, a sinful god whose presence made woman beg for release and men happily bend over.
No... He wouldn't be home until the morn, quietly creaking across the stone floor to lie into bed next to Itachi and wrap a deceivingly loving arm around his waist. He would lay his evil lips upon the raven's shoulder and neck, mouthing an apology that he new he would never mean as his liqour stained breath rolled over the younger's cheeks and burned his eyes with images of lust and laughter at his expense.
The words on Itachi's novel were soon drowning in salty tears, heartbreaking whimpers echoing in the night.
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