Title: Distillate.
Pairing: Kurenai Yuuhi x Itachi Uchiha
Summary: In his desperation, in his insanity and in his need, he'd go too her window, and as she slept he'd kneel at her bedside, take her hand in his and bend over it, in prayer, and in obsession. Hail Mary, full of Grace.
Rating: M
Notes: I watched Perfume again. Nuhduh. The quotes from that, as well. I am… not sure about this, but the soundtrack just… made me want to write this scene… But if you know this movie… I encourage you too wriiiiite some form of Naruto!Perfume thingy. I chose Itachi/Kurenai cause a) I am obsessed with that pairing. B) the movie is about obtaining beauty, and the two really beautiful women in Naruto are Kurenai and Konan plus this pairing is about beauty. C) Itachi does obsessive desperation so well. I really don't know where this was meant too go… it just did… and erm…-sigh- I wanted to give Itachi something… pretty. I've never written him so… adoring…
standard disclaimer applies.
For the first time in their lives, they believed that they had done something
…purely…
out of love.
--
Dis-til-late [dis-tl-it, -eyt, di-stil-it]
–noun
1. the product obtained from the condensation of vapours in distillation.
2. any concentration, essence, or abstraction.
--
He wasn't sure how many he'd killed, his clan, people after that. The blood, he could smell it all, sickly and sweet and as refined a ninja he was, he knew each and every smell, every scent, he could remember them all. His mother, soft and warm, his father, bitter and brooding, mixing to create something on the dojo far stronger. What had made him.
Even at times, when he felt like it, his brother, as he coughed up the betrayal in red splattering against black, undetectable and just not strong enough compared to Itachi's.
He doubted Sasuke or Madara knew these subtleties. He doubted anyone did.
Doubt they'd ever noticed her. She was in a range of difference, he yet she was the same. He'd watched her as a young woman of 23 and he of 13, as she touched her hand to Asuma's face and Itachi and everyman sighed. She was deadly, it was true, deadly and beautiful. As she walked past, for a second Itachi closed his eyes and felt the air brush off her body and onto his. Sweet…. He'd always remember, so so sweet, any other man might of cried.
In his desperation, in his insanity and in his need, he'd go too her window, and as she slept he'd kneel at her bedside, take her hand in his and bend over it, in prayer, and in obsession. Hail Mary, full of Grace.
He was not prepared for the night she woke. Quietly he was murmuring over her hand and like she was her own reality, she slipped from asleep too awake. She did not scream, which was too be expected, seasoned ninja did not scream. He felt it only in the shift of her finger, the tenseness that came with being aware, and he watched her eyes shift around, slowly like a dream, as if this was still a dream.
He was caught, to run? To stay? To give in?
"Uchiha?"
He nodded.
"Is there a mission?"
"No."
"Then why…"
"Shhh." He lifted his hand to her mouth, she stared up at him and he waited for fear to flicker into her, he didn't want it, but he knew… those red eyes were too much like his mothers. "Please just… just be silent."
She nodded, her shoulders still just that bit too tense. Carefully he rose off his crouching position, then a knee to her bed, then the other. He crouched over her, she was stock stiff under him, he could see her mind thinking it, see the wheels turning 'he's Konoha, he wouldn't hurt me… he's Konoha…'. He wanted to smile, to tell her too stop lying to herself, he had no allegiance anymore, not when the news spread in the morning.
Instead, he leant up and pressed his face behind her ear, his nose in her hair. She was breathing shallow, trying to keep herself together, she knew she was powerless, and any ninja knew that struggling was useless when you were overpowered. He felt the way her breasts pressed into his chest as she took those fast breaths, he threaded his fingers into her hair and shifted his knees closer, and tighter and tried to hold her as much as he could. Pulled her so close she whimpered.
"Itachi-kun"
Why did she say that, was it too remind him of his age? Didn't she know, there was no children in shinobi… no boys no girls, just weapons…
"Please, Itachi-kun, you are hurting me… I can't breath properly, please." He changed his grip and pressed her face into his shoulder. It wasn't belong before she began kicking and thrashing.
He thought he might of killed her, when she was so still in his arms, her arms hung without fear and her head fell back, her eyes closed and her throat exposed. Hair fell dark like a trickle of blood against the white cotton sheets.
He pressed his mouth, not a kiss, but a feeling, to her throat, and there he felt it, a tiniest of thumps. He sighed and lowered her back down.
She was so still, she was asleep, knocked out, but not dead. He'd spared one, just one.
He suddenly was ceased by how little time he had, his hands shook, he was shaking and she was so still. He didn't know what he had done… what had he done? He looked at her, the piece of hair that was fluttering with her breath. He brushed it away, he felt… clumsy? She was so still…
His shaking hands went too the bindings of her chest, he couldn't unravel them now. He just ran his hands over them his face so close, he was embracing her, his soul was remembering and clinging. Maybe his sharingan was on he didn't know, her skin was so smooth, so smooth, ice on a lake yet too crack, and he was… he was… he was feeling and she was… she was… He pressed his face into her stomach, and breathed as she breathed. Opened his mouth against her skin and swallowed her with all that he possessed.
He sprang back. Some how he landed on the floor, and then the spell was broken, saw her chest rise and fall, saw how he had cut the bindings and he shuddered, there was no mark of him. Not on her, but he could still feel her. He could still see her, bare and perfect, he'd counted those ribs, with his lips, his fingers... he could still feel her.
He still felt her, so many years later, and there was Sasuke -- there was Sasuke so broken and still smelt like the hatred, like the cursed blood of the Uchiha's. And Itachi was dieing, and falling, and he tried to forget everything else, he'd done what he had had too with Sasuke and now his eyes blurred with blindness, with emotion, with relief… for the final time… for that last….
So many years has passed, every day had felt as long as a life age of the earth. But he could still…
He was in her room again. He could smell her again, this was not a brief passing of air, she was all around him.
There she lay, as he remembered, but this time she was awake, her blood eyes just watched him, no fast breathing, just gentle, the rise and fall, the gentle way things should have gone if things had been different, if he'd just have enough sense the first time around…
… this was the last time around. He moved to her bed, and still… she was still so still. But with a lax anticipation. He moved above her again.
"Itachi…"
She threaded her fingers to his hair. He could have choked, he could of cried, instead he pressed his lips to hers, and he was holding her so close, and now she was holding him in turn. And she doing it because… because… she didn't expect of him, because she, she, she lov --
Itachi closed his eyes, Sasuke blurred out of focus --
And he got, what he always wanted.
It was pure.
--
love.
--