AN: Part two of chapter 17. Tomorrow I'll post chapter 18, in full.

DFTBA & Enjoy!

Amongst the collection of dark, subtly sexualized paintings full of desperation and need, one in particular caught Sasuke's eye. He stood before the painting hidden in the back of Temari's gallery. It was not strikingly different at first glance. In fact, it was probably passed over by most visitors for one of Temari's many bolder and larger paintings. This one was a mere one square foot in size and contained bits of the dark haired man that was central in the majority of the other paintings, but this was not the same dark haired man. The eyes were a shade or two lighter, larger, and hinted at truly being brown that appeared black rather than Sasuke's dark blue.

"She really should give him a call."

Sasuke nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the deep, husky voice. He spun around and found himself facing a man leaning against a supporting column with blood-red eyes and bright, flame-red hair that was long and stuck out chaotically in places. The sight of the man made his insides clench with want. Sasuke frowned. That had been a strange reaction to a man he had not heard enter the gallery—and Sasuke was known for his impeccable hearing.

His gaze scoped out the rest of the room, but after finding it empty, returned to the man. He was dressed in a tailored Armani suit, more expensive than any of the suits Sasuke owned. It was cut too him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and long torso. He looked like a high fashion model with his sleek, black suit and tie, crisp white shirt, and artistically styled hair. If it had been a normal situation, Sasuke would have relaxed. However, it most definitely was not. The man might look like a model, but he had the air of a businessman who was not to be fucked with.

"Who are you?" Sasuke asked, his muscles coiled, ready to jump into action if the man made any sudden movements."

"I think the correct first question should be what am I." The man pushed off the column and sauntered towards Sasuke. "Am I an enemy? A friend? Well, Uchiha, that is entirely up to you."

"What do you mean?"

The man stopped a few feet from him. "There are a set of unwritten rules in this city. My rules. Obey them and we'll get along just fine."

Sasuke squared his shoulders and elongated his spine, his eyes narrowing. "And if I don't?"

The man stepped closer. "Fuck with them and your most vivid imaginings won't be even a close to what I'll do to you."

"I don't know. I have a pretty good imagination," Sasuke said as he stepped closer to the man. They were now a mere foot apart and he could smell a rich cinnamon. It was subtle and strangely familiar. "And I don't take kindly to threats from strangers with a cheap suit and a bad haircut. Perhaps you should get your money back. Your stylist really fucked you over."

The man smiled and inched closer. Sasuke felt the man's hand in his hair before he comprehended the movement of his arm. The man grasped his hair and yanked it backwards so that Sasuke's chin pointed upwards, exposing his neck.

"It's no worse than yours," the man said. "Who did it for you? A child?"

With the speed of a snake, Sasuke struck. Aiming low, his hand went right between the man's legs, to his most vulnerable point, and he squeezed, his fingers wrapping around something smooth and hard. He frowned, his brows crinkling together. The man merely laughed.

"You think I wouldn't be smart enough to wear a cup?" The man grabbed Sasuke's wrist, twisted it so his arm bent, and pinned it to his own back, effectively bringing their chests together.

"Fuck off."

He felt the man's teeth glazing his exposed throat. "I'd rather fuck you."

Sasuke gasped and he was disgusted with himself when he felt his body react hopefully to the man's proposition. He struggled against the man's grip. "Go to hell."

"Already there."

"Who the fuck are you?"

The man nipped his ear and whispered darkly, "Kyuubi."

Sasuke's eyes widened and then he heard the gallery door open right before there was a pinch at the back of his neck and everything went black.

Sasuke awoke to red hair and jade eyes. He groaned and put his hand over his face. "You should dye your hair black."

"How're you feeling?" Gaara asked.

"Pissed off." He lowered his hand and looked around. He was lying on the bed in Temari's studio, the sun high in the sky. "Where's Temari?"

"I'm here." She appeared from behind a wall of blank canvases and sat on the bed next to him. "What happened? I walked into the gallery to find out if you were ready for breakfast and you were passed out on the floor."

"I met the Kyuubi."

"Who?" Temari asked.

Gaara frowned. "A mafia boss said to own this city. I thought he was a myth."

"Apparently not." Sasuke pushed himself to sit up.

"What did he want?"

"I don't know. He said that whether he was my friend or enemy was my decision. I think he was just introducing himself."

"This complicates things. I'm going to go call Itachi." Gaara pulled out his cellphone and left the room.

Temari grabbed his hand. "How'd you end up on the floor?"

"I'm not sure. I remember hearing you call my name and then nothing. Kyuubi must've knocked me out somehow."

"Do you need anything?"

"Coffee?"

"Sure." Temari kissed the side of his head and stood, heading for the door.

"With cinnamon."

"Huh?" She stopped and looked at him. "Cinnamon?"

"Yeah, coffee with cinnamon in it."

"Um, okay," Temari said, perplexed, and then left the room.

Sasuke ran a hand through his hair and looked out of the large window next to the bed. What did the Kyuubi want? Why did he smell of cinnamon, and more importantly, why was that smell familiar to him? But the question that had disturbed him the most was why had his body lustfully reacted to the Kyuubi? He was disgusted with himself. The man had been threatening him! He wanted to go spend the next several hours scrubbing himself raw in the shower. He felt dirty, wrong. He wanted to wash the whole experience away. He wanted to hide from it, to become Exotica. He wanted… he wanted to see Naruto.