[AN: I'm back! Sorry for the delay in between chapters. I ended up writing a one-shot as a little break, and it ended up turning into a seven-shot that I decided to finish up before coming back to this tale (I also learned a very helpful lesson... authoring two stories concurrently doesn't work so well for me!). Thanks for bearing with me and for the follows, favorites, and comments, as always! As usual, this next chapter is rated M for mature situations, and I do not own Naruto.]
Chapter 21: The Diagnosis
It was rather strange to be back in Konoha. To wake in Sakura's room each morning to the hubbub of activity on the streets below, the district slowly coming to life. To hear the sweet cries of children running home for lunch from the Academy, the excited chatter of kunais and jutsus, of friendships forged and enemies made. To watch the famed Konoha sunset fall over the Hokage Mountain from his perch in her little bed by the window, setting the village on fire in brilliant hues of orange, pink, yellow, and red before slowly giving way to the starry night. While he'd returned once before since the massacre - soon after the Sandaime's death, spurred on by the knowledge that someone needed to make a statement to Danzo that his brother remained off limits - this time was different. It was as if his life was coming full circle… as if, after a decade away, a decade of espionage, of wandering, and of crime, he had truly come home. It was a feeling he'd never again thought he'd experience, and it ushered in a new sense of peace over his spirit. His self-imposed mission wasn't over quite yet, but, at long last, the finish line was in sight.
Over the past six days, Sakura had spent most of her waking hours in his company. For, at the end of his first appointment with the Hokage, Tsunade had grudgingly informed him that her apprentice would be taking on the role of his personal medic and "jailer" for the time being and had excused the girl from all upcoming hospital shifts. Accustomed to a good detail of personal space, Itachi had been somewhat wary of the arrangement, but, in retrospect, he didn't exactly mind her companionship. Far from it. The days that he spent convalescing with her by his side flew by like a wonderful dream, full of tender glances, thoughtful gestures, healing caresses, soft lips, kind words, and a slender yet supple body that he was coming to deeply appreciate. Shisui had been his best friend and confidante, Sasuke his beloved otouto, Kakashi his first real romantic interest, but Sakura… well she'd become decidedly dear to him, despite his resistance to the possibility of emotional attachments.
Unfortunately, their time together in her little room was not allowed to go fully uninterrupted. While Sakura was keeping most of her peer group and parents away with a white lie about needing to complete some high-level, top-secret medical ninjutsu research for her shishou, two other people currently based in Konoha knew of his presence, and neither one was exactly a stranger.
Since the morning that the Copy Ninja had stumbled upon him in the kunoichi's apartment, Hatake had been by three more times, enthusiastically taking up Sakura on her too-generous offer of lunch and tea. He'd always been an insufferable mooch, even during their ANBU days. During the man's visits, Itachi kept largely to himself, feigning sleep until the meal was served (might as well milk the "almost died" thing for all that it was worth) and allowing the kunoichi to dominate their conversations, throwing in the occasional "Hn" and "Ah" for good measure. After his one-on-one chat with Hatake that first morning, they'd reached some sort of understanding, a treaty of sorts (even if he had lost is cool for a moment or two, falling victim to the emotional rawness of his teenage memories despite knowing far better). That being said, it was clear that they'd never return to the former intimacy they'd once shared as teammates, friends, and almost more. Tch, which was for the best, really. After all, there was Sakura…
Speaking of the kunoichi... Itachi could tell that she was rather curious about the glaringly obvious tension between her beloved ex-sensei and lover. The way her eyes traveled from one to the other when she thought they weren't looking, the casually nonchalant queries about life in Konoha back in the day… she wasn't exactly subtle. That being said, he was dead set on not letting anything slip, and Hatake, to his credit, seemed to be in agreement. It was ancient history, but it was their history, and they were both exceedingly private people, even when it came to the pink-haired girl whose damnably adorable smile and alluring green eyes had wormed her into their hearts. For, yes, he could tell that his old Taichou was interested in his ex-student. The Copy Ninja attempted to hide it - and it was clear from the congenial way that she treated him that Sakura had absolutely no clue - but Itachi had caught the momentary flash of jealousy in the man's visible eye when she'd mindlessly caressed his hand during their first lunch. He'd never say anything, of course - such pettiness was far beneath him - but the knowledge was rather… amusing.
Their other visitor was, of course, Tsunade herself. Somehow (likely due to the suffering of some poor assistant), the Hokage had managed to stop by Sakura's apartment for a good half-hour each of the past six days, performing a litany of tests, collecting samples until he felt like a pincushion, providing Sakura with some tips on his treatment course, and even offering up some of her own precious chakra to the cause of restoring his lungs. The effects of the two medic-nins' treatments were remarkable. Even after his relatively brief time in their care, Itachi couldn't help but be amazed at how much his body had recovered… and how sick he'd been in the first place. Having grown accustomed to his illness sapping away his life force over a half-decade of managing, he'd long ago stopped noticing what a toll the condition had taken. But now… he hadn't felt so full of energy in years. Which was a very good thing, given how insatiable Sakura had been last night...
Tch. Save the smut for later. He was supposed to be listening to Tsunade's diagnosis. As had become the norm during these healing sessions, Itachi presently lay on his back in bed, the Godaime seated on one of the kunoichi's kitchen chairs next to him, and Sakura herself hovering nearby, eager to assist her mistress. "You have what we call in the medical world an autoimmune disease, Uchiha-san," Tsunade was saying, a rather self-satisfied smile strung across her glossy lips. From what Sakura had said, the Hokage had spent far more time than she should have researching his illness, and she seemed exceedingly pleased that her work had finally paid off. "I've run some genetic tests, and your particular mutation appears to be an extremely rare, recessive condition, likely caused by inbreeding. There were only a few other cases in the medical literature, and they all could be traced to clans with Kekkei Genkai..."
She continued to babble on about this and that study, but Itachi had heard enough. Ignoring the medic-nin jargon, he frowned, running the key words through his head in a mostly futile attempt at understanding. "Autoimmune." That sounded awfully vague and strangely like it was somehow his fault. And who was she calling "recessive," "mutant," and "inbred"? It seemed that the famed Slug Princess might very well have a death wish. He was NOT weak, and she'd do well to remember that.
He let out a "hn" as the woman finally let up her chatter and eyed him expectantly, as if wishing him to sing her praises. But he certainly wouldn't be giving her that satisfaction. Seeking to sooth his frustration, his eyes drifted over the woman's shoulder to Sakura's fascinated face, his irritation at his utter lack of comprehension not managing to fully cancel out the warm feeling that the shine in her green eyes awakened within him. The longer they spent together, the better Sakura became at reading him, and she seemed to sense now that her mistress's words required elaboration. Or maybe she was just accustomed to the damned woman's poor bedside manner. "What Shishou means, Itachi-san, is that your condition is extremely rare," Sakura began slowly, the soft smile on her face all that was keeping him from declaring this little health consultation over. "It's a recessive mutation, which means that your parents each had a copy of the gene causing it. They then passed it on to you, and since you inherited two copies of the gene for the condition and no healthy copies, you manifested the illness."
Ah. That mostly made sense. "And…. autoimmune…?" The word rolled awkwardly off of his tongue, and he grimaced, disliking the sense of being out of his element. After all, he knew nothing of medical ninjutsu and vastly preferred to be the one with the knowledge and control. It was part of the reason he'd made it his business to be good at just about everything from a young age.
"Autoimmune, as in, your immune system is attacking your body." Tsunade took back over with an impatient eye roll. "Your lungs, specifically. In layman's terms, your body thinks that the cells in your lungs are foreign invaders and is attempting to wipe them out. This explains the symptoms you've been experiencing for the past five years - bleeding, fatigue, coughing fits, shortness of breath - and the scarring that Sakura discovered. Had we not started a treatment course when we did, you would have soon asphyxiated from oxygen deprivation due to the degree of damage."
"Hn."
"Hai, hn," Tsunade replied impatiently. "Just so we're clear, your lungs are a damned mess, Uchiha. You're extremely lucky you've survived as long as you have, but you'll need to be a great deal more careful going forward. No more pills from fringe healers, no more decades between fully trained medic-nin visits, no more using chakra to suppress your symptoms. You'll be able to live a normal, functional shinobi life if you work with us, but it's going to require a serious commitment on your part. We can't reverse the damage, but we can stabilize you and prevent it from getting worse through regular, weekly treatments."
Well, that would have been reassuring… if he'd planned on living past next week, that was. As Itachi mulled over his diagnosis, he came to a far more alarming thought. "Tsunade-sama," he began quietly, his voice deadly serious, "If my condition is genetic, then what of my otouto?"
"Ah, they didn't proclaim you a prodigy for nothing, did they, now, Uchiha," Tsunade chortled (rather too casually, if you asked him… Sasuke's health was serious business). "The thought occurred to me, as well. After all, according to good old Mendelian theory, the brat has a one-in-four chance of having the illness and a fifty percent chance of being a carrier." Kami, why couldn't the woman just get on with it already. "So, I sent Sakura into the archives to dig out his genin medical records."
"He's all right, Itachi," Sakura cut in, emerald eyes growing a touch moist. Hn, was she lovely like that. "At least, there wasn't any sign in his records of any symptoms or test results that drew concern. And he was always examined by the top medics in Konoha given the rarity of his Sharingan and position as clan heir, so it's extremely unlikely that they would have missed anything."
"Ah." Itachi felt the uncomfortable weight that had been gathering in his chest lift slightly, only to come crashing back moments later by an additional thought. "I wasn't aware I was unwell until I was eighteen." And Sasuke was eighteen now. Which meant that he could be just beginning to experience the first signs of sickness… the sudden exhaustion, the strange moments of nausea, the shortness of breath after performing a training exercise he'd easily accomplished thousands of times...
"And there's that legendary Uchiha mind, hard at work again," Tsunade commented lightly, although her expression had taken on a new look of seriousness. "Actually, you raise a fair concern. The last physical performed on Sasuke occurred a couple of weeks before his defection, but that was over five years ago, and, at the time, it would have been senseless to run the full genetic testing required for a conclusive answer to this question. The medic who examined Sasuke is one of our best, but you simply don't do full genomic testing without just cause. Without your brother here for some samples, we don't have a way of definitively confirming his status."
"Hn. And, as for any future offspring -?" Over the Hokage's shoulder, Itachi noticed a blush creeping across Sakura's cheeks and stifled the surprisingly jealous frown that was threatening to creep over his face. Well, the thought had occurred to him when he'd first kidnapped her, assuming his little brother wasn't a complete and utter fool, but he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the possibility of this particular kunoichi bearing Sasuke's children anymore. No, probably best not to dwell.
"Sakura, remind me to speak to Iruka about introducing some basic biology into the Academy curriculum," Tsunade commented, expertly ignoring the tension between her patient and assistant. "Really, the things that otherwise highly intelligent Konoha nin don't know… I'll never get over it."
Itachi glared up at her - Did every piece of information have to be accompanied by an insult? - and Tsunade shrugged. "As long as the brat doesn't stumble on some poor, unsuspecting kunoichi who also happens to be a carrier - which is extremely unlikely given that yours is the only clan in all of Konoha to have ever expressed this allele - you can rest assured that your future nieces and nephews won't share your malady." With that, the woman stood, stretched to elicit a rather massive back crack, made some comment to Sakura about getting back to her office before Shizune officially had a nervous breakdown, and muttered one more parting shot under her breath that had Itachi glowering anew. "Kami forbid that said brats inherit the Uchiha penchant for possessiveness."
The Godaime really was a piece of work.
Following the conclusion of Tsunade's visit, Sakura set about throwing together a salad for dinner, leaving Itachi to doze for a spell. The man's health had improved dramatically over the last forty-eight hours, in particular - he'd even muttered something about wishing he could go out and train that morning - but she could tell that his body remained rather drained from all it had gone through over the past, well, decade. And she needed him rested if she was going to be taking a look at his eyes later that evening. For she'd promised the Hokage she'd try her best to do so, and she couldn't let her down, even if the prospect of broaching the subject of tinkering with his prized Sharingan was a bit… intimidating.
The day after coming clean to Tsunade, her shishou had called her back to her office while Itachi was resting, this time for a truly solo interview. Despite her trepidation - after all, Tsunade's tantrums were the stuff of legends, and she'd concealed an awful lot from her mentor - the visit was surprisingly cordial. Tsunade seemed positively sedate after the previous day's excitement, which Sakura suspected might very possibly have to do with the absence of a certain toad-summoning fellow Sannin. They'd spoken for a good fifteen minutes, going over Itachi's intentions in more detail, the results of his first labs (negative for tuberculosis, heart failure, cancer, and just about every other "likely candidate," which meant that they were back to square one), and the treatment course for the week. Then, as Tsunade rose to see her out, she shifted the conversation to a slightly different subject. "You know, Sakura, I don't mean to put you on the spot, but this would be an excellent opportunity for us to learn more about the Sharingan firsthand. Kakashi's transplant has certainly been useful, but I suspect that the eyes of a true Uchiha are an entirely different animal."
"Hai, shishou," she'd agreed meekly, unwilling to risk the woman's formidable wrath at the very end of a visit that had been going so well. Then, her mind flashed back to the time she'd first treated Itachi on Toki. What had he said then? "Don't touch the eyes." Hm… that didn't exactly bode well. Nor did the resistance he'd shown to her sharing the guide to his family's Kekkei Genkai with Tsunade just last night. Convinced by her memories and her past experiences with attempting to study the Byakugan that this was likely an extremely poor idea, she'd opened her mouth to protest, only to find herself staring at the closed door of the office. Likely sensing her impending change of heart, Tsunade had been too quick for her, extracting her agreement and then shutting her out before she could change her mind.
And now, six days later, she still hadn't done a thing about broaching the subject. Setting the bowls on the kitchen table, she roused Itachi from his nap, and they sat down for their meal, the room falling silent after a quick "Itadakimasu." Sakura tried to concentrate on her lettuce, but about two-thirds of the way through the somewhat lackluster greens, she gave up, pushing the remainder away and setting down her chopsticks. Looking up, she discovered that Itachi's dark eyes were upon her, regarding her rather curiously, as if he already knew that she was up to something. "Itachi-san," Sakura began, her hands coming together nervously on the table, "Now that your body is doing so much better, I was wondering if you'd reconsider permitting me to take a look at your eyes."
The Uchiha frowned, and Sakura felt an uncomfortable sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "For what purpose?" He asked, his gaze never faltering from hers. Well, that wasn't a flat-out "no." The kunoichi felt her cheeks growing warm under his watch, the nervousness now accompanied by the earliest flutter of arousal.
"I just thought… I could help reduce some of your vision problems a bit," she half-lied, hoping that she sounded calmer than she felt. "I've looked at Kaka-sensei's eyes before, so it's not like I've never worked on a Sharingan. And I've read your book cover to cover."
"Hn." Itachi leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he looked her over carefully. "The Hokage put you up to this, didn't she?"
Of course, he saw right through her. Sakura nodded weakly, her eyes falling to her crossed hands in embarrassment. "I'm… sorry, Itachi. I know how much a Kekkei Genkai means to its clan members. I should have told shishou that I couldn't do it right when she first -"
She fell silent at the sensation of two slender fingers tracing their way under her chin and returning her gaze upwards, back to meet their owner's. "Sakura," he began, his voice soft and silky now, as if coaxing a small child to stop crying, "I'll let you work on my eyes." For a moment, she smiled broadly, her heart beating hard in her chest at the sensation of his touch and the knowledge that he trusted her with his most precious possession. Itachi's expression remained stony, however, quickly chasing away any thoughts of romance. "Whatever information about the Sharingan that you learn, though, is for your edification only."
"But, Itachi… that's not really how the medical field works. It's a collab-"
"Sakura." He cut her off rather harshly, fingertips dropping from her chin. The surprisingly intimidating aura radiating off of him was a sudden, unnerving reminder that he was still a powerful, dangerous shinobi, despite how much he'd let her in since his arrival in Konoha. "That's how this is going to work. Or it won't be happening at all. Contrary to what you may think, I am not a vain man. Whatever clan pride I possessed died the day I found out the truth about the Uchiha. This isn't about keeping the secrets of dead men who put themselves before their village... it's a matter of Sasuke's security."
Sakura frowned, not entirely following, and Itachi sighed, the tension on his brow residing slightly. "For generations, as with the Byakugan and the Rinnegan, there have been many who have lusted for the Sharingan, driven by their thirst for the legendary powers they promise. Indeed, Orochimaru is just the latest in a long lineage of would-be wielders, and I have reason to believe that he is not presently alone in his quest for Sasuke's birthright. To possess a Kekkei Genkai like this is a blessing - I cannot deny that - but it is also a curse, placing a target on the user's back. I don't suppose you've ever taken a close look at a Bingo Book?"
Sakura shook her head, and Itachi nodded in acknowledgment. "I assumed as much… it's not exactly appropriate reading for a Konoha medic-nin of your standing. If you were to look, you'd find that, with some exceptions, those shinobi with the highest bounties on their heads come from clans with bloodline limits. Indeed, the rarer and more powerful the ability, the higher the price. And for the rarest, among which the Sharingan clearly ranks, the value is astronomical."
He paused, blinking once, as if clearing his head of some distant memory, and, when he spoke again, his voice was even lower than before, scarcely more than a whisper. "Now, say that you wanted a Sharingan of your own but could not conceivably obtain one. For, as Orochimaru will soon discover for the second time, claiming the eyes of a living Uchiha is not an easy feat." He smirked darkly, and Sakura suppressed an uneasy shudder at the deadly gaze across the table. "Your sensei's unique circumstances aside, most in my clan have historically been… hesitant to part with their sight, for reasons that I assume are clear. Given these difficulties and the current scarcity, I'm sure you'll agree that learning the inner workings of the Sharingan, whether you intended to attempt to reproduce some of its powers yourself or better know its weakness in battle, would be the next best thing? It is for this reason, Sakura, that I expect you to protect whatever information you learn about my clan's eyes - everything you learn - with your life."
"I… will," Sakura breathlessly promised, her mentor's earlier request forgotten. Her previous experience with Kekkei Genkai research had often left her frustrated with the clans who possessed them, assuming that their refusals to disclose clan-held information in the name of medical progress was simply a sign of their pride at being "special." How very wrong she'd been. "You know, Itachi, you don't need to go through with this. If it makes you uncomfortable… if you'd prefer that I not know…"
"Oh, but I very much wish you to know, Sakura," he replied, the warmth that she'd grown accustomed to over the past few days returning to his voice and gaze. Rising from the table, he made his way back to her bed and lay down, his arms crossing underneath his head. "To be frank, I could care less what you are able to do for my vision... I do not anticipate living long enough for it to make a difference. No, this too, is for Sasuke. Once he returns to Konoha, he will need a medic well-versed in the proper care of his Sharingan, and I intend you to take on that role. You didn't suppose that I provided my clan's guide for pleasure reading, did you?"
He fell silent, and Sakura idly flicked on the lamp on the table at the realization that dusk had fallen some time ago. He'd truly thought of everything. And he trusted her so absolutely… not only with his life, but with Sasuke's. Quelling the butterflies that had begun dancing in her stomach at this heady affirmation, Sakura sprung to action, setting up a mobile medic-nin workstation on the bedside table: a notepad and pen for jotting down her observations, eye drops, and the ocular tools that she used for routine eye exams, summoned from one of the scrolls in her hospital bag. Settling into the desk chair she'd once again pulled next to the bed, she began her examination, trying to ignore how fast her heart was beating due to the combined forces of the proximity of the Uchiha's reclining body to her own, the scent of her slightly minty soap on his skin, and, most distractingly, the way that he watched her work, his expression all at once curious, somewhat tentative, and infinitely patient. Medic mode. She was supposed to be in medic mode.
Sakura spent quite some time on the examination portion of their session, carefully documenting Itachi's current condition and the shifts in his ocular chakra flow as he switched from unactivated eyes to Sharingan to Mangekyo Sharingan under her orders, fighting off the desire to lose herself in the mesmerizing swirl of his tomoe. Once satisfied with this portion of her report, she set about stimulating the network around his eyes with her own chakra, observing the effects and running several basic diagnostic tests she'd read about in the Secrets. Finally, she entered the healing phase, the chakra emanating from her hands casting Itachi's tired face in a ghostly green glow as they hovered above him, carefully removing as much of the chakra that she'd discovered building up around his fiber-thin ocular nerves as she could. It was detailed, labor-intensive work, and after slightly over an hour of healing, she could already feel the telltale fatigue of declining chakra stores.
Itachi seemed to sense her weariness as well. Opening his eyes (she'd instructed him to close them for the treatment portion, as much to avoid the distraction of his gaze as for any other reason), he looked up at her pensively. "I think that's enough for tonight, Sakura," he commented softly. As she quelled the chakra flowing from her palms, his warm hands wrapped themselves around her wrists, and she shivered appreciatively at his touch. Then, he shifted slightly on the bed, moving back towards the window, the warmth in his eyes growing. "You're tired. Come… join me."
She didn't need to be asked twice. Setting aside her notebook, she climbed onto the bed, allowing him to take her into his arms. As he slowly began to undress her, Sakura let out a little sigh of pleasure, savoring the sensation of his touch. "I enjoy watching you work," Itachi commented, as he deftly unclasped her bra. "Your focus, your attention to detail. Did you learn anything of interest?"
"Mhmm…" she agreed, her affirmation turning into a moan as his hands found her sensitive nipples, quickly teasing them to peaks.
"Tell me."
Ugh, did he really expect her to talk about work while his hands were occupied with sliding her panties down her thighs? It appeared so, for his movements stilled at her silence, and his eyes flicked to her face, a vague mirth that could only be labelled teasing behind them. "Tell me, Sakura," he repeated, pulling the red lace of her panties down a bit further, a silent affirmation that she would get what she wanted if she satisfied his curiosity.
She swallowed hard, trying to will her mind to focus on what she'd jotted down not even an hour ago. "Well, the initial exam was very… ah… interesting," she replied as he finished stripping her of her panties, leaving her bare.
"Very interesting," he repeated, his eyes drifting over her nude figure, telling her that her words were not the only thing of interest to him. "How so?" His fingers traced the outline of her torso, running slowly over her thighs. Ah, how she craved those fingers… elsewhere…
"Well, I… uh… discovered that the effect of your Mangekyo exerts a strain on your ocular nerves hundreds of times more powerful than… ah… the usual Sharingan. More, please, Itachi..."
He'd allowed a finger to slip inside her, gently stroking at a pace that was so, torturously slow. "Ah. I would also like to know more," he replied the slightest smirk of a smile spreading across his handsome face. How did he do it? How did he maintain such ironclad control when she was literally falling apart at the mere touch of his fingertips?
"Mo-or-re?" His finger ran over her clit, and her hips bucked upward at the tantalizing sensation before they danced away again, leaving her aching for fulfillment. Focus, focus. You can do this. "I think that's why your eyes have declined so quickly…" she gasped out, wriggling her hips in a futile attempt to force him to touch her most sensitive spot once again. "You've been overusing... your Mangekyo."
"Ah. Very good." Evidently satisfied with her conclusion, he gave in to her craving, right index and middle fingers drawing circles that quickly had her panting. All too soon, however, he stopped, withdrawing entirely to her immense frustration. "But, unfortunately for you, I already knew that," he continued darkly, his eyes shifting from black to red in a sign of his own arousal. "Tell me more."
"More?" Oh, he was so unfair. She couldn't remember any more when he was looking at her like that! Not to mention as he slowly tugged off his own clothing, revealing his sinful body, in a promise of what was to come. But he'd made himself perfectly clear: That promise would only be fulfilled if she told him something else. Something he didn't know. "The strain… the overuse… it's actually caused by chakra build-up." Gods, was his nakedness distracting… his shoulders, his torso, his abdominals, his… ungh. She shut her eyes and let out a deep breath, trying valiantly to ignore the fact that he was positioning himself between her thighs, his hardness brushing tantalizingly against her folds.
"Go on."
That silky smooth voice. It was torture. Then again, he was Uchiha Itachi, master of Tsukuyomi. "The build-up... it puts pressure on your ocular nerves."
"Hn?" She could feel him now, situated at her entrance. He must have been gyrating his hips, for the head of his cock would periodically rub against her clit, causing her to buck up towards him, the rawness of her desire totally overwhelming her senses. "Tell me, Sakura, about… the pressure…"
"That pressure - oh please, Itachi! I can't concentrate when you're... - it's what's causing you... to go blind…"
Suddenly, the movement stopped, much to her frustration. "I see. So, if there was some way to prevent the build-up…"
"Hai. Then, the damage would be avoided."
"Ah. Now that is interesting." She felt Itachi's hands on her hips, angling her towards him. Oh, Kami, yes. Please let it be interesting… enough. "Sakura. Open your eyes."
Pink lashes sprung open at his command, and she took in his broad shoulders, proud face, and blazing eyes, the swirling tomoe drawing her gaze irresistibly to him as he leant over her. He was watching her face intently, his delight at her overwhelming need reflected in the hungry glow of his activated Sharingan and the vaguely predatory smirk on his lips. Their eyes met, and then, at long last, with one smooth motion of his hips, he granted her wish, the sensation of him causing her to cry out in sheer ecstasy.
For a time, he held himself still, fully sheathed within her, giving her time to adjust to the sensation of being filled. And just when she could no longer stand that, when her hips had begun to move against his in an attempt to spur him to motion, when her mews had reached a fevered pitch, begging him to put her out of her misery, he acquiesced once again, setting a breathtaking pace that confirmed utterly and completely that, despite all his teasing, she had not been alone in her neediness.
Already close to her peak from the combination of her anticipation and Itachi's earlier ministrations, Sakura could do little more than writhe beneath him, grasping hard at the sheets, as he drew moan after lustful moan from her parted lips. His hands, remaining firmly planted on her bare hips, kept her in place as he filled her again and again and again, and her own rose up to join them in a fervent desire to draw him closer, take him deeper. Then, with a particularly deep thrust, he hit an exquisitely sensitive spot, and she found herself shrieking, urging him to keep going, to never stop, to please let her come for she needed it - needed him - so, so much. And, for one, last time, he granted her wish, driving her to her release, her heart pounding, chest heaving, and eyes squeezing shut from the intensity of the almost painful pleasure that was her orgasm.
As she came off of her high, body limp and coated in a thin sheen of sweat, Itachi reached his own climax, releasing a strangled cry into the dimly lit room, his hips jerking wildly into hers as they abandoned their rhythmic pace. And then, gasping from the effort, he withdrew, falling to her side on the mattress and pulling her in close, the warmth of his chest and return of his beating heart to normalcy quickly lulling her to a deep, dreamless sleep.