A/N: Age has either made me very wise or very perverted. Doesn't change the fact that I truly believe they were made for each other.
OYASUMI
By: Hell Jashin
"I forget sometimes… because, in my mind, you are already mine. Every single inch of your body and soul belongs to me. I let those late night sessions brainwash me into believing that you were mine to have. To love. To cherish. I forget that my delusions and reality are two separate things. What I proudly call love is merely desperation and cruelty in disguise. I am the harbinger of sin. You calling out my name in your sleep is my damnation."
ONE
He has always been careless. That Otouto of his. Sitting there in his bedroom with his door ajar while his friends laughed, joked around, and hung off of him like fucking leeches. When he invited little pests like that into our home, it disrupted the tranquility… and Itachi's nerves.
"Your girlfriend dumped you? Ain't that sad. You didn't even last a week, Naruto," the long-haired brunette looker stated with a scoff.
"So what?" the blonde halfwit whined. "It's not my fault! She was aiming for Sasuke the whole time!"
Itachi's footsteps paused outside of his Otouto's door, and his grip around the strap of his duffel bag tightened.
"Tch. Don't rope me into it," Sasuke grumbled, turning a page in his Shounen Jump. His Otouto was kicked back on the bed with the manga hovering above him. His hair was in a state of disarray as always, and Itachi resisted the urge to reach out to play with it.
Naruto had his arms folded behind his back on the carpet as he stared up into the ceiling. The brunette, Neji, occupied Sasuke's desk chair, but his legs were extended onto Sasuke's outstretched thighs. The sense of familiarity was evident, making the whole situation frustrating. Itachi never even got to do that.
The expression on Itachi's face darkened into something a little more sinister, something he did his best to hide away from the naked eye. Outside in the unlit hallway, the man took a step back, blending further into the darkness like the silhouette of the grim reaper, ready to steal one's soul away.
"Did you ever say yes to that first-year who asked you out? The tall one with pitch black hair?" Neji piped in with a nudge against Sasuke's thigh.
Sasuke grimaced, slapping his book closed and tossing it aside. "Don't bring that up again," he groaned.
"You should give the poor guy a chance!" Naruto laughed. "It was so cute watching a big puppy like him follow you around school."
What the fuck. Itachi froze. A guy?
An uncontrollable growl threatened to burst from his vocals.
Sasuke sat up with a glare. "Shut it, you dimwi⎼"
Those beautiful onyx jewels suddenly snapped in the direction of the bedroom door, staring straight at Itachi through the ajar door, the attention so abrupt and blatant that Itachi found his heartbeat nearly jumping out of his chest. Serotonin pumped through his veins in massive bursts, and he found himself backing away, his awful mood mellowing out. He found the corner of his lips tugging upward as a result. He knew it. His Otouto could sense his presence.
"What is it, Sasuke?" Neji asked,
Sasuke's eyes flickered from the door to Neji. "...Nothing. I just thought I saw someone."
"Jeez, don't scare me like that! I thought it was Itachi. You know how much he hates our guts."
Even though he couldn't see him, Itachi could see the blonde dimwit cowering. He should be terrified of Itachi. Scared absolutely shitless. But given that he still invited himself into their home, Itachi doubted he truly understood the meaning of fear.
Sasuke's stare was still rooted on his bedroom door. Itachi could feel that heated gaze even though he was hidden in the dark on the other side. He debated whether or not to retreat. He always enjoyed greeting the boy on his way in, but he wasn't confident that his irritation wouldn't bleed through.
"...Aniki?"
That single word was uttered so sweetly and hesitantly as if beckoning to him like a Siren. How could Itachi not answer when Sasuke directly called for him?
The man took a few audible footsteps forward before he nudged open the door, coming face to face with his Otouto, who had stepped out of bed to greet him. Itachi's heart warmed when he got a full glimpse of that angelic face.
Hi, my love.
"Hi, Otouto. I'm back," Itachi murmured, an almost indiscernible smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around the boy. To his surprise, Sasuke hugged him back instantly. Not a single ounce of reluctance was detected in his actions. He would have thought the boy would have been ashamed of doing such a thing in front of his friends, but his kind-hearted ways proved Itachi wrong again. Itachi tucked himself closer into the crevice of his neck, his lips idly brushing against the pale column of skin.
"Hey, Aniki. Welcome back."
Speaking of friends, Itachi's gaze flickered over to the two boys occupying Sasuke's room. That was two people too many. Head tilted in mock inquiry, his hollow stare grew increasingly colder, more hostile, lowering the entire temperature of the room until the dark bags underneath his eyes made him appear uncultured and malefic.
The blonde shuddered and backed away until he was on the other side of the room, whereas the brunette frowned and averted his gaze.
"You have friends over," Itachi stated blandly, his features reverting back to a gentle nature when Sasuke pulled back.
"Mhmm, you remember Neji and Naruto, right, Aniki?"
Itachi left his arm around Sasuke's shoulder, hooking the boy to his side. "How could I forget?" he uttered, noticing that the other two boys shuddered in response. "What are they doing here?"
"Just hanging out," Sasuke responded. The boy looked Itachi over with one of his cute, curious once overs. "Did you have practice today?"
Itachi inclined his head, readjusting the strap over his shoulder. He was still in his lacrosse uniform. "Practice ended early because they scheduled an early Friday evening weed spraying."
"Oh, cool. You're eating dinner with me tonight then?"
That freaking adorable hopeful look on his precious Otouto's face lit his face like a goddamn beacon on a snowy night. Itachi had to force himself not to smile in response. No need to give the idiots in the room a reason not to fear him. "Absolutely, Otouto…. Will your friends be joining us?"
As if on cue, Naruto and Neji grabbed their backpacks in a fit of panic. "We're good!" They yelled simultaneously, hurriedly squeezed past Itachi, making sure not to touch him.
"My mom wants me home for dinner," Naruto said, his speed walking form followed by Neji who tossed back a wave.
Sasuke's brows scrunched up cutely as he watched his friends go, but the confused expression disappeared when Itachi nudged him.
"Where are kaa-san and otou-san?"
"They said they're staying in Okinawa for a few more days."
"Oh," Sasuke uttered, pausing to press two fingers between Itachi's brow. He rubbed in gentle circles. "Your eyebrows are drawn together again. What are you thinking about?"
Under the boy's ministrations, the wrinkles between his brows smoothed out and his shoulders relaxed. He hadn't realized how much tension his face carried. He thought he had hid it well. Perhaps, it was the remnants of his distaste for seeing strangers in their home or catching gossip about little boys chasing after his Otouto or even the thought of spending a few more nights alone with Sasuke that made him so on edge. Most likely, it was a combination of the three, especially the latter.
His fingers ached to trail beneath his beautiful Otouto's shirt and feel his flesh against the palms of his hands, to experience the warmth of his supple flesh pressed sweetly against his own again. No matter how often he visited his Otouto, he could never satisfy his urges. He had gotten so used to touching Sasuke in the dead of the night that, too often, he found himself blurring the lines of reality with what occurred in the waking hours of the day versus the silent hours of the night. The anticipation set his nerves on fire, keeping him tethered at a dimension between controlling himself and wrecking havoc.
Itachi's eyes flickered down to Sasuke, who was a head shorter than him. Still in his growing phase at the tender age of sixteen, the boy looked like a cherub compared to the hard lines that set along Itachi's face.
Sasuke's cheeks were chubby and soft, pale and flawless. The moon could bounce rays of sparkling light against them. His eyes were a gemstone onyx, pitch black, round and shiny, and his hair gave off the impression it was dipped in ink. And those lips… so smooth and cotton soft, kissable as they were tasty.
Itachi would know.
He felt his pelvic region tighten in response, but he angled his body away from prying eyes. "Just a long day," Itachi murmured, settling for a head pat instead of sinking his fingers beneath the boy's waistband to grab onto what was his. "I'm going to go shower off the sweat and soreness. Be a sweetheart, Otouto, and make dinner without me today?" he asked with an apologetic smile.
The man heard his Otouto grumbled under his breath, not because he was designated a chore, but because he lost out on making dinner with Itachi tonight. Itachi bent forward and placed a placating kiss onto his Otouto's soft cheek, the bouncy, yet firm flesh, giving way underneath his lips. Because he could hardly help himself, his lips trailed dangerously close to the corner of the boy's mouth as he withdrew.
He heard Sasuke's breath hitch as he stood stalk still, the affection throwing him for a loop. When he had pulled away, he noticed fondly that a small blush had crept its way onto the boy's delicate features. The rarity of receiving a kiss from Itachi must have thrown him for a loop, Itachi guessed.
In reality, though, what Sasuke didn't know was that such a sweet kiss from his loving brother was not a rarity. In fact, it was far from.
Like so, Sasuke began to rummage through the fridge in the kitchen while Itachi dropped his things off in his room and found himself standing underneath the pitter patter of his shower head. His long, dark hair draped before his bent over body as one palm pressed firmly to the tiled wall while the other found its way between his thick, toned thighs.
"Nngh," a groan crept up his throat and melded with the water raining down on his body. His back muscles rippled as his hand got to work, stroking and twisting harshly at himself as control slipped from his being.
He had locked the bathroom door in a hurry, scouring through the contents underneath his sink to locate a time-locking box that he had bought months ago. From within, he withdrew a pair of titanium handcuffs, which was draped together by a chain of five feet, and slammed the box shut with the key inside before setting a timer for an hour. Then, he cuffed himself to the shower knob.
So, as Itachi stood there, one palm rattling with the chain and the other jerking off his massive erection, he couldn't help but keep his eyes trained between his legs.
He had done so much to control himself, even going so far as chaining himself in his own bathroom so he wouldn't rape his sweet, loving Otouto in broad daylight, and here he was staring down at his hips pumping his erection into his fist like a cock sleeve and imagining it to be Sasuke's ripe, little asshole.
God, he was a deviant. He was way beyond help, and he knew, hence the extra measures.
He was much too big for his Otouto to take in, and the fact that Sasuke was a virgin would make it twice as difficult. The fact that he was even considering it and taking steps to prepare his oblivious Otouto for the act should have made Itachi want to off himself, but it only made his excitement grow. It was bad. If his Otouto knew what Itachi had been up to, he'd probably disown him.
This all started five months ago when his Otouto turned sixteen.
It just so happened to be the day after Sasuke's birthday that Itachi had been doing laundry. He had a minimal load that week during off season, and so he combined his Otouto's laundry with his.
Okay… that was a lie. He had stepped inside Sasuke's room and emptied out his laundry hamper so he could get his hands on the boy's sullied clothes. One man's dirty clothes were another man's treasure after all.
There wasn't much in his hamper: a few pairs of shorts, a handful of t-shirts, and, the holy grail of it, three pairs of briefs. He wasn't particularly proud of himself, but Itachi had bunched them up against his nose and had taken deep inhales to curb his cravings.
He ended up in his room instead, the laundry basket with their clothes mixed together abandoned at the foot of his bed while he jerked himself off in bed to the pair of briefs that had the most sustenance etched inside it.
He had been rabid in that moment, the most he'd been since he began noticing that his eyes gravitated toward his Otouto all the time. The realization at that time was earth-shattering.
He kept that pair of briefs underneath his pillow until the scent had worn off and the dried substance had been licked clean off due to repeated use, and then he would start his process all over again.
When he had finished, he resumed the laundry, rummaging through pockets to discard any items left behind before he put them in the wash. That was how he found the shiny, circular package in Sasuke's jeans. It was pristine, wrapped in its square foil with jagged edges.
The discovery set Itachi on edge. Angered him to a degree he felt unsteady, betrayed.
Perhaps, it was at that moment, even before he had laid hands on Sasuke, that he had already mentally laid claim on him as his own even if the boy didn't know it. Because you couldn't feel betrayed unless someone knowingly wronged you, and Itachi felt deeply wronged.
When did his Otouto take on such interests? To the degree he had gone out of his way to take calculating steps forward… Itachi was restless. Was there a slut at school who piqued his Otouto's interests? Itachi couldn't, for the life of him, imagine Sasuke being enamoured with anyone. He didn't seem like the type. He never even spoke of dating to Itachi.
When Sasuke had come home from school that afternoon, Itachi had confronted him, sliding the condom across the dining room table at a wide-eyed Sasuke.
"Where did you get that?"
Itachi's fears had been confirmed. If not for Sasuke's words, then the look of recognition in his eyes when he stared at the little square pack was enough to make him feel like he'd been punched in the gut.
"Why do you have condoms in your pocket? What are you doing carelessly behind my back?" Itachi hissed, possibly the first time directing such an angry tone at the boy.
Sasuke's face had turned tomato red. "It was a gag gift!" Sasuke replied, looking sickly pale as if he was afraid Itachi had misunderstood the situation. "I wasn't going to use it!"
Itachi's eyes narrowed. "Then why did you keep it? Is there some slut at school who's been begging you to use it on her?"
Sasuke looked like he wanted to cry and hurl at the same time. He flinched back at the harsh tone and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm sorry. It was just a joke. Why are you so… hick… mad?"
It must have been a cosmic joke. Surely. For Itachi to be so fucking angry for finding a condom inside his Otouto's pants was simply laughable. Anyone would have said he was overreacting. Besides, most brothers would bump fists with their little ones to celebrate such a milestone, not scream in their faces like they had found a drug stash or worse. It was just a condom.
But he couldn't let it go.
"Then why do you look so guilty?" Itachi pressed as he stood and snatched the packet into his grip and used a sharp pair of scissors to cut it in half in front of Sasuke.
"None of your business!" Sasuke responded. This was one of the handful of times he snapped at Itachi in his lifetime, which startled Itachi. "I wasn't ever going to use it. It was just a stupid birthday gag gift! You're being mean, Aniki!"
That was the last of the conversation, ending with his Otouto stomping away. To Itachi, outside of the explosive response, he had an inkling his Otouto was running away from him.
His chest coiled tightly like pressure being added to a spring, which set off a ripple effect in his brain. Thoughts overflowed and his cognition weakened.
That night, at two in the morning, as Itachi laid tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep, he decided to check on his Otouto.
He found himself standing beside Sasuke at the side of the bed, watching quietly as his Otouto kicked the sheets off his body, revealing only a large t-shirt and loose pair of boxers. That shirt, Itachi recognized, was far too big to be Sasuke's. He realized, with such great fondness that his heart nearly melted on the spot, that the boy must have snuck one of Itachi's shirts from his closet and used it as part of his bedtime attire.
Sasuke was all beautiful pale skin and sinewy limbs, complete with the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as confirmation of his slumber.
All Itachi wanted to do was check on the boy, but he found himself crawling in from the foot of the boy's bed to dip his nose between his Otouto's thighs. It was on a mere whim that he'd done so. He wanted to smell Sasuke and feel his warmth. He didn't want to argue with his Otouto. He hated that. He only wanted to cherish and love him, to be the only person who was allowed to see this side of him.
Like a domino effect, the musky, sweet smell that Sasuke emitted between his legs forced Itachi's hand and he found himself sliding his palms under the hem of those boxers.
Before he knew it, his beautiful Otouto was no longer modest. His boxers were pulled down mid thigh and his oversized shirt was hiked above his chest, showing off his indecent nipples to the brisk, chilly air. Somehow, Itachi found himself between Sasuke's legs, chest heaving rapidly as his eyes darted between the boy's face and the short, black hairs tickling his chin.
And then, he flicked off the universe, and his hot, wet tongue was gliding across Sasuke's most private of spots, laying down his claim in ways he couldn't put into words as his body moved on his own to leave its mark.
His hands moved sweetly, freely, but softly, gently, like a feather's touch so as to not wake the boy. But his Otouto was in such a deep slumber, not even the dead could wake him.
And like the lecherous being that he was, preying on such an innocent boy, he licked all over his Otouto's length and balls, biting softly when his lips met Sasuke's inner thighs.
He was so lost in the smell, the taste, the feeling, he had lost his reason, forgetting to even glance at the boy's face to make sure he remained sleeping. He was on the brink of prying his Otouto's legs apart to get to what he wanted the most when an owl's hoot directly outside the bedroom window forced him to freeze and kick himself out of bed.
Hurriedly, he had redressed the boy, almost unable to force himself away if Sasuke had not shifted with a groan in his sleep at that moment.
Then, Itachi found himself in his bedroom, pajama bottoms at his ankles as he rocked himself into his fist and came in seconds with a splash against the door.
A knock on the door forced Itachi's movements to freeze.
"Aniki, are you okay in there?" Sasuke's muffled voice inquired from the other side. Itachi was almost ashamed to say all he could imagine was that voice screaming his name for all to hear.
He forced himself to relax, careful not to make sudden movements lest the boy hear the jingling of chains.
"I'm okay, Otouto. I'll be out in a few," he said over the shower, hearing a "don't take too long" from his sweet boy before it grew silent.
Itachi redirected his attention back at his erection, swollen and nearly bursting in his hand and yet he couldn't get rid of it, couldn't achieve orgasm, something he noticed more and more with each passing session unless he was with Sasuke.
With a furious jerk of his palm against the cuffs, which only served to taunt him with a jangle, the man released a frustrated growl and twisted the knob to the hot water off. A shower of frigid cold water rained down on his body, taking what felt like hours to cool down his dick. When he was finally soft, he turned off the hot water and looked to his box. The timer must have ran out a while ago because a row of zeros met his gaze. He pressed the center button to retrieve the key, unlocked himself, and tossed the cuffs aside, toweling off before pulling on a long sleeve shirt and light gray sweats.
Downstairs, Sasuke was humming to himself as he set the table. With one glance, a wave of peace flourished over Itachi's being, washing away the frustration he felt inside the bathroom and replacing it with a sense of tender domesticity.
"I went traditional tonight," his Otouto said when he saw him. "Takoyaki, karaage, and miso soup."
The smile Itachi received was blinding, further relaxing his tense body. When he approached Sasuke, he was handed a bowl of rice. Taking it out of his Otouto's hands, he pressed another kiss to the boy's temple. This time, however, he refused to allow himself to linger and pulled away almost instantly.
"You're an absolute angel," Itachi responded as he sat down. Sasuke soon joined with his own bowl. "Arigato, Otouto."
"You took so long in the shower that I also had time to make dango," Sasuke responded, eyes twinkling with mirth.
Itachi paused, halfway into picking up his chopsticks, and his ears twitched with interest. His gaze flickered to his Otouto's, rapt with attention.
"Strawberry and matcha flavored. They're resting in an ice bath right now."
"You are the love of my life," Itachi responded, the seriousness of his confession taken in with a snort of amusement and a laugh from the boy.
"You're welcome, Aniki," Sasuke responded.
Itachi spent the rest of the evening glued to Sasuke's side. Aside from washing the dishes, he remained tethered to his Otouto wherever he went. They watched a movie together in the living room, where Itachi blissfully ate his dessert and drank his tea, he wandered over to Sasuke's bedroom when the boy said he'd take a shower, and he sat on the edge of the boy's bed (one he was all too familiar with) as he blow dried his hair while humming under his breath.
"You're so gentle, Aniki," his Otouto commented from his cross-legged position on the carpeted floor. "I don't know why my friends are so terrified of you."
Itachi paused in skimming his fingers through the boy's soft hair as the blow dryer moved between crevices of his fingers to tackle the wetness he felt.
"You smell nice," Itachi murmured over the hum of the appliance.
Sasuke snickered. "We use the same shampoo, Aniki," was his retort. "And don't change the subject."
"Whoever said I was gentle?"
"Aren't you? You're like a big papa bear."
Itachi finally shut off the blow dryer, satisfied with the silky locks that he could now easily run his fingers through. He unplugged it and got up to set it back in the adjoined bathroom. When he returned, his Otouto had already bounced his way into bed, laying flat on his back perpendicular to his bed. He patted the empty spot next to him and, very hesitantly, Itachi obliged, laying down next to him.
"Tell me about your day?"
He could feel the weight of the bed shift as his Otouto turned to lay on his side to look at him. Itachi did not return the piercing stare.
"Hit a new PR at the gym this morning. Then, classes till mid-afternoon and practice, which got cut short. Came home and saw you," Itachi droned as if speaking about himself was the least interesting thing in the world.
He heard a snort from beside him, which redirected his attention.
"Could you be any more robotic, Aniki?" Sasuke teased. "I wish you enjoyed speaking about yourself more. I like hearing about your day."
Itachi arched his brow, but didn't harp on it. "Tell me about your day, Otouto," he coaxed. "Don't leave anything out."
He received a good old fashioned eye roll for his demand, but thought it was cute and endearing.
"Ate breakfast. Went to school. Came home. Saw you," Sasuke reported in a similar robotic tone, before he met Itachi's annoyed stare and howled into laughter. His limbs brushed against Itachi's as he thrashed around in giggles. "That's how you sounded, Aniki."
Itachi frowned. So what? Who cared about his day? What happened in Sasuke's day was more important.
"Okay, okay, don't make that face," his Otouto relented, stopping himself from laughing. "Let's see. When I woke up this morning, you were already gone. I made coffee and had fruit for breakfast. Don't give me that look. My taste buds weren't all that fired up this morning and my stomach was feeling kind of funny, so I couldn't keep much down. Anyway, I walked to school with Neji and Naruto. Class was boring. I had a custard cream bun for lunch."
"Why didn't you eat the cafeteria lunch?" Itachi inquired with another frown.
"I was going to, but I got called out during lunch, so I didn't get a chance to eat. So I stopped by the conbini for a bun."
"Who called you out?"
"Some student in the class next door…. I guess you could call it a confession."
Itachi felt irritation swell in his chest. "Boy or girl?"
"Boy."
Sasuke's tone was sheepish as if he expected Itachi to be intolerable toward same sex confessions when, in fact, Itachi had an aversion toward all confessions directed at his Otouto.
"Piece of shit," Itachi replied instantly.
"Aniki!" Sasuke gasped as if Itachi said something horrendous.
"Tell me you said no," Itachi demanded, turning on his side to fully face the boy.
"Of course I said no."
Itachi eased back down into the mattress. "Tell me about the rest of your day."
"Umm… not much happened. I walked home with Neji and Naruto, we hung out, and then you came home."
The fact that Sasuke was at an age where he was prone to receiving confessions left a nasty taste in Itachi's mouth. It was bitter. With little thought, he was able to identify it as jealousy.
"You're so weird, Aniki," Sasuke went on. "You never give me any details about your day, but you demand I break my day down for you by the minute." His Otouto huffed a laugh.
Itachi pressed himself up slowly into a sitting position, staring down at his hands in his lap. "Does that bother you?"
"No. I kind of find it endearing," his Otouto responded as he followed suit and sat himself up. The tension in Itachi's shoulders melted away at those words. "I'll take your interest in my life as a good thing. Like you care about me," the boy teased.
He shouldn't. It wasn't. A good thing, that is.
At this point in time, Itachi was borderline obsessive about his sweet boy. Even though he did not appear to be so, thank fuck, he recently noticed moments where he was so weak to temptation that he was borderline a fucking stalker. The kind of creep that went through underwear drawers, licked dried semen off of worn undergarments, and teetered on the side of something far darker and perverse than simply a man with sexual desire.
But he couldn't stop.
So no, Itachi taking an interest in his Otouto's day-to-day life was definitely not a good thing.
He just couldn't help himself, and he knew, as soon as it was lights out, he would go through the entire process of convincing himself to stay locked inside his own room, only to fail, succumb pitifully, and find himself standing next to a slumbering Sasuke. Yet again.
Itachi hated himself, hated these urges. He hated that he found his Otouto beautiful, that the boy was the epitome of the perfect being for him, that he loved Sasuke so much that it messed him up and turned him into a trainwreck of a person.
But no matter the self-loathing and disgust he had for taking advantage of his angelic, defenseless baby brother, he couldn't make himself stop.
He just couldn't.
And the more he indulged and succumbed to the monster inside him, the more he felt that it was his rightful place to be with his Otouto, to be the boy's lover. Partner. Equal. He wanted it so bad that his unsettling nighttime actions mingled with his daily interactions with Sasuke. It was to a degree that he found himself nearly leaning forward and kissing the boy in broad, waking daylight on multiple occasions.
Itachi would forget that Sasuke wasn't a consenting party, that he didn't even know about the things he did to him when he was asleep, much less be receptive to a kiss like lovers tended to do. Knowing the boy, Itachi would probably get punched out, screamed at, then given the silent treatment for the rest of his life.
However, as Itachi thought this, he couldn't help but eye his Otouto from his peripheral. His gaze made its way down the pale neck, the sinewy limbs, and down to his smooth thighs that were only covered by a pair of shorts, paying particular attention to the minor, natural bulge that laid between his legs.
He was a recipe for disaster.
Good God, help him.