A Dream of Destruction Disclaimer: READ! I do not own any of the character's, ideas, definitions, names, or symbols from Naruto. I did not copy anyone else's story. Again, this story contains guy x guy relationships, thoughts, and material. This chapter contains some MATURE CONTENT. If you can't handle it, don't read it, don't flame it.

EDIT: 7/15/07

A Dream of Destruction

Someone was calling Kakashi's name with a pulsing drone of helpless repetition as he darted around in the coiling folds of the alleyways. It was black again, like the place that he'd been in prior to this. What had it been…a room? It was too unclear. But he was no longer there, so that didn't have any meaning anymore. This place…it resembled his home, Konoha of the hidden Leaf with striking irony. But was it really Konoha? Surely it wasn't. All of the colors were absent from the greens of the grass and trees, the whites and yellow missing from the walls, the blue and reds faded on the roofs. It was a colorless world, filled with dark smoke and fog.

He looked frantically around, trying to pick his way through all of the fire-lit rubble and debris. It all looked the same, no mater which way he went. There were people crying in misery and distress all around him, scattering and shoving into him. What had happened to bring Konoha's thriving peace to such destruction? If this even was Konoha…. It made him weep inside. He turned his head at a hollow, screeching voice. His name again?

"What? I'm here! I'm coming! Just keep calling out my name!" He searched desperately for the source, each time coming up empty handed. The calling had grown more frantic as the minutes passed by. His grey surroundings were suddenly twisting and turning and he had to stop for a moment. The smoke and commotion was making him sick and dizzy. There was a crippling sting inside his chest as he fought the urge to cough.

He failed and ended up hacking up large puddle of blood. It rained down into the ashes in sticky streams. Kakashi wheezed in a gust of oxygen. Glancing down at his body, he found numerous gashes and deep wounds quickly forming all over his body. They didn't hurt at first, but caused a quaking tremble to weave itself into his bones. An invisible enemy? No….There was nothing there. What was this place? He screamed out once again, both in burning pain and concern. "I'm here! Please…" He coughed. "Please… keep yelling!"

There was an unexpected and agonizing reply from inside a half burned down dwelling behind him. Every single one of its walls were engulfed in hungry flames that reached well up over its hole filled roof. His eyes widened, making him want to halt in fear, but he didn't even hesitate for an instant. Jumping straight into the flames, he tumbled onto the half caved in, wooden floor beyond the doorway. He was moving in choppy motions, like being on rewind and fast forward at the same moment. Audibly cursing his way through the halls and rooms, he continued calling out. He was going to help whoever was crying for rescue. He had to….

The fire flicked out its snake like tongues, gracing his flesh with their presence. They were scorching and burning him alive. His body felt so tired…he let out a few smoky tears as his eyes fluttered with an irritating dryness. He leaned against a door frame, struggling for fresh air, hacking and coughing. Blood dripped from his body, boiling and sizzling as it fell into the blaze. He had to make it. He wasn't going to die like this.

The voice called out again from behind a pile of crumbled ceiling. A few chunks of tile fell down on him as he walked over, forcing him to back up again. As soon as the dust cloud settled again, he blindly peered behind the heap. The crying suddenly stopped. The shock on his face now was obvious.

There was absolutely no one behind that pile of crumbled ceiling. He looked carefully for any signs of life. There wasn't even a body to be seen. How…? No one? He backed up and tried to find a route out of the house. Had he imagined the calls for help?

The silence now seemed as deadly as the flames. He wasn't going to die like this.

There really was no one inside that house; the cries didn't start up again. Was it all in his head? It couldn't be possible; they were so real…as real as the shouts of the people that had passed him on the remains of the street outside. Those had to be real. He had seen them. Once again he doubled over in a serious of threatening coughs. He was still stuck in the damned house and it was as if the smoke was liquefying in his lungs. He cried out as he urgently looked for a way out. There were no windows to break out of, no doorways….no doorways? He was now in a room with no way out. Just…walls? How could that be? He had come in through a door. He repeated to himself…I'm not going to die like this. But what the hell was going on?

His flesh burned as the smoke zapped away his life supporting oxygen. The supply grew smaller and smaller. A cloud of dust rose around his watering eyes, so thick that it entered his nose and mouth through his mask. Eyes watering and almost blind, he sank down into the floor, hands clawing at his face trying to get rid of the feeling in his throat. He gagged and vomited out more blood…this time it was more watered down. Eventually, all he coughed up was water. His lungs had become clear, quite shockingly. It had grown dark, and now he was lying on the floor behind the pile that he had found, belly side up. He stared up at the fire that crawled its way through the ceiling, blackening it with its furious anger.

There was a whisper in his ear. He propped himself up again slightly. What? Had the person come back? He looked around and at first saw nothing. The flames waved and danced a few feet away, slowly creeping towards him. He dry gagged a few times. He wasn't going to die like this…. There had to be someone else here…he couldn't even get is vocal chords to function anymore. His lungs were completely filled with smoke and he kept trying to cough it back up, only to choke and breathe in more.

There was another whisper, repeating in that same fearful and sad tone. It was slow at first but the speed in which it was said quickened into a torturous and horrifying scream that pounded the words so fast that he could not understand them.

"Help me…. Help me…Help me! HELP ME!"

The last one made him jump. The hideous screams were so close, as if he was screaming the words himself. They sickened him down to his gut. The shouts were filled with agony and nothingness, as if the source was being…burned alive. He squinted through a thick film of tears. There were dark figures outlined in the smoke... he couldn't tell how many…. Each one was menacing and tall, but they seemed to blur into each other, creating one big massive shape. He was going crazy. There was smaller figure in front of him, hunched over to the ground on his knees. Its neck hung down uselessly as the figure swirled its smoky face in his direction.

"Help me…." It was coming from that…thing. The other unknown outlines remained silent, watching, listening…. The features on the smoke person became more distinct. Two pairs of mismatched eyes stared back into each other. It was…him? That thing in front of him was…Kakashi. Himself. Tortured and beaten to the point of mortifying shame. Guilt filled. Bleeding. Screaming. Dying.

He opened his eyes quickly and took in a shuddering and frozen breath of air. His pupils immediately began throbbing and searing in pain as they stared directly into a blinding light on the ceiling above him. Had that all been a dream? Most likely. But it was the contents of the dream the confused him. Horrified him. Made him sick. The events had seamed realistic, probable…imminent perhaps….

He tried to move his legs to see if he was still alive. They didn't budge. He tried his arms, fingers; everything. They all brought the same result. They were solid stiff. Was he in sleep paralysis (1)? No…he could open his eyes. He just couldn't move. At least he hadn't forgotten anything.

Trying to suppress his panic at the sudden awareness of his vulnerability, he took the time to get a better look at the surroundings in front of him and to his right. His body was covered with white gauze bandages. Covered completely from head to toe was an understatement. He was lying in a bed, which was located in a room with grey stone walls. The light above him was one of three that hung loosely from a giant crack down the middle of the ceiling. Again he tried to pull himself up but this only brought a grunt of pain from his lips. There was a terrible shuddering that spread out like a tremor to his finger tips and thighs. So weak…. His heart dropped.

Now he turned his face to the left, only to shrink back in alarm. He, at least, could do that. The action was more involuntary than anything else. It was Itachi who stood beside him now, a jug of water in his hands. At least he wasn't waking up to himself. He really might have lost his mind then. Memories shot through his brain as soon as it all registered. That unforeseen kiss…. He shook the image away in his head. Maybe that had been a dream as well.

It was only now that he could feel how soaked his sheets were. They were stained with splashes of watery blood. His mask was off again. Not again…. The whole point of his mask was so he could remain unidentified by his enemies…. It was a breech into his personal space. The black cloth was crumbled into a ball beside his head, only inches away…. If only he could move his arm a little bit….

But there was no point now was there? Itachi had already seen him without his mask.

He studied the situation. Itachi had been trying to make him drink? How long had he been out? He recalled that he had been choking up a mixture of watery blood in his dream. That had been real at least. He must've been coughing up bloody water in the real world as well. His tongue rubbed against the roof of his mouth. It was dry and his throat was filled with a raw, scratchy ache.

Why was Itachi here? The last thing he had remembered was Kisame strutting angrily out of the endless gloom of his prison. His eyes darted back and forth between Itachi and the water jug with a thirsty gaze.

Noticing this, the Uchiha briskly stepped forward, tilting the jug so that the water sloshed out into Kakashi's mouth. He coughed as the water drained down his tortured throat. At first his swallows were labored, but quickly sped up and soon he was totally consumed with the refreshing feel of the icy water in his stomach. After a few seconds of thirsting chugs, he knocked the jug away with a nudge of his jaw. By now he was slightly propped up, his back leaning against the pillows behind him. His eyes had met with Itachi's for a split second sometime in the middle of his swallows. It was the somewhat curious expression that was carved into Itachi's features that had been what made him stop drinking. He sank into the bed; a rush of pink embarrassment washing through his pale cheeks. He had been forced to be deeply dependent on the one man he hated the most. He had taken the water like a hungry baby bird at meal time. Hunger…his stomach rumbled.

Itachi had been watching with a peculiar look on his face as Kakashi thirstily drank the water. Now that he was conscious, he was able to swallow. It was interesting to watch how it took him so much effort to swallow without coughing the water back up again. A smirk fought its way to the corners of his mouth. Luckily it didn't show. His skin remained unmoving. A distinct hunger growl reached his ears. He looked at the unmasked face of his prisoner from behind his black bangs.

Kakashi was only able to make slight movements in his body, wiggling or shifting his position. An even harsher discovery came to bite him in the ass. His body was encased in bandages, and bandages alone. His clothes…or rags more precisely…were gone. If you looked at it this way…he was completely naked under these sheets. If Kisame hadn't bandaged him, then…. His face broke out in a cold sweat and he made himself look downwards. He didn't want to think about it. His stomach seemed to have left him.

A spicy aroma filled the space under his nose as he was now staring into a plate full of food. Food! He hadn't eaten for a long time. But…how inconvenient it was to have food brought to you, and you couldn't even eat it yourself. He thought about this and sank even lower in his humiliation. Itachi was going to have to feed him…. He shuddered in the thought. One thing after another….at least he wasn't hanging from those damnable shackles anymore. They had been cutting deeper into the flesh of his wrists as the hours went by. They stung in recognition as he thought about it. He bit his lip.

Itachi automatically shoved clumps of sticky rice into his mouth with a pair of black chopsticks. He did so without question, lifting the awkward setting for the time being. Obediently, the leaf Nin chewed and swallowed it. It wasn't exactly the best tasting of foods, he noted, but it was something that would allow his strength to return to him, besides, the hot spices covered up the lack of taste. Some broiled saury with salt, miso soup and eggplant would have been nice…. He added this with a bit a humor. Humor again at a time like this? He didn't understand himself sometimes. He continued chewing the various contents of the plates as Itachi continued to hand feed him. The situations he found himself in just seemed to get worse and worse didn't they….

The plate was empty now, but the hallow hunger of his body made him gag and throw some of it back up over the side of the bed. His stomach had been purged of nutrients for so long; it couldn't handle all of the rich cooking. He was so strained that he couldn't keep all of it down. He sighed as his eyes drooped heavily.

Itachi was still in the room. Lovely.

He was somewhere between sleep and awareness when another figure moved in to change the sheets and wipe off his face. He didn't recognize the person. Their face was…was it even a face? It was one big swirl…. He decided he didn't care. His eyeseight wasn't the best at the moment anyways.

But had he lowered himself this much? He didn't like being this dependent on others for such simple things, and all the more reason, dependent on Itachi, his village's traitor and enemy. His pride dived downwards with a subtle depression. He supposed that he would go through anything to recover and escape from this place, even this disgrace. But would Akatsuki let him recover to his full strength? Or were they going to kill him in a fair fight once he finally did?

The swirl headed figure left the room without a single word, leaving him alone with Itachi again. What did it matter? He couldn't do anything about it. His eyes narrowed sleepily in Itachi's direction but he wasn't there anymore. What? He turned his head to the right.

The Uchiha had suddenly switched sides on him. But now, Itachi was leaning over the bed, almost face to face with him. Itachi's face was lightly covered in a thin pink shade. The only thing Kakashi could clearly make out were a pair of red eyes. Why had he activated the Sharingan? Both of Kakashi's eyes were now open.

He could feel the hot moisture of Itachi's breath on his neck. And once again, the same as before, a soft, but hungry mouth met his. A slender tongue entered his mouth as he gasped in surprise. All sense of exhaustion left his body as the kiss deepened. He was shocked. Why was he…? The silver haired jounin just remained tense at first, trying to figure out what was going on. Eventually, he tried to push him away, but there was a strict limit to his mobility. He couldn't get him off. He wiggled and squirmed beneath the hardened body above him. It wasn't working. He let out a small grunt in protest. Didn't Itachi notice how he was struggling? He didn't want this, not from him.

Itachi didn't really know what he was doing. One minute he had been watching Kakashi start to blush, deep in his thoughts. The next, his lower abdomen was aching slightly, and he was coated with small beads of sweat. Just the image of seeing his poor hostage blushing…and about what, he had little idea…. But he had suddenly wanted to be near him…touching him.

Itachi had been fighting the same urge for a while, and was battling with himself even then. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he was going to do it, no matter how hard he resisted. He had never felt this way before, with anyone. What was it? The next few seconds were blacked out.

Seconds later he found himself pressing hard with want against Kakashi's body. He felt the few vibrations of protest coming from the form beneath him, but it only made him want more.

NO, no, no!

He couldn't be doing this! Not with Kakashi! He detested this jounin from Konoha. He wanted him dead along with everyone else! His body resisted him. The muscles and tendons in his stomach tightened with an unknown rush of adrenaline. There was a pleasant flutter that spread through him.

God, how Kakashi excited him! It was almost ridiculous. Inside, he wanted the jounin to feel the same, no matter how much he resisted. Itachi's consciousness continued to ridicule and pull him back. Want and need mixed itself together and teased his conscious.

Despite what Itachi had in mind, Kakashi's mind was reeling with frustration and confusion. Sweat had broken across his own forehead and neck as Itachi removed his lips to replant them on the jaw-line next to his ear. His heart started racing. No, this couldn't be happening! He struggled harder, pushing himself to his limits once again. He felt a strange flutter in his stomach. Itachi was trailing his fingers seductively down his body…. Oh god….

The Uchiha let his hands hungrily wander down Kakashi's toned and masculine figure. His fingers grazed tenderly along his chest, his stomach, down to his inner legs.

Why was Itachi doing this to him? The Uchiha thought to himself and didn't know, but he liked it. He liked it a lot…. Itachi trailed his tongue down Kakashi's neck, sucking somewhat passionately at his skin. The jounin's neck was one of the few places that had no bandages covering it. It was the same spot that Itachi had cut Kakashi with his kunai back in the cell. It had already healed and only a faint scar remained. Itachi concentrated on this area, as he felt the thumping of the jounin's heart noticeably speed up. Kakashi's body was almost as hard and as tense as his own now. It was working? So fast? He pressed himself closer. Good….

Kakashi knew this was wrong, this shouldn't be happening. He felt his body grow hard against all his objections. His body was betraying him in every possible way. He...liked this? No, absolutely not! He couldn't….not when Itachi was doing it. Itachi was touching him. A quiet moan escaped his now freed lips. Crap! He'd said Itachi's name without meaning to. He'd spoken his thoughts. How could he have let himself do that? He reluctantly moaned again. God!

Itachi had been roaming the bare skin of Kakashi's neck randomly planting his mouth down until he heard a distinct moan escape the silver haired man's lips. He smirked against his skin. He'd said his name. He deepened his kisses in that area. This brought another breathy moan, louder this time, but he could hear resistance. Finally… he had found a perfect spot. On the scar…he put that to memory. The scar on his neck was his most sensitive spot.

In a way, Itachi new what he was doing, his body did that is. His mind was almost watching from the distance, observing….learning. The Uchiha just couldn't believe that he was actually doing this…touching this hot, fair skin with some kind of strange passion, feeling the smooth glass texture of it…. He would never understand his vicious and greedy impulses. Instinct seemed to rule over him. Always.

Kisame had said that Kakashi made his blood boil. God how he could really make it boil. Kakashi made Itachi's blood boil. But that was why he felt this way. That was why he was doing this. He enjoyed the resistance…the pressure, the power over him…. It had caused such a change in him that the Sharingan had activated all on its own….

Finally Itachi's mind took over the control of his wolf-like wants. He broke away from Kakashi with effort, panting, noticing his own aching erection. He was directly on top of the Jounin, who looked just as breathless and surprised as he, himself, felt. Their wide eyes met for a moment before Itachi tore away from him in a flash, darting out of the room and locking the door behind him.

1.) Sleep paralysis- Sleep paralysis consists of a period of inability to perform voluntary movements either at sleep or upon awakening. You are aware that you are done sleeping, but you can't open your eyes or move. (I've experience this a couple of times, and it's a very scary feeling. (shudders))

Thanks for all that left the positive reviews for me! I'm glad that you like the story so far. They all made my day lol. Now I'm a little surer of myself and this story than I was before. I apologize for any confusion, grammar mistakes or any somewhat choppy scenes. Don't forget to R&R!!