Haha. This is the longest chapter so far! And it's the lamest. xD So don't mind it. But a lot of people asked about Sasuke and Itachi's coffee disorders. Sasuke has low blood pressure, so he has a tendency to be dizzy of faint, and sugar usually speeds that up. So when he drinks coffee, which he always has with milk an sugar, he passes out. Itachi is a caffeine addict and overuses. He has on average 5 cups a day. It usually makes people energetic and it reduces the need to sleep, but after he stops drinking it, his body finally gives in, and often, he hasn't slept in days, so he passes out almost immediately. Hope that...Shed some light? Anyway! I swear I'm going to get more Kyuubi later. JUST WAIT. Hooray for School again! ;DD
----
God, was he delicious.
As I saw the blood drip down his cheek, I knew it had to taste good. It glistened in the florescent bulbs in the hall's ceiling, and kept rolling down his fair, fair cheek. I felt that if I didn't stop it, I would lose the chance to ever taste this boy. I dove at that chance.
Don't, oh God, please don't!
I didn't listen to my other self as I forced the short young man to the wall. His back made a quiet cracking sound, but neither of us could have cared as I licked his cheek of his sweet crimson.
Please don't do this, Kyuubi!
'Shut up!' I shouted at him, squeezing the bitch's shoulders. He gave a quiet moan from under me, and I smirked, moving to his ear. I chewed on it, reveling in the screeching protests of Naruto and the shivering of Sasuke's pleasure.
Stop this! Stop! Sasuke doesn't deserve this!
'Seems he likes it, though,' I retorted with a grin against Sasuke's pale collarbone. I bit down and sucked more crimson from his veins, the thick red delectable to my taste. The moment to savor the boy was short-lived, or course, when Naruto burst forth from his cell and into consciousness. I gave a roar of dissatisfaction as I was forced back once again. My freedom had been severed once again, and my time being outside of my cage had become less frequent.
Especially after Sasuke.
Naruto had begun to suppress me whenever I was around the boy. I found it a wise decision; meeting someone new usually did that to him. And Sasuke seemed different enough, like he stood a chance. I'm glad I could destroy it with the stunt I had pulled. But damn it all, was he mouth-watering!
"I...! I'm so...Oh God!"
Just like Naruto to run away from his mistakes, his desires, anything that mattered to him. And thanks to that, I was born.
My name is Kyuubi, and I'm only half a person.
---
This time, I wasn't woken from my dreamless sleep by my brother's voice.
This time, I was woken from my dreamless sleep by my brother's body.
"...Lay still," I heard him whisper against me. I hadn't opened my eyes, but I knew Itachi was tending to my bite. He sighed quietly, cutting out a patch of bandage tape with noisy scissors.
"...So...Mind telling me how you got this?" he purred. I wasn't fooled; He was worried, if not positively angry. I heaved a sigh myself.
"...It wasn't Sai, if you were wondering," I consoled softly. I gave a chuckle as he groaned and face planted onto my naked chest, staying clear of the collarbone. He lay there for a few seconds, relief making its way to his voice.
"Thank God," he murmured against my flesh, sighing again. But he quickly grew tense again and sat up to eye me.
"...So what the hell bit you? A dog?" He plastered the bandage to the disinfected wound, sliding his hand across it to rid it of air pockets. I winced a little and tilted my neck to the side, and his hands stopped. I finally opened my eyes to him to see him staring down at it.
"...A doubt a dog did this," he said, stroking the bright red hickies along my jugular. I shivered and gave another chuckle.
"...A boy," I told him. He eyed me warily again.
"What...Kind of boy?" he pushed.
"...I think to you, he was more of a transportation device."
He took a minute to think, narrowing his eyes.
"...The Blonde Express?" he whispered hoarsely, hands on my shoulders. I stuck my tongue out, but he gnashed his teeth, and I knew he would bite it off if I didn't put it back.
"Are you serious?" he asked. I nodded and raised an eyebrow.
"Why, is there something wrong with him? He...Doesn't have rabies, does he?" I wasn't really worried about the rabies. As rabid as Naruto seemed, he at least didn't foam at the mouth.
"...I have this nagging feeling that you weren't entirely consensual," he said, pointing to the bandage. I shrugged a little as an excuse, but it obviously didn't cut it. He pressed a firm hand against the bandage, and I let out a pained yelp.
"Ow! God, ow, okay! I wasn't exactly! But I forgave him!" I cried out, spurting out anything I could to make him take his hand away. It worked, and I exhaled sharply as the pain settled. Itachi seemed angrier than ever.
"What the hell, Sasuke! Why didn't you say no?" he shouted. I shrank back shamefully; I hadn't said no, I hadn't protested, I hadn't struggled...I...
"...Liked it," I whispered. That sure as hell brought his tirade to a halt.
"...What?"
"I liked it," I repeated, staring at him dishonorably, "I didn't say no, because... I wanted it."
"...Are you just saying that so I won't have to derail the Blonde Express, or are you just a masochist? Or maybe a sadist, seeing as you like to do this shit to me," he growled. I didn't answer, knowing I couldn't win against him, knowing I had done him wrong again. We sat there for a few long minutes before he leaned forward to scoop up my much smaller body into his arms silently. I pressed my head against his chest as he stroked my hair.
"...You've got to stop pulling me around like this," he began softly, "You can't believe how much you worry me. If possible, I think of you more than K."
"...Sure," I spat sarcastically. He shook me roughly.
"I'm not joking. K gets jealous all the time." I was silent. "But you know what? He's in the same boat I'm in, because he's got a little brother just like you. But he's got a dad too. And since we don't, I've got to worry about you even more than expected."
His grip around my arms tightened a little, and I tried to hear him through my loud heartbeat.
"...Do you know what you do to me, when you don't come home, when you don't listen to me?" he whispered. I wanted to nod against him, but I didn't know what I did to him, not a bit. So I only held to him tightly and listened.
"I'm not good at this, am I?" he asked tenderly. I tried to smile and chuckle, but it came out more like a sob from the lump in my throat.
"...You're doing a great job," I told him. He kissed the side of my head and ruffled thin pale fingers through my dark hair. I heard the door creak, but Itachi was still paying too close attention to me, holding me to him.
"...I wish you held me like that," Kisame sighed from the door. Itachi removed his lips from my temple and exhaled.
"You're bigger than me, K," he stated in defense, kissing me again. I suddenly felt embarrassed in front of Kisame, feeling like the tip of the love triangle. I pushed away from Itachi in a way that wouldn't offend him but would get him to stop. He smiled and ruffled my hair some more before pushing me back to lie down on my bed.
"Rest up; you don't have to go to school today if you don't want to. I'll just call Kakashi," he said, standing up and swaying over to Kisame, whose eyes were glued to those hips. I nodded and sent kissy lips to Kisame over Itachi's turned shoulder, and he only scowled at me, leading Itachi out. It left me the whole entire day to finally relax, no longer caring about school or work. But then, in its place, left the biggest, most draining thought I could ever have take over my brain on my one day off. And that thought was none other than...
---
"Naruto!" he screamed at me. I ignored it with some difficulty. I had locked my door, and in case he managed to get past that, I was leaning against it from my seat on the floor, trying to calm my breathing.
"Naruto, you better the fuck well be in your fucking room!" I gulped, exhaling shakily. He banged against the door, tried the knob, and then finally, kicked it in frustration. I could hear a feminine voice giggling and purring, making girlish flirting sounds. I wasn't prepared for Jiraiya to bring home a floozy, nor was I in any condition for it. My hands hurt too much to even lift them from the sticky splotched carpet, so when I was onslaught with the sounds of sex from behind paper-thin walls, moaning and grunting, screaming and the banging of the headboard against my wall, I had nothing to cover my ears. I had to listen to him fuck her, calling her horrible things that not even a prostitute like her deserved, animalistic grunts and cries loud throughout the apartment, and finally, her crying and sobbing and the hellish roar of Jiraiya throwing her "fat, good for nothing, cheap, ugly, disgusting, etc" ass out. I hoped to god he was done, and would go to a bar or pass out or something.
The fates fell upon me as I heard him punch at my abused door one last time before another bang from the headboard, as he threw himself onto the bed, informed me of his slumber. I would have escaped my room, if I hadn't utterly beaten myself within an inch of my life. I didn't even need Jiraiya; I did it all myself. I could no longer feel my hands; much less see them through all the gore or the dizziness that came with it. It was always my hands first; they would never draw anything beautiful, they would always hurt someone, they would never do well. And it was only justice that made it right for me to stab at them. It wasn't hard to find sharp objects in the apartment, or even guns. I had shot my hand once, but after the police showed up asking about the sound of gunfire, and the seemingly "necessary" trip to the hospital, not to mention the beating from Jiraiya afterwards, I realized it well wasn't worth it. So I took to myself to while Jiraiya was out, I'd scavenge for pencils, forks, steak knives, letter openers, toothpicks, scissors, anything. Jiraiya also had quite a collection of butterfly knives in his dresser drawer, which I would use often. But I'd have to scurry to put them back exactly as it was before he returned, or he'd "cut out my eyeballs," he told me.
My hands were the worst, though I had reopened the scars on my cheeks a couple of times, blood leaking down my face at a quick pace. I sighed against the door, closing my eyes. If I didn't pick my hands up, they were going to permanently stick to the carpet. And with a ripping sound, I peeled my gory hands from the blood-sticky carpet. Pulling myself up only enough to fall onto my bed, I coated the sheets in blood. I'd get a big bitching out for this, but I couldn't even think about caring. The only thing I could think about all day was the way Sasuke talked, and walked, and looked, and was. The way I had scared him out in the hall with Kyuubi was down right cruel, so I took it upon myself to punish my hands, my lips, which I bit angrily hundreds of times, and sliced up my tongue a bit. There wasn't much I could do about my teeth, the sharp bastards. Kyuubi wouldn't let me file those to a blunt, but I had punished everything else. Anything that had touched Sasuke was bloodied now. I was glad Kyuubi had not humped him.
'I had almost gotten there, too,' he told me. I shivered. I would never let Kyuubi do that to Sasuke. I doubt I could even let myself do that to Sasuke. But god, did I want to so badly.
'So when will you do it?' he asked. I shrugged half-heartedly. This was too fast paced. I've only known him for what, barely a week? And after the hall incident, I hadn't gone back to school, and that was 3 days ago. I couldn't face that...Face!
'And what a beautiful face it isssssss,' he hissed. I didn't respond, knowing he was entirely right. I was just a coward for resisting the urge to see him; I didn't think I could fall so far, but I had.
And I was going to pay for it.
---
"...So where do you think he is?" Kakashi pointedly asked. I didn't reply; I knew where he was. He was at home, sulking in his bed, never wanting to go to school again just so he wouldn't be embarrassed seeing me. I couldn't say the same, of course; My days seemed to be boring without his bright blonde head in the visage and that stupid grin on that lusciously tan face.
And of course, I was falling for him.
Head over fucking heels, and it felt amazing. I had never really had a crush on anyone, no one really looked appealing. And the select few who did turned out to be brain-dead fuck ups. There was nothing for me to appreciate in the days, years, decade, before that guy. And now that I've found him, I can't even think about finding someone remotely attractive. He's got to be the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen, and with that, no one could possible stack up.
"...Don't you teachers look into long-term absents'?" I sighed from my stool, staring at Naruto's one again empty easel. I could hear Kakashi chuckle from behind me.
"Not when I ain't his homeroom," he said. "Unlike you, my pretty; I'd call you in a second."
"-Only because of Itachi, right?" I added. He stayed silent for a moment, and he huffed angrily.
"Detail."
I cursed him with all manners of black magic as I forced my face to remain poised, unmoving, and unable to say anything further to my teacher. All I could hear was the scratching of graphite from the students around me, and he continued on without consent.
"...I'll have you know, Itachi is old news." I held in an angered retort. "Haven't I told you of the cute little history teacher?"
I had forgotten about him mentioning the date. I would have said it, but as Kakashi looked me over with his single eye, he could obviously see it on my face.
"Of course I did," he answered for me, "And the date went beautifully, thank you. I have no need for Itachi."
"You shut the hell up!" I shouted. The students groaned in frustration, their artistic focus lost to the movement of Sasuke's lips. Kakashi sighed, waving his hand.
"Break," he growled. I tore myself from the stool, ready to tear that bandanna from his head and stuff it down his windpipe.
"You make it sound like he was nothing to you," I hissed. He eyed me wearily, and with one fist tightly wound around the sheet, I brought the other one up to threaten him. "And I know that's a bloody fucking lie, so try saying it again!" He frowned, his one eye narrow and true.
"...I can't lie to that; I can never get Itachi from my thoughts, not even for a second," he admitted. Kakashi had the biggest crush on Itachi back in the day. At the time, Itachi was too engrossed with Kisame to even think of anyone else, so Kakashi was left to his fawning without acknowledgement. To say the least, it went on for years, his adoring nature never letting him rest; He ate, slept, breathed, Itachi. After a long, long time, Itachi grew uncomfortable with the attention and told him off in the gentlest way. Kakashi, since then, has tried his hardest to forget my brother. Itachi was why Kakashi became an artist, however, so whenever he painted or sketched anything, it would always end in Itachi. Itachi found it flattering, but Kisame, of course, was threatened. So Kakashi never showed Itachi his works again in fear of his life, but he kept drawing my brother like no other in secret, furthering his artistic ability until he had drawn Itachi in every position anatomically possible, and even some that weren't. It's mainly why I am the class model, because I resemble my brother so well. Kakashi had always wanted a chance to see Itachi the way I was portraying myself, and he got that chance when he had me in his homeroom, willing to take on the job, with pay. He's never tried anything on me, and I trust him enough to stay to that.
"...But I'm going to try to forget, as hard and painful as it is. I'm trying to love Iruka now," he said softly, trying to remain secretive from any eavesdroppers. I stared at him intently, still frowning angrily.
"That doesn't mean you can say that," I retorted; to talk of Itachi like that was heart wrenching. Kakashi sighed behind his mask.
"...I know...And I apologize. I can see I've upset you, and I'm sorry."
I remained silent, for the tension was cutting at me. I bit my lip, trying to think of a way to get out of the situation with a benefit. And finding one, I smiled slyly and waggled my eyebrows at Kakashi, who was dumbfounded.
"...There's only one way I can forgive you," I purred. He frowned.
"There's something you want, huh?"
"Yeah. And you're going to give it to me: Uzumaki Naruto's address."
"I can't disclose personal information to you. I could get fired."
"Well...Let's just say you're giving it to me as a friend of a friend."
He scoffed.
"And what the hell do I get out of this risky bargain?"
I leaned down to the backpack at my stool, unrolling the beige paper before his eye.
"...A little something I had forgotten to burn," I grinned out. He was speechless, of course; it was the very last of Sakura's pictures, and possibly the most erotic. Kakashi gulped, shaky voice uttering out my request: ...
"...Indigo and Main, Foxfire apartments, room 16."
---
"Fuck, Naruto," I whispered to myself.
I had to cover my mouth to not breathe in the gaseous fumes of the uncovered sewer drains. I was probably standing in trash or worse, but I was too focused in making it to Naruto's apartment to care too much. Red lights flashed and neon sizzled, floozies gave me their undivided attention, and I was glad I had strong sneakers, because the used needles and broken beer bottles would have gone straight through my feet. Reaching the apartment, after dodging my overly fair share of prostitutes willing to pay me for it, I trekked up the stairs to reach his door, and out of all the rooms on this floor, his was the cleanest. I barely knocked, and I was answered by a distressed cry.
"J I C H S!" the voice screamed. I frowned, trying to decipher it. When I gave up, I knocked again.
"Naruto, it's me!" I shouted back. The voice was silenced, only to be replaced by clumsy shuffling and a body hitting the door before swinging it open to me. Before I could even say another word, he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to a cluttered if not utterly destroyed room, slamming the door after him. His eyes were glazed over in fright.
"Didn't you hear me?" he screeched. I couldn't reply coherently anymore; being jerked around and confused did a lot to my logic.
"...I didn't understand!" I admitted. He took a shaky breath, and solved it for me.
"Jiraiya Is Coming Home Soon."
"...Your grandfather?"
A banging was heard from behind the door, and Naruto immediately froze, flattening against his slightly busted door.
"Naruto!" an angry gruff voice shouted. I looked to Naruto questioningly, but he was too freaked. His door gave a lurch as the person behind it tried to force his way in, but Naruto dug his heels into his strangely stained carpet, holding strong.
"You little fuck up! Face me like a fucking man!"
Naruto's teeth clenched and I realized he was shaking. I tried to stay still, also frightened of the murderous intent behind the door, trying not to breathe.
"...Come on, hot stuff, forget him! Show me what you got!" a whore purred. Jiraiya, as I assumed he was, grunted in reply and stomped into the next room. Realizing the coast was clear, I opened my mouth to ask billions of questions, only to have Naruto grab me by the head and pull me to my knees with him. He was leaning against his abused door, legs spread so I could sit between them.
"...What the..." I was cut off again as his bandaged hands clasped themselves over my ears. I looked up at him, his eyes quivering uncontrollably. Jiraiya was, obviously, having sex with the slut, and Naruto didn't want me to hear. I had heard sex many times, seen it too, but for some reason, Naruto kept his broken hands at the sides of my head to make sure I didn't. I couldn't move away from him; His hands were big and strong, and not only that, but being next to him after his long absence made me want to stay there forever. After a moment, I realized it must have been really horrible for Naruto, as his truthful eyes were darting around to rest in no place particular, scared and pained.
Daring, I slowly brought my pale arms over his big tan ones, covering his ears with my boney palms. He looked so relieved; I wish I could have heard the thankful sigh escape his quivering lips. And with no where else to look but forward, I could only look up at his gorgeous face. He grinned nervously, and I sighed out the tension.
"Stupid", I mouthed out to him, a smile growing on my face just as nervously as his was. It was an opportune moment to further anything between us, but I had the nagging in my head that bitched out the theory of him not liking me. But he wouldn't have attacked me in the hall if he didn't, so...
"...Do you like me?" I mouthed as clearly as I could. He stared at me strangely, knees shifting against me timidly.
"Of course," he answered silently. I took it that he didn't understand me.
"...The other way."
He stared at me again, but his eyes were about to burst from his skull. His face grew red and his hands faltered a little. I could hear a headboard banging through his loose fingers, sobbing, yelling, and all sorts of squelching. Upon seeing my sickened face, he slapped his hands back on.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry!" he chanted, "I was nervous!"
"...So do you?" I questioned again. He was still freaking out over me hearing them.
"I'm sorry!" I jerked my hands and his head forcefully snapped forward, staring at me.
"...Do you love me?" I asked for the last time wordlessly. His eyes refocused to my words, but he didn't respond. I shook my head lightly, trying not to move his hands from my ears.
I kissed him. It was tiny and seemingly meaningless. But his trembling lips were almost unnaturally warm and chapped against mine, unmoving. His hands slipped away and mine curled over his shoulders, ignoring the disgusting throes of sex in the next room as the kiss grew heavier. His bandaged hands gripped my significantly smaller waist and squeezed, finally responding to my actions. At least I knew I was in the green.
We disconnected, and slowly began to return to reality, listening to the fighting and screaming from behind thin walls. We stared straight into each others blurry eyes and tried to ignore it once more, but it was so loud and frightening, I couldn't hold the mood.
I tucked some of my hair behind my ear and gulped.
"...I...Like your room," I whispered, shouting dying away after a slammed door and one last creak of the sobbing bedsprings. I finally had some time to take in my surroundings, trying not to focus on the silenced Naruto.
I couldn't really see what color his walls were behind the layers and layers of drawings tacked to them. Most of them looked to be drawn in dark red ink...or paint. It was hard to tell. But each one a handsome man with unruly hair and eyes the same as Naruto's.
"...Your dad?" I questioned. He remained silent by the door as I walked around with numbed legs, looking over every single drawing with criticizing eyes. His form was still gorgeous, though roughened shoulders and lines darker than needed was deterring.
But then my eyes fell upon the sketch above his rickety looking bed.
It was me. But this picture was inked like Chinese calligraphy, lines dashed and swirling and thinned to thicken. It wasn't like his other pictures at all; this picture was on bright white cardboard stock, and not a lick of graphite could be seen on it. My hair fell down in tresses that held the lighting, and each strand was painstakingly highlighted in white, thin, thin strokes that probably took a magnifying glass to perfect. It took a lot of patience and passion to take on that kind of detail...But...
"...You keep forgetting my eyes, stupid," I smiled, trying to lighten the thick tension. I heard him stand up, and I sighed in relief.
"...I still can't do it," he whispered sadly. I felt my heart crack a little at his voice. I wished for him to be energetic on a bipolar level again.
Next thing I knew, I was thrown onto his bed. I squirmed a little as he hovered over me, watching with thinned blue eyes that made me fall in love all over again.
"...You are..." he started quietly, "...So perfect."
His larger body fell onto mine, and I gasped as the air was knocked out of me. His large wrapped hands shifted my bangs away from my eyes to mingle with the rest of my hair. He stared at me so intently, I felt my face heating and my breath leaving once again.
"...So perfect, I could never possibly draw all of you. I'm not good enough." As he said that, his eyes burst forth in pain, and my heart finally broke for him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and curled against him, head resting against his broad shoulder.
"Stupid," I whispered against his healthy tan, "I'm not that perfect."
"...It's in the eye of the beholder, then," he replied, slipping his arms around me just as tightly as I held him.
We then fell asleep. It was the first time in years that I had not fallen asleep using coffee, and it felt so good; too good. His strong arms kept me the whole night, as mine to him, and I had never felt so warmed and happy before. Naruto's hot breaths hit my pale neck with vigor, as if he was still in the moment of our first, and at this point, only kiss. I would have to fix that in the morning.
Though that was something I had hoped would never come.