Submit to desire

Warning: Non –particularly- graphic/mild sexual content.

He feels that there's something between his teeth when the group of ninjas ambushes them, but he ignores them and focuses instead on cleaning with his tongue his front teeth until he's free from the sensation that has driven him crazy for the last minute. The noise he makes only seems to annoy their ambushers -if their furrowed eyebrows on their otherwise stoic expressions are something to take into account-, but he keeps his face impassive, even if the entire moment must look rather bizarre.

"How rude," Kisame spoke to him while taking a quick glance at their attackers and then pointing at them with Samehada, "don't you see we have company?" There was a somber undertone in his voice, a smile stretching his chapped lips.

"Hoshigaki Kisame," the shinobi in front of them -the leader, by the looks of it- said. The scarlet color of their uniforms a sweet contrast against the brown of the earth. Five Jönin stood in front of them, their hitai-ate bathed in the shine of the harsh sunlight, almost successfully looking like a threat. "And you are…" the man turned, his fingers twitching close to his kunai like looking for reassurance, there was a gulp in the man's throat as recognition poured down on him and stripped his face of colors, eyes wide, the old fool. "U-Uchiha..." the man could not mask his shock and Itachi did not think him worthy of deeper considerations.

Itachi sighed and four jönins unsheathed their Tantös and Kunais. The rudeness.

"Hold it!" The Iwa leader shouted and his team froze, their bodies tense in the position they settled, their fingers tight around their weapons. It seemed that the temperature around them dropped a couple of degrees by the way they shivered, despite the sweat Itachi felt dripping from the back of his neck. He clicked his tongue with distaste. Itachi's expression didn't waver from his impassive stance, their level of threat wasn't particularly important, but he knew better than underestimate people with fear. "We are not here to fight you." The man spoke once more, showing his bare hands to them, "we are here to escort you."

"Captain," a female jönin at his right whispered, her will abandoning her soul through her pores.

"We have orders," the captain barked in response, barely glancing at his subordinate, standing straighter as if to compensate for the woman's deflation. "My name is Juro, we came here under our Tsuchikage's orders."

"What do you mean under your Tsuchi-"

"Let him speak, Kisame." Itachi interrupted him.

"We were told to escort you to your mission." Juro deadpanned with a click of his jaw, his eyebrows furrowed and veins popping out of his forehead in a more comic than menacing façade.

"Ah," Itachi said while blinking, sniffing the sweaty smell in the air.

"Ah?" Kisame looked at him, his grimace stretching even further with barely concealed killing intent, "what do you mean you're here to escort us? Itachi…" There was no response on his part, Itachi looked at Kisame with his impassive expression unwavering, his tongue checking his teeth for leftovers soundlessly, and Kisame's smile disappeared, the pretense dropped. "I know what our motherfucker mission is," he narrowed his eyes in warning and returned his attention to their ambushers, "I want to know why five jönin are here to escort us to what is supposed to be an off the chart mission."

"We have the scroll from your leader authorizing us."

Preposterous, how low had Iwa fallen to treat them like gullible children. Kisame bared his teeth and Itachi entertained the possible shred of the existence of such scroll to escort them like scholars to a mission that consisted in massacring citizens of their own country. Önoki must have already lost his mind if he allowed such a stupid plan to be carried out. The loss of five, apparently capable, jönins was immeasurable for any hidden village with pride, it didn't matter how much the population grew out of what they were capable of withholding, they-

Oh.

"Here, I have it here," Juro continued when they failed to respond, he showed them a parchment with a red seal as proof, opening slowly, the paper making a faint sound between the man's fingers.

"Let's stop this charade," Itachi spoke through almost sealed lips, his tone bored, unwavering, concealing his disdain and bubbling anger. "I have low patience for bad planning and worse execution." He added as an afterthought, looking at Kisame's figure from the corner of his still black eyes.

The scroll that the man was holding was now fully open, even in the distance, Itachi could see the places where the pen had applied too much pressure, damaging the paper and blurring some words with stains of darker shades of the black ink. "Wh-"

"Don't speak." Itachi stopped him, and turned his eyes red, the man froze with a hold of his breath, the sudden silence in the ambiance transmitting the fake sensation of calmness that will soon be shattered with the sound of metal cutting flesh open. "You have wasted enough of our time as it is." Time that he could have used to rest, time he could have used to fantasize about Sasuke killing him, time he could have used to do better things than to travel for days and sleep on humid tents with Kisame's skin pressed tightly on his back.

Juro bit his upper lip and glanced at his group, Iwagakure was at least three hundred kilometers down the path, so it wasn't far-fetched to think more ninjas will be close by to intercept them should they engage in combat. Their original plan had been to discreetly go around Iwa's less secured borders in order to reach the town they were hired to wipe off. To think that the Tsuchikage, a man smart enough to know better, will compromise the secrecy of their mission by telling more than a handful of trusty jönin was disconcerting, but again, little did Itachi know about the nature of those composing the higher ranks of the village, so it might be possible for them not to care for people other than their own. But the stupidity, the loathing stupidity of these shinobi to mask their intentions with a sudden escort duty, what a disgrace they were!

"I'll take that you were expecting Deidara, am I wrong?" He asked, scratching the skin under his lips, watching the Iwa group move their eyes to the ground not to look at his Sharingan, as if it would save them. "I'm sure his departure put your village in a rather tough position since his deflection brought both the shadow of disgrace to your pretense of unwavering loyalty and your capacity to protect secrecy."

"How dare you speak of disgrace, Uchiha." A kunoichi spoke with her eyes still on the earth beneath her, fists shaking in fury, white teeth showing, "when you were nothing more for the village that you used to serve."

Itachi allowed himself to glance at the woman and notice her beauty, such a pity to see it go to waste under the earth she was looking at so fiercely, feeding the worms. "I don't see how that argument invalidates my words," he responded calmly, "with that way of thinking of yours, no wonder you tried to pull this stupidity off."

"Deidara has something that belongs to us." Juro intervened before the woman could respond, glancing at Itachi's feet, his knees slightly bent as if ready to run towards him.

"The scroll of his technique?" Itachi asked, cocking his head to the side and watching Kisame stretch his back in a seemingly relaxed manner despite the situation, the man liked to tease, but Itachi was particularly upset with the group's stunt to allow his games. "Then I'll fail to see how his debt affects me or my partner." He continued.

"It's not his technique! It belongs to Iwagakure and we received information that he's a member of your organization! That he was recruited into it!"

"And I take that you invented a mission to hire us in the hopes he will be the one to be sent? Let me tell you, Juro-sama," he mocked, "that doesn't seem like a flawless plan, considering the end result." He said, opening his arms to expose himself. There was no response of the Iwa captain other than red cheeks, Itachi hoped the shame that spiked the temperature will consume them all, "my, my, what a miscalculation of yours to intercept without checking who you were intercepting, now look where that put us." He finished, the mocking tone not lost in their ears by the way their necks reddened further down.

"Itachi," Kisame's tone was surprisingly gentle, "I'm not opposed to get this over with, you know, before having more company."

The sudden breeze accompanied Itachi's movement, his head turning to look at Kisame's eyes. The swordsman didn't bother into pretending he was concerned by his doujutsu, finding his gaze straight on. "Ah yes," he replied, "that's right Kisame."

Juro glanced up then, terror shaking his foundations as a man and shinobi, "hold on, we don't have to fight."

"Don't we?" Kisame was the one who spoke next, his sarcasm muffled by his sudden impatience, the trap planned against Deidara seemed a personal offense for him, not for the same reasons as Itachi, since the swordsman probably considered to be worst the travel that was forced on them instead of their assumption of him being gullible enough to believe such stupid excuse! Itachi couldn't stop the anger rising from the pit of his stomach, but he forced it down.

"We can pay you the entire value of the mission-"

"-it's that so?"

Their lack of interest in the money pushed Juro to change the direction of his response, Itachi knew better than to pass on the money he was offering, but the quantity of their payment wasn't enough to allow this scandal. "There're five of us, despite who you are, you can't brush off the fact that you're outnumbered. And our reinfo-"

"Enough." Itachi's command was all it took to stop the man from speaking further, he pinched his nose, feeling the dryness of his palm, and bit with his molars in an inopportune slip of his control. The man was right. "Kisame, we need to go."

"What?" He growled.

"As Juro gently stated, there're five of them, pathetic as they seem, engaging them in combat will be a complete waste, we can't be too careful. We don't have enough time to dispose of them before the arrival of their reinforcements, it's not worth it."

"But we could-" he cut himself off before he could continue and spill something from within the organization's goal and their seeking for information on the Yönbi which the Hidden Stone village possessed. His eyes were wide with fury, Samehada shaking in anticipation and now frustration at not being allowed to feed, "not engaging in combat? It's that your solution to this shame?" Kisame asked Juro now, turning from Itachi's gaze, "and to act like you're the ones who allowed us to leave? Preposterous! You could at least pretend you wanted our bounty, and that's why you ambushed us. You little shits."

Something cracked inside Itachi's bones at the sound of Kisame's frustration, something thick and dark covered his muscles like a veil of pure malice, of want, desire. Common courtesy, even for shinobi faced in the previous calm of what ought to transform into combat, was a behavior he respected truthfully. The deference of escalating their taunts to a peak that will subdue with the clash of their bodies didn't seem to bother those in front of him, and while usually he wasn't one to fall for those primal urges –avoiding a battle when allowed-, they had pushed his buttons with their rudeness.

"You lucky little bastards…" the swordsman mumbled under his breath, skin-tight against his muscles.

There was a moment of contemplation when he glanced again at the group and saw Juro swallow with something close to… relieve, perhaps. He wasn't one to waste chakra or time in people with such low capacities of reasoning and yet… "I wouldn't call them that," he whispered while scratching the skin under his lips once more, expression flawlessly still as a porcelain doll again, resting his forearm on the edge of his tunic, soft and warm clothe caressed the soft, pale skin there, tickling him faintly, "Amaterasu."

In the orange dim light he moved, the wooden floor creaking under his footsteps, walls of dark red painting engulfed the space and confined the occupants of each room with their needed pretense of privacy, the sound leaving the chambers strongly enough not to be concealed in its entirety, muffled voices unpleasantly reaching his ears.

She was a beauty of young age and ample bosom, the red kimono hugging her almost imperceptible waist tightly, the silk soft against her pale skin allowed him to picture every secret her body might have, hair long enough to reach her hips, brown and shinning against the crimson tunic. She guided him around corridors that were surrounded by occupants behind the closed doors, light casting shadows on her back, hips, and bottom enticingly enough for him to contemplate in between blinks.

Graceful enough not to immediately halt and collide with him, she slowly reached for a stop in front of one of the doors, the sound of her nails fishing for the key inside her robes interrupted their mutual silence. She glanced once towards him, cheeks pinking at the sight of his face, before opening the lock, golden metal shining against her fingers. The door collided with the wall once she opened it and he furrowed his eyebrows at the sound, she tossed an apologetic look while moving aside to allow him entrance, and once beyond the doorframe, he glanced around the petit space. Bed sheets against a mattress on a simple wooden bed with no headboard and white walls without windows, scent of secrecy and confinement that screamed the need for ventilation. It was dishonorable.

The door clicked shut softly, her movements slow like whispers in the summer breeze as compensation for the disastrous start of what was going to become their intimacy. The fact that she wasn't wearing perfume was what he noticed next, her odor almost imperceptible in between the scents of the room, his back was still turned on her. He sat on the mattress and finally faced her, her figure was leaned against the wood, hands on her back grabbing the handle and giving him an apprehensive look, green eyes obscured with her burning lust. She swallowed and licked her lips, disentangling herself from the door, stripping slowly under his gaze.

Red silk caressed her skin on its pacing, contrasting so roughly against her paleness that, for a moment, it was like blood was bathing her, a warm crimson veil. Then the kimono fell off of her completely, pooling around her feet, enticing his gaze with her naked, inviting form. She didn't blush at his futile devotion, too much experience maintained the original color of her skin untouched, and she settled quickly in between his legs, knees on each side of his hips, the core of her existence sweetly pressed against his groin.

"No. Lay down." He commanded, his voice devoid of any emotion, and quickly flipped her over, pressing her against the mattress and leaning on top of her, the contact and control awakening his manhood in the way her nakedness failed. There was no need for him to shed himself out of his outfit the way she did, simply pulling out the reason of his shame and discomfort to penetrate her.

It was a moist, tight, and warm pressure pulsating all around him, pleasure waves went through him in synchronicity with his motions, she moaned under him, but he didn't care much for her kindness. He bit with his molars and fastened his pace, roughly, fingers grabbing her hip bones with enough strength to leave white pressure marks. When he released, she pretended to come, professional as she was. Sighing, he finally relaxed his shoulder blades, pain releasing its hold on him for the time being until it built again unbearable enough for him to look purchase. At least she didn't attempt to kiss him, a thing he had to dodge as gracefully as he could during his youth with former lovers, exchanging money to have that comfort seemed a low price to pay.

He stood and cleaned himself while she watched, lips sealed and cheeks pink by the heat on the room. He did not gave her more consideration than that. Buttoning his pants, he walked away in complete silence, a bag of coins tossed above his shoulder to respect their agreement. He heard her lips part as to speak, the couple of times he had indulged this savage part of him ended in a similar fashion, women wanting to entice him to stay and share another shag but, luckily enough, no sound did he heard when he opened the door and left. If she spoke, her voice was overpowered by the muffled sounds of pleasure of other rooms.

There was no grass where they had decided to settle, close at the borders as they were, miles away from the brothel he had been forced to attend to release his growing tension. Sex wasn't something foreign to him who lost his virtue during his time on ANBU, young as he was, lusted over and desired by both women and men of his unit and clan. Intercourse was like money -interchangeable, forgettable, something he used to obtain things, information, and purchase. He cared none for his lovers or the act itself, but his body, following the curse of its nature, didn't always agree with his mind in the matter, and sometimes he just needed that touch… that softness and warmness.

Kisame was seated with his legs stretched, the right one above his left one, hands over his stomach and back against a tree. His chin was almost touching his collarbone, eyes closed as if asleep, and a small smile on his lips. "Better?" Was all he asked, Itachi would have been mortified in his youth, now he felt absolutely nothing at the mocking.

"Let's go," he replied, watching the sunset's glow.

"I'll make it that you want to travel during the night? Reckless, Itachi." There was a smile in his voice and a stretch of his lips, but he stood up despite the remark, ready for departure. Days had passed since their failed mission in Iwagakure no Sato and nothing has been said between them about the way it ended. Pein did not react well to their report, which was to be expected, ordering them not to spoke about what happened again, particularly to Deidara. Kisame, thankfully, didn't ask about Itachi's seemingly new technique, clearly attributed to his doujutsu, only cursing at loud at the spectacle and watching his eye bleed, mumbling something about black and fire. They didn't stay to watch it consume those it engulfed, it wasn't necessary as putting it off was impossible, so they ran away with the salute of screams in the distance and then, silence.

The harshness of his deed should have helped the imposing tension that the situation in itself awoke, but it ultimately fed her. So, in their escape, he resolved to find release somewhere else, Kisame's knowledge of brothels and their locations didn't particularly surprise him considering the way he looked.

Itachi tapped the sole of his sandals on the ground, trying to get rid of the dirt on his toes, and glanced at Kisame from the corner of his eyes still redly activated from his return. Keeping his gaze red was a barely consuming chakra feat and it cost nothing to his eyesight, unlike the Amaterasu that he foolishly knew to waste -foolish, foolish Itachi, subduing himself to his anger. "Unless is your desire to stay, I'll see no point in delaying our return." He provided, fixing the collar of his robe with the tips of his outstretched fingers. His impulses were erratic things that he thought himself capable to dominate, trusting his mind to reign over his body and its most basic whims, what a boldness he had to overestimate his own value.

"To the hideout, right?" Kisame asked, "no more detours?"

Itachi pursed his lips, "I don't think Pein will pull that stunt off again, seeing how well we handled it." There was a roar hidden in the calmness of his voice, reigning himself once more after the unescapable slip he ought to keep at bay, "besides, I need to rest to be at full capacity, moreover considering our future destination."

"Ah yes," Kisame smiled, "the nine tails. Aren't you excited to be returning home?"

Itachi didn't dignify that question with an answer, starting to walk again the path to return. For now, he just concentrated on his need to rest his body and eyesight since, after that, in little more than a couple of weeks, his concern will be somewhere else.

A/N: Itachi's Amaterasu is shown for the first time in chapter 148 of Naruto's manga, the technique, while new to the reader, Naruto and Jiraiya (the person they were running away from and that forced Itachi to perform Amaterasu in order to escape), doesn't seem new to Kisame, who never asks about it. In that sense, is Itachi who explains that until Tsukuyomi (moon) which he used against Sasuke, becomes Amaterasu (sun) he shouldn't use it. Since it's not clear whether Kisame knew the existence of the technique or not, although I do believe there's no canon material to support that he didn't, I decided to create the situation in which Itachi used the Mangekyo Sharingan for the first time in front of Kisame. It should be noticed that the reason why its introduction is not brought up later on in more detail is because I don't see Itachi confiding Kisame with the workings of his MS, this chapter is centered more on Itachi's mind-state than his relationship with his partner.

Please let me know what your thoughts are on this, I'm afraid I might not be clear enough through the chapter for you to understand what is exactly happening or why Itachi reacts the way he does.