Guilty Pleasure

By: Jae (Dirtyangel, The Original Dirtyangel)

Original Archive Date: October 02, 2006
Originally Archived: AdultFanfiction.net, Fichaven.org, MediaMiner.org, FicWad, TONFA

Disclaimer: Naruto and all its characters are the properties of Masashi Kishimoto. No profit is made off of this fan-fiction story. Any additional original characters located in this story are designated at such and belong to the author, Jae (Dirtyangel).

Overall Ratings: MA+18 (NC-17)

Warnings: This fiction contains: Yaoi/Slash (homosexuality), Strong Coarse Language, Abusive Behavior, Strong Sexual Content

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Preface

Here I am again with another one-shot. In the case of this short story, I’ve just been itching to do an Itachi x Naruto fic. This pairing is like my forbidden fruit of Eden. I had to do it. As some may know, I have a deep fascination with the less cheerful side of Naruto (not to be mistaken with Emo!Naruto). This one-shot concentrates on guilty pleasures—things you shouldn’t indulge in, but you don’t care to let them go. Also, there has been a purposefully lack of names used in the text, pronouns reign supreme. This was to add a bit to the feel. It shows that the action is being done, but also an undertone of denial. I might not have done this successfully, but it was worth a try.

A/N: Naruto is in his early twenties (21) and is an ANBU captain.

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My weapon makes a soft clunk sound when it’s placed on the wooden desk.

“I’d prefer if we’d make this quick,” he says in his low speech.

I tilt my head slightly in his direction. He’s behind me, putting away his own weapons.

“You’re in a rush or something?” I question playfully. Another kunai gets placed beside the previous one. I reach for my holster.

“All that matters is that you enjoy yourself, right?”

He doesn’t say anything and walks over to the chair by the door. It’s conveniently on the other side of the room. I glance at him briefly, but then give a short chuckle. Typical him. He won’t come near me, not until the time calls for it.

My pouch slips from around my waist when I loosen the clasp. It’s placed alongside my holster and mask. I roll my neck to the side and reach up to massage my shoulder. I’m tense all over. This might be the first time in weeks since I’ve been able to relax.

“You seem to enjoy this,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Delaying?” he finishes.

I always love it when he talks. It’s smooth and strong, like good sake. It can dull the senses just the same. Pity I don’t get to hear it very often.

“I don’t think of it that way.” My armguards and gloves come off next. “I see it as suspense, a build up,” I grin and turn to him.

He’s staring at me with those dark, cool eyes. However, they have a sort of smokiness to them. They’re boiling hot; always ready to sear right through your soul, without care, without mercy.

A part of me is ashamed to be aroused by them, but that side doesn’t belong here now—not when we have these moments together.

I get no reply once again. He just sits there and watches me in his proper, regal way. He’s not the type to waste a single movement, to fidget unnecessarily. He’s not like me, not in the least. I’ve always known this, even before our affair.

I need the movement, the fussing, the wasted breath. It’s the only way I can know that I’m still alive—that this lifestyle hasn’t consumed me.

Looking at him makes me restless, not in the usual sense of the word, but in a feral way. Something in me wants to be bestial, merciless, disregarding. If I let it, I know it can drive me over the edge.

My body shivers at the thought. It’s obscene. I know it is, but I’m allowed to not to care right now.

I turn for my pouch again and reach inside. The box of cigs I stashed away is still there. I tap it a few times on the table, and then pull out a stick. It’s a comforting weight against my lips. I can taste the faintness of tobacco and cloves.

This isn’t me, or at least, this isn’t supposed to be me. No one knows about this or about us. No one will ever know. This part of me is only reserved for him. He’s the only one who can appreciate this darker side. I’m ashamed of all of it, straight down to my very core. It’s like a drug and I have a terrible addiction, but I’m allowed not to care right now.

The lighter clicks on ignition and its flame flickers under my breath. An orange glow burns across my fingers and palms. Then, it’s gone. I take a deep drag. All the tension seems to melt away as the nicotine takes over. I imagine that it’s being burned away.

There’s a rumbling in my gut. It’s the fox. He despises my filthy habit. He wonders why I decide to poison his vessel. I laugh. What a selfish creature. It doesn’t matter. The fox won’t allow any damage to be done.

“You’re still delaying,” is what’s whispered in my ear. He’s left his chair by the door, always the quiet one. A pin can drop louder than he walks.

I lean my head back on his shoulder. My hair grazes his cheek.

“Then maybe you should skip to the climax,” I tease.

His eyes narrow. He reaches a hand up to my neck—fingers ghosting along my Adam’s apple, beneath my chin, and then pausing to hover over my lips. Nothing happens for a moment. He’s looking down at me, straight into my eyes. I don’t look away. He’ll be displeased if I do. The cig gets pulled from my lips and snuffed out in an ashtray.

“What is it you enjoy about all of this, Naruto-kun?” he whispers again.

A hot rush of pleasure travels down my spine and goes straight to the pit of my stomach. It makes me feel a bit weak in the knees. I lift my head and lean forward onto the desk. I peer down at my ANBU mask.

It’s the face of a fox. Go figure. Although, it has a certain appeal to me. The grin that’s plastered across its face touches something in me. There’s no mirth in it, just an unspoken danger.

“I like the rawness of it,” I finally reply. “I like the lack of intimacy from you.”

I turn around again. He’s calm, but I know he’s amused by my answer. I can feel it.

Without a word, he forces me back into the desk. His body is hot under the cloak he’s still wearing. Our kiss is rough, empty. Neither of us is in this for love. The point is to take. Take because we can. It doesn’t matter if the other feels gratification. All that does matter is your pleasure.

I groan when he pushes his tongue into my mouth. He’s harsh with his sucking, his licking. I grip the desk for balance. He’s shoving me back further. The edge bites into the small of my back through my armor.

I suck aggressively on his tongue and bite down on his bottom lip. He growls and pushes me hard, making me hiss in discomfort. A hand wraps around my neck and forces my head back. He’s scraping his teeth along my jaw. I moan.

His grip tightens a fraction. He’s grinding his hips into mine. I let out another throaty groan and my nails dig into the desk’s veneer. I’m turned on beyond all comparison. The hand around my neck, the bites he’s leaving along my jaw line, it’s all driving me crazy.

“Remove your clothes.” It’s not a request, but a demand.

“Are you going to take your’s off this time?” I ask, undaunted.

The fingers around my throat squeeze even more. His dark bangs brush against my cheek, and then I’m staring into blood red eyes.

“I don’t like repeating myself, Naruto-kun.”

I’m becoming a little light-headed from the lack of oxygen, but a wide grin still spreads across my face and I lick my lips indulgently.

“If that were true,” I say, smugly, “you wouldn’t keep fucking me, now would you, Itachi-san?”

Those eyes flash with anger.

Next moment, I’m hunched over on the floor, gasping for air with an arm wrapped around my stomach. I cough, raggedly, and swallow back the bile that’s gathering in my throat. Through watery eyes, I see him step back and begin to unlatch his cloak.

He lays it neatly on the second bed and steps toward me again. He doesn’t look down, only reaches for my pouch and retrieves a cig and a small blue wrapper. The wrapper is placed on the desk and he picks up my lighter. I cough a few times more before struggling to my feet and slowly sitting on the bed closest to me. The punch had hurt like a bitch, but I had expected it. That is what happens when you challenge the infamous Uchiha pride.

He takes a drag of his cig and stares at me levelly. It’s strange watching him smoke. It’s not something I expect from him, but from time to time, when we have these rendezvous, he’ll share a cig with me.

I smile saucily at him, and begin to unclasp my armor.

“You Uchiha are one in the same,” I laugh again. My chest guard gets thrown to the floor.

Next, I remove my shin guards. After that, I tug at the hem of my vest. It comes loose from my pants easily, and I pull it over my head. The cool air of the hotel room makes my nipples harden and my skin prickle with goose bumps. There’s the urge to rub my arms warm, but it’s ignored. I spread my legs and lean forward on my thighs.

That’s as far as I’ll undress for him. I don’t usually make anything easy—not for the hermit, not for the old hag, not even for Sasuke. It’s a result of my need to defy authority. That’s how I’ve always been.

He’s about done with his stick, but he snuffs it out prematurely. The wrapper is picked up.

“Is that what you say to Sasuke when he fucks you?” he towers over me, expression no different from before.

Sasuke’s name is mentioned on purpose. It’s to mock me. I glare at him, frowning deeply. He knows what the situation is. He knows that regardless of what we do, I’m in love with his brother; but I’m too fucked up to get my head straight. I’m too weak to give him up, to stop wanting him. He’s not Sasuke. He’s more obscure, unreachable. Also, no matter how cold Sasuke can become, he and I will never fuck.

Sasuke has always made love to me. Itachi and I, we simply have sex.

“Understand,” I stand to be nose to nose with him, “you are the only one I ever fuck.”

A certain look enters his eyes. He’s amused again, and it makes my hackles stand on end. It doesn’t matter to him, because he shoves me callously on to the bed anyway.

“Such a pitiful little creature you are,” he breathes onto my lips, climbing on top of me.

I barely have enough time to toe my shoes off before he yanks the zipper of my pants down and pulls them to my knees. I squirm to get them off the rest of the way. There’s nothing between me and him now. I’m completely naked. Underwear is never an option when I meet him. Past experiences have taught me that they only manage to get shredded.

He kisses me in a way that gets me hard again in a matter of moments. It’s always rough, but that’s what I crave from him. I could never get this from Sasuke. Pain shoots up my shoulder when he bites down on my clavicle. My leg is pushed up to my torso.

I hear the crinkle of plastic and the shuffle of latex. His zipper goes down and the condom deftly goes on. He’s always precise with what he does, even when it’s sex. I could never emulate him.

“FUCK!” I scream at the sudden invasion into my body. He didn’t bother with any preparation or lube.

“Damn it, Itachi!” I choke out. My hands grab at his shoulders. Basic instinct is to push him away, but I can’t—not with the way his body keeps sliding against me, or how his cock feels as he slips in and out. It’s that guilty part of me that loves it like this. It wants him to be cruel and unforgiving.

He drags my other leg up to my chest. Kami, this is the most uncomfortable position. He keeps shoving into me at the same even pace. It’s not slow, but it’s not fast enough to satisfy. I’m breathing hard through my nose, and he’s staring into my eyes with his Sharingan.

They’re such a brilliant shade of red against his pale skin and dark hair. It reminds me of Sasuke. I feel that pang of shame again. My nails dig into the material of his shirt. I don’t want to look at him anymore.

“The…ba…ck,” is all I can seem to whimper.

“I wa…nt…it fr-from…the…back,” I struggle out.

He thrusts into me a couple of more times, but then pulls out. It stings, but I grit my teeth. His weight lifts off me and my legs are allowed to stretch back out. My heart’s pounding and a thin sheen of sweat is covering my whole body. I can hear his light huffs of breath above me.

Glancing at the ceiling, briefly, I gulp in a mouth full of air and roll onto my stomach; crawling further up the bed. I’m on my knees now, ready to start again. If I can’t see him, I won’t feel so guilty.

He moves toward me, pulling my hips back. I grunt when he pushes in. This feels so much better. “Itachi…” my voice is breathy.

I feel him lean forward, pushing deeper inside. I’m trembling all over.

In, out, in, out, in, out.

I shout at him to do it harder. He merciless when he does, but I don’t care because each stab he give my prostate, my mind is sent into a frenzy of pleasure. My breath catches and my toes curl. I’m almost…

The tension that’s built up in my abdomen finally bursts. A wave of euphoria washes through me. I can’t feel anything but that.

I’m jostled several times before the grip on my hip turns to a vice. He doesn’t make a sound on his climax, only a heavy breath.

There’s no time to actually enjoy it, because he pulles out. Our deed is done; we don’t need anything else from one another until our next encounter.

I fall tiredly onto the soiled bed sheets. I’m sore, but it’ll soon pass away. My eyes follow him as he discards the condom and heads towards the bathroom. He’ll wash up and then he’ll leave, just like he always does. After we both leave this hotel room, things will fall back in order. He’s, again, my enemy, and I’m no longer this darker, indulgent person.

My eyes droop and I roll onto my side. I feel like taking a nap now.

He’s quiet when he re-enters the room. There’s barely a rustle when he puts his cloak back on and re-attaches his weapons. Before he leaves, I faintly feel his fingers on my cheek and he whispers in my ear.

“Until next time, Nine-Tails.”

I smile drowsily, “Of course, Uchiha.”

Until next time, I’ll go right back to feeling ashamed of this, but right now, I’m allowed not to care.

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-fin-

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A/N: Ah, I’ve finally got one of these fics out of my system, but I doubt it’ll be the last. I hope you enjoyed your read and I would love to hear your thoughts.

—Jae