It comes down to this.
And your strain.
It gets under my skin.Within.
Take in the extent of my sin
(Nine Inch Nails, Sin)
Itachi wakes up to the sound of pouring water.
It's a little later than usual, he can tell from the brighter shade of light.
He doesn't have any missions today yet staying idly in bed is not in his nature.
Sasuke doesn't work either: they arranged their shifts to make it so.
They celebrated the younger's birthday the evening before.
With alcohol still lingering on his movements, but not on his thoughts, Itachi gets out of bed.
It's not raining; the sound comes from the shower faucet.
Eyeing both the bathroom and Sasuke's room, whose door is open, he spots a mess of clothes and a towel on the floor, thought the boy doesn't seem in distress, and the warmth of the house won't let his still wet hair catch a cold.
The elder heads to the bathroom to finally turn the faucet off, but instead of doing it he sets the temperature and takes a quick shower, to wash away yesterday's remains.
To wash away Sasuke's lips from his mouth.
It was better to forget about that kiss.
Sasuke was drunk, and letting him drink was his fault in the first place. He was confused. He is confused.
There was no need to dwell on it.
Yet, the taste of his lips haunted him.
When he's done he feels cleaner in body and spirit.
He mindlessly takes some clothes from the drawer to prepare for the day.
Even without missions there are chores to do.
He is putting a pair of trousers on when, hearing a groan, he checks on Sasuke again.
His brother, chest rising and falling slowly and steadily, is just stretching in his sleep.
The movement made his pajama pants hang looser on his hips.
A sudden gust of wind throws the window open and there's no time to chastise his thoughts.
Sasuke's headband, haphazardly thrown over a shelf, is tumbling down. Its metal plate, especially its angle, is going to hurt him.
With a swift, catlike motion Itachi jumps on the bed to block it.
The shifting on the mattress, though minimal, is enough to open Sasuke's eyes.
With a drowsy look he takes in the sight of his brother on his knees, looming above him, looking slightly worried.
His tightened abdomen, his bare chest involuntarily displaying goose bumps.
His hard nipples.
"You drank too much for a first time. How are you feeling?" Itachi asks, showing him the headband.
Being a usually orderly person, Sasuke remembers to have thrown it somewhere it didn't belong.
He was drunk and he didn't care about order yesterday.
He only had one thing in mind.
"Headache's almost gone." He replies.
Itachi would like to get off but if Sasuke is stretching again, from under him.
His arms above his head, his body artistically displayed.
"It's your fault, niisan. You made me drink…" Sasuke says with a smirk.
I drank because I wanted you pay more attention to me.
I drank too much because I wanted more.
"But now you know the effects of alcohol" rebukes Itachi, masking the unease with a half smile.
It's my fault for letting you drink.
It's my fault for not stopping you when you kissed me.
It's my fault for not being able to chase these thoughts away.
He tries to get off the bed but Sasuke grabs his hand.
His gesture is so abrupt and done with so much strength that Itachi loses his balance.
Sasuke's emotions are as strong and uncontrolled as his hands.
Itachi's resolve to stay away is as drowsy as his balance.
The elder leans on the other elbow, so not to weigh on his brother.
So not to close the little space between their bodies.
The plaque on the headband becomes warm between their hands.
"Do you need something, Sasuke?" Itachi's tone is more serious.
He can't smile when their mouths are so close, or Sasuke might see in it something that can't be.
"Just stay here". Sasuke mutters.
The elder pretends he didn't hear and tries to move away, again –even if those eyes are begging him to stay –but Sasuke's legs entwine around his own, again, with too much strength, preventing him to get up and walk away.
Itachi sighs, not being sure about what to say.
Especially not when Sasuke is arching his back beneath him.
Sasuke is not just stretching his muscles now.
He is trying to reach him. He is striving for a connection with him.
They both shiver when their chests touch.
Even if their skin burn at the contact.
Sasuke doesn't speak.
He just moves, carefully watching Itachi watching him. Then, his face turns towards his brother's right arm.
Itachi can't help but admire the curve of his tense neck, the blue veins under his pale skin, his jaw line, his graceful profile. He is so focused on details that he shouldn't notice, that he doesn't stop the boy from placing his lips on his inner forearm.
It's a light peck, as if he wants to apologize.
Only it soon becomes pressing and heavy.
Tightly holding Itachi's wrist –the elder can't move at all now –Sasuke arches again.
He's staring at him again, biting his lip, looking determined and exposed at the same time.
Their groins touch. He is hard.
Itachi tries to dismiss the idea.
Determined to do what?
Sasuke is young and confused. Still intoxicated, maybe.
It's not easy to dismiss that sensation, when his own brother keeps arching under him, pressuring him to come lower, until lower he comes, without even realizing.
"Sasuke. Stop." Itachi commands, shifting a little so that their groins won't come into direct contact.
It's hard to not give in to the pleasure that comes from such an intimate touch.
It's hard to be unresponsive when he is on top of someone so eager, even though forbidden.
He feels Sasuke's stomach twitching –his first reaction is hardening his muscles as if it were a fight. He is not sure of what he wants yet –before relaxing and moaning deeply as he takes all of his weight.
By applying his body's pressure unto the younger's abdomen Itachi tries to pin him down and prevent further movements, but it's useless. Judging by his defiant look the boy likes to be crushed under him.
Or maybe he knows better than Itachi how pointless it is to resist.
Especially when the elder's cock is pressing unto his stomach and it's becoming harder and harder each time he moves, no matter how strong he is pinned down.
"No." the younger replies, thrusting upwards with such vehemence that the further lack of air makes him cough.
Itachi shifts immediately. Still trying to catch his breath –feeling Itachi's body is more important than feeling air in his lungs –Sasukefollows his movement.
Itachi shivers when their crotches touch: his lips parted, he stifles a moan, unlike Sasuke.
He tells himself that he should move away no matter how strong is Sasuke's grip on him, no matter how strong is his grip on Sasuke's heart.
He tells himself that he is older and more experienced thus he should be wiser.
He tells himself that he must protect Sasuke, not taint him.
He tells himself that it's hard to get free from Sasuke's steely grasp without hurting him.
He stays still, breathing deeply and slowly, trying to ignore everything.
The boy's maneuvers beneath him.
His angry expression –he can take Itachi's reproaches. He welcomes them, even. Not his indifference –and the frustrated bite on his forearm.
How, as he lifts said forearm, Sasuke pulls his hand over his lips, kissing the tip of his fingers, one by one.
The gesture lacks the lascivious licking and sucking by which more experienced ones simulate another intimate act, yet his lustful and at the same time innocent gaze turns it into something much more enticing.
So much that even if Itachi's mind repeats over and over the principles he must follow, the borders he mustn't cross, his hips start moving in synch with Sasuke's.
He can't lose control. He must not give in to that pleasure, or Sasuke will demand more.
Or he will want more.
"You don't know what you want."
He says huskily –his voice should sound stern.
Sasuke doesn't reply.
Maybe he didn't even hear those words. Maybe his ears only caught the desire in their tone, as his eyes are lost into his brother's tormented look, his face is buried between long silken locks, their bodies rock at the same sensuous pace.
"You don't understand what this means."
The elder reiterates.
"Whatever. I don't care."
Sasuke's retorts defiantly.
His lips stay parted, inviting Itachi to seal them with his own, but even if the elder craves to obey to that silent command he can't taint his brother with his selfish want.
The same want as his brother. But he must be wiser.
With his free hand –fingers still tingling for his butterfly kisses –he caresses Sasuke's face.
A gesture that during their childhood meant affection. A gesture that now is conveying his desire, regret, fear. Love.
He traces those lips that want him so badly.
That he wants so badly.
Sasuke's dark eyes open wide when Itachi covers his mouth.
Not to abuse him, not to silence him, but to avoid looking at it before he loses himself plunging into those tempting lips, thus making Sasuke lose himself.
Under his clamped shut fingers the younger's soft lips part slightly.
Under his weight the younger's body keep thrusting, his hard cock rubbing against Itachi's sending shivers down his spine.
Sasuke doesn't expect Itachi grinding back with greater and relentless strength.
He doesn't expect his grip on the elder to be countered so easily.
The younger spreads his legs to give him more access to every inch of his body –the thin fabric of their clothes feeling suddenly heavy –urging him to go faster, deeper, as his free hand roams over his back, teeth graze his fingers, tongue draws circles over them, between muffled moans.
He can't help entangling his fingers between Itachi's hair and pull his face lower, closer, even if his mouth is covered.
He holds his breath when their noses brush and Itachi's lips press against his own hand.
Below, Sasuke's mouth and body become so demanding that the elder's fingers twitch, unwillingly parting, until the tip of their tongues brush, and everything seems to stop for a moment, every sensation they've felt seems enhanced and it would be easy to part fingers a little more and give complete access to his mouth to the craving boy.
It would be easy to remove the hand and kiss him completely while grinding him deep into the mattress.
But it would be wrong.
"Whatever, I don't care."
"It's your fault, niisan."
Sasuke's words, even if uttered with a different purpose, trouble him.
It's Itachi's fault for not being strong enough to suppress everything he feels.
It's his fault for not making Sasuke care about the meaning and the repercussions of his –their –desires.
It's his fault for not having tried harder to contain forbidden actions.
It's his fault for having overlapped their hands, their bodies, their lips, with something in between them –a metal plaque, fabric, a hand –so not to melt into each other.
He already went too far.
"You may not care about what this means, but I must do, Sasuke."
Itachi mutters as he gets himself free from his hold, placing the headband on the farthest corner of the bed
The temperature in the house seems colder now that their bodies are no longer connected.
His wrist is no longer restrained but there's another, invisible, unbreakable chain that binds him to the boy whose pale face is now flushed, whose taut body is still waiting for him to give shape to his desire –to his need –of him, whose eyes are begging him to come back, whose words he chooses to ignore.
If he didn't his resolve would crumble, and the chain, made of affection, desire, regret, fear, love, would choke his naïve, confused, beloved Sasuke.
"I must protect you from everything. Even from myself."
Itachi tells himself as he leaves the room.
You give me the reason.
You give me control.
(Nine Inch Nails, Sin)