The Bet

 

The distant sound of the doorbell woke Kiba from his sleep. He turned his head to look at the clock and frowned. His head was fuzzy for a few minutes and he yawned, turning over and cursing when something sharp bit into his hip. Picking the objectionable object up, he opened his eyes wide at the sight of red leather. 



Two more days. Two nights, and part of a day. He shivered just thinking about it. Didn’t know what to think about it. He hadn’t had a clue what he was getting himself into - but. Well, but.



The memory of the doorbell made him remember Itachi talking to the men at the shop asking them to deliver other items the next day. Flushing, he looked down at the collar in his hand and wondered what the hell the other men thought of him. Not that it mattered, but - damn. At least one of them had to know, if not more. They knew more about what he was getting into than he did.



He was tempted to stay in bed all morning until Itachi got him up. A part of him knew he didn’t have to go through with this. His pride, though - that was a sticking point. He’d agreed to it. Whatever Itachi wanted, he’d do for three days. Just because he hadn’t thought about the idea of Itachi meaning sex, that didn’t mean it wasn’t covered by what he’d agreed to.



And it was weird, too. Itachi didn’t seem to want to force himself on him. The hand job had been unexpected, but - well, and he had to admit, damn hot - but it was almost strange that Itachi didn’t try to get off himself. He could have whatever he wanted from Kiba.



Maybe he hadn’t wanted?



But it didn’t matter. It was just, unexpected. So many fucking mind games. Granted, this was Itachi motherfucking Uchiha he was thinking about, the king of mind games. It was annoying though. Annoying to realize he wasn’t in control. Sighing, he pushed himself off the bed and set the collar on the dresser while he took care of his morning bathroom business. What was that last order again? 



Come to the study and dress how he thought Itachi would like. 



Snorting at the thought, he went and grabbed a pair of jeans. He sniffed the crotch and determined they would pass. There were a few grass stains on them, but hell, they were there because of Itachi. He’d just have to deal with them. He slipped on a clean pair of boxers before putting on the jeans, and then went over to peruse his shirts in the closet.



He tapped his foot in frustration as he moved through the different shirts, not finding what he wanted. It was annoying. What was he, a motherfucking girl getting set to go on her first date? Huffing, he stood back and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, lips curling up into a feral grin.



Who said he needed to wear a shirt anyways?



He figured if Itachi wanted him naked, he’d be naked soon enough anyhow. This way hopefully he’d surprise the other and maybe gain somewhat of an upper hand. He walked over to the dresser and grinned, sucking in his stomach and admiring the muscles that had just been improved by the hours of yard work. Not that he’d admit that, but still. His gaze dropped to the red collar and he frowned again, and then sighed, picking it up and putting it around his neck. Looking at himself with his hands behind his neck his eyes widened slightly. Fuck, but the thing was actually kind of sexy. He tilted his head to the side and arched his back, taking a deep breath. Yeah. Sexy as hell. He’d so hit that if it wasn’t him.



Laughing a bit, he turned and walked down to the study. He paused outside the door, listening to the light sound of a tapping keyboard and swallowing. He was really doing this shit. Stupid fucking pride and he knew it but - yeah. He pushed the door open, eyes going immediately to the man behind the large walnut desk. He was turned to one side to work on his laptop, long dark hair held back with a simple tie. For the first time, Kiba noticed that Itachi’s computer was on the side that let him have a great view of the yard. Yeah, he must’ve been fucking dense to not realize that. No wonder Sasuke had been smirking his head off yesterday. He wondered if the younger Uchiha had a clue, and decided there was no way he didn’t. The whole bet thing was probably some underhanded way of getting him in this predicament. Fucking Sasuke. Oh, he’d have to pay him back big-time for this.



Glancing briefly at the bags near the chairs next to the window, he leaned against the door and stuck his hands in his pockets, saying, “Good morning.”



Itachi turned and glanced his way. The more-than-brief flash of pure lust in the other’s eyes was gratifying, and Kiba curled his lips into a smirk. Yeah, shirtless had been a good choice. 



“Good morning,” Itachi murmured, motioning him forward and taking a minute to just look him over. Kiba wondered if he should do a little twirl. Fuck that shit he finally decided, slouching down in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. 



“So what’s on the agenda this morning?” Kiba asked, tilting his head a little and grinning. “Should I call you sir, or some shit?”



The laugh that came from Itachi’s lips made something warm inside Kiba. Itachi almost never laughed that he knew of, and here, he’d made him laugh twice in as many days. It surprised him to realize that he didn’t think he’d ever really seen Itachi relaxed. Even here in the house with Sasuke, the other always seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. He carried it brilliantly and flawlessly, but there were always shadows under his eyes. He was surprised to find that he cared. 



“Not if you don’t want to,” Itachi said finally, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I figured breakfast first, and a little discussion. After that, well, we’ll see where the day takes us.” He glanced over at the computer and shut it off, picking up a manila folder and standing. 



Kiba stood as well, saying, “Sounds good.” His stomach picked that time to growl in agreement, and he chuckled.



“First though,” Itachi said, “give me the collar.”



Raising an eyebrow in speculation, Kiba reached back and undid the buckles behind his neck. The way Itachi couldn’t help but look down at his muscles made the younger man smirk as he handed the red leather over. He didn’t have a clue what Itachi was going to do next. The surprises just kept coming. Still, he figured in mild bemusement, it could be worse. He remembered his visions of some dark and rusty basement dungeon and turned toward the kitchen, shaking his head. It could still happen. He’d still claim that Itachi was a fucking bastard, even if he was nice sometimes and had a sexy laugh. But nothing horrible had happened so far, so he figured he’d just go along for the ride and see what came next.



Breakfast was a relatively quiet affair with just the two of them. Kiba was surprised to learn that Itachi cooked. Not just cooked, but cooked well. Kiba hadn’t ever had his eggs fixed the way the Uchiha made them. They were slightly sweet and rolled up, full of savory flavor. 



“What are these called?” he asked, watching Itachi pick up one of the rolls with a pair of chopsticks.



“Tamagoyaki. It’s one of my favorite recipes to make, if I have the supplies,” Itachi replied, eating neatly. 



“It’s good.”



“I’m glad you like it.”



Kiba wasn’t very experienced at using chopsticks, but he tried anyhow, doing better than he expected. There was rice to go along with the egg. It was a far cry from the eggs bacon and pancakes he was used to, but it wasn’t bad at all. They ate together in companionable silence, Kiba’s gaze falling from time to time onto the manila folder next to Itachi at the table.



He saw Itachi smirking at him one time and flushed a bit, refusing to just ask. If and when the other wanted to tell him, he would. He’d wait until then. 



That one glance had him looking more at the Uchiha more often, though. His breath started quickening. Just once he didn’t look away but held the other’s gaze, trying to read the depths of darkness in Itachi’s eyes. Kiba was stubborn, but damn if the Uchiha wasn’t patient as hell. He waited as the ticking of the clock filled the air. Suddenly the silence was something more. It was like there were words just beyond it that Kiba couldn’t make out; words that would help him make sense of this. But they were out of reach, as teasing as the questions hammering inside his head as he tried to guess Itachi’s next move. No move came, though.



Finally, he got fed up and stood, picking up their plates and moving to the kitchen sink. He wanted to look back, especially as the sound of the water made him unable to hear if the other was coming close. His back kept expecting to be touched, ass tightening with the memory of the other’s hands on his body and the sound of his voice like darkest night in his ear. He was thankful to be able to lose part of his attention in the action of washing dishes, so used to the chore. He liked the familiarity. It helped until he was done, dishes loaded, water off and he reached for a towel, finally risking a glance back. His eyes were dark with frustration and an edge of lust as he looked over his shoulder, wanting to see what Itachi was doing.



He wasn’t even looking.



Kiba frowned, not sure why he was disappointed. Huffing at himself he walked over to the table and looked down at the paperwork spread out before Itachi. It was the contents of the manila folder that had so intrigued him during breakfast. Itachi glanced up and motioned for him to pull up a chair, closing the folder before Kiba had a chance to get a good look at its contents.



Kiba rested an elbow on the table and leaned his head into his hand, raising an eyebrow at the other man. He wasn’t quite sure how to read the look on Itachi’s face. It was almost like the other man was worried. He was looking into the distance out the window, and didn’t say anything for a few minutes.



Finally he took a breath and looked straight at Kiba. His lips quirked and he just looked for a moment, eyes glinting in appreciation before he let out a small sigh. “I have some rather unusual hobbies.”



Mind racing, Kiba did his best to keep his thoughts from his face as he smirked. “More unusual than gallivanting off to Monaco at a moment’s notice or spending thousands of dollars on world-class automobiles?”



“Hn,” Itachi said, eyes warm. “Much, I’m afraid.”



The silence was back but this time it was almost negligible compared to the heat rising between them. It was crazy and Kiba knew it. He liked it, but there was still that uncertainty of whether or not it would turn out well. When Itachi said unusual - well. There was really no telling.



“So,” Kiba said finally, almost purring with heat, “what are these unusual hobbies? Do you dress up in leather and fangs and go trick or treating in the middle of summer, or something?”



Itachi chuckled slightly, eyes dancing with amusement. “Partially right,” he said. He waited another minute then pushed the folder to Kiba, pulling his hands back almost reluctantly.



Hooked by his curiosity, Kiba picked the folder up and started flipping through the pages. After a moment, his gaze moved sharply up to the other’s face. Itachi revealed nothing, but any question the younger man had about the seriousness of the documents in his hands were answered with that look. This was dead serious.



He looked back down, frowning slightly. “I don’t - I mean, shit. This is heavy shit, man. I don’t even know what half of these things are.” Less than that probably. It was like some sort of contractual agreement. The very need to have some of the clauses made him worried. No permanent bodily harm? Nothing that would require medical treatment by a third party? 



“You did say whatever I want,” Itachi said, voice a bit teasing.



Kiba frowned as he looked up, narrowing his eyes and only slightly comforted by the warmth in the other’s gaze. He figured he could back out. Part of him wanted to, this was kinda insane. Those thoughts of the dungeon came back to haunt him, made him want to just throw the folder down and tell Itachi to fuck himself.



But he didn’t. Again. And he didn’t have a clue as to why, unless it had something to do with the way his cock began to stir as he looked at some of the things on the list on the second page. Some were definitely nothing he’d be ok with, but others - well. Others piqued his curiosity. But just a little bit.



“Two days,” he muttered as he looked down. Two days without Naruto or Sasuke, two days with a man who wanted him bad. Or at least wanted to try him. Hell, you only live once, anyhow.



“Excuse me?” Itachi asked.



Kiba glanced up. “Two days. The bet was for three, but I say that started last night when you dragged me into that clothing store.”



There was amusement in the raven’s eyes. He glanced down at his watch. “If you’d like, we can count it in hours. It’s ten now, so should we say, fifty-five hours?”



It sounded so much longer like that, longer even than three days. Fifty-five hours of giving himself over to this man according to the terms of this contract. Well, kinda. Kiba figured he’d probably be shitty at the whole obedience thing, and Itachi would just have to deal. How he would deal - the brunet’s eyes drifted over the section entitled ‘Discipline’ and he shivered. And not just with fear. 



It wasn’t that he was into pain, but there was something about this that smacked of the unknown, the forbidden. Still, he knew he had his limits. “No way in hell I’m doing some of this stuff, sorry ‘tachi,” he said, scrunching his nose at a couple of the things on the list.



There was that short laugh again. “I don’t think I’d want you to be into everything on that list. This is more of a standard contract of one of the clubs I attend; not everything there is anything I would want to partake of either. You can mark out the things you don’t like if you’ll star the things that interest you. If you want, you can put a question mark next to anything that seems confusing.”



Kiba made a face, reaching out to take the pen the other offered. He didn’t like the idea of giving up any information or admitting to interest in any of these things. He’d start out with the things he didn’t like. That was easiest. Some were obvious. He really hoped that Itachi wasn’t dead-set on diaper play. Cross-dressing didn’t exactly appeal either, though it would be better than electric torture, whatever the fuck that was. 



After he was done crossing off, he reviewed the list, surprised at how much was still on the table. He frowned, pen hovering over an entry before just marking it with a question mark. That wasn’t the only thing he had questions about, and he made sure to mark them. Other things seemed interesting but - not unless he knew his partner a hell of a lot better than he knew Itachi.



The thought of this being longer than fifty-five hours, of knowing Itachi well enough to do some of these things, made him pause a moment to think it over. He chanced a glance up at Itachi, tightening his jaw against the question of whether that was something Itachi was looking for or if he was just a random partner that he’d lucked in on. He pushed his lower lip up, looking back down for the things he could star. Anal sex, he supposed, was a given, as was most of the other more normal things on the list. Public sex - well, yeah, he supposed he’d have to mark that too. Bondage. Leather. He hesitated with the pen over floggers, moving on to mark hair pulling. Best to stay safe with things he knew he liked. He looked the list over again, still not too happy with the amount of things Itachi would be able to do to him, and then pushed it back over.



“Now what?” He asked, crossing his arms in front of him.



“Now,” Itachi said, looking the list over, “safe words. Something you’ll remember.”



“Hah,” Kiba said. “Can’t I just say ‘Stop Motherfucker Stop’?”



He almost laughed at the sight of Itachi nearly rolling his eyes at him. 



“How about something more reasonable? There’s the traditional red and yellow, if you’d like.”



Kiba tried to think of something better, but nothing came to mind. He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”



“Good,” Itachi said, filling them in and flipped through to the last page. “Now,” he said, signing at the bottom, “just sign here, and we can begin.”



Kiba took the offered pen and glanced up into the other’s eyes, swallowing at the utter anticipation in those dark depths. He still felt like he had no clue what he was doing. What the fuck was he doing? Taking a stupid fucking bet and turning it into something where he was agreeing to - fuck. Agreeing to get fucked. Seriously fucked. By one of his best friend’s older brothers, who evidently liked to take kinky to whole new levels on a regular basis, and wanted to take Kiba along for the ride.



And a part of him very much wanted to go.



He put the pen to the paper and signed.