The art of sand

A/N: Yay for cliffhangers on this chapters. So just bear with me for a few chapters and the next few days while I get things rolling. Thanks so much for the people reading and especially the reviews :3 Every comment fuels me to get another chapter up ASAP. I'll try not keep you readers wondering for too long. =^^=

Chapter6


Itachi frowned down at the papers in front of him. His father was pacing in front of the desk his eldest son sat at. The papers were shuffled, and placed on the edge of the desk.

"It would seem we have no other option, father."

Fugaku Uchiha, the head of the Uchiha clan, slammed a fist onto the desk. Itachi watched passively.

"That man…. Well, start the preparations Itachi."

The man left the office enraged. Itachi calmly picked up a phone and placed a few calls. Sasuke barged into the room angrily when Itachi was halfway through the evening’s plans. Sasuke threw his school bag on the ground, and then fell into a chair. When Itachi appeared to be finished, Sasuke stood, and approached his brother.

"Aniki, I need some advice."

Itachi raised an eyebrow. Sasuke blushed and looked away. He turned his back to the man sitting in the large leather chair.

"Well, well, Sasuke-chan. Go ahead and ask me, if it’s worth the price."

"Fuck you, Itachi," Sasuke growled. "Look, just tell me how you handle people so well."

"Why, dear Otouto?"

"I don’t have to tell you!"

Sasuke’s voice cracked with the anger. Itachi chuckled as he watched his younger brother’s neck turn red. Itachi stood and walked to the younger man. He wrapped his arms around Sasuke’s shoulders.

"Tell me."

"I-its Uzumaki," Sasuke whispered.

Itachi frowned as he pulled the boy’s face from his memory. The blonde had been in the Uchiha clan’s lives for years now. He always seemed to radiated stupidity to Itachi. Why his brother wasted his time on such a bond, he would never even begin to fathom. Itachi was always reminded of his own annoying blonde. It would seem friends like that ran in the family.

"If you want to steal his heart, you’ll need more than a little advice. And, you know, that price is much higher."

Sasuke ground his teeth together as he nodded. A cell phone was waved in his face. Sasuke paled but took the device.

"You and your friends are sick fucks, you know that?"

"And yet you’re still paying the price," Itachi taunted.


*******

Sai followed obediently behind his father. The completed painting was protected under his arms in a canister. Sai looked around the raging night club atmosphere. His father’s partner walked behind him, urging him to move faster. Sai put on his smile and found the back room quickly. The Uchiha brothers sat in the room, waiting. They rose with the entrance of their guests, and greeted them formally. Sai’s father conducted his business quickly. The canister was handed over and its contents inspected. Sai was told to leave while they handled the finer points. He bowed to his father and left into the raging music and sweating bodies grinding against each other. He recognized no one. Sai always found himself mildly surprised he would never see familiar faces. He was in that club at least twice a week lately. He hid his paint stained fingers in his pockets and found the bar. He ordered a drink without trouble. The bartender nodded to him as he took the drink. Inside an Uchiha club, Sai could have whatever he wanted. He managed to finish the drink before his father was collecting him.

"You’ll start immediately," was all he said.

Sai found himself facing a blank canvas immediately upon his return to the house. The book was open to a new page. This one was especially difficult. Several cut-outs and photos displaying the artwork were scattered across the room. Sai looked down at the colors he was mixing. He frowned at the color. It was too light. His hand remained immobile above the color. The tube of paint was releasing more of the dark yellow he needed. Sai suppressed his rage and confusion. He forced his hand to apply more paint. He mixed the color properly before touching his brush to the perfect shade of yellow. He cleared his mind. No bathrooms until he was done. He was serious this time. He looked to the door leading out of his studio. Maybe once more? Who was it going to hurt anyway? No. Bad Sai. He coated the brush in the paint and gently applied it to the canvas. His strokes grew more and more confident. The yellow was soon blended with a green. Pinks and reds found their way into the color scheme. Sai was lost in the work and failed to notice his father enter the room. He waited until Sai had paused to examine the mixing to place a hand on his shoulder. He was sent to bed for the night. Sai’s father stayed behind to test the shades of the paints and be certain they matched the photos. Sai took this chance to slip into the bathroom near his room and lock the door.

Sai turned the water on for a shower. His clothes fell softly to the ground. Once under the steaming water, he watched the paint wash off his hands and arms. He closed his eyes, and pulled forth the images haunting him hours earlier. He lost himself in the thoughts of his red haired beauty. He gingerly handled his hardening member. He rubbed softly as the heat from the water, and the thought of Gaara touching him, fueled his quickly rising passions. Gaara kissing him softly, slowly moving down his body. Sai’s breathing came rougher. Behind his closed eyelids he could see Gaara taking Sai fully into his mouth. The water beneath his hand, as he increased his speed, made his fantasy feel very real. Those green eyes staring up into his matched his own passion. Sai stuffed his free hand in his mouth and he leaned against the wall of the shower. He did not last more than a minute. His face was flushed as he opened his eyes. The mental image of Gaara on his knees, staring up was burned into his vision. He slid down to sit under the water. His body shivered from the aftermath. He had to stop doing that. Or rather, he just needed to make the fantasies reality. Maybe then they would go away. A loud knock on the door made him jump. He scrambled to get to his feet, only to fall back down. The sound from his fall urged the person knocking to become more urgent. The muffled voice sounded like one of the few servants Sai encountered around the house.

"I’m fine. I’m going to bed soon," he called.

The knocking stop. The voice faded. His heart’s pounding echoed through his ears. He watched the last traces of his actions wash off his fingers. He turned off the water. He would wash in the morning. Each time, he got closer and closer to being discovered. And Sai was positive that his actions were what they called "bad". Sai wrapped himself in a towel and hurried to his room. He found himself quite tired, and fell asleep without bothering to replace the towel with shorts.