No Revenge Is As Complete As Forgiveness

A/N: Whew, that took a looong time to write. *cough* I have to say that going to the movies 4 (FOUR) times to watch Harry Potter 6 and getting obsessed with Snape and Snape/Harry all over again does NOT help with my Naruto muses. And then there's the fact that I was terribly busy reading Snape/Harry BDSM/slave!fics. My bad. Sorry. *huggles everyone*



CHAPTER 5





The first week of their cohabiting together was awkward. He showed his brother around the house, let him remember the situation of the rooms and the furniture and then tried to leave him to his own devices, as much as possible.



The truth was, Sasuke didn’t know how to behave around Itachi – although his anger hadn’t dissipated, he knew that he couldn’t be hostile all the time. He was a Ninja and he had long learned to conserve his energy, and being constantly angry and confrontational was a huge waste of energy. Besides, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t maintain that anger. Not after the first time Itachi tripped over a chair that Sasuke had moved and forgotten about it, and then fell over gracelessly on the floor. After a short hesitation he had gone to him and helped him up, only to notice that in addition to the various bruises Itachi was beginning to sport – being as pale as the siblings were, they always bruised easily - he had twisted his ankle. It wasn’t broken or even hurt seriously, but it was painful and for a moment Itachi looked completely vulnerable and helpless, a shadow of apprehension, fear even, crossing over his beautiful features. Hurt in such a way he became even less mobile, Sasuke understood that. It took him a little while to make that decision, but eventually he turned around and told him to wrap his arms around his shoulders and grabbed his knees and pulled Itachi up, in a scene freakishly reminiscent of a warm summer afternoon so many years ago when his older brother had carried him home.



Only neither of them were children anymore. Sasuke had grown a little taller than Itachi and the latter was no longer the powerful, loving older brother he hero-worshipped as a child. Sometimes it appeared that he was but a shadow of his former self, and sometimes something of his old personality shined through, if only for a short while. And that reminded him of the other reason why he felt so awkward around Itachi. That damn feeling, that heat pooling low in his belly whenever Itachi depended on him, when he took care of him, it appeared again and again, became stronger, needier as the days progressed. He had thought that he could control it, that it might go away on its own, this was his own brother after all. And yet, he grew so hard when he combed Itachi’s hair after a bath, when he carried him to his futon after he hurt his foot, when he watched him wear his clothes and eat the food he had prepared for the both of them. It was unexplainable but it was there, that arousal, that need, to own him, to possess him, to touch him. And it terrified him. Controlling himself became difficult, and he spent every waking hour worrying about what would happen if he eventually lost it. If he gave in to his desires. In moments like these he wondered if Itachi knew, or at least suspected how torn he felt, and if he noticed when Sasuke’s touches lingered for much longer than they were supposed to. He never dared to touch him intimately, no matter how much he wanted to, but even those stolen touches – when he helped him bathe, when he combed his long hair, when he shaved him – they were tantalizing. Itachi was tempting him, all the time, with his fair skin, long, silken hair and smooth voice, and most of all with the way he utterly submitted to his wishes.



Itachi sat quietly on his pillow next to the table and munched on a piece of tempura that Sasuke had prepared earlier that evening for dinner. He could hear his younger brother putter around in the kitchen as he prepared the little sushi rolls, the tuna fish in them courtesy of a very generous Jounin.



He could no longer see Sasuke, but even so he could hear the grace in his movements. Even when he was doing the simplest menial work, he did so with grace and elegance, the sounds he made almost melodic in their quality. He loved listening to him.



He heard soft, barely audible footsteps of bare feet and then the clink of a plate set before him.



“Here. The soy sauce is at your right. I didn’t add any wasabi. I know you dislike hot foods.” Sasuke murmured and moved to the other side of the table, gracefully sitting down – Itachi could tell by the way his clothes rustled.



“Thank you.” He answered. Sasuke said nothing.



His brother rarely responded to him when he spoke to him, even if he seemed to take the utmost care of his needs. He helped him wash, comb his hair, get dressed, fed him, took care of him when he was hurt. And those actions belied his harsh words and angry tone. Occasionally Itachi thought to ask Sasuke about this discrepancy out loud and then changed his mind, knowing that it’d only cause friction between them, and he didn’t want that.



He wasn’t stupid though. He knew why Sasuke took such extensive care of him, why he insisted on doing things that Itachi could do on his own. He was blind, but he was far from helpless. The fact that he wore Sasuke’s clothes gave him was the first clue, especially after he found the burnt remains of clothes in the garden at the back – a few zippers, pieces of charred fabric and a few metal buttons. He knew that Kakashi must’ve brought garments at some point, and while Sasuke had given him the sandals, which he truly needed, he had burned the clothes that were meant for him.



Even with his eyes gone, Itachi could knew possessiveness when he saw one. Sasuke liked controlling him, he liked controlling what he wore, what he ate, the way he looked. Kisame had been similar, even if that had happened only occasionally and after Itachi’s express permission and request, even. His heart clenched at the memory of his partner, who had also been a dear friend and a loyal lover. Kisame had been the only person Itachi had ever been in love with. He had taken care of him when anyone in his place would have abandoned him in the state he was – blinded, barely clinging to life. From a Ninja’s point of view, especially a Ninja coming from Kirigakure, Itachi was used goods and should’ve been discarded. And yet, Kisame had stayed for days on end in the hospital wing and had taken care of his injuries, working hard not only to heal his body but to also heal his spirit, so terribly broken after his plan for Sasuke to kill him had failed. Kisame changed the dressings of his wounds, fed him, washed him, became his nurse and focused his entire attention on him. He had done so defying his Village’s beliefs and policies, defying everything he had been taught and probably practiced all his life. And he had done it all for Itachi. His loss was one of the many things Itachi would never forgive Madara.



And here Sasuke was doing the same, looking after him and controlling him at the same time, although Itachi had neither asked for it, nor had he given him any permission. And then there were the touches, soft but lingering for too long than it would’ve been appropriate between brothers. There was hunger in those touches, the same kind of hunger that Kisame’s touch had possessed. It terrified Itachi. It terrified him because he realized that he didn’t mind the touches, and the more Sasuke did that, the more he liked it. He knew, on some level, that he should feel sickened by them, but all they made him feel was warmth. For all his feelings for Kisame, it was undeniable that Sasuke had always been the most important person in his life, the one he had sacrificed everything for, the one he lived for, breathed for, existed for, and the one he was prepared to die for. And this proof of Sasuke’s wish to own him, despite everything he had done, all the sins he had committed, it was elating and terrifying and liberating at the same time.



“I’ve prepared us the bath.” Sasuke noted quietly from somewhere to his right, his deep voice caressing Itachi’s hearing.



“Us?” Itachi intoned softly after he swallowed the morsel in his mouth. While Sasuke had helped him bathe, he had never shared the bathtub with him until this moment.



“Yes.” Sasuke said simply.



Itachi tried hard to hide his smile from Sasuke – his little brother was getting bolder and bolder with each passing day.



An hour later he was sitting in the large wooden ofuro, both of them already well-washed under the shower in the corner and now ready to soak in the warm water. He could hear and feel the water splashing as Sasuke slid next to him in the tub and sat down, their bodies almost touching but not quite. A large, warm hand gently caressed his shoulder, then slid up and began to massage the back of his neck. Although the water they were immersed in was hot, he could feel the heat radiating from Sasuke, his sweet, warmth breath puffing gently against his ear – he must be turned to him, watching him react to his touch.



“Sasuke.” He began softly. “I’m not going to ask you what you are doing. That much has been obvious for the past weeks.”



The hand on the back of his neck stilled, but was not removed. Itachi continued.



“I have one thing to ask you though.”



“What?” Sasuke responded, voice just as quiet as Itachi, but with a nervous tremor in it.



“If I say “no”, will you force me?”



There was a long, tense silence.



“Sasuke?” Itachi pressed.



“No. I won’t.” Sasuke’s voice was hoarse and strained. “I cannot hurt you like that.”



“But you want to?”



Another lengthly pause.



“Yes.” It was barely audible.



“Yes, what, little brother? Hurt me, or force me?”



“I don’t understand…”



“There is a difference, Sasuke. You could force me, and hurt me, or you could hurt me without forcing me. I could let you.”



“For how long have you known?” Sasuke asked.



“A while now.” Itachi admitted.



“I am obvious, aren’t I?”



“No, Sasuke. It’s just that I know you better than anyone else. I created you.”



The fingers at the back of his neck trembled.



“I have never been able to let go of you, Itachi.” Sasuke murmured softly. “No matter how hard I tried, how much I sacrificed, I could never let go of you. Or you of me.”



“I know.”



“I am tired of running.”



“Then…” Itachi swallowed and said “you can have me, if you want me. All of me.”



He was about to say something more, but soft, demanding lips covered his own in a forceful kiss. Chucking all his fears and doubts to the wind, Itachi opened his mouth readily, letting Sasuke in, allowing him to conquer and explore, mewling softly when their tongues slid wetly against each other. Sasuke’s mouth tasted of the oranges he had ate earlier for dessert and his breath smelled of them too, a fresh and yet heady scent. It was intoxicating and Itachi pressed closer, wanting more of it. Sasuke’s warm, wet hands slid down his back and under his hips, cradling him and then lifting him effortlessly, pulling him to sit in his lap. Their kiss grew even harsher and Itachi clung to his younger brother’s broad shoulders as he felt those same hands sliding into his lap and gently wrapping fingers around his awakening arousal and fondling his sack.



Sasuke withdrew from the kiss to take a breath and then buried his mouth behind his ear, tracing the soft, damp skin there with the tip of his tongue, eliciting a needy groan from Itachi.



“Sasuke…” he moaned.



There was a dark chuckle and then suddenly Sasuke grabbed his hips again and clutched him as he stood up, Itachi still in his arms, the water running in rivulets down their heated bodies. Instinctively, Itachi wrapped his legs around his hips, their arousals rubbing together, slick with water and their own juices.



Sasuke precariously stepped out of the bathtub, and carried Itachi out of the bathroom, both of them still sopping wet and dripping on the polished wooden floor. Soon they reached the bedroom and Sasuke entered, finally depositing Itachi on the futon, as naked and wet as he was. Panting softly, he leaned back for a moment to enjoy the view.



Itachi’s slim, slender body was sprawled on top of the dark covers, graceful limbs splayed invitingly and yet demurely, flushed, pretty face turned to one side in surprising shyness. His long, raven hair spread like a halo around him, the dark, luxurious tresses beginning to tangle. Slowly, he kneeled between the splayed legs and gently slid his hands over Itachi’s inner thighs, then pushed them apart. His brother offered no resistance, although he blushed when he became so exposed to Sasuke’s hungry gaze.



“You will really let me do whatever I want?” Sasuke asked, voice deepened with arousal and another unidentified emotion.



Itachi slowly nodded.



“Yes. You said it, brother. We belong to each other.”



Sasuke’s answer wasn’t verbal, it was an answer nonetheless. A hot, wet tongue slid down the tense muscle of Itachi’s inner thigh, making the older Uchiha moan softly, paused and played with the soft flesh where thigh med his torso, then slid further down and tenderly licked at his throbbing balls and took one in his mouth, suckling for all he was worth and rolling it with his tongue at the same time. Itachi’s naked body arched off the sheets as he cried out at the sudden onslaught, one hand boldly coming down to tangle itself in Sasuke’s soft, wet hair.



“Sasuke…” he moaned again when the tongue traveled further to stab at his perineum, stimulating his prostate gland from the outside, the soft, tender flesh tingling from the attention. One of the callused hands cradling his slim hips let go of him just to wrap around his arousal, rubbing it with slow, sure strokes as Sasuke’s tongue slipped tantalizingly close to his twitching entrance. Itachi could feel the saliva dripping down his flesh and against his needy little hole, his thighs trembled with arousal as he hardened even further in Sasuke’s hand.



A thumb caressed his saliva-slickened entrance and Sasuke softly asked.



“Do you want me to kiss you here, brother?” his voice was soft and yet surprisingly deep.



Itachi nodded.



“Please…”



The hand rubbing his entrance withdrew and came up to massage his balls and pull them up so Sasuke could see better.



“Please, what?”



“Please, Sasuke. Please… brother.”



He heard Sasuke suck in his breath at his breathless plea and then he felt his tongue press flatly against his entrance, then circling it and stabbing at it with the agile tip. He wailed and pulled his knees up to his chest, spreading his thighs as much as he could. He loved that being done to him – Kisame had been terribly good at it and it seemed that Sasuke was just as good, lathing the little hole with attention.



A slick finger penetrated him gently and began to slide in and out of his, stretching him slowly. Itachi exhaled and whimpered, then asked:



“I thought…”



“Mmm?”



He wet his lips and whimpered again, because the finger reached his spot, rubbing mercilessly against the sensitive little nub.



“I thought you wanted to hurt me…”



The finger didn’t still.



“What do YOU want, Itachi?” Sasuke asked, his voice a curious mixture of dominance and vulnerability.



“I…” Itachi began but bit his lips and turned his head away. Another finger penetrated him and pressed against his prostate insistently.



“Tell me.” Sasuke implored.



“I thought that this is about what you want.” Itachi whispered softly as his hips began to move helplessly against the invading fingers.



“It is.” Sasuke murmured, adding a third finger. “I am doing what I want at the moment, Itachi.”



“Indulging me?”



“Mhm.”



Itachi reached wrapped his own fingers around Sasuke’s heated length, feeling it so silken and heavy in his palm as he rubbed it gently.



“Take me, Sasuke.”



“Say please.” Sasuke muttered but thrust kept thrusting into him with his delicate fingers.



“Please, brother.” Itachi said again. “I need you.”

His control finally snapped at that needy plea and he grabbed Itachi’s thighs, pulling them up to his shoulders all over again and kept Itachi folded nearly in two, their arousals dripping with precome. The older Uchiha’s hand on Sasuke’s erection carefully guided it to his entrance, rubbing the engorged head against the sensitive muscle, his bow-shaped lips spreading in a silent “O” at the sensation. Sasuke panted and then began to push forward, watching the tight ring slowly expand as Itachi’s body accommodated him. When he was finally seated inside of him he paused, shuddering at the delicious sensation of being gripped by that tight, heated, throbbing channel.



His gaze travelled up, past Itachi’s flushed erection, his smooth, flat belly, his heaving chest, to stop on his flushed face, unseeing eyes closed, long, dark eyelashes trembling against delicate cheekbones as he moaned quietly again and again at being stretched so wide around Sasuke’s organ.



“I am doing what I want, Itachi.” Sasuke repeated stubbornly and began to thrust into him, at first slow and shallow, then picking up the pace, rocking into his brother for all that he was worth. Itachi’s long legs wrapped around his hips again and urged him on, his hot breath puffing against his ear as he embraced him and pulled him down so they were touching and sliding against each other, Itachi’s erection trapped between their flat, muscled bellies.



“And I am giving you what we both need.” He whispered in Itachi’s ear and he suddenly came, wetness splashing between them, the tight channel around his organ rippling and spasming as his brother climaxed under him. Sasuke shuddered and fell over the precipice, shooting his seed deep inside his lover.



They lay side by side afterwards, still slick with sweat and other fluids, flushed and panting. When he gained some measure of control, Sasuke reached and pulled his brother in his embrace, delighting in the way he curled in his arms, as if he’s always belonged there. He was too sated, too pleased to think about the implications and consequences of what they had just done, nor did he wonder at Itachi’s compliance.





In the darkest hour of the night, just before dawn, a man arrived in Konoha, followed by a small honour guard. The giant gates protecting the sleeping Village opened soundlessly, swinging on their well-oiled hinges to admit the visitors, the Hokage and his assistant standing there and waiting.



The small group slowly entered Konoha, their expressions wary, except for their leader’s, who looked thoughtful and sad at the same time, but certainly not afraid. He left his escort standing by the gate and approached the Hokage on his own, ignoring the caustic look the masked nin threw him over the blonde man’s shoulder. Once, he had almost killed that Nin, utterly defeated him in battle until he had had nothing left to give, his chakra drained to the absolute minimum. His dislike was normal and expected even, so Nagato firmly ignored him.



Naruto gazed up at the former Akatsuki’s leader thoughtfully, cleared his throat and said:



“I guess that “Welcome to Konoha” would sound a little… odd, considering the circumstances. Don’t you think, Nagato?”