Seven

Seven
Part 1 : Gluttony


When Kisame awoke, the first hints of sunlight were already filtering through drawn curtains. It was pale golden and bathed the room in its warm glow. Dawn.

/Damn. Didn't want to sleep this late./

Sitting up, he noticed that the bed was cold save for where the sheets were tangled around his half-clothed form. Only the barely visible indentation on the other half bore testament that another had also previously occupied it.

Golden eyes scanned the small room. It was bare -- housing only a single bed, a small nightstand, a plain wooden dresser, and a chair by the one window. Kisame's cloak was draped across said chair, and Samehada rested propped against one end of the dresser. The tiny bathroom was also empty; its door remained slightly ajar and afforded the large man a glimpse of its far wall. He could see that one of the two towels inside was still casually hung up to dry.

He was completely alone in the small inn room.

Kisame closed his eyes.

As everything plunged into shadow with the simple gesture, images of the previous night flashed before him -- silhouettes outlined by baleful moonlight. The contours of a face, its mouth agape, its eyes half closed and staring up at nothing from beneath him. The line of a throat, glistening with sweat as it tilted back, pressing tangled ebon hair into the mattress. Locks of that same dark hair plastered to a chiseled cheek. The memory of everything he saw was burned into him, and he turned it over and replayed it again and again in his mind, each time finding it more intoxicating than the last.

He could smell it, then, wet and hot and so pervasive that for a moment Kisame's eyelids nearly fluttered open, and he thought that it must be a lingering odor on the bed sheets. The bitter scent of tea, so faint that it was nearly overpowered by something metallic. The smell of heated bodies, close, so close, and of sweat and musk. And the smell of sex, so thick in the air that he felt himself stir as blood rushed past the pit of his stomach to his groin due to the mere memory of it all. Breathing deeply, he inhaled through his nose, trying to recapture every detail.

As he licked his lips, Kisame found that he could still taste it all, especially those fervent bloody tea kisses. The skin was still bruised, and as he ran his tongue over it, his lower lip split open again and the coppery flavor was magnified a thousand fold. The taste made him dizzy, and for a moment he thought that he could make out another flavor hidden amidst the saltiness of sweat and skin, and the faint bitterness of green tea, and the rich metallic sweetness of blood. Only it was not as sharp as the latter, but just as rich and warm. He licked his lips again, relishing the flavor and the heady rush it gave him.

He could hear his own breath, loud and fast, but not quite as labored as he remembered it being. Or as ragged as the breathing beneath him had been. The grunts were no longer there, but he could still recall each one in full -- and just what elicited them. He could still recall the slight moans, each unwillingly sounded by the other, and the mere thought of it caused his lips to twitch up at the corners. Kisame could still hear the low, dangerous growl that they both had shared, each vying for control. And he could hear his own growl rise again, drowning out the rustle of fabric and the steady rhythmic motion that followed. He lapped up the recounting of the sounds more readily than the others, and as each minute passed, he found the sound of both the present and past had grown to a roar in his ears.

And he could feel his breathing grow more and more ragged with each pump, his lungs demanding more air with each heavy breath. He felt the sheets beneath his back but discarded the sensation, instead vastly preferring the memory of his knees pressed firmly into those same sheets -- of pressing the other form beneath him into the linens -- of the way that they had twisted in his grip as he sought more leverage. He preferred recalling the heat of the other chest scant inches below his own, flushed and slick with a skein of sweat; it was far more interesting than the reality of the cool morning breeze against his own flushed torso. He preferred the memory of that hot breath beside his ear, and the slickness of shared sweat, and the sudden jab of pain as fingernails raked down his back and across his chest. With his eyes closed, Kisame could pretend that it was not his own hand that he was thrusting up into, but instead a raven-haired form beneath him. He could pretend that his own pumping fist was wrapped around the other's cock, and that the reason he shook so much was that the other man must be climaxing with him. He preferred remembering that, preferred pretending that the warm slickness dribbling back onto his abdomen was from another.

Kisame lay there for several long minutes as his breathing slowed. He did not rush it, instead savoring the memory of so many sensations, consuming them all as if they were the fabled ambrosia.

Only the ever-so-faint sound of someone approaching the door from the other end of the narrow hallway was enough to cause him to finally stir and sit up again. Running one still-sticky hand through his short cobalt hair, the large man stood and made his way to the bathroom just as the other door opened.

The figure that entered already wore his own cloud-patterned black cloak, wide hat brim nearly shadowing all of his face. And his voice was low and impassive.

"The sun has risen. We leave in fifteen minutes."

"I know, Itachi-san."

Kisame closed the bathroom door behind him, never once looking back over his shoulder at the raven-haired man.

Even if he had, he would not have seen his expression, as it was hidden by the high collar of that crimson-edged cloak. He would not have seen the way those lips that he remembered so vividly had curled up at the corners just a fraction. He would not have to worry about trying to figure out if they were done so out of amusement or for some other reason.

Soon, the falling water from the showerhead drowned out everything.