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No wonder Kakuzu threw a fit about this particular onsen. It was on an island outside of the Hidden Mist owned by a contact of a contact. It paid to be discrete. Each room had its own bat. Going into the Hidden Mist itself posed too great a risk. Kisame and Itachi were meeting someone for information about the tailed beasts. That’s all they were told.
The room looked like any onsen at first: two futons in the middle, a low shelf, and a bathroom. The sliding doors revealed its price tag, a private bath with the night sky reflecting into its water and no other patrons to be seen.
Kisame disrobed first, folding his robe and putting his headband on top of it. Itachi tried hard not to stare at his abs and the way his v-line stood out. He didn’t deserve the pleasure Kisame kept giving him. He watched as Kisame slid the door open, stepping into the bath.
Itachi disrobed himself, carefully folding his belongings and grabbing a towel. He slid open the door, moonlight illuminating his frame. To the untrained eye he looked frail under all of those clothes. He was sick, not unathletic. Every muscle and tendon stood out in the moon’s reflection. Kisame’s eyes lingered on the slight curve of Itachi’s ass as he crawled into the bath.
The light catches Itachi’s eyes. He squints, uncharacteristically rubbing them.
“Switch with me,” Kisame suggests.
Itachi obliges, circling his body to the side where Kisame was, facing the sliding door. Kisame lifted an arm to swim to the other side, but paused when he felt Itachi’s body leaning into his right side. His arm made a ‘plop’ going back into the water. “Or I’ll stay,” Kisame smiled.
This was not the first time. On their previous mission, in a much less luxurious onsen they’d arrived at an off hour and found the pool empty. Itachi’s eyes were strained. The exhaustion caught up to him. He didn’t pull away when Kisame threw an arm around him. He didn’t protest when Kisame carried him back to the room, gently laying him on the futon.
He begged for Kisame to touch him that night. He let his eyes shutter shut as he felt Kisame’s fingers spread him open. He came all over himself, flashing the softest blush. His discipline melted away in the body heat.
Itachi’s illness made him seek out warmth. Nights alone he felt the cool air deep in his bones. In the previous two hotels, Itachi fell asleep in Kisame’s arms and found himself grinding against him in the morning. Kisame just smiled, softly ran one of his huge hands through Itachi’s silky black hair and jerked them both off.
It was a natural progression. Itachi had been sharing a bed with Kisame for quite some time now, a comfort he did not feel he deserved. The guilt was always sharp, sinking like a knife to the chest. He never treated anyone with such gentleness. He conned and killed. Conmen and killers should not get mercy. People backed into this corner do not deserve mercy, only death.
Yet, he shuddered as Kisame twirled a strand of his hair in the pool. He let his rand rest on Kisame’s thigh. He felt nauseous for a moment at how casual it all was. The steam blurred his vision further and clouded his mind. The heat rose from under his skin, the pale flesh below his necklace shifting to a shade of red. The gentleness and warmth made him want. He moved himself to sit on Kisame’s massive thigh. He looked down at the illuminated water and could only think of how undeserving he was of this. It was Kisame who wrapped an arm around his waist.
The temperature didn’t make Kisame’s skin go hot– it made him uncomfortable as sweat formed at his temples. Sharks thrived in a lower heat setting. Itachi’s body, pressed up against him like this, made him feel at ease. He fought with himself over how natural they felt together. He didn’t want to get greedy or even worse, used to it.
Kisame let his left hand drift, fidgeting with Itachi’s necklace. The moonlight reflected off the back clasp. The Uchiha desperately needed someone to make him care about his life. Two mass murderers could feel a connection like the normal people they’d become so disillusioned by.
The heat was eventually too much for both of them as Kisame felt the sweat beads forming on Itachi’s neck. He wrapped both hands around the smaller man’s waist and lifted him easily. It’s muscle memory at this point. Two towels sat folded neatly by the bath’s edge. Kisame grabbed them, wrapping one around Itachi before attending to himself. Itachi’s eyes still burned, the blue man nothing but a blur in steam. He stumbled, adjusting the towel. Kisame offered a hand.
Itachi intertwined his fingers with Kisame’s. Itachi’s skin was already returning to its usual pale color. Their deep indigo nails matched. Kisame noticed polish chipping on his ring finger. His hand engulfed Itachi’s. He opened the sliding door and walked toward the futons.
“Push them together,” Itachi said.
Kisame let go of Itachi’s hand, leaving him standing below the ceiling light. Effortlessly, he pushed the futons together and signaled for Itachi to lay down. Itachi stumbled again, feet crossing over each other. Kisame couldn’t help himself. He scooped Itachi up, bridal style, and laid him down gently in the center of the futons.
“Thanks,” Itachi muttered.
Kisame allowed himself to lay next to Itachi, half of his body falling off of the futon. Futons were always too short for him. Itachi inched himself forward. He’d become increasingly aware of Kisame’s size throughout the duration of their partnership. Kisame was hanging off from the ankles down, now. Itachi’s hair brushed against Kisame’s chest and abs, as Kisame wrapped an arm around Itachi’s waist, tight. Itachi let himself smile and let out the smallest moan before going back to his deadpan, neutral, usual look.
It was cute the way Itachi moaned. Kisame would never say it outright. The cheap onsen from last week has been replaying in the back of his mind. Itachi’s body shifted again to face him, his chest cool for a moment with the absence of Itachi’s hair. Itachi glided a fingertip over Kisame’s nipple before moving it down, hooking it into the top of the towel he was still wearing. Kisame just moved his hand, combing it through Itachi’s hair.
“Can we?” Itachi asked, voice soft.
“Of course,” Kisame replied, getting up from the futon.
Itachi’s body shivered, betraying him for a moment. The overhead light shuttered off. Kisame returned, lube in hand.
“Let me know if you want me to stop, okay,” he said, softly.
Kisame slowly undid the knot at the top of Itachi’s towel, his half-hard cock sticking up immediately. He took a moment to memorize Itachi’s body. His ribs stuck out above six abs. His nipples were hard, a shade stuck somewhere between pink and brown, sticking out. His hair fell flawlessly, black ponytail spread across the pillow. The shorter strands framed his face. His eyes were shut like usual.
The tip of Itachi’s cock was pink and gleaming. Kisame jerked it a few times just to hear those moans again and he’s grateful Itachi didn’t see him smirk or bite his lip. It was crossing an unspoken boundary to call him beautiful. It was not to make him feel it. He coated his left pointer finger in the lube and slowly worked Itachi’s hole open. His body was tense. Every muscle was clenched. His ass looked good, deceptively plump for his size.
“You can relax,” Kisame reassured him.
A loud exhale left Itachi’s body, followed by another small moan as Kisame inserted his entire finger this time, down to the second knuckle. Itachi leaned his neck back in pleasure. Itachi felt his chest boil, becoming hyper-aware of the finger in his ass and the way his necklace sat on his neck and the way his hair brushed his cheekbones. The stimulation felt so good, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the guilt that always bubbled. He shut his eyes harder.
They did three last time. Kisame decided that would be fine again. He didn’t particularly care if he got off or not. He liked making Itachi feel good. He knew it relieved something visceral for him, even if he didn’t quite know what that was. They were opposites in how they’d viewed their fates. Kisame hated himself for taking such a liking to it. He lubed up his middle finger and started working it in. Another moan escaped Itachi’s lips.
The moans were what made Kisame’s cock twitch under the towel, the texture of it rough on his skin. He scissored the two fingers fully inside Itachi just to hear that noise again. He felt the precum leak out onto the towel. Ruining an onsen towel would be one of the lesser moral offenses he’d committed. He was certain what his hand was doing was worse. He lubed up his ring finger with the cracked nail polish and started working it in alongside the other two. It was dangerous to think that Itachi might’ve been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Kisame,” Itachi moaned.
“Is something wrong?” He asked, slowing down his movements.
Itachi’s mind was racing. Pleasure. Guilt. Pain. Pleasure. Maybe if it hurt, it would override all of this.
“I want you to fuck me,” he let out.
Kisame started thrusting the three fingers in and out, watching Itachi’s hole tighten around them as they went in, “like this?”
“With your dick,” Itachi said, feeling his own cock leak onto his abs and the sheets.
Kisame used his free hand to twirl Itachi’s ponytail, touching the small of his back every so often.
“‘Tachi. It’s a lot more than this. Are you sure?” Kisame asked.
“Please,” Itachi cried out.
Kisame pulled his free hand away from Itachi for a moment to undo the towel, tossing it off of the futon.
“How do you want to do this?” Kisame asked, gently.
“Want to see you,” Itachi let out, breathy.
Kisame used all of the strength of his free arm to flip Itachi onto his back, his other hand still thrusting in and out of him. Itachi opened his eyes. The whites were bloodshot. His onyx irises stared into Kisame’s. His lashes fluttered. His lips were puffy. Kisame scanned Itachi’s body up and down again. He knew the truth.
“You don’t have to keep them open,” Kisame said.
Itachi was blinking incessantly, “want to.”
Kisame nodded.
He covered his cock in lube. His heart rate raised ten-fold causing his blue cheeks to flush pink and his body to go hot. He didn’t want to hurt the man laying ready for him. He pulled the three fingers out. Itachi’s head jolted back again. His eyelashes fluttered. Kisame started working just his leaking tip into Itachi’s tight hole. Kisame couldn’t control the moan that escaped him. He sank in a little further. The tightness and warmth were enough to drive him crazy.
The burn from the stretch was exactly what Itachi was craving. He felt his mind shut off momentarily and just focused on the feeling of being stuffed full. He squirmed involuntarily as Kisame sank in further. He was about halfway in, now. Itachi was starting to lose awareness of his own cock leaking on top of his abs, dripping down to his belly button. Itachi started to bite his pink lips, stifling his noises.
Kisame sank another inch. He was desperately trying to control himself, but how Itachi felt wasn’t helping. He went in another two, Itachi’s hole stretching to fit him, the stifled moans Itachi was letting out causing Kisame’s cock to twitch inside of him. The fullness was ecstasy as Kisame kept sinking in further. His eyes eventually shuttered again. Kisame felt a calmness from that.
Kisame started thrusting. Itachi stopped biting his lip. His moans were loud and sloppy. Kisame was concerned he heard an “ow,” and slowed down. Tears started welling in Itachi’s eyes from the pounding and stretching. His cock started leaking quicker, too. Kisame saw a tear drip down from the corner of Itachi’s eye to fall off of his chin and stopped, pulling out slowly. Kisame’s heart rate went up again. He was terrified he’d just ruined everything.
“Kisame?” Itachi asked, pouting.
Kisame had never seen that before and it would surely stay with him for the rest of his life.
“Yeah?” He asked.
“Why’d you stop?” Itachi asked, eyes shuttered and pout even larger.
“You were crying. I don’t want to hurt you,” Kisame replied.
“Felt good. It’s okay. Put it back,” Itachi said, opening his eyes.
“Okay,” Kisame replied.
Kisame sank back into Itachi, thrusting in and out slowly.
“Go harder,” Itachi choked out.
He sped up. Tears were streaming down Itachi’s face now. The burn preoccupied his mind so immensely. He was not the clan killer or a wanted terrorist. He was just fucked. Itachi’s cheeks burned red from how good and overstimulated he felt.
Kisame was focused more on how Itachi looked than how his own cock felt. He didn’t mean to say anything. The way the moonlight from outside reflected on the silver chain and the way Itachi’s body was so lean and the way his cock sat flushed were driving him wild. The way Itachi’s face looked so flushed was enough to make him want to run away with the man forever. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”
Kisame couldn’t believe what he just said. He instinctively covered his mouth with his hand. Itachi flashed the biggest smile he’d ever seen on him after all the time they’d worked together. Seeing Itachi look happy, while tears were streaming down his face is what sent Kisame into climax.
The pressure of it drove Itachi wild. He came all over himself. It was awful when Kisame pulled out. He took a deep breath and it all flushed back. He didn’t deserve to feel. He didn’t deserve that point of precipice. The tears didn’t stop.
“What’s wrong? Is it okay if I clean you up?” Kisame asked, standing near the door to the bathroom.
“Nothing,” Itachi moped, lying, “and that would be good.”
Kisame wasn’t going to pry. Itachi always said things when he wanted to and when he felt like, no matter how blunt. He wet a washcloth in the sink and returned to the futon. Itachi was no longer crying, but his face was puffy. He started with his eyes, wiping down his face, and moving down the front of his body.
He allowed Itachi to flip himself over before wiping down the back of him, “Thank you, Kisame,” Itachi said dryly, “for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Kisame replied.
He tossed the washcloth off of the futon and wrapped his arms around Itachi again. This time he pulled the sheets up around them. Itachi’s mind was flickering with conflicted thoughts. Some told him he was safe and others told him he was undeserving and selfish. As Kisame’s grip tightened, he felt more at ease.