[067] let's fuck it up, boys- MAKE SOME NOISE!
Title: Watch Me
Author: poprika
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Hidan and Itachi
Pairings: Hidan/Itachi
Rating: NC-17 for sex and swearing.
Warnings: Yaoi, Hidan's obsession with his espresso machine, PWP.
Words: 3198
Summary: It's a quiet evening at Cafe Akatsuki and Itachi is trying to do his job, but with no customers and their coworkers gone, Hidan thinks its time for a little break.
Written for swiggle . Three years in the making. I hope you enjoy it, biatch. Lots of love all around.
Watch Me
It’d been happening all day. The first time, Itachi was bent over a table, wiping the surface clean with practiced, familiar strokes when his neck began to prickle and he knew that he was being watched.
He didn’t even bother to straighten. Instead, he turned red eyes over his shoulder and instantly wished he hadn’t. A husky lavender gaze locked with his and held. Heat coiled through Itachi’s body, lazy, like a stretching cat. His own lids fell almost involuntarily as he felt eyes trail lazily over his body. Itachi found himself frozen, bent over the table in a position he would not have preferred, but Itachi was not one to show discomfort, especially to Hidan. The Uchiha could practically hear the slow smirk that curled the barista’s lips, showing off white, white teeth (teeth that bit and tore and drew blood and pain and Itachi really had to stop thinking about it and- stand up!).
It was much too hard to push himself away from the table and straighten to his full height (chin high, shoulders back and resting firmly on his ribs), much too hard to seem unaffected by Hidan’s stare and even harder to break it.
And that was only the first time. The rest of the day, through Deidara’s never ending babble, underneath Sasori’s quiet words and Konan’s loud screeches, Itachi could feel Hidan, as if he were right behind him, at his back, his breath hot against the skin of his neck, his arms reaching, about to grab him, push him against the wall and-
Itachi felt a shiver crawl up his spine, like liquid lust, hot and cold and delicious. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, but could only see Hidan (with his dark stare and smirking lips and expression that made Itachi want to forget his prude upbringing) behind his lids. He hated being this affected by just a stare (not even a touch, not all day- nothing. It was frustrating. Just the faintest of brushes as Hidan walked past, the hint of a grin and always those smoldering eyes). Usually, it was not he that was so filled with lust.
Yes, this was very uncharacteristic of him. To give into desire, to give into anything would simply not do. And so Itachi ignored it. Wrestled it back to the to the prison of his mind and locked it there, alone but for the memories of lips on his, crushing, sucking, stealing his breath away; and of hands, pinning his wrists to the wall, raking nails down his chest, leaving red welts in their wake. And, finally, with the memory of blood- blood staining lips red, pain down his arms and neck.
It was maddening.
Two o’clock and it reached its peak.
Itachi couldn’t sit still. He was uncharacteristically fidgety (if he remained in one place too long, his mind would start to wander and it’d always find its way back to dark lavender eyes and smirking lips and hotmeltingsearing lust that crawled its way up his spine to the back of his skull, burning its way through his mind to his eyes and making him see red).
So he cleaned.
The café was empty, quiet with the approaching night. Not even Deidara was in sight (a bounce of a blond pony tail and some rushed explosion of gibberish and he was gone; all of the sudden the café felt so much cleaner. He took a breath). Itachi looked up from vigorously scrubbing at a suspiciously stubborn stain on the cash to find himself alone in the store. He blinked slowly, long lashes brushing the pale skin under his eyes. The counter was near spotless; his hand stilled.
And yet.
Itachi’s brows flatlined and his lips pressed together unhappily.
The espresso machine gleamed up at him and Itachi suddenly had the urge to punch it (maybe just to see the look on Hidan’s face when the barista found his precious toy in a crumpled heap. Itachi could always blame it on Deidara), the thought had his lips curling upwards in a dark smirk.
“Oi.”
Red eyes slid upwards, but Itachi didn’t turn towards the voice, instead listened as the other approached, heavy footsteps from behind (desire rattled its prison bars and coiled heat in his chest and down, but he refused to be the one to make a move; the thought of giving in made his lips twist into a sneer).
The café was empty. But, of course-
Hidan was behind him now, his chest radiating heat like a sauna against Itachi’s back- whose gaze was drawn back to the espresso machine, where Hidan’s face was reflected smug and with a dark sense of promise (painpleasure give it to me now) that his smile feral. His chest pressed against the Uchiha’s back, (and the temperature suddenly surged upwards; the air was heavy with it). Itachi felt Hidan lean forward, pressing more firmly against him; watched with seeming disinterest as the barista’s long fingers curled around his and pried his hand away from the sponge (it was much too easy to let go).
“Don’t fucking touch my espresso machine.” said in a lazy drawl into the shell of his ear.
Itachi opened his mouth, a retort full on his lips, but then he was being spun around and there was a wall against his back and a strong hand pinning his over his head (which gave a loud smack as it connected with the wall). His mouth closed and settled in a scowl instead.
Hidan was grinning like a fool. It made Itachi want to punch him. He shifted against the hold on his arms, but the fingers around his wrists only tightened in warning. The Uchiha’s lips pulled back into a growl and he struggled harder, his thin, lithe body coiling, tensing, getting ready to kisstearbleed- exact some revenge.
But Hidan’s lips were suddenly inches away, still twisted into that infuriating smirk. Their breath mingled, hot on pale skin and Itachi knew his cheeks were flushed, could feel the heat swimming through his mind and absently wondered why the air wasn’t shimmering with it.
Seconds dragged by like blood seeping lazily from a wound. Itachi’s body pulsed with it (but still he refused to close that gap, to be the first to give in even though he wanted it- and there it was, the confession: he wanted it and thinking it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would). He could imagine what it would feel like- when their lips did meet in a touch more like an attack than a kiss. He could feel the sharp pain of Hidan’s teeth, the wet slide of their tongues against one another-
Itachi’s breath hitched, an almost silent sound, barely noticeable but he knew that Hidan heard it- he could tell by the way the hands pinning his tightened painfully. Hidan trailed a hand down Itachi’s neck, brushed fire down his arm to his hip. The barista bit Itachi’s lip harshly as he pulled him closer and grinded their hips together.
Itachi’s head hit the wall behind him with a low thump as his arched forward in response (sweet, sweet contact that made his toes curl inside his black work shoes). He strained against Hidan’s grip, clawed at the air as if it could somehow free him. He hated being restrained (loved it more than he should), being so dominated without being able fight. He willed his legs to move, to kick Hidan off so that he could throw the man down onto the counter (beside the barista’s fucking espresso machine) and stop wasting time. But his muscles preferred to press closer to Hidan’s, like they wanted to draw out more of that delicious contact instead of pushing it away.
Hidan leaned forward and dragged his tongue across Itachi’s lips in a long, slick sweep. Teeth nipped harshly at the corner of his mouth, made it red.
“Fucking tease,” Hidan hissed, rolling his hips and making Itachi’s head loll back against the wall. The barista chuckled and it seemed to come straight from his chest. It clawed up Itachi's spine, nails scratching on each vertebrae, upupup to curl bony fingers around his neck, press against his jugular and squeeze.
Itachi clenched his hands into a fist and felt the hard keratin bite into his palm. His breath hitched as he felt a thin trail of blood lick down his skin. Hidan was smiling, Itachi knew even though his eyes had slipped shut. His eyelids were black dancing with red and he (could still feel Hidan's lips on his cheek-jaw-chin and all he had to do was-) closed the distance between their hungry mouths, pressed his lips against Hidan's and (now he could feel that damned smile) thought he could taste blood on their lips.
It was dizzyingly hot. The wall was hard against his back (Hidan was hard against his front). He felt boxed in, claustrophobic and his mind took a few more skipping steps towards his blissful insanity. It dragged a ragged moan from his throat (Hidan took the sound into his mouth and swallowed). The world spun behind Itachi’s closed eyes-
And then it really was spinning as Hidan took him from the wall (Itachi’s legs were wrapped around his waist for a moment, had to pause as the dark haired waiter unconsciously ground down against him- the kiss broke with their breathless gasps) and slammed him against the counter. Wayward cups and saucers slipped from the slick surface (Itachi had just cleaned it. Soon, he would have to do so again) onto the floor, shattering one by one as they hit the tiles. Their shards exploded outwards, bounced as they landed before skittering away under tables and chairs.
Itachi’s ribs ached from where they dug into the edge of the countertop. He pushed himself up onto his hands (had barely managed to keep from smacking his forehead off the surface), but Hidan was pressed against his back, his weight pushing Itachi’s chest down onto the counter. The Uchiha growled low- and then Hidan was grinding his cock hard against Itachi’s ass. The growl turned into a husky moan and this time Itachi’s head did hit the counter (a soft thump that neither heard).
“Hidan.” Itachi’s lips were dry. He licked them.
The other man’s breath was as hot as steam against his ear. “Yeah, bitch?” Hidan thrust again, harder this time and Itachi’s teeth broke the skin of his lip. He licked it, just as Hidan did the same, their tongues sliding slick against each other, wet with saliva and blood. They were both panting. “Wanna beg for it?”
It was hot- hot like the kitchen on a busy Thursday afternoon, with the ovens oozing heat and the kettles screaming and Hidan at the counter, with his smirk and dark eyes-
The barista palmed Itachi’s cock, his fingers long and warm through the soft material of his work pants.
“Haaah.” deep breath- gasping breath. Couldn’t get the air in fast enough. “Asshole.”
“Heh. Come on, you know I love it when you get all submissive and shit.”
“Fuck you, Hidaaahn.”
Hand on his cock, nothing between heated flesh and those long fingers; the other working its way up his chest, bunching his shirt to expose pale, smooth skin. Blunt nails scratched down to his stomach and-
Hidan gave him a good, solid pump and made sure that Itachi could feel him smirk against his cheek. Itachi wanted to punch him for it, but his knees were shaking, mouth wet and open in a low moan.
His coworker was already loosening the Uchiha’s pants, shoving them down thin hips. His hasty movements and labored breathing giving away his own need. Itachi found a small sort of victory in that, red eyes narrowed down at the countertop (he managed to ignore the faint stain there, just barely) as rough hands found his hips. Hidan ground against him and Itachi heard his breath hitch. A hand let go of his hip long enough to tangle in his hair and yank his head back for a heated kiss. Their tongues curled against each other, mouths open - a clash of teeth and Hidan pulled back, a string of saliva clinging to each of their lips.
“Sorry, babe,” The barista purred, his voice husky and cock hard between Itachi’s spread legs. “But this one’ll haveta be quick.” Hidan’s hand went back to his hips and Itachi’s head dropped back to the counter. Unable to resist the exposed pale skin, Hidan paused just long enough to give Itachi’s neck a sharp bite. “We are on the clock….”
Itachi swallowed thickly, his mouth dry from heaving in gasps of air with not enough of anything- the burning in his lungs craved for something unsaid.
“What…” The dark haired man licked his lips, hands scratching at the countertop as slick fingers worked their way between the cheeks of his ass. “What did you call me?” he ground out.
His only answer was a (much too smug) chuckle and long fingers entering him in one rough thrust. Itachi wasn’t able to catch the loud moan that escaped his red lips- it slipped from his mouth just as easily as Hidan’s fingers slipped into him, curling just so (it suddenly occurred to Itachi to question just what Hidan had used as lubricant- he didn’t hear the pop of a cap. Improvisation, maybe- Itachi quickly went through the items laying near them. All purpose cleaner, dish soap, milk- surely Hidan wouldn’t use the flavoured coffee syrup…) and angling just right to cause Itachi’s train of thought to come to a crashing halt.
“A-ah”
Itachi cursed between a gasp and a moan as his arms shook, threatening to give out and send him sprawling out onto the counter (and that stain) as Hidan worked his fingers deeper inside him.
He could feel Hidan’s hardness pressing against his thigh, could hear the other man’s own panting breath against his neck. No more snarky comments or smug chuckles as Hidan made quick work of his belt and pants (apron still on, but that was alright- he pushed it to the side. It was covered with white stains already, anyway).
Itachi’s eyes slipped shut as Hidan removed his fingers. The Uchiha barely had a moment to inhale sharply before the tip of Hidan’s cock was pressing against his entrance. Itachi braced himself, wanting but refusing to arch back against that hardness.
Stillness, for a moment. Then another. Itachi’s eyes opened glaring. Teeth gritted against a low growl as his hands curled against the countertop.
Apparently, he was wrong- Hidan was enough of a bastard to laugh at him now.
“Still not going to beg, Uchiha?”
The arrogance of this man.
“Hidan, I may be fired for it, but I will kill y-youhhh!”
Hidan slid into him with a smooth thrust, deeper and deeper until he rested flush against Itachi’s back. The barista let out a sound between a sigh and a groan, hips jerking forward before he could stop himself. The movement tore a gasp from Itachi- pain and pleasure mixing into something delicious.
Hidan’s nails dug into the pale skin of Itachi’s hips as he pulled roughly back- he gave the Uchiha a small breath before driving back in, Itachi tight around him, hot but yielding with every trust.
Itachi’s hands pressed flat against the countertop, slick with sweat and slipping against its smooth surface. His ribs ground against the edge as Hidan moved faster, falling into a rhythm that had both moaning, toes curling, eyes slipping shut. Itachi scrabbled for purchase- something to use to steady himself as the world seemed to tilt (Hidan changed angles, hit dead on and Itachi let out a small scream). His hands found the sleek skin of the espresso machine and he latched on, fingers digging into its side as he was finally able to push back against those thrusts, driving Hidan’s cock deeper, ripping another yell from his throat as their pace turned frantic.
Hidan leaned over him, pressing his chest against Itachi’s back. A hand left the Uchiha’s hip to pump his cock, fingers dancing up the heated skin with every thrust. The contact tore a whine from Itachi’s throat, raw against his lips.
Hidan’s breath was hot against his ear, “Don’t touch… my fucking espresso machine.”
Itachi forced his eyes open enough to send his partner a narrowed eyed glare. Red lips parted to deliver a scathing retort, but then there was a hand twisting in his hair, yanking his head back and ripping a scream from his chest. Pale hands slipped, desperately grabbing at the machine until they curled around a handle- but one deep, driving thrust had his knuckles turning white. There was a dull thunk as it broke off.
Control seemed to slip away just as easily.
“You bitch.” Hidan growled and pulled out of Itachi just long enough to throw him down onto the counter. He entered him again before the Uchiha’s back hit the wood, his trusts deep and accurate- Itachi’s eyes rolled, his mouth slack around a silent scream.
Hidan’s pace became desperate. One hand gripped Itachi’s hip while the other pumped his cock with fast jerks. Itachi writhed, orgasm near as the barista leaned down to give him a searing kiss. Sharp teeth ripped the skin of Itachi’s lips and he came with a sharp cry.
“Aah, fuck, Itachi.” Hidan hissed, jerking forward as Itachi tightened around him, thrown over the edge as the Uchiha arched against him.
They lay there in a strange sort of content daze, clothes rumpled and askew, and chests heaving. After a few moments, Hidan pushed himself up enough to give Itachi a crookedly smug grin and a quick kiss that held a sort of irony, before pulling out. He had the grace to try to be gentle about it. Itachi gave him a hooded glare.
Hidan only responded with an amused chuckle, looking all to much like a cat who had just caught (and ate) the tastiest mouse. He gave Itachi a once over as he buckled up his pants and straightened his apron. Lilac eyes drifted over knotted black hair, red stained lips and bare thighs before drifting back up to Itachi’s face- Hidan’s grin twisted around into a smirk,
“Better get a move on, Uchiha. That counter is fucking dirty.”
FIN
This fic was written in Cafe!Verse, from our Akatsuki-only role play cafe_akatsukirp . Check us out~
Author: poprika
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Hidan and Itachi
Pairings: Hidan/Itachi
Rating: NC-17 for sex and swearing.
Warnings: Yaoi, Hidan's obsession with his espresso machine, PWP.
Words: 3198
Summary: It's a quiet evening at Cafe Akatsuki and Itachi is trying to do his job, but with no customers and their coworkers gone, Hidan thinks its time for a little break.
Written for swiggle . Three years in the making. I hope you enjoy it, biatch. Lots of love all around.
Watch Me
It’d been happening all day. The first time, Itachi was bent over a table, wiping the surface clean with practiced, familiar strokes when his neck began to prickle and he knew that he was being watched.
He didn’t even bother to straighten. Instead, he turned red eyes over his shoulder and instantly wished he hadn’t. A husky lavender gaze locked with his and held. Heat coiled through Itachi’s body, lazy, like a stretching cat. His own lids fell almost involuntarily as he felt eyes trail lazily over his body. Itachi found himself frozen, bent over the table in a position he would not have preferred, but Itachi was not one to show discomfort, especially to Hidan. The Uchiha could practically hear the slow smirk that curled the barista’s lips, showing off white, white teeth (teeth that bit and tore and drew blood and pain and Itachi really had to stop thinking about it and- stand up!).
It was much too hard to push himself away from the table and straighten to his full height (chin high, shoulders back and resting firmly on his ribs), much too hard to seem unaffected by Hidan’s stare and even harder to break it.
And that was only the first time. The rest of the day, through Deidara’s never ending babble, underneath Sasori’s quiet words and Konan’s loud screeches, Itachi could feel Hidan, as if he were right behind him, at his back, his breath hot against the skin of his neck, his arms reaching, about to grab him, push him against the wall and-
Itachi felt a shiver crawl up his spine, like liquid lust, hot and cold and delicious. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, but could only see Hidan (with his dark stare and smirking lips and expression that made Itachi want to forget his prude upbringing) behind his lids. He hated being this affected by just a stare (not even a touch, not all day- nothing. It was frustrating. Just the faintest of brushes as Hidan walked past, the hint of a grin and always those smoldering eyes). Usually, it was not he that was so filled with lust.
Yes, this was very uncharacteristic of him. To give into desire, to give into anything would simply not do. And so Itachi ignored it. Wrestled it back to the to the prison of his mind and locked it there, alone but for the memories of lips on his, crushing, sucking, stealing his breath away; and of hands, pinning his wrists to the wall, raking nails down his chest, leaving red welts in their wake. And, finally, with the memory of blood- blood staining lips red, pain down his arms and neck.
It was maddening.
Two o’clock and it reached its peak.
Itachi couldn’t sit still. He was uncharacteristically fidgety (if he remained in one place too long, his mind would start to wander and it’d always find its way back to dark lavender eyes and smirking lips and hotmeltingsearing lust that crawled its way up his spine to the back of his skull, burning its way through his mind to his eyes and making him see red).
So he cleaned.
The café was empty, quiet with the approaching night. Not even Deidara was in sight (a bounce of a blond pony tail and some rushed explosion of gibberish and he was gone; all of the sudden the café felt so much cleaner. He took a breath). Itachi looked up from vigorously scrubbing at a suspiciously stubborn stain on the cash to find himself alone in the store. He blinked slowly, long lashes brushing the pale skin under his eyes. The counter was near spotless; his hand stilled.
And yet.
Itachi’s brows flatlined and his lips pressed together unhappily.
The espresso machine gleamed up at him and Itachi suddenly had the urge to punch it (maybe just to see the look on Hidan’s face when the barista found his precious toy in a crumpled heap. Itachi could always blame it on Deidara), the thought had his lips curling upwards in a dark smirk.
“Oi.”
Red eyes slid upwards, but Itachi didn’t turn towards the voice, instead listened as the other approached, heavy footsteps from behind (desire rattled its prison bars and coiled heat in his chest and down, but he refused to be the one to make a move; the thought of giving in made his lips twist into a sneer).
The café was empty. But, of course-
Hidan was behind him now, his chest radiating heat like a sauna against Itachi’s back- whose gaze was drawn back to the espresso machine, where Hidan’s face was reflected smug and with a dark sense of promise (painpleasure give it to me now) that his smile feral. His chest pressed against the Uchiha’s back, (and the temperature suddenly surged upwards; the air was heavy with it). Itachi felt Hidan lean forward, pressing more firmly against him; watched with seeming disinterest as the barista’s long fingers curled around his and pried his hand away from the sponge (it was much too easy to let go).
“Don’t fucking touch my espresso machine.” said in a lazy drawl into the shell of his ear.
Itachi opened his mouth, a retort full on his lips, but then he was being spun around and there was a wall against his back and a strong hand pinning his over his head (which gave a loud smack as it connected with the wall). His mouth closed and settled in a scowl instead.
Hidan was grinning like a fool. It made Itachi want to punch him. He shifted against the hold on his arms, but the fingers around his wrists only tightened in warning. The Uchiha’s lips pulled back into a growl and he struggled harder, his thin, lithe body coiling, tensing, getting ready to kisstearbleed- exact some revenge.
But Hidan’s lips were suddenly inches away, still twisted into that infuriating smirk. Their breath mingled, hot on pale skin and Itachi knew his cheeks were flushed, could feel the heat swimming through his mind and absently wondered why the air wasn’t shimmering with it.
Seconds dragged by like blood seeping lazily from a wound. Itachi’s body pulsed with it (but still he refused to close that gap, to be the first to give in even though he wanted it- and there it was, the confession: he wanted it and thinking it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would). He could imagine what it would feel like- when their lips did meet in a touch more like an attack than a kiss. He could feel the sharp pain of Hidan’s teeth, the wet slide of their tongues against one another-
Itachi’s breath hitched, an almost silent sound, barely noticeable but he knew that Hidan heard it- he could tell by the way the hands pinning his tightened painfully. Hidan trailed a hand down Itachi’s neck, brushed fire down his arm to his hip. The barista bit Itachi’s lip harshly as he pulled him closer and grinded their hips together.
Itachi’s head hit the wall behind him with a low thump as his arched forward in response (sweet, sweet contact that made his toes curl inside his black work shoes). He strained against Hidan’s grip, clawed at the air as if it could somehow free him. He hated being restrained (loved it more than he should), being so dominated without being able fight. He willed his legs to move, to kick Hidan off so that he could throw the man down onto the counter (beside the barista’s fucking espresso machine) and stop wasting time. But his muscles preferred to press closer to Hidan’s, like they wanted to draw out more of that delicious contact instead of pushing it away.
Hidan leaned forward and dragged his tongue across Itachi’s lips in a long, slick sweep. Teeth nipped harshly at the corner of his mouth, made it red.
“Fucking tease,” Hidan hissed, rolling his hips and making Itachi’s head loll back against the wall. The barista chuckled and it seemed to come straight from his chest. It clawed up Itachi's spine, nails scratching on each vertebrae, upupup to curl bony fingers around his neck, press against his jugular and squeeze.
Itachi clenched his hands into a fist and felt the hard keratin bite into his palm. His breath hitched as he felt a thin trail of blood lick down his skin. Hidan was smiling, Itachi knew even though his eyes had slipped shut. His eyelids were black dancing with red and he (could still feel Hidan's lips on his cheek-jaw-chin and all he had to do was-) closed the distance between their hungry mouths, pressed his lips against Hidan's and (now he could feel that damned smile) thought he could taste blood on their lips.
It was dizzyingly hot. The wall was hard against his back (Hidan was hard against his front). He felt boxed in, claustrophobic and his mind took a few more skipping steps towards his blissful insanity. It dragged a ragged moan from his throat (Hidan took the sound into his mouth and swallowed). The world spun behind Itachi’s closed eyes-
And then it really was spinning as Hidan took him from the wall (Itachi’s legs were wrapped around his waist for a moment, had to pause as the dark haired waiter unconsciously ground down against him- the kiss broke with their breathless gasps) and slammed him against the counter. Wayward cups and saucers slipped from the slick surface (Itachi had just cleaned it. Soon, he would have to do so again) onto the floor, shattering one by one as they hit the tiles. Their shards exploded outwards, bounced as they landed before skittering away under tables and chairs.
Itachi’s ribs ached from where they dug into the edge of the countertop. He pushed himself up onto his hands (had barely managed to keep from smacking his forehead off the surface), but Hidan was pressed against his back, his weight pushing Itachi’s chest down onto the counter. The Uchiha growled low- and then Hidan was grinding his cock hard against Itachi’s ass. The growl turned into a husky moan and this time Itachi’s head did hit the counter (a soft thump that neither heard).
“Hidan.” Itachi’s lips were dry. He licked them.
The other man’s breath was as hot as steam against his ear. “Yeah, bitch?” Hidan thrust again, harder this time and Itachi’s teeth broke the skin of his lip. He licked it, just as Hidan did the same, their tongues sliding slick against each other, wet with saliva and blood. They were both panting. “Wanna beg for it?”
It was hot- hot like the kitchen on a busy Thursday afternoon, with the ovens oozing heat and the kettles screaming and Hidan at the counter, with his smirk and dark eyes-
The barista palmed Itachi’s cock, his fingers long and warm through the soft material of his work pants.
“Haaah.” deep breath- gasping breath. Couldn’t get the air in fast enough. “Asshole.”
“Heh. Come on, you know I love it when you get all submissive and shit.”
“Fuck you, Hidaaahn.”
Hand on his cock, nothing between heated flesh and those long fingers; the other working its way up his chest, bunching his shirt to expose pale, smooth skin. Blunt nails scratched down to his stomach and-
Hidan gave him a good, solid pump and made sure that Itachi could feel him smirk against his cheek. Itachi wanted to punch him for it, but his knees were shaking, mouth wet and open in a low moan.
His coworker was already loosening the Uchiha’s pants, shoving them down thin hips. His hasty movements and labored breathing giving away his own need. Itachi found a small sort of victory in that, red eyes narrowed down at the countertop (he managed to ignore the faint stain there, just barely) as rough hands found his hips. Hidan ground against him and Itachi heard his breath hitch. A hand let go of his hip long enough to tangle in his hair and yank his head back for a heated kiss. Their tongues curled against each other, mouths open - a clash of teeth and Hidan pulled back, a string of saliva clinging to each of their lips.
“Sorry, babe,” The barista purred, his voice husky and cock hard between Itachi’s spread legs. “But this one’ll haveta be quick.” Hidan’s hand went back to his hips and Itachi’s head dropped back to the counter. Unable to resist the exposed pale skin, Hidan paused just long enough to give Itachi’s neck a sharp bite. “We are on the clock….”
Itachi swallowed thickly, his mouth dry from heaving in gasps of air with not enough of anything- the burning in his lungs craved for something unsaid.
“What…” The dark haired man licked his lips, hands scratching at the countertop as slick fingers worked their way between the cheeks of his ass. “What did you call me?” he ground out.
His only answer was a (much too smug) chuckle and long fingers entering him in one rough thrust. Itachi wasn’t able to catch the loud moan that escaped his red lips- it slipped from his mouth just as easily as Hidan’s fingers slipped into him, curling just so (it suddenly occurred to Itachi to question just what Hidan had used as lubricant- he didn’t hear the pop of a cap. Improvisation, maybe- Itachi quickly went through the items laying near them. All purpose cleaner, dish soap, milk- surely Hidan wouldn’t use the flavoured coffee syrup…) and angling just right to cause Itachi’s train of thought to come to a crashing halt.
“A-ah”
Itachi cursed between a gasp and a moan as his arms shook, threatening to give out and send him sprawling out onto the counter (and that stain) as Hidan worked his fingers deeper inside him.
He could feel Hidan’s hardness pressing against his thigh, could hear the other man’s own panting breath against his neck. No more snarky comments or smug chuckles as Hidan made quick work of his belt and pants (apron still on, but that was alright- he pushed it to the side. It was covered with white stains already, anyway).
Itachi’s eyes slipped shut as Hidan removed his fingers. The Uchiha barely had a moment to inhale sharply before the tip of Hidan’s cock was pressing against his entrance. Itachi braced himself, wanting but refusing to arch back against that hardness.
Stillness, for a moment. Then another. Itachi’s eyes opened glaring. Teeth gritted against a low growl as his hands curled against the countertop.
Apparently, he was wrong- Hidan was enough of a bastard to laugh at him now.
“Still not going to beg, Uchiha?”
The arrogance of this man.
“Hidan, I may be fired for it, but I will kill y-youhhh!”
Hidan slid into him with a smooth thrust, deeper and deeper until he rested flush against Itachi’s back. The barista let out a sound between a sigh and a groan, hips jerking forward before he could stop himself. The movement tore a gasp from Itachi- pain and pleasure mixing into something delicious.
Hidan’s nails dug into the pale skin of Itachi’s hips as he pulled roughly back- he gave the Uchiha a small breath before driving back in, Itachi tight around him, hot but yielding with every trust.
Itachi’s hands pressed flat against the countertop, slick with sweat and slipping against its smooth surface. His ribs ground against the edge as Hidan moved faster, falling into a rhythm that had both moaning, toes curling, eyes slipping shut. Itachi scrabbled for purchase- something to use to steady himself as the world seemed to tilt (Hidan changed angles, hit dead on and Itachi let out a small scream). His hands found the sleek skin of the espresso machine and he latched on, fingers digging into its side as he was finally able to push back against those thrusts, driving Hidan’s cock deeper, ripping another yell from his throat as their pace turned frantic.
Hidan leaned over him, pressing his chest against Itachi’s back. A hand left the Uchiha’s hip to pump his cock, fingers dancing up the heated skin with every thrust. The contact tore a whine from Itachi’s throat, raw against his lips.
Hidan’s breath was hot against his ear, “Don’t touch… my fucking espresso machine.”
Itachi forced his eyes open enough to send his partner a narrowed eyed glare. Red lips parted to deliver a scathing retort, but then there was a hand twisting in his hair, yanking his head back and ripping a scream from his chest. Pale hands slipped, desperately grabbing at the machine until they curled around a handle- but one deep, driving thrust had his knuckles turning white. There was a dull thunk as it broke off.
Control seemed to slip away just as easily.
“You bitch.” Hidan growled and pulled out of Itachi just long enough to throw him down onto the counter. He entered him again before the Uchiha’s back hit the wood, his trusts deep and accurate- Itachi’s eyes rolled, his mouth slack around a silent scream.
Hidan’s pace became desperate. One hand gripped Itachi’s hip while the other pumped his cock with fast jerks. Itachi writhed, orgasm near as the barista leaned down to give him a searing kiss. Sharp teeth ripped the skin of Itachi’s lips and he came with a sharp cry.
“Aah, fuck, Itachi.” Hidan hissed, jerking forward as Itachi tightened around him, thrown over the edge as the Uchiha arched against him.
They lay there in a strange sort of content daze, clothes rumpled and askew, and chests heaving. After a few moments, Hidan pushed himself up enough to give Itachi a crookedly smug grin and a quick kiss that held a sort of irony, before pulling out. He had the grace to try to be gentle about it. Itachi gave him a hooded glare.
Hidan only responded with an amused chuckle, looking all to much like a cat who had just caught (and ate) the tastiest mouse. He gave Itachi a once over as he buckled up his pants and straightened his apron. Lilac eyes drifted over knotted black hair, red stained lips and bare thighs before drifting back up to Itachi’s face- Hidan’s grin twisted around into a smirk,
“Better get a move on, Uchiha. That counter is fucking dirty.”
FIN
This fic was written in Cafe!Verse, from our Akatsuki-only role play cafe_akatsukirp . Check us out~