(no subject)
Title: Stitches
Summary: AU. "Where do you want me?" Shisui asked innocently.The air became heavy as the question hung through the silence. Uchiha Itachi's heart leaped towards his throat at the hidden meaning of the words.
Rating: M (just to keep it on the safe side)
Warnings: Next to none. There is just a lot of formality which you will find justified when you read.
A/N: Finally the garbled mangled version of my first Itachi/Shisui fic. Aprt from that, new to LJ, new (as a writer) to this community.
Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reviews are much appreciated!
“Where do you want me?” Shisui asked innocently.
The air became heavy as the question hung through the silence.
Uchiha Itachi’s heart leaped towards his throat at the hidden meaning of the words.
“Here on the bed will be okay,” Itachi replied, quietly motioning towards the bed as he turned to bolt the doors of the bedchamber.
Wincing slightly, Shisui limped towards the bed, feeling uncertain as he faced Itachi. Do I have to remove my clothes?” he questioned in a politely but in a confused tone.
Was that a frightened tone I detect in his voice? Itachi wondered. Shisui? Frightened? The man has slaughtered a million enemies on the battlefield without batting an eye and now he stands quivering in my bedchamber?
He dismissed the thought. I must be hearing things. He nodded and turned away to offer some privacy. He fixed his attention on the equipments that would be required for the “business” that was about to be conducted in the bedchamber.
A basin of hot water, towels, bandages, small shears and the pincers all lay on his bedside table beside the night candle.
If I remove the stitches quickly and concentrate more on the job rather than on the fact that I might hurt Shisui, I will be good to go. Silently, Itachi prayed for courage.
“Would you rather have Anko tend to your wound?” Itachi asked, momentarily distracted by the shadows the candles in the room cast on the walls. The shadows moved in accordance with Shisui’s movements.
Like a wild, primitive dance of shadows licking the light, he thought.
“Nay, let us get this over with.” Shisui finally bit out, his dislike for the foul-mouthed housekeeper coating his words as he moved towards the wall.
He quickly removed his scabbard and settled his weaponry against the wall. His belt joined the objects on the floor and he hitched up his knee-length tunic to untie the strings of his breeches.
Itachi absorbed the sounds absentmindedly. He synched them with a scenario in his head. The sound of the tunic being hitched upwards did not fail him nor did the sound of what followed next.
The strings of breeches being undone came into his mind almost innocently. He was familiar with the process since it was something he did every night. However, the sound coming from behind burned a fire low in his belly and it became the most erotic sound he had ever heard.
How long has it been since he had lain with a man? Wenches were available aplenty ready to service him with the hopes of winning his heart or his desires at the very least.
But they were not what he desired.
If he was really being honest with himself, what he desired most at this moment was standing behind him undoing his breeches.
Out of pure curiosity he peeked behind him and blushed when the realization of what he could have seen unwittingly struck him. He quickly turned back around.
Shisui had the gall to chuckle.
“You find my granting you privacy amusing?” Itachi asked vexed.
“Surely there is no reason for you to panic. I assume you’re very well aware of how men are put together,” Shisui drawled in a somewhat amused manner.
“I do not want you to reveal what you may not wish to reveal. As you may know nature is not generous with all men.” Itachi replied stoically.
The sound of clothes ruffling brought Itachi back to his former game of placing sounds with the imagery in his head.
“I assure you Milord that nature has indeed been quite gracious to me,” Shisui retorted with laughter laced into his rich baritone.
With his back to Shisui, Itachi allowed himself to roll his eyes. He quickly masked his hesitancy behind a matter-of-fact tone. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”
This time the chuckle was bold enough to escape as a small laugh.
Shisui quickly rid himself of his breeches and sat down on the bed in a brisk manner, wincing slightly because of the wound on his thigh.
“You can turn around now. I am settled and modestly covered,” Shisui called when he hid his essentials with a towel.
Itachi turned around only to find Shisui sitting on the bed with his palms down at his sides on the mattress, grinning stupidly. He had purposely arranged his tunic such that only a portion of the muscled upper thigh remained would be exposed.
All wayward thoughts fled when Itachi’s eyes fell on the wound. Whoever had stitched up Shisui's wound had done a horrendous job. The stitches were too long and far apart. The skin around the wound had swollen red and the gash itself was frighteningly stretched. Itachi wondered how they were able to keep the wound closed. There were flakes of blood that marred the areas where the needle must have punctured the skin.
Vaguely, Itachi wondered how he was going to be able to remove the stitches when he knew that touching the wound alone would hurt Shisui.
“I am going to try and be as gentle as possible but I cannot promise you that this will not hurt,” Itachi warned as he grabbed the pair of scissors from the night stand. He settled his left hand near the first stitch and slid the blade of the shears underneath the stitch carefully.
It didn’t come off as it should, Itachi frowned with confusion.
“I think the thread has hardened. We need to make it soft before the stitches can come undone.” He slowly dipped a towel into the hot water, wrung out the excess, folded it into a pad and placed it over the wound.
He sat back on his haunches and regarded Shisui with a curious look; his head alight with a million questions.
As if he read Itachi’s mind, Shisui asked, “Do you not wish to know how I acquired such a ghastly wound?”
Itachi gazed into the depths of the dark eyes, trying to decipher the secrets to the man and silently nodded his ascent.
Shisui leaned back on his arms and smiled lazily as if he had the whole time in the world. “It was given to me by an enemy I thought I’d vanquished. But as it turned out, he had some life in him left; a silly mistake on my part which I hope to avoid in the future.” He sighed.
Itachi silently agreed with a nod; being very aware of the happenings of a war. He himself had been an active participant in many and thus he was aware of the barbarism of it all. But now was not the right time to delve into the solemnity of war and bloodshed.
Now was the time to sit back and wait for the thread binding the stitches to soak up the water and loosen up so that Itachi could get on to the process removing Shisui’s stitches.
Shisui was the mercenary he hired to help solve the mystery with a band of petty thieves who were trying to rob the Uchiha manor; thieves who should never have been a serious concern in the first place.
Itachi was, after all the golden child, or as the elders termed it “The Prodigy”. The bandits were smart but Itachi was smarter; hence the chase should have been nothing but child’s play.
It was ironic, really how much Itachi had underestimated the situation. It turned out, the bandits, the bloody bandits had it all planned. For the first time in his life the taste of defeat had Itachi reeling in shock. The bitter taste of being triumphed over would never leave his tongue.
The stolen objects were trivial, nothing worth mourning for. The church’s chalice, the chicken from the manor kitchen, the cobbler’s most prized cow were just some items on the list. But they were not what bothered the Uchiha. What really miffed Itachi the most was the fact that the deeds were done right under his nose and that too in the broad goddamned daylight!
Personally Itachi had doubts about the true intentions of the bandits. He theorized that the bandits were just doing this to either peeve him into quitting his office as the lord of the manor or to prove him inept that the council would throw him off this prestigious title.
Deep inside Itachi knew that losing his position as the head of the clan would not be acceptable since that would mean disappointment as a son to a man as flawless as Fugaku Uchiha and then there was Sasuke, his younger brother; the boy he’d give up his everything to protect and one day hand over the rule to. Therefore, quitting or being compelled to quit was not a plausible option. Besides, if these weren’t reasons enough, Itachi’s own perseverance was enough to surmise per se.
He tried, he really did, to track them down and give them a flavor of his fabled sword and ultimately prove his ability as a ruler. The need to justify his father’s reasons for choosing him as the heir was overpowering so much that at times it made him see red.
Finally, when everything else failed he was reduced to hire help in the form of a mercenary; a human very much like him but with more experience on the battlefield. If anything, Itachi should have hired a set of professional spies and the job would have been done.
But no! The council had demanded he hire a mercenary and so a mercenary he hired.
On the appointed day of the mercenary’s arrival, Itachi had waited in the great hall for the “savior” to arrive with little gusto and much scorn.
Then without warning, Shisui had slammed the main gates of the great hall opened and strode in unannounced in all his manliness with his tall frame dwarfing everyone in the hall, all sinewy muscles and unruly curls and a charming smile; the “stride” looked more like a valiant limp to a mentally seething Itachi. Shisui whose prowess with a sword was legendary, Shisui with his midnight eyes holding so much of appeal that Itachi’s knees had buckled when those eyes had locked with his.
Itachi had stood up from his seat and defying all the rules of hatred and chagrin that ever existed, welcomed the man with a show of pompousness and good spirits. The words Itachi spoke should have dripped with venom but came out sweet as honey as he offered the man a seat on his table and some of his best mead.
It was funny really for Itachi to behave so out of character with a man he barely knew much less liked. But despite all his misgivings for the guest, Itachi sat beside him and explained the situation at hand.
The questions Shisui had put across during the course of the conversation were nothing short of genius. Never in his life had Itachi been so engrossed in talking to a person. In fact, as the evening wore on Itachi began the feelings of a reluctant attraction to the mercenary, so much so that when Shisui offered to lay his pallet in front of Itachi’s bedchamber for his safety, Itachi had all but rolled his eyes at the man and fought the urge to offer a spot on his own bed instead.
It was three and a half weeks of a smart chase with skimpy results that Itachi felt the first stirrings of doubts about Shisui’s capabilities. If Itachi really reflected on the matter he would note that Shisui spent more time inside the manor than outside.
The suspicions were just about to confirm themselves when Shisui took him by storm one rainy afternoon as he once again strode in the great hall with a bundle on his back. The “bundle” upon identification turned out to be Yakushi Kabuto, the captain of the army who refused to divulge any names and just sat there mute and lifeless no matter what degree of threat was imposed.
It was finally Shisui’s frustration that compelled him to resort to chopping off one of Kabuto’s bony and ugly finger. The “deed” was done with such elegance and precision that it was impossible for Itachi not to be fascinated. This must have touched a nerve because suddenly Kabuto screamed a name sounding like a wench in the throes of passion; Orochimaru.
Orochimaru was the local vicar and evidently a member of the band. Itachi was beyond irritation at this point of time let out an indignant shout as the name spilled from Kabuto’s lips.
The mercenary however did not wait to watch more of the unfolding drama. When Itachi let out the shout he was already mounting on his horse to search for the villain.
But Fate could not have been crueler in their means. Orochimaru, the bloody bastard had already fled the town in the dead of the night. Shisui ground his teeth and frustration and later vented it out on an unsuspecting Kabuto taking two more of the cursed fingers. His one and only chance to prove Itachi’s decision in hiring him correct having slipped away.
He’d cursed Orochimaru to the pits of hell. The next thing to become his target for laying a curse on was the deep gash on his thigh, which prevented excessive movement and became a hindrance in the entire ordeal.
Slowly Itachi removed the damp towel off Shisui’s well muscled thigh when he was sure that enough time had elapsed for the wound to soak the water and soften.
Once again he slipped the shears under the first stitch and laid his other hand high on top of Shisui’s inner thigh. Just as he was about to tip the blade upwards Shisui let out a slow hiss.
Looking up quickly to inquire the cause of the sound, Itachi’s eyes locked with something he’d hoped not to encounter during the course of the entire ordeal.
Standing right before him were Shisui’s randy parts in their full glory poorly concealed by a meager towel.
The sight truly was magnificent to behold as Itachi felt his own body surge to life as an answer to Shisui’s call to mate, making blood flow into his cheeks.
“Mayhap it was better if you were tended by another?” Itachi asked looking uncomfortable.
“Do I frighten you Itachi?” Shisui asked, sensing his discomfort.
Itachi shook his head in the negative. Certes, he was a little uncomfortable but not on the verge of fleeing the bedchamber.
“When a man is touched so intimately, he is hard pressed not to want more.” He sighed, “And I am but a human, Itachi.”
Choosing to ignore the hard length under the towel, Itachi decided to concentrate more on the task at hand. Tipping the shears up, he tugged at the first stitch and the hiss that left Shisui’s mouth was one of pain.
Tiny beads of sweat broke out on Itachi’s forehead, making him seem like a cowardly woman. Slowly and gradually he repeated the process on all of the eight stitches that had somehow held together the huge wound all this time.
With half an ear he listened to a hyperventilating Shisui, who’d resorted to babbling mumbo jumbo as a means of distraction.
“So after the fool who attacked me was completely vanquished,” Shisui was saying with a venomous glint in his eyes, “I looked around for someone who could stitch me up. You know, like stitch this wound up. I was-” the tone turned a little sheepish, “limping across the field when I spotted the squire’s son. One look at the wound from him and five minutes later the gash was tied together.”
Having finished the task of cutting the stitches Itachi looked up. “Why the squire?”
“Maybe because he was the only one available who had the thread and needle?” Shisui shot back at Itachi and shrugged. “Besides one is not very particular when one’s thigh is slashed open.”
Itachi looked down at the wound and picked up the pincers to pluck out the thread from the wound. “Why did you not seek a physician later?” he inquired, prodding the wound.
This time Shisui let out a full rumbling laugh. “You question like a woman, Itachi. You should know better. Warriors like us have better things to do than go see a physician who might chain us to empty beds.”
Itachi did not reply to that and instead concentrated on the wound.
Plucking the thread is like plucking the feathers of chicken. Anko’s words rang in his ears.
Shisui studied Itachi’s dark head as the latter worked on pulling his stitches. He could not identify the feelings coursing through his veins at the thoughts that man evoked. Long hair framing a face so beautiful yet so masculine; a combination so strange and yet so familiar. His chest constricted when he remembered the pride wounded in those dark unfathomable eyes the moment he had stepped into the Uchiha manor, the regal head was bowed in failure. Yet the eyes shone with vigor and a purpose when they studied Shisui’s profile as if mocking the mercenary’s worth while the words that left Itachi’s mouth gave away nothing.
Then again Shisui remembered the time when he had captured Kabuto just to prove his worth to those demeaning eyes of the proud Uchiha. Eyes that had lit with pride and surprise when they roved over the body of the mercenary, unconsciously checking for injuries and eyes that turned to hard stones when they had rested on the culprit.
So much had transpired since then. Shisui was no longer treated like an ill-mannered barbarian by the people who worked closely with Itachi. As a matter of fact, Shisui himself had taken a liking to Itachi’s four-year-old brother Sasuke, who though vain and difficult in Shisui’s eyes, nonetheless always brought a smile to his face.
Shisui prided in himself for his control over his emotions. But that was before he stepped into the Uchiha manor and before he met Uchiha Itachi. Now everything flowed out of control. The need to make his lord happy seldom rode out rationality and he often found himself waging a war upon his heart. He wasn’t ready to dwell in those feelings. For now he just wanted to halt the horses of his heart and watch things unfold. He knew the moment Orochimaru was caught his place in this manor and in his lord’s bed too would be lost. That is, if he made it that far.
Itachi valiantly struggled with the stitches since some were none too cooperative. Somewhere amidst the third and fourth stitch Itachi felt his composure slip a notch when the stitches absolutely refused to budge, making Shisui flinch his leg violently.
“Pull harder Itachi,” Shisui whispered.
Once again blood began oozing out of the wound and the coppery tang shooting straight to Itachi’s head stirring a bout of nausea so strong that it almost had Itachi feeling dizzy. The sweat formed a stream on the pale forehead and began dripping slowly.
His disjointed thoughts halted when he felt Shisui’s hand on his shoulder. Whether the hand rested on his shoulder was one of comfort or of warning, Itachi could not fathom. All he knew was that if he did not end this task soon, he was going to lose all that he had eaten for nooning
Mercifully for him, Shisui placed a towel on the wound. “One would think you are too feminine in your approach Milord.” Shisui began another lame attempt at humor.
“One wouldn’t think so if they knew their lord is averse to the stench of blood,” Itachi replied, shutting Shisui up for good.
Throughout the remainder of the process Shisui bore the tending stoically not even flinching one bit after the bloody stitch.
Finally Itachi’s head lifted. “Praise be, we are done.” He managed a weak smile at the mercenary.
Shisui returned the smile and spoke nothing.
“Are you alright?” Itachi asked alarmed by the silent demeanor of the usually talkative mercenary.
“Aye, Milord.” He nodded.
Itachi pointed towards the wound and asked, “Does it hurt much?”
Shisui shook his head. “Let’s assume I’m happy there were only eight stitches not nine.” He allowed himself the ghost of a smile.
“Does it still bleed?”
To this, Shisui lifted the towel, nodded and placed it right back.
“I’ll put some gauge on it.” Itachi bent to pick up the gauge and then recalled the distraught condition his touch brought upon the other man and instead of doing the job, handed the roll to Shisui to wrap it up himself.
Shisui held out his hand and caught Itachi’s wrist. “Itachi-” he began weakly, his voice tinged with uncertainty but carrying an underlining of promises and secrets.
Itachi’s heart sped up at the mercenary using his name. Needs that he had never experienced during the twenty-two years of his existence flared in his body like a fire gone untamed as it slowly licked and devoured his sanity and rationality. For once he wanted to go of being his father’s son or the lord of the manor, Sasuke’s brother, and just wanted to be held.
For once he wanted to discard his godly status and give into his insecurities and be human. He wanted to give into the feelings Shisui invoked in him. Feelings he had only heard of from the wenches who worked in the manor or those who warmed his bed when the needs rose out of proportion.
His fleeting judgment returned with the sound of dropped cutlery that rang out in the hall, the sound echoing in the silence.
He quickly turned his palm and pressed the gauge into the mercenary’s palm before turning around and sauntering towards the door of the bedchamber.
His heart beat a funeral march slow and serene and his hands shook with the intensity of his emotion. His brain trying to focus through the fog of his dilemma but kept coming up empty handed.
The silence stretched between them like an awkward blanket with holes and tears in between filled with words unspoken and dark secrets begging to be revealed.
Itachi squared his shoulders upon reaching the doors of the bedchamber. In a voice so hoarse that Shisui must have surely strained his ears to hear, he whispered, “I have demons that haunt me.”
Behind him Shisui stood mute, dropping the blood-soaked towel, waiting for Itachi to continue unsure of the direction of the conversation. Finally when Itachi refused to elaborate Shisui asked, “What kind Milord?”
“Dark and ugly demons that raise their heads in the dead of the night unwilling me of my rest and no matter how much I try and vanquish them, they still roar in my ears.” Itachi whispered.
Shisui nodded in understanding to Itachi’s back. He knew what monsters Itachi was referring to. Insecurities and fear were some loathsome monsters to boot. But then wasn’t it Shisui’s job to see that all his lord’s demons stood defeated? He had pledged his loyalty and services to the Uchiha lord hadn’t he?
“Aye Milord,” Shisui intoned.
“But the demon that torments me the most is the one that took up residence in my bedchamber ever since you stepped in my life.” Itachi finally turned to face him.
Shisui nodded again; lust could be vexing. “By vanquishing this demon of yours, I do not wish to raise another.” Shisui cautioned, his eyes never leaving the dark ones of his lord.
Surely, Shisui had thought this through. If people caught wind of their ‘affair’ it would be scandalous, not to mention extremely perilous for Itachi and his position as the head of the manor. Besides, once Shisui’s job here was done he’d have to leave soon if he wanted to avoid the wagging tongues.
“Right now I just want one vanquished. I don’t wish to look into the gaps of what was there and what could have been there. For now, the other demons can wait.” Itachi whispered when he had finally crossed the distance between them.
“I will be here as long as you want me Itachi, quelling any demon that might rear its ignoble head in your direction.” He bent down and took Itachi’s lips in a kiss that totally belied Shisui’s role as a mercenary. The kiss was like a butterfly’s wings-barely there, yet evident on those rose dusted lips of Itachi.
“I am afraid that this demon might raise its ugly head again and again. I’m afraid that once I start I will never stop of wanting you, Shisui.” Itachi’s words came out strangled, evidently pushed out of his throat alien to the thought and idea of love.
“And I you,” Shisui whispered before taking Itachi’s mouth again, this time with the heady potency of someone going under.
And then all of a sudden it all stopped. Shisui held Itachi’s wrist in a vice-like grip and growled, “How many mates have you been with?”
Itachi’s lust filled gaze clouded over with confusion, “Just clumsy first-timers.” His voice sounded like Shisui might reject him for his lack of experience.
Little did he know that with this little confession, he almost brought Shisui to his knees. That was the moment when Shisui decided that if he couldn’t be Itachi’s only lover, he would be his best.
With that thought, he claimed Itachi in the most seductive kiss he had ever given anyone. “For someone so tough you sure have a feminine side of you, Shisui.” Itachi teased.
At that, Shisui puffed out his chest and growled, “You’ll see who is feminine when I’m done with you Itachi.” And then to add effect to the words, Shisui winked.
That sure did the trick. The tension dissipated and for the first time in his life Uchiha Itachi laughed till tears rolled down his cheeks.
Finally wiping away the last vestige of his tears Itachi whispered, “Tonight after supper, come by the Nakano. I will be waiting for you. This place is too chancy for our business. Besides,” he added, petting Shisui’s upper thigh very close to the parts of Shisui still randy, “the wound needs time to recuperate.”
And with that Itachi placed one chaste kiss on the hard and unyielding mouth of the mercenary, turned back towards the doors of the bedchamber, threw back the bolts, opened the door and strode out without turning back.
The epiphany would come later of course, much later when Itachi would have ruined him for all others and he would have fallen so hard that the damage would be irreparable. But for now basking in the warmth of Itachi’s smile was all he wanted.
It was as Itachi spoke, “One demon at a time.” The rest could wait.
Summary: AU. "Where do you want me?" Shisui asked innocently.The air became heavy as the question hung through the silence. Uchiha Itachi's heart leaped towards his throat at the hidden meaning of the words.
Rating: M (just to keep it on the safe side)
Warnings: Next to none. There is just a lot of formality which you will find justified when you read.
A/N: Finally the garbled mangled version of my first Itachi/Shisui fic. Aprt from that, new to LJ, new (as a writer) to this community.
Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reviews are much appreciated!
“Where do you want me?” Shisui asked innocently.
The air became heavy as the question hung through the silence.
Uchiha Itachi’s heart leaped towards his throat at the hidden meaning of the words.
“Here on the bed will be okay,” Itachi replied, quietly motioning towards the bed as he turned to bolt the doors of the bedchamber.
Wincing slightly, Shisui limped towards the bed, feeling uncertain as he faced Itachi. Do I have to remove my clothes?” he questioned in a politely but in a confused tone.
Was that a frightened tone I detect in his voice? Itachi wondered. Shisui? Frightened? The man has slaughtered a million enemies on the battlefield without batting an eye and now he stands quivering in my bedchamber?
He dismissed the thought. I must be hearing things. He nodded and turned away to offer some privacy. He fixed his attention on the equipments that would be required for the “business” that was about to be conducted in the bedchamber.
A basin of hot water, towels, bandages, small shears and the pincers all lay on his bedside table beside the night candle.
If I remove the stitches quickly and concentrate more on the job rather than on the fact that I might hurt Shisui, I will be good to go. Silently, Itachi prayed for courage.
“Would you rather have Anko tend to your wound?” Itachi asked, momentarily distracted by the shadows the candles in the room cast on the walls. The shadows moved in accordance with Shisui’s movements.
Like a wild, primitive dance of shadows licking the light, he thought.
“Nay, let us get this over with.” Shisui finally bit out, his dislike for the foul-mouthed housekeeper coating his words as he moved towards the wall.
He quickly removed his scabbard and settled his weaponry against the wall. His belt joined the objects on the floor and he hitched up his knee-length tunic to untie the strings of his breeches.
Itachi absorbed the sounds absentmindedly. He synched them with a scenario in his head. The sound of the tunic being hitched upwards did not fail him nor did the sound of what followed next.
The strings of breeches being undone came into his mind almost innocently. He was familiar with the process since it was something he did every night. However, the sound coming from behind burned a fire low in his belly and it became the most erotic sound he had ever heard.
How long has it been since he had lain with a man? Wenches were available aplenty ready to service him with the hopes of winning his heart or his desires at the very least.
But they were not what he desired.
If he was really being honest with himself, what he desired most at this moment was standing behind him undoing his breeches.
Out of pure curiosity he peeked behind him and blushed when the realization of what he could have seen unwittingly struck him. He quickly turned back around.
Shisui had the gall to chuckle.
“You find my granting you privacy amusing?” Itachi asked vexed.
“Surely there is no reason for you to panic. I assume you’re very well aware of how men are put together,” Shisui drawled in a somewhat amused manner.
“I do not want you to reveal what you may not wish to reveal. As you may know nature is not generous with all men.” Itachi replied stoically.
The sound of clothes ruffling brought Itachi back to his former game of placing sounds with the imagery in his head.
“I assure you Milord that nature has indeed been quite gracious to me,” Shisui retorted with laughter laced into his rich baritone.
With his back to Shisui, Itachi allowed himself to roll his eyes. He quickly masked his hesitancy behind a matter-of-fact tone. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”
This time the chuckle was bold enough to escape as a small laugh.
Shisui quickly rid himself of his breeches and sat down on the bed in a brisk manner, wincing slightly because of the wound on his thigh.
“You can turn around now. I am settled and modestly covered,” Shisui called when he hid his essentials with a towel.
Itachi turned around only to find Shisui sitting on the bed with his palms down at his sides on the mattress, grinning stupidly. He had purposely arranged his tunic such that only a portion of the muscled upper thigh remained would be exposed.
All wayward thoughts fled when Itachi’s eyes fell on the wound. Whoever had stitched up Shisui's wound had done a horrendous job. The stitches were too long and far apart. The skin around the wound had swollen red and the gash itself was frighteningly stretched. Itachi wondered how they were able to keep the wound closed. There were flakes of blood that marred the areas where the needle must have punctured the skin.
Vaguely, Itachi wondered how he was going to be able to remove the stitches when he knew that touching the wound alone would hurt Shisui.
“I am going to try and be as gentle as possible but I cannot promise you that this will not hurt,” Itachi warned as he grabbed the pair of scissors from the night stand. He settled his left hand near the first stitch and slid the blade of the shears underneath the stitch carefully.
It didn’t come off as it should, Itachi frowned with confusion.
“I think the thread has hardened. We need to make it soft before the stitches can come undone.” He slowly dipped a towel into the hot water, wrung out the excess, folded it into a pad and placed it over the wound.
He sat back on his haunches and regarded Shisui with a curious look; his head alight with a million questions.
As if he read Itachi’s mind, Shisui asked, “Do you not wish to know how I acquired such a ghastly wound?”
Itachi gazed into the depths of the dark eyes, trying to decipher the secrets to the man and silently nodded his ascent.
Shisui leaned back on his arms and smiled lazily as if he had the whole time in the world. “It was given to me by an enemy I thought I’d vanquished. But as it turned out, he had some life in him left; a silly mistake on my part which I hope to avoid in the future.” He sighed.
Itachi silently agreed with a nod; being very aware of the happenings of a war. He himself had been an active participant in many and thus he was aware of the barbarism of it all. But now was not the right time to delve into the solemnity of war and bloodshed.
Now was the time to sit back and wait for the thread binding the stitches to soak up the water and loosen up so that Itachi could get on to the process removing Shisui’s stitches.
Shisui was the mercenary he hired to help solve the mystery with a band of petty thieves who were trying to rob the Uchiha manor; thieves who should never have been a serious concern in the first place.
Itachi was, after all the golden child, or as the elders termed it “The Prodigy”. The bandits were smart but Itachi was smarter; hence the chase should have been nothing but child’s play.
It was ironic, really how much Itachi had underestimated the situation. It turned out, the bandits, the bloody bandits had it all planned. For the first time in his life the taste of defeat had Itachi reeling in shock. The bitter taste of being triumphed over would never leave his tongue.
The stolen objects were trivial, nothing worth mourning for. The church’s chalice, the chicken from the manor kitchen, the cobbler’s most prized cow were just some items on the list. But they were not what bothered the Uchiha. What really miffed Itachi the most was the fact that the deeds were done right under his nose and that too in the broad goddamned daylight!
Personally Itachi had doubts about the true intentions of the bandits. He theorized that the bandits were just doing this to either peeve him into quitting his office as the lord of the manor or to prove him inept that the council would throw him off this prestigious title.
Deep inside Itachi knew that losing his position as the head of the clan would not be acceptable since that would mean disappointment as a son to a man as flawless as Fugaku Uchiha and then there was Sasuke, his younger brother; the boy he’d give up his everything to protect and one day hand over the rule to. Therefore, quitting or being compelled to quit was not a plausible option. Besides, if these weren’t reasons enough, Itachi’s own perseverance was enough to surmise per se.
He tried, he really did, to track them down and give them a flavor of his fabled sword and ultimately prove his ability as a ruler. The need to justify his father’s reasons for choosing him as the heir was overpowering so much that at times it made him see red.
Finally, when everything else failed he was reduced to hire help in the form of a mercenary; a human very much like him but with more experience on the battlefield. If anything, Itachi should have hired a set of professional spies and the job would have been done.
But no! The council had demanded he hire a mercenary and so a mercenary he hired.
On the appointed day of the mercenary’s arrival, Itachi had waited in the great hall for the “savior” to arrive with little gusto and much scorn.
Then without warning, Shisui had slammed the main gates of the great hall opened and strode in unannounced in all his manliness with his tall frame dwarfing everyone in the hall, all sinewy muscles and unruly curls and a charming smile; the “stride” looked more like a valiant limp to a mentally seething Itachi. Shisui whose prowess with a sword was legendary, Shisui with his midnight eyes holding so much of appeal that Itachi’s knees had buckled when those eyes had locked with his.
Itachi had stood up from his seat and defying all the rules of hatred and chagrin that ever existed, welcomed the man with a show of pompousness and good spirits. The words Itachi spoke should have dripped with venom but came out sweet as honey as he offered the man a seat on his table and some of his best mead.
It was funny really for Itachi to behave so out of character with a man he barely knew much less liked. But despite all his misgivings for the guest, Itachi sat beside him and explained the situation at hand.
The questions Shisui had put across during the course of the conversation were nothing short of genius. Never in his life had Itachi been so engrossed in talking to a person. In fact, as the evening wore on Itachi began the feelings of a reluctant attraction to the mercenary, so much so that when Shisui offered to lay his pallet in front of Itachi’s bedchamber for his safety, Itachi had all but rolled his eyes at the man and fought the urge to offer a spot on his own bed instead.
It was three and a half weeks of a smart chase with skimpy results that Itachi felt the first stirrings of doubts about Shisui’s capabilities. If Itachi really reflected on the matter he would note that Shisui spent more time inside the manor than outside.
The suspicions were just about to confirm themselves when Shisui took him by storm one rainy afternoon as he once again strode in the great hall with a bundle on his back. The “bundle” upon identification turned out to be Yakushi Kabuto, the captain of the army who refused to divulge any names and just sat there mute and lifeless no matter what degree of threat was imposed.
It was finally Shisui’s frustration that compelled him to resort to chopping off one of Kabuto’s bony and ugly finger. The “deed” was done with such elegance and precision that it was impossible for Itachi not to be fascinated. This must have touched a nerve because suddenly Kabuto screamed a name sounding like a wench in the throes of passion; Orochimaru.
Orochimaru was the local vicar and evidently a member of the band. Itachi was beyond irritation at this point of time let out an indignant shout as the name spilled from Kabuto’s lips.
The mercenary however did not wait to watch more of the unfolding drama. When Itachi let out the shout he was already mounting on his horse to search for the villain.
But Fate could not have been crueler in their means. Orochimaru, the bloody bastard had already fled the town in the dead of the night. Shisui ground his teeth and frustration and later vented it out on an unsuspecting Kabuto taking two more of the cursed fingers. His one and only chance to prove Itachi’s decision in hiring him correct having slipped away.
He’d cursed Orochimaru to the pits of hell. The next thing to become his target for laying a curse on was the deep gash on his thigh, which prevented excessive movement and became a hindrance in the entire ordeal.
Slowly Itachi removed the damp towel off Shisui’s well muscled thigh when he was sure that enough time had elapsed for the wound to soak the water and soften.
Once again he slipped the shears under the first stitch and laid his other hand high on top of Shisui’s inner thigh. Just as he was about to tip the blade upwards Shisui let out a slow hiss.
Looking up quickly to inquire the cause of the sound, Itachi’s eyes locked with something he’d hoped not to encounter during the course of the entire ordeal.
Standing right before him were Shisui’s randy parts in their full glory poorly concealed by a meager towel.
The sight truly was magnificent to behold as Itachi felt his own body surge to life as an answer to Shisui’s call to mate, making blood flow into his cheeks.
“Mayhap it was better if you were tended by another?” Itachi asked looking uncomfortable.
“Do I frighten you Itachi?” Shisui asked, sensing his discomfort.
Itachi shook his head in the negative. Certes, he was a little uncomfortable but not on the verge of fleeing the bedchamber.
“When a man is touched so intimately, he is hard pressed not to want more.” He sighed, “And I am but a human, Itachi.”
Choosing to ignore the hard length under the towel, Itachi decided to concentrate more on the task at hand. Tipping the shears up, he tugged at the first stitch and the hiss that left Shisui’s mouth was one of pain.
Tiny beads of sweat broke out on Itachi’s forehead, making him seem like a cowardly woman. Slowly and gradually he repeated the process on all of the eight stitches that had somehow held together the huge wound all this time.
With half an ear he listened to a hyperventilating Shisui, who’d resorted to babbling mumbo jumbo as a means of distraction.
“So after the fool who attacked me was completely vanquished,” Shisui was saying with a venomous glint in his eyes, “I looked around for someone who could stitch me up. You know, like stitch this wound up. I was-” the tone turned a little sheepish, “limping across the field when I spotted the squire’s son. One look at the wound from him and five minutes later the gash was tied together.”
Having finished the task of cutting the stitches Itachi looked up. “Why the squire?”
“Maybe because he was the only one available who had the thread and needle?” Shisui shot back at Itachi and shrugged. “Besides one is not very particular when one’s thigh is slashed open.”
Itachi looked down at the wound and picked up the pincers to pluck out the thread from the wound. “Why did you not seek a physician later?” he inquired, prodding the wound.
This time Shisui let out a full rumbling laugh. “You question like a woman, Itachi. You should know better. Warriors like us have better things to do than go see a physician who might chain us to empty beds.”
Itachi did not reply to that and instead concentrated on the wound.
Plucking the thread is like plucking the feathers of chicken. Anko’s words rang in his ears.
Shisui studied Itachi’s dark head as the latter worked on pulling his stitches. He could not identify the feelings coursing through his veins at the thoughts that man evoked. Long hair framing a face so beautiful yet so masculine; a combination so strange and yet so familiar. His chest constricted when he remembered the pride wounded in those dark unfathomable eyes the moment he had stepped into the Uchiha manor, the regal head was bowed in failure. Yet the eyes shone with vigor and a purpose when they studied Shisui’s profile as if mocking the mercenary’s worth while the words that left Itachi’s mouth gave away nothing.
Then again Shisui remembered the time when he had captured Kabuto just to prove his worth to those demeaning eyes of the proud Uchiha. Eyes that had lit with pride and surprise when they roved over the body of the mercenary, unconsciously checking for injuries and eyes that turned to hard stones when they had rested on the culprit.
So much had transpired since then. Shisui was no longer treated like an ill-mannered barbarian by the people who worked closely with Itachi. As a matter of fact, Shisui himself had taken a liking to Itachi’s four-year-old brother Sasuke, who though vain and difficult in Shisui’s eyes, nonetheless always brought a smile to his face.
Shisui prided in himself for his control over his emotions. But that was before he stepped into the Uchiha manor and before he met Uchiha Itachi. Now everything flowed out of control. The need to make his lord happy seldom rode out rationality and he often found himself waging a war upon his heart. He wasn’t ready to dwell in those feelings. For now he just wanted to halt the horses of his heart and watch things unfold. He knew the moment Orochimaru was caught his place in this manor and in his lord’s bed too would be lost. That is, if he made it that far.
Itachi valiantly struggled with the stitches since some were none too cooperative. Somewhere amidst the third and fourth stitch Itachi felt his composure slip a notch when the stitches absolutely refused to budge, making Shisui flinch his leg violently.
“Pull harder Itachi,” Shisui whispered.
Once again blood began oozing out of the wound and the coppery tang shooting straight to Itachi’s head stirring a bout of nausea so strong that it almost had Itachi feeling dizzy. The sweat formed a stream on the pale forehead and began dripping slowly.
His disjointed thoughts halted when he felt Shisui’s hand on his shoulder. Whether the hand rested on his shoulder was one of comfort or of warning, Itachi could not fathom. All he knew was that if he did not end this task soon, he was going to lose all that he had eaten for nooning
Mercifully for him, Shisui placed a towel on the wound. “One would think you are too feminine in your approach Milord.” Shisui began another lame attempt at humor.
“One wouldn’t think so if they knew their lord is averse to the stench of blood,” Itachi replied, shutting Shisui up for good.
Throughout the remainder of the process Shisui bore the tending stoically not even flinching one bit after the bloody stitch.
Finally Itachi’s head lifted. “Praise be, we are done.” He managed a weak smile at the mercenary.
Shisui returned the smile and spoke nothing.
“Are you alright?” Itachi asked alarmed by the silent demeanor of the usually talkative mercenary.
“Aye, Milord.” He nodded.
Itachi pointed towards the wound and asked, “Does it hurt much?”
Shisui shook his head. “Let’s assume I’m happy there were only eight stitches not nine.” He allowed himself the ghost of a smile.
“Does it still bleed?”
To this, Shisui lifted the towel, nodded and placed it right back.
“I’ll put some gauge on it.” Itachi bent to pick up the gauge and then recalled the distraught condition his touch brought upon the other man and instead of doing the job, handed the roll to Shisui to wrap it up himself.
Shisui held out his hand and caught Itachi’s wrist. “Itachi-” he began weakly, his voice tinged with uncertainty but carrying an underlining of promises and secrets.
Itachi’s heart sped up at the mercenary using his name. Needs that he had never experienced during the twenty-two years of his existence flared in his body like a fire gone untamed as it slowly licked and devoured his sanity and rationality. For once he wanted to go of being his father’s son or the lord of the manor, Sasuke’s brother, and just wanted to be held.
For once he wanted to discard his godly status and give into his insecurities and be human. He wanted to give into the feelings Shisui invoked in him. Feelings he had only heard of from the wenches who worked in the manor or those who warmed his bed when the needs rose out of proportion.
His fleeting judgment returned with the sound of dropped cutlery that rang out in the hall, the sound echoing in the silence.
He quickly turned his palm and pressed the gauge into the mercenary’s palm before turning around and sauntering towards the door of the bedchamber.
His heart beat a funeral march slow and serene and his hands shook with the intensity of his emotion. His brain trying to focus through the fog of his dilemma but kept coming up empty handed.
The silence stretched between them like an awkward blanket with holes and tears in between filled with words unspoken and dark secrets begging to be revealed.
Itachi squared his shoulders upon reaching the doors of the bedchamber. In a voice so hoarse that Shisui must have surely strained his ears to hear, he whispered, “I have demons that haunt me.”
Behind him Shisui stood mute, dropping the blood-soaked towel, waiting for Itachi to continue unsure of the direction of the conversation. Finally when Itachi refused to elaborate Shisui asked, “What kind Milord?”
“Dark and ugly demons that raise their heads in the dead of the night unwilling me of my rest and no matter how much I try and vanquish them, they still roar in my ears.” Itachi whispered.
Shisui nodded in understanding to Itachi’s back. He knew what monsters Itachi was referring to. Insecurities and fear were some loathsome monsters to boot. But then wasn’t it Shisui’s job to see that all his lord’s demons stood defeated? He had pledged his loyalty and services to the Uchiha lord hadn’t he?
“Aye Milord,” Shisui intoned.
“But the demon that torments me the most is the one that took up residence in my bedchamber ever since you stepped in my life.” Itachi finally turned to face him.
Shisui nodded again; lust could be vexing. “By vanquishing this demon of yours, I do not wish to raise another.” Shisui cautioned, his eyes never leaving the dark ones of his lord.
Surely, Shisui had thought this through. If people caught wind of their ‘affair’ it would be scandalous, not to mention extremely perilous for Itachi and his position as the head of the manor. Besides, once Shisui’s job here was done he’d have to leave soon if he wanted to avoid the wagging tongues.
“Right now I just want one vanquished. I don’t wish to look into the gaps of what was there and what could have been there. For now, the other demons can wait.” Itachi whispered when he had finally crossed the distance between them.
“I will be here as long as you want me Itachi, quelling any demon that might rear its ignoble head in your direction.” He bent down and took Itachi’s lips in a kiss that totally belied Shisui’s role as a mercenary. The kiss was like a butterfly’s wings-barely there, yet evident on those rose dusted lips of Itachi.
“I am afraid that this demon might raise its ugly head again and again. I’m afraid that once I start I will never stop of wanting you, Shisui.” Itachi’s words came out strangled, evidently pushed out of his throat alien to the thought and idea of love.
“And I you,” Shisui whispered before taking Itachi’s mouth again, this time with the heady potency of someone going under.
And then all of a sudden it all stopped. Shisui held Itachi’s wrist in a vice-like grip and growled, “How many mates have you been with?”
Itachi’s lust filled gaze clouded over with confusion, “Just clumsy first-timers.” His voice sounded like Shisui might reject him for his lack of experience.
Little did he know that with this little confession, he almost brought Shisui to his knees. That was the moment when Shisui decided that if he couldn’t be Itachi’s only lover, he would be his best.
With that thought, he claimed Itachi in the most seductive kiss he had ever given anyone. “For someone so tough you sure have a feminine side of you, Shisui.” Itachi teased.
At that, Shisui puffed out his chest and growled, “You’ll see who is feminine when I’m done with you Itachi.” And then to add effect to the words, Shisui winked.
That sure did the trick. The tension dissipated and for the first time in his life Uchiha Itachi laughed till tears rolled down his cheeks.
Finally wiping away the last vestige of his tears Itachi whispered, “Tonight after supper, come by the Nakano. I will be waiting for you. This place is too chancy for our business. Besides,” he added, petting Shisui’s upper thigh very close to the parts of Shisui still randy, “the wound needs time to recuperate.”
And with that Itachi placed one chaste kiss on the hard and unyielding mouth of the mercenary, turned back towards the doors of the bedchamber, threw back the bolts, opened the door and strode out without turning back.
The epiphany would come later of course, much later when Itachi would have ruined him for all others and he would have fallen so hard that the damage would be irreparable. But for now basking in the warmth of Itachi’s smile was all he wanted.
It was as Itachi spoke, “One demon at a time.” The rest could wait.