Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Planning	By : SakikuTorakak Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1247 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto; neither the character nor the fandom nor any franchise associated with it. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Planning
- 1
Summary: Itachi has plans. Plans that demand him to have sex. Plans that demand him to be submissive. Plans to remove one of the biggest threats to Konoha: his ancestor Madara. (kind of prequel to MANIPULATIONS)

A/N: Once again, a response to a kink meme. The original prompt was Madara/Itachi with domination, but no Master/slave relationship or OoC submissiveness. Itachi should be his usual strong self but Madara being able to break him a little.

-=-

Planning

“Itachi. Stay behind.”

Itachi didn’t say anything to acknowledge Pein’s command. Instead, he merely kept standing there while the other Akatsuki members - those present in person and not as hologram - filed out. Kisame, his partner, threw him a leer because he knew exactly what was going on. Same as Itachi did.

Once they were alone, Pein, or at least the corpse commanded by their leader’s will, motioned towards a door leading deeper into their Amegakure fortress. “He’s waiting for you.”

Itachi nodded wordlessly and followed the gesture. He knew very well who Pein was talking about, and he knew that part of the fortress equally well.

Silently, he moved through the unlit hallways, his cloak gliding along with him. It was dark, but not so dark that his sharingan couldn’t pierce it. There was nobody else in the vicinity, the rooms abandoned and isolated.

Except for one room.

He stopped in front of a door that looked exactly like all the others, and entered. Contrary to the dark hallways, there were torches burning inside. Their flickering light illuminated a large bed, a leather couch, a small table with refreshments - the tea laid out for two was still steaming - , and two more doors leading off to a bathroom and a kitchenette. No windows.

Nobody was present, but that was as usual. Itachi closed the door behind himself and waited. There were games being played, and the waiting game was one of them.

He stood there silently, motionlessly, about a foot from the door. His eyes stared off into nothing as he simply kept waiting. There was no better way to lose the game than let it get to him and make him impatient or nervous.

Time passed. The tea was probably being kept warm by seals because it was still steaming. More time passed; the absolute silence of standing in a room deep inside the abandoned wing of a fortress rang in his ears.

There was no warning, not even a brief flare of chakra. One moment he was alone, the next he wasn’t.

Itachi didn’t flinch when a person suddenly melted into existence next to him as if they had always been there. Same hair color, same eye color, same clothes, nearly the same build as him. He didn’t startle because he was used to Madara’s peculiar space-time-warping method of transportation. After all, he had known his ancestor for a third of his life.

“What do you want?” Itachi asked without preamble.

Madara merely smiled and stepped a half-step closer into Itachi’s space. Itachi didn’t budge although they were uncomfortably close now. He held still under Madara’s intense scrutiny. Even when their gazes met in a hard and long stare, he didn’t back down.

“Take off your cloak,” Madara commanded from less than three inches away, still with that unreadable smile on his face. “Have tea with me.”

Have tea with me. Itachi beat down on the victorious smirk before it could even flavor his chakra, let alone appear on his face. Have tea with me was practically a synonym for Let me fuck you. It appeared his manipulations had paid off once again. Or Madara had decided to humor him. Didn’t matter. Next time he’d only have to get Madara to drop the tea and go straight for the fucking.

But this wasn’t next time. This was this time. And he’d still have to go through the fucking part to slowly build Madara’s perception of him in the image Itachi wanted him to have. One of hidden reluctance but complete obedience to his ancestor’s commands. A dog who knows its place in the pack hierarchy and knows it can’t fight its alpha.

There was no other way to get Madara to let down his guard enough to skip the tea.

So Itachi undid the clasp and didn’t drop the cloak to the floor like a petulant child would have. Instead, he stepped out from where his ancestor had almost backed him into the wall, carefully smoothed out the black fabric with the red clouds and hung it over the back of the couch in lieu of a better place.

Unhurriedly, he approached his ancestor who was holding out one of the tea cups to him. With a brief nod of something that might be interpreted as thanks but definitely wasn’t, Itachi accepted the cup and took a first sip.

Of course it wasn’t only tea. Madara hadn’t even bothered to choose a blend that would hide the tangy bitterness of the poison that was going to leave both his muscles and his chakra sluggish to control for the next couple of hours. Itachi drank nonetheless and didn’t spill a drop under Madara’s watchful gaze.

When he was done, his ancestor smiled at him a bit more widely and took back the cup. Finally, his ancestor took that half-step back that returned them to their original distance. “Now strip.”

And Itachi stripped while the poison was slowly working its way into his body.

He didn’t make it into a teasing effort or seductive allure. It was nothing but the simple motion of taking off his clothes, gradually unwinding the bandages keeping various weapons holsters on his body. He kept his face blank even as Madara was watching him with a mixture of humor and hunger in his eyes.

One day, Madara was going to forget to give him the poison beforehand. One day, Madara was going to consider Itachi obedient enough that he wouldn’t need it anymore. And that day, Itachi was going to strike.

No matter how good a ninja’s chakra control was; no matter how godly their techniques were - during orgasm, there was a tiny, brief moment when chakra couldn’t be molded. Not because of a lack of concentration or willpower, but because it was physically impossible through the surging currents of release.

And that was the moment Itachi was going to use. With a being as dangerous and as far out of Itachi’s league as Madara, there was no other way than such underhand methods. Itachi had known his ancestor long enough to see countless assassination attempts fail. Some of them spectacularly. Most hadn’t even come close to touching him because of that space-time-jutsu Madara seemed to control as effortlessly as others did with their breathing.

But orgasm was going to leave his ancestor vulnerable for a tiny moment. And if Itachi managed to make use of that moment, he could rid Konoha’s of one of the biggest threats to its continued existence.

Right now though, Itachi was still working on giving Madara a false sense of security.

It was a close balance of making it seem like everything had been Madara’s idea while pretending to have a hidden motive of trying to use their intimacy to spy on his ancestor. Itachi had to make Madara believe that he had seen through Itachi’s game without rousing suspicion that there were even more layers underneath the underneath.

It had been a demanding game of wits even before Itachi had manipulated Madara into taking him to his bed the first time. Afterwards, it had only become more complicated to keep track of all the layers of pretense and deception.

“Get on the bed, elbows and knees.”

Itachi once again complied wordlessly. The first few times, he had kept his silence to maintain his distance and a modicum of control. But the man had quickly turned things on its head by forbidding Itachi to make any noise - which made it much harder all of a sudden. Itachi could either fight to stay quiet and thus confirm Madara’s control over him, or he could respond and lose that chance of staying aloof and untouchable.

Oh yes, the games didn’t stop at the door to the bedroom. That was only their beginning.

Kneeling like this with his legs spread and his ass in the air left him obscenely exposed and vulnerable. Especially as he could feel the poison working its way into his muscles and tear his coordination to shreds. Suddenly, something as simple as staying on his knees and elbows took all his concentration.

Behind him, the mattress dipped as Madara joined him on the bed. Without preamble, two hands grabbed his ass cheeks and roughly spread them apart to expose the hole between them. He could practically feel the critical gaze on that part of his anatomy, and he definitely felt the stream of cool air Madara blew across the sensitive skin there. His hole twitched reflexively, and he ignored the brief hitch in his breath.

“Mmmh,” Madara hummed thoughtfully. “Another couple of minutes, and you should be more relaxed. Until then, I think I can entertain myself otherwise. Remember. Don’t move and no sound.”

Itachi didn’t respond in any way because that would have meant breaking Madara’s command right off the bat.

Madara’s fingers released his ass and started wandering. They trailed down his inner thigh, then up again to his dick and balls. They expertly manipulated Itachi’s flesh, and Itachi could feel himself harden almost immediately. He had to bite back a gasp at the sudden onset of arousal when Madara started stroking his length slowly.

Madara chuckled. “That is right. You like that, don’t you? And if I remember correctly, you like this, too…”

Instead of a soft palm sliding over his flesh, it was suddenly the edge of a blunt fingernail running down his member from base to tip. It traced the heavy vein on its underside and applied a non-too-gently pressure, leaving behind a stinging welt.

Itachi froze completely as the fingernail neared his glans, and he didn’t even breathe when it made a slow circle around his crown tracing its way between foreskin and glans. Not quite painful, but a slight twitch and the fingernail would dig into the extremely sensitive flesh there.

His body, conditioned by many nights of similar attention from Madara, responded immediately. More and more blood pooled into his groin and he had to fight down a shiver. Madara’s finger was exquisitely tantalizing, bringing immense pleasure while the threat of pain was only a fraction of a millimeter away.

Itachi could feel the poison erode his control over his muscles, making it feel like he was coasting in an underwater current. Just without the water pushing and pulling him. Instead, it was Madara and the pleasure in Itachi’s veins.

Gasping quietly for air, Itachi tried not to move even as his ponytail kept tickling his face.

He didn’t know how long it took, because all his attention was taken up with staying as still as possible. His arms and legs felt weak and brittle, and his groin full to bursting, by the time Madara finally eased back. Once again his ancestor inspected his hole, this time tapping against it slightly with a finger. Itachi could feel how weak his reflexive clench was, the muscles there just as affected as the rest of his body.

Madara cuckled. “Now that is what I’m talking about. Nice and loose and ready to be filled. You really like that, don’t you? Tell me how eager you are.”

Grinding his teeth, Itachi panted quietly. That was the part he hated the most, being forced to beg. It was just one more of Madara’s dominance games, but one of the most effective.

“You don’t want me?” Madara actually had the gall to sound disappointed.

Itachi knew that, if he turned around, he’d find a wide, mocking smile on Madara’s face. Madara knew that Itachi would never say ‘no’, and he let Itachi know that.

So Itachi clenched his teeth and hissed out words he would never say normally. Words that expressed an eagerness he didn’t feel despite his state of physical arousal. And all of that only because Madara would love nothing more to hear reluctant, grudging stammering from him.

“Please fuck me, Madara-sama. I love the feel of your cock inside me, so strong and hard.” Delivered in Itachi’s usual deadpan, it sounded quite strange.

Madara just laughed. “My, my, what eloquent mouth you have. A bit more emotion next time, and you’d be the perfect material for a third-rate brothel.”

Third-rate!

Itachi exhaled slowly and didn’t say anything. This was just one of Madara’s attempts to get a rise out of him. He let it pass.

“But I guess your words were pretty enough,” Madara mused. Then he perked up again. “Use your hands to spread your ass apart.”

It took a lot of effort to get his uncooperating muscles to budge. Itachi carefully lowered his shoulders to the futon and forced his arms to reach back and up to get a hold of his own behind. His fingers almost refused to grip, just like Itachi refused to think about what humiliating picture he had to make. And somehow, he was still hard.

He could hear the cap of a bottle popping off, and the sound alone was enough to make his breath hitch in his throat. It was ironic that the simple sound of Madara getting out the lube was just as arousing as any physical touch. Almost more arousing.

Itachi stared blankly at the pillow in front of his face, musing dimly that its weave wasn’t completely even while Madara prepared him. The strokes were rough and hard, immediately starting out at two fingers and quickly working up to four. There was no care to make it pleasurable, just the bare mechanics of stretching and loosening the muscles.

Somehow, Itachi found that more arousing than if Madara had deliberately tried to extend any kind of foreplay.

Occasionally, Madara’s hand brushed against Itachis’ that were still holding him open, and Itachi deliberately didn’t react. Thanks to the muscle relaxant it was possible for Madara to go very fast, only the squelching sound and Itachi’s strained breathing breaking the silence.

Finally, Madara withdrew and wiped off his fingers on Itachi’s thigh, making Itachi grimace briefly. He absolutely hated it when Madara soiled him any more than absolutely necessary.

Then Madara moved between his lewdly spread legs, gripped Itachi’s hip hard, and positioned himself at Itachi’s entrance. Itachi froze, which once again made Madara chuckle.

“Mmh, you know the deal. Don’t move, don’t talk, don’t come before I do.”

Yes. Itachi knew the deal and hated it. Not because he wanted to be vocal or wanted to show his arousal. No, it was because Madara had told him to.

A very juvenile attitude, but somehow Madara just rubbed him wrong that way. Itachi was quite aware of that undesirable trait within himself, and while he was mature and self-controlled enough to completely suppress such irrational behavior he didn’t do so in this case. One more nail in Madara’s coffin if Itachi could convince his ancestor that Itachi couldn’t quite hide that flaw within himself. After all, a moody teen-ager was something completely different from a cold, calculated assassin planning out the best way to make the kill.

Before he could think further about the net he was slowly spinning around his ancestor, Madara moved. With a long stroke he pushed into Itachi, and Itachi did his best to strangle the groan in the depth of his throat. Fingers could only reach that far, and Madara was considerably longer. Madara pushed against muscles that hadn’t been stretched yet, forcing his way through with a bruised flare.

Itachi liked the deep pain this was going to leave for several days to come.

No matter how much he thought his ancestor needed to be killed, Itachi could freely admit that Madara knew exactly knew what Itachi liked. After all, it wasn’t that hard to do well with 80 years of experience under his belt.

Gasping silently, Itachi tried to stay somewhat balanced while Madara set up a rhythm that would have been hard to manage even with full control over his body. As it was, Madara thankfully got fed up after some time with the way Itachi was moved by his every thrust. He firmly pulled Itachi’s wrists to rest above his head, holding them down with one hand. The change in position made Madara bend over Itachi so far that his chest was nearly brushing Itachi’s back, and the cock inside Itachi finally hit his prostate.

Itachi twitched despite the muscle relaxant, and barely contained a moan. And still he hated the way Madara was leaning over him and fucking him like a dog in heat.

Time dilated as Madara was pounding into him, sending more and more jolts of pleasure to cloud his brain. Itachi’s world narrowed to ‘breathing’ and ‘holding still’ and ‘not coming’, and he nearly cursed when Madara’s hand found his unattended member.

Grimly he held on while pleasure was wrenched from him.

When Madara finally froze on top of him and started shooting his load, it wasn’t as much of a surprise for Itachi as it had been in the beginning. He had learned to tell Madara’s signs even when his own mind wasn’t working straight - just one more necessary detail for the execution of his plan.

And then Madara broke that brief moment of clarity by pulling hard on Itachi’s flesh, telling him to come, and Itachi convulsed silently in his own orgasm.

When his mind was working again, he was quite displeased to find Madara still buried inside him and resting most of his weight on Itachi’s back. Not only did Itachi’s muscles threaten to give out any second now, but Itachi was also a shinobi and shinobi hated being boxed in like that, rendered nearly helpless.

He endured and tried to ignore the feeling of arousal created by his current vulnerable state.

One day, all that work was going to pay off. One day.

-=-

A/N: As usual - what did you think? Reviews and comments very welcome!

If you want to see how much Itachi progresses a year or two down the line, go on and read Manipulations, a Madara/Itachi/Sakura threesome.

Sakiku
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Planning