[ Kisame's dreams are abstract, fueled by emotion rather than memory or fragmented logic. They are amplified to an unrealistic degree, allowing him to easily differentiate between the dreaming and waking worlds. So when he finds himself in Itachi's apartment, stretched out on the same bed in which he once curled with his partner, he does not suspect that this is a dream. Nor is there a twitch of tension when he realizes his position, or a crawling sense of self-awareness at how he is on display. Instead, there is only half-giddy anticipation, and beneath it, a quieter feeling akin to peace.
This feels natural. This feels right. This is precisely where he wants to be.
The tip of his tongue traces sharp teeth as he takes in that bold bite marking Itachi's shoulder. The memory of inflicting it (and many others) seems clear, sitting at the edge of his thoughts — but Kisame does not reach for it. Why would he? It is so much better to remain in this moment. So much better to drink in the sensation of slender fingers brushing a precious scar. So much better to watch, entranced, as Itachi moves up the mattress, the oversized shirt failing to mask smooth, controlled motions. It is his shirt, Kisame knows, and that fact fills him with heat — some in his chest, light and fluttering, and some pooling at the crux of his thighs, making his cock ache with longing.
A part of Kisame desperately wishes to reach out and touch Itachi, to slide his hands up those pale, widened thighs and nudge aside the hem of his shirt, exposing the lovely cock tenting dark fabric. But although his wrists test their bonds, Kisame does not break them. There is freedom in this confinement, in this surrender to his partner, and he does not wish to relinquish it.
Still, he cannot entirely suppress the way his hips twitch, muscles flexing with the restrained urge to thrust up into Itachi's slick, teasingly light grip — or rather, Itachi's touch, as it can hardly be called a "grip" yet. He exhales a laugh that masks nothing; at this moment, he is genuinely happy. ]
Oh, I don't know… Quite a while, perhaps. [ His tone is light, a contrast to his partner's that compliments rather than clashes, underlaid with the slightest tremor betraying the depth of his desire. ] I'm sure that you could change that if you tried. But is that really what you want to test…?
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This feels natural. This feels right. This is precisely where he wants to be.
The tip of his tongue traces sharp teeth as he takes in that bold bite marking Itachi's shoulder. The memory of inflicting it (and many others) seems clear, sitting at the edge of his thoughts — but Kisame does not reach for it. Why would he? It is so much better to remain in this moment. So much better to drink in the sensation of slender fingers brushing a precious scar. So much better to watch, entranced, as Itachi moves up the mattress, the oversized shirt failing to mask smooth, controlled motions. It is his shirt, Kisame knows, and that fact fills him with heat — some in his chest, light and fluttering, and some pooling at the crux of his thighs, making his cock ache with longing.
A part of Kisame desperately wishes to reach out and touch Itachi, to slide his hands up those pale, widened thighs and nudge aside the hem of his shirt, exposing the lovely cock tenting dark fabric. But although his wrists test their bonds, Kisame does not break them. There is freedom in this confinement, in this surrender to his partner, and he does not wish to relinquish it.
Still, he cannot entirely suppress the way his hips twitch, muscles flexing with the restrained urge to thrust up into Itachi's slick, teasingly light grip — or rather, Itachi's touch, as it can hardly be called a "grip" yet. He exhales a laugh that masks nothing; at this moment, he is genuinely happy. ]
Oh, I don't know… Quite a while, perhaps. [ His tone is light, a contrast to his partner's that compliments rather than clashes, underlaid with the slightest tremor betraying the depth of his desire. ] I'm sure that you could change that if you tried. But is that really what you want to test…?