Itachi took a sip from the glass full of wine, staring at the young blue man training in the vast room.

-Kisame.

His voice hold no hesitation; he wasn't trying to get his attention, merely saying his name. Kisame stopped working nonetheless. He was always eager to please Itachi, and eager to have the red-eyed man paying attention to him. He smirked, mostly because he had forgotten how to smile.

Itachi got up, and walked until they were close enough for him to see every curve on Kisame's skin - which wasn't that close anyway, Itachi having an amazing eyesight.

He didn't say anything - he never did. It would be admitting he liked being close to Kisame, and he couldn't do that. If Kisame knew Itachi found him useful in a way, he would see it as a weakness, and fight him in a way or another. So he stayed silent, and took Kisame's hand in his. He closed his fingers, and held it hard enough to hurt the young man.

Then he walked away, troubled as always. It was comforting, because he felt so alone, sometimes; and it was hurtful, because he had lost a bit of his freedom in Kisame's hands.

Yet he knew how to stop his troubled mind from thinking any further. He let his coat fall on the floor, removed the rest of his clothes and stayed still, naked, watching Kisame with uninterested eyes.

The blue man undressed, too, and Itachi watched him without any curiosity. He wanted pleasure. Why would he care what Kisame looked like ? He wasn't even excited, only bored. His life, sometimes, seemed to be a long chase of grey and vague pleasures, and being satisfied always let him tired, tired with the mere fact he was living.

Kisame wasn't like that. He already had an erection when he took Itachi in his arms; they both knew he was going to like it, they both knew Itachi wasn't. Yet it was always Itachi who made the first move; maybe because he didn't care if Kisame was unsatisfied, mayber because he was stronger and more self-assured. He took Kisame's hand in his and brought it to his manhood; the Akatsuki member caressed him lightly, then harder; Itachi spilled his semen on his hand, and everything was over.

They dressed up, Itachi went back to his room, not saying a word.

Maybe having everything the world had to offer wasn't such a good thing.