It's been a few months hasn't it? This story takes quite a bit of time to write as each chapter is so long and I'm so busy TT^TT. Well here it is. It's in Itachi's 1st person point of view this time which should prove interesting.

There is only a small bit of smut in this and I won't warn you when it starts and ends because it's important to Itachi's character development...so...yeah. Sorry!

Regardless, I hope you enjoy it!

Neatest Handwriting. 100th Club. Recycled Science Fair Project winner three years in a row. Fifth Grade Challenge 24 Champion. State Spelling Bee Champion. Tri-State Junior Historian Winner. First place winner of the 9th Annual "Make a Difference" essay competition. High school newspaper editor-in-chief and eventual editor. Vice president and eventual president of the high school speech and debate club. Recipient of the Hashirama Senju Award. Most likely to succeed. High school valedictorian summa cum laude. Vice president and president of the college journalism club. Resident assistant and senior resident assistant. College valedictorian summa cum laude.

With every passing year, awards accumulate. Every new title holds more value than the one that preceded it. And with a resume like that, any parent would be proud.

Until you add two-bit whore to the list. Then everything changes.

It's not an official title you would add to your resume under SKILLS. It doesn't need to be. It is a brand, a dark cloud that hovers above you and engulfs any other desirable qualities you might have.

I rest my head against the window of the metro car I'm riding in and screw my eyes shut as if doing so would be enough to erase the shame that coats my skin and smells of Kisame's shampoo. As if the memories of me panting the syllables of my co-worker's name wasn't enough of a reminder of my licentious acts.

Turning my head to the side slightly I open my eyes to lazily glance at the man sitting in the seat beside me. He's balding, appears to be in his mid-forties and is noticeably overweight. His hands rest in his lap cradling a slim black phone as he composes a text message using his thick thumbs. Every so often he smiles a little which illuminates the crow's feet adorning the corners of his eyes.

I can't help but wonder if this man knows how much of a slut I am. If he thinks my hair looks too clean after a nine hour work day or if he's noticed that I smell too strongly of Bearglove Old Spice to have showered at 6 AM this morning. What's more, I don't even have a duffle bag to use the gym as an excuse.

Do I even strike the general population as someone who would smell of Bearglove Old Spice? Would that be a giveaway?

If it is, this man has either noticed and simply doesn't care to comment, or is too enthralled with his conversation about his wife or whomever he's texting's day to notice or care about what I smell like.

At least Kisame's soap is strong enough to mask the odor of sex even if I have to smell like him for the remainder of the evening, I muse as I straighten up in my seat. I've come to realize that I spent way too much of my time slouching after leaving Kisame's place. I'd rather not wait for the regulars of the metro to catch onto my "recline of shame" if you will. "Hold yourself with confidence and everyone will believe that you feel confident. Show them a second of weakness and they will begin to doubt you." These may be the only words of encouragement I've ever received from my uncle and ones I have been reminding myself of for the past five months. I can only imagine what he would say if he knew what I've been up to these days. "Sleeping with a co-worker? Do you want to earn a bad reputation for yourself at work? Can you honestly tell me that you want to be the person your other co-workers talk about at the water cooler, assuming that you haven't slept with them already? Now I don't know what kind of damage your parents did to you while they were alive but I know damn well that I raised you better than that."

That was a start at least. It wouldn't be a proper Madara Uchiha lecture if he didn't scold me by describing my actions as being a "disgrace to the Uchiha family name" at least once throughout the conversation.

It's 7:33 by the time I set foot in my apartment and once inside I waste no time in shedding my clothes in the privacy of my bedroom and step into the shower to rid myself of the Bearglove smell. This will mark my third shower of the day, another ritual I've come to embrace over the past several months. The first is to make myself presentable for work. The inevitable second shower is to purge myself of the post-sexual musk that clings to me like a second skin and follows me around like a stray dog. And the third is a shameful attempt to completely eradicate the smell of Kisame's soap, shampoo, his semen, the sex, the events of the evening, any thoughts pertaining to sex throughout the day - all of it. By the time I am done, my hair is clean, dry, and free of tangles. Even then I cannot recognize the man staring back at me when I look in the mirror.

And I fear that I never will.

Though I may not smell like Kisame anymore, the physical reminders still remain. Namely, my ass is sore and my coccyx feels like somebody took a hammer to it. Repeatedly. No matter how gingerly I move across my apartment, my tailbone aches, my sides constrict (the tell tale blossoming of bruises has already begun), and my stomach does backflips.

I can clearly picture Kisame smirking in what he would consider a victory, crippling me before I retire to bed for the evening.

It takes me twice as long to enter my kitchen than it would on a day I've not spent letting Kisame fuck the living daylights out of me and once there I can only think of how good this cup of instant cheddar and broccoli soup will taste when it reaches my lips in two minutes, forty three seconds and counting.

No. All I can think about is how much my ass is going to hurt when I sit down in my cheap swivel chair tomorrow morning at work. Fuck.

I thought sex was supposed to be fun, I think to myself as I watch the soup container spin in the microwave. Engaging in events you find pleasure in shouldn't result in residual pain that subsides after a day or leave you racked with guilt for a week. Right? But what would I know? I can't remember the last time I did anything "fun."

-8-8-8-

When I pull into the parking lot at work I'm relieved that Kisame has yet to arrive. Making conversation with him about last evening's events is literally the last thing I want to do today. If it can be helped, I want to avoid having any conversation with him today since every conversation he's interested in having with me revolves around sex.

I'm halfway to the back entrance of the building when I hear a car door shut. Instinctively I look over my shoulder to see who it is and immediately turn away. Of course.

"Itachi! Wait up!" Kisame calls after me.

I pretend not to hear him and quicken my pace.

"Wait for me!" He yells and locks his car.

Despite my long strides, Kisame is taller than I am and feels no shame in jogging across the parking lot to catch up to me. If I were to do the same, I'd be breathless, sweaty, and my hair would need to be combed through.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" He asks once we're walking side by side.

He's not gasping for breath nor does he smell of sweat. And there's enough gel in his hair to hold the same characteristic point. "I've a busy schedule today."

"I told you to take the day off."

I know that it's rude, but I can't resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"There's still time, you know. You can still call in sick."

"Would you call off if I called off?" I ask even though I already know the response.

"In a heartbeat!"

Figures. "Don't you think people would find it suspicious if we both happened to call in sick at the same time?"

Kisame shrugs, raises his identification badge to the sensor and holds the door open for me. "We're not even from the same department! I doubt anyone will care."

In spite of Kisame's chivalry, I open the opposite door and let myself in. "I think enough people are aware of our acquaintance to make the connection, Kisame."

"What acquaintance? I don't know you!" He jokes.

"We eat lunch together."

"Barely!" Kisame scoffs. "You never have time!"

"Which is exactly why I cannot afford to unnecessarily take the day off." I tell him and press the button to summon the elevator. Though I hate to be in an enclosed space with this man, I have no other choice. Our office is on the sixth floor and while he might have the stamina to climb twelve flights of stairs this morning, I do not and would greatly prefer to save my energy for my work.

"Did you wake up sore this morning?" Kisame asks once we're inside the elevator.

"I went home sore." I answer and pull out my phone. If I appear distracted, maybe he'll take the hint and leave me alone.

"But it was all worth it, right?"

"You mean your repeated attempts to break my tailbone? Oh definitely." I mutter.

"Oh come on! I was not that rough! And if I ever do anything to hurt you, you can always tell me! I would've slowed down! But you seemed like you were enjoying yourself!" He protests and leans over to whisper something in my ear. "Besides, you know you like it rough."

The elevator doors could not have opened at a more perfect time. "I'll talk to you later, Kisame."

"Wanna grab lunch today?" He calls after me.

"We'll see." I call back.

-8-8-8-

"APARTMENT METH LAB EXPLOSION INJURES 32, KILLS 7" I type across the top of my completed article for tomorrow's paper. The incident occurred shortly after 10 AM this morning and quickly became the focus of my day. I wasted no time traveling to the scene, interviewing local policemen and women, victims of the explosion, EMT's and those passing by. Once I had gathered enough information I hurried back to the office to type it up.

By the time I give the article a title, a finishing touch I always save for last, it is five PM. I've already submitted a rough draft and final draft to my editor and only have to save it before I can head home for the day. And to think it only took two cups of coffee instead of the usual four.

I am leaning over my swivel chair to click the floppy disk icon at the top of my screen when a familiar figure enters my field of vision. What could you possibly want now? I ask myself. Sex most likely.

But before Kisame has the chance to utter even a word to me, the caller ID screen on my cell phone lights up. "Hello?" I answer, wasting no time so that Kisame doesn't have the chance to utter any sexual innuendos.

"Hey, it's me."

But by doing so, I've neglected to take notice of the person calling. Had I taken the time to look, maybe my chest wouldn't feel as tight as it does now. "Hey, is everything alright?" I ask and immediately seek refuge somewhere quieter. Kisame must have seen the change in my expression and quietly retreated back to his own desk. "Has she woken up?" I ask once I enter the north stairwell.

There is a sigh on the other end of the line. "No and Mebuki and I think it's time to...you know...let her go…"

My stomach twists into a tight coil and I suddenly regret opting to eat only a granola bar for lunch. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Kizashi hums in affirmation. "It's going to be hard, but...waiting for her to wake up isn't going to get any easier. It's been a month and there's...no sign of her coming out of this."

"What about Sarada?"

"We can't lie to her forever, Itachi. She keeps asking Mebuki and me 'when is mommy going to wake up?' and we keep saying 'soon, sweetheart, soon,' when we don't know if she ever will or not."

I run my fingers through my bangs and hold them together on top of my head. "What are you going to tell her if you do this? That she's never going to wake up?"

"We're not sure yet…"

I release the fringes entwined between my fingers. One by one, the ebony strands fall to frame my face once more. To hide the consternation painting my features. "And what will you say when she wants to visit her, Kizashi?"

"We don't know yet but we'll figure something out, Itachi. Are you at work?"

I consider this for a moment. "Yes."

"Hey listen, I'm really sorry for bothering you so late but we thought you should know."

A sigh of resignation forces itself from the bottom of my lungs. I lean over the railing and glance at the levels of stairs, repeating one after another. A bleak downward spiral. "So you're going to take her off life support tonight, I assume?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Again, I'm really sorry to have bothered you at work."

"Don't feel like you have to apologize." I tell him. "You don't have to apologize for anything."

Kizashi's end is silent for a moment. "Do you want us to let you know when...when she finally goes?"

It doesn't matter to me one way or another I want to tell him. The moment Kizashi called to inform me of their decision is the moment Sakura died and the moment Sarada lost her remaining parent in my mind. It makes no difference if he sends me a text or calls me to let me know the time of her passing. "If you want."

"Okay." Kizashi says. "Take care, Itachi."

"Take care." I answer back and hang up the phone. There are a million things that I should have said to offer him and his wife some reassurance but I myself is still grieving a loss. By no means am I the best candidate to bestow comfort in times like this.

Although Sakura is my brother's wife, I am slightly ashamed to admit that I never really knew her very well. I only know her through Sasuke, who, for so long referred to her as "the annoying girl in my class." Even when I offered to give them a place to stay when she became pregnant with Sarada, they opted to take up residence with her parents. So long as they had a roof over their head, I didn't care one way or another.

Pushing away from the railings I've been leaning on for the duration of the phone call, I decide to head back to my desk. My article's been finished and approved; all I have to do is save it to my desktop and print a copy for myself just in case. And while I have a little less than an hour left of the work day, I see no reason why I should spend it here.

Which leaves me no other choice than to go home to my empty apartment where I would most likely spend the rest of the evening staring at my phone, dreading the moment I receive the text that reads "it's over," or "she's gone."

"There you are!" Kisame's voice reverberates down the hallway. "I thought you'd left or something!"

Not now, Kisame. I think bitterly but do not quicken my pace to evade him. If I speed up, he'll jog to catch up to me. "The dentist called." I lie when Kisame's at my side. I lie to Kisame so frequently that it has become second nature to me. "They cancelled my appointment on Friday and wanted to know what date would work best for me next month."

"You can pencil me in on Friday now that you have free time." He suggests in a low tone. "Or you could squeeze me in right now if you have time. Or should I say, I could try to squeeze myself in any tight openings you might have"

I send him an exasperated glare that says "my brother's wife is being taken off life support as we speak and all you can think about is sex?" but it's not Kisame's fault he doesn't know what's going on in my life. What happens in my personal life does not make for very intimate foreplay before sexual activities I think with a devilish smirk.

"What do you want, Itachi?" Kisame would whisper into my ear as he begins to nibble the outer canal.

"For my brother to be alive to take care of his wife and daughter." I'd moan back.

It would go over Kisame's head at first because he would not be expecting such a response. After a few seconds he would question the seriousness of my statement and just like that, neither of us would be in the mood to have sex.

I'm fairly confident I could set the record for killing the mood.

"You can fit me in, right?" Kisame is asking me when I return to reality. "You can be flexible, can't you, Itachi?"

You remind me of my cousin. I want to tell him. When he was an immature seventeen-year old. "Maybe some other time." I say instead.

The edges of his mouth quirk upwards, showcasing his white teeth. "You're no fun."

Sasuke used to tell me the same thing when we were younger. I remember inwardly promising that I'd try to be "more fun" and keep up with my studies at the same time. To say the least, I failed and began to push him further and further away as we grew older.

Another regret to add to my ever growing list. "Late night?" I ask Kisame, pointedly staring at the Mountain Dew bottle he's holding in his hand.

Kisame brings the bottle halfway to his face as if to make the connection between my question and the object I was staring at before offering a reply. "Yeah." He sighs. "What about you?Almost finished with that article you've been working on yet?"

"Hm-hm. I just need to print out the final draft." I answer and realize with a start that I'm due to spend the remainder of the evening waiting for Kizashi's text message. If he remembers to send it that is.

"Lucky." Kisame says.

I beg to differ. I think bitterly and scan the nameplates of the passing rooms. When we approach room 6-33S I place my hand on the handle and push the door open. In a few seconds, Kisame will realize that I've stopped and will question what I need from this room.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

I feel along the wall for a light switch and flick it on to illuminate the small supply closet. Inside are various metal shelving units, filing cabinets and drawers housing things like printer paper, office pens, staple refills, paper clips and anything else one would need on a day to day basis. "I didn't know there was another supply closet on this floor until the other day and have been wanting to check it out."

I don't need to look over my shoulder to know that Kisame's perplexed. I pass this supply closet every day on my way to and from the office. In fact, I was just in here last Friday to pick up a binder clip. "You never knew this was here?" He asks, stepping inside.

I shake my head and pretend to be looking around. "I've always use the one by the printer." I say. Every label I glance at is another second spent not thinking about Sakura, Sasuke, Mebuki, Kizashi or even Sarada. "I wanted to see if there was more in here compared to the one I normally use."

Kisame has ventured inside by now and is taking in the stacks of manila folder boxes. "I think it's got a lot of the same stuff."

I stroll around him, continuing to scour the details of the room and move to lock the door.

"What are you doing?" Kisame asks.

I don't make eye contact with him. I just walk towards him ever so slowly and answer "You said you were in for a late night, correct?"

"Yeah…?"

"I have some time to kill before I return back to my apartment…" I say and run my fingers along his sides. When I come to the hem of his dress pants I tug at the seams on either side of his shirt and pull upwards to expose the remaining fabric from his trousers.

"Itachi, hold up, what are you doing?"

Had I been someone else, I might have stopped to second guess myself. But I don't. Kisame's confused, but he's not moving to stop me. Deep down he's hoping that this is going in the direction that he thinks it's going. "I'm not a lead for your upcoming story Kisame, you don't have to question me." I tell him and sink to one knee. Once I'm eye level with his groin I get to work unlatching his belt.

Kisame releases and uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah but...when we started seeing each other you were very specific about 'physical space' in the office."

By now I've undone his belt enough to be able to unzip his pants. I waste no time in pulling down his boxers to expose his wilting cock and take it into my hand. "Do you want me to stop then?" I ask and look up to meet his gaze with the most innocent expression I can muster.

"Are you sure you want to do th-isssssssawwwwwfuckkkkkkk yeah…"

Ever so slowly, I bring my mouth to the head, swirl my tongue around the tip and pull away so that my lips are inches from the slit. "I'm sorry what was that?"

"I just...are you sure you wanna…?" He attempts to ask but I can see his self-control dissolving with every rise and fall of his chest. And with every second that he hesitates I bring my face a little closer until my breath collides with the mushroomed head. "Keep going."

I smirk and focus my attention on the livening organ before me. I know from experience that there are several ways to tackle this. I could take him whole and try to encircle as much of him as I can until I gag - a rather unpleasant feeling - take him slowly and circle my tongue around the surface, making sure to give the thick vein residing underneath special attention, bob my head quickly up and down the length or a combination of the three.

Opening my mouth just enough to accommodate the head, I take him in slowly and shape my tongue into the letter "U" to sheath his cock in my mouth. I've been playing coy this whole time so I see no reason why I shouldn't continue with this little act.

Kisame remains silent as I do this which is uncharacteristic of him. When we engage in such activities at his home he treats me roughly and is very verbal about what he wants. The sudden change in location seems to have left him speechless and I can't have that. If Kisame's not talking while I'm sucking him off, it allows my mind to wander to the other things that are happening in my life which makes me feel guilty to the point of nausea. My brother's wife is being taken off life support as her parents watch and wait. And I'm sucking my co-worker's dick in a supply closet.

It's fitting for a two-bit whore such as myself. What do two-bit whores do when they suck one's cock? They moan. So I close my eyes, place my hands on Kisame's thighs and moan as I bob my head up and down the length of it. Slowly, ever so slowly as if savoring a delectable sweet.

This does the trick. "Jesus fucking Christ Itachi...ahhhhhh fuckkkkkk...yeah...fuck yeah…"

It's easy really. Though I hate to think of myself as such a lowly human being who distracts himself from stressful life events with sex, I like to imagine that I'm someone else. That it's not really me. I want a distraction and Kisame wants sex. He's happy. I'm happy. Everyone wins.

Shifting my hands from Kisame's thighs to the hem of his boxers and trousers, I hook my fingers to the inside of the cotton fabric and ease them both down to give myself more room to work with. Kisame's already shown signs of uncertainty. Although he's blissfully distracted at the moment, I want to drive him over the edge so that he can't think of anything other than fucking me into the concrete and decide to try something new.

With his boxers and trousers pulled to his knees, I pull away from his dick with a trail of saliva connecting the head to my lips and click my tongue. "You...are so...damn...conniving...you little…" He pants.

It's clear that he doesn't know what to say and I don't give him the chance to finish as I greedily take his heavy testicles into my mouth and suck them hard.

His knees buckle slightly, but he remains upright. Out of the corner of my vision a blurry white drop of semen escapes from his slit. As dirty as this all is, I want to come out of this looking as presentable as when I entered. That means my hair and clothes are to be sperm free by the time we reach the finish line. With that goal in mind, I release his balls and quickly latch onto the head of his cock, lapping at the bead of pre-cum that's formed there. And because I've embraced the persona of your average two-bit whore, I even suck and poke my tongue into the tiny slit in case there is more of that sticky substance lurking. There wasn't, but my gesture buys me a few more globulus beads of semen which I dutifully lick clean.

"God fucking dammit Itachi you give the best blow jobs…" Kisame moans. I bring a hand up to push my bangs behind my ears before working to undo my own belt. "What are you doing?" Kisame must have heard the clicking of metal and opened his eyes to see what I was up to.

"You didn't think I was going to pleasure you without getting anything in return, did you?" I ask him. "If you want, I'll let you pick the position."

For the second time, Kisame releases that nervous chuckle. As many times as he's fantasized about doing this, as much as he claims to want this, he's trying to give me an out. "The dentist needs to cancel your appointments more often because this...this was one of the best blow jobs of my life so far and I kinda want to ride it out because my dick is starting to hurt...but we don't have to go any further tonight, Itachi, this is good enough…"

It's not good enough though. If we stop now, I'll be left to my own devices for the rest of the evening and I can't have that. "All week you've been nothing but forthright with your desires." I begin and wrap my hand around his member. I've come too far to lose all my hard work now and slowly start to pump it. "You've never wasted any time in conveying your needs and have inserted a sexual innuendo into every conversation I've had with you all week."

"I know Itachi, but you said-"

"You even begged me to stay over last night and watch TV."

"I know but I have work to do and you said-"

"I know what I said, Kisame, but..." It's going to be hard, but...waiting for her to wake up isn't going to get any easier. It's been a month and there's...no sign of her coming out of this. "I need this."

He inhales a shaky breath. "Are you sure?"

Do you want us to let you know when...when she finally goes? "Positive" I say and stick out my tongue to give his head a quick lick to speed up the decision making process.

"What if somebody hears us? You locked the door but-"

"I can be quiet...in fact, I dare you to make me scream out in pleasure…" I tease, and take him in one last time, making eye contact all the while. It's been at least a minute since I've lubricated the object that will no doubt be forced inside me. I want it to be slick.

"Hands and knees. Right now." He commands.

I waste no time in complying and turn to face the door. I pray that the janitor won't swing by to do a quick once through while Kisame and I are fucking on the floor. It wouldn't be a bad idea after the fact but not while we're in the middle of it.

I bend forward slightly to brace myself with the palms of my hands when Kisame utters another command. "Spread your legs."

I spread my legs as far as they will go without ripping the seam of my pants. Not only will it be embarrassing to catch a taxi ride home with split pants but I really don't feel like adding clothes shopping to my list of errands for the upcoming weekend.

"Okay my little bitch…" Kisame begins and cracks his knuckles.

As far as Kisame's favorite nicknames for me go, "bitch" is a close second to "pretentious mother fucker," I've learned and have stored that little piece of information away for later use.

"You're going to drop your pants for me and then you're going to spread those pretty little ass cheeks open wide so I have a full view of that pretty little ass hole when it eats my cock whole...got that?"

I oblige like the obedient little slut I'm pretending to be and reach behind me. Kisame bends over behind me, places his left hand on top of my head and gently forces me towards the floor. I was hoping to avoid resting any part of my face on the dirty concrete for fear that a dust particle or something just as foreign would get into my eye and irritate my contact lenses. I suppose I asked for this when I chose this particular location.

I asked for all of this.

Actually, I take that back. I begged for this.

Begged like your average two-bit whore.

Hope you all enjoyed it!

I'm sorry to say I don't know when I'll get around to updating it again. I want to get around to some of my other stories before I focus on this one again. Plus I haven't given much consideration to chapter three (hehe). I do think I want it to be in Kisame's POV again which should be interesting.

BTW - I do have a tumblr account now where I'm trying to post what I'm working on and when. I also drew up a little sketch of Itachi and Kisame for this particular story (fully clothed - sorry!) but check it out!

SHOUT-OUTS

***To The Secret Sal: Part 2 of your belated birthday present - complete! ;P ~M.R.

***To AbsoluteAnarchy: It's been a while! Even my co-workers are saying "I haven't heard you talk about them lately" Shoot me an e-mail! (or e-mail what you have of the super long one! Mama misses her other child! TT^TT (truth be told I wanted to update a story - any story so I could hear from you again...)

***To Dragon77: Thank you for the review my darling~! Always appreciate!

***To teacup17: It's luck that I was hoping to update this when you favorited it. Please tell me what you think! I'm dying to know!

Much love to all who read and review!

Until next time~

Sasori33-001