Swan Song
Light Theme 
Dark Theme
Sasuke quivered, a mixture of disbelief and primal excitement fueling him as he looked down at his older brother thrashing underneath his focused grip. His heart pounded loud in his ears, loud enough to drown out the rhythmic panting from both parties at the end of what had been a long fight. A lifelong fight. The peak of years and years of searing anger made Sasuke’s blood burn, making him snake his grip tighter around Itachi’s arms, coiling himself around his prey.
It didn’t take longer than a few seconds for him to be on top of his brother, exactly where he’d always wanted to be. The expression of both frustration and shock on Itachi’s face as he felt Sasuke hard against him was enough to make Sasuke nearly howl.
“This is it…” Sasuke’s voice sounded dry and tense, rolling from the desire pooling in his stomach. He’d rehearsed this countless times but now could only form words to reassure himself to press onward. Something— or someone—else within him spoke as he finally observed this scene beyond the crashing waves of his pulse, in his mind, safe to dissect this moment with all of his senses. He took countless mental notes, burning it to his memory. He wanted to savor it, but a life chasing this goal, the goal right under his fists, made resistance and patience—something he’d fought so hard to maintain—hard to hold on to anymore. “I’m really going to kill you.”
Itachi stopped struggling for a moment, uncharacteristically wide eyes shot straight into Sasuke’s. Sasuke could feel now that Itachi’s pulse was rushing to match his own, could feel the soprano to his alto drumming against his fingertips. Drool that Sasuke was too drunk to notice smacked Itachi in the face, sliding down his cheek like the tears that Sasuke would have to torture him to shed. Sasuke imagined those tears night after night, and came to them with the same ferocity other boys his age did to centerfold pinup models.
“You can’t…” The disgust in Itachi’s voice was clear. But so was the fear. Sasuke groaned in response to it. “You won’t .”
Itachi wouldn’t plead—not yet, anyway. Deep down, he still felt as if he could overpower Sasuke as he always had, in that way that had always been effortless to him. The voice deep down within him—pleading with Itachi that his chakra really was spent, feeling true fear at the way Sasuke’s breath and arms shook from his drunken delight and the tone of his words—was still capable of being reasoned away. This was his baby brother, the one he had made a mess of effortlessly too many times to count, surely he couldn’t… could he?
Itachi winced at the new invasion of white hot pain as Sasuke smacked his arms to the ground, using only his right now to hold them both back atop Itachi’s head so he could free his other. No matter how much force Itachi applied—panic now settling in as he began to consider it might be real—he couldn’t even make a dent in the impenetrable control Sasuke had over his body. If Itachi had less pride, he would have given way to his frustration and moaned.
“Sasuke. Enough. Stop this game.” Itachi’s chest rose and fell quicker and quicker. He could feel Sasuke hard against him, throbbing in response to his pathetic plea. “I’m serious. Stop.”
Sasuke fished through his jacket, pressing his weight down to keep Itachi exactly where he wanted him. When he found the item he was looking for, the cold steel a soothing comfort against the heat of his intoxicated flesh, he laughed. He had hardly paid any attention to whatever bullshit Itachi tried saying—no, Sasuke wouldn’t listen until Itachi truly understood just how long Sasuke had waited for this. This would be the ultimate finale and Sasuke would make Itachi play his role perfectly.
Sasuke admired his instrument, held it up to dangle it into the light. It was a long, slender knife with a blade as sharp and thin as a stiletto. It caught the dim light, glinted hungrily across Itachi’s exposed flesh. Sasuke couldn’t help but admire the way it shimmered in Itachi’s bright red eyes—a detail he hadn’t considered in all his numerous fantasies. He relished it, just as much as he relished how delightful Itachi’s growing fear felt as it drowned him.
“Sasuke.” Itachi sounded pathetic and weak. A moment passed, hardly enough time for Sasuke to appreciate twirling his blade back and forth before he could repeat himself, this time undeniably desperate. “Sasuke!”
Sasuke wouldn’t humor him, wouldn’t dignify him with a response. How many times had he begged his dear older brother for an explanation to his madness, to his crimes? Itachi had ignored all of his pleas, and he couldn't even be bothered to consider how heavy the burden of suffering was that rested atop Sasuke’s shoulders. Sasuke’s grip on the handle of his toy tightened with the force of twelve years of regret, with the pressure that matched the inescapable mass of words left unspoken, unresolved. Realistically, Sasuke thought, he would be a lot more considerate than his brother was. He would make Itachi understand. He would pay full attention to every detail. Sasuke would carve this reality out himself. All the years of both of their lives would finally make sense—there would be no questions left to ask. Itachi would know .
And Itachi did know. Finally, he stopped struggling. The shock on his face was genuine, the wall of separation between these twisted brothers finally broken. Itachi, whose wrists had only moments ago run hot, now ran cold, stillness washing over the couple. No more did he bother to demand an answer or reason from Sasuke for his actions. He could recognize this moment for what it was. He knew.
“That’s right…” Sasuke exhaled long, hard with satisfaction at this display of submission. The hardest part was over. In part to relieve himself, he praised his brother. “That’s good.”
Itachi’s disgust was visible, even through his new capitulation. It brought Sasuke closer to the edge. When Itachi tried to adjust himself to get away from Sasuke’s erection, it was finally too much.
Sasuke quickly—with the same amount of strength he used to hold it in his hand—forced his weapon down, diving straight into the thickest part of Itachi’s arm with a harsh smack. The blade hit the floor as it shot straight through, an audible knock ringing out as it bit into the hardwood. It was so quick that Itachi didn’t have a moment to feel the pain as it shot clean through his clothing, effortlessly through his flesh. Seconds passed, Sasuke’s hand quivering as he held that same vice grip, this time lodged straight through his target. It felt unreal, the resistance and pulse and that heat …
“So this is how you feel…” Sasuke purred. His breath hitched in his throat more than once as he said it. His voice shook almost as much as his fingers, not from fear but from pure desire. “Am I the first one to be inside you like this?”
The pain flooded Itachi all at once as Sasuke ripped his eager blade from his brother’s arm—just as quickly as he’d stabbed in the first time. Itachi tried to calm himself; confusion at the words his brother had used was not his first concern, but it was definitely on his mind. Most of his attention, however, was fixed on the knife, a knife that was now being eagerly examined by its master.
Sasuke held it close to his face, almost surprised that his brother, too, bled this red. It was as if he could hardly connect the newly formed wound with his fist, or that this blood was real—Itachi’s real blood, his life force, all that he was, was slick and wet, fresh on the tip of his blade. Sasuke tasted it, lost in this new flavor he would have to spend the rest of his life remembering…
He needed to impale Itachi again.
Unpredictably—as it was the first time—Sasuke’s blade lunged down, burying itself near the first wound he’d made. This time, Itachi felt it as it happened, all the air he’d been holding in to brace himself leaving him in a sharp hiss.
Sasuke laughed like a child.
Sasuke knew how this felt, but he’d make sure Itachi felt it too. Another loud knock clattered through the room as that cruel, unforgiving claw tore through Itachi’s fat and muscle and hit the floor. The sound was different now, wet. Sasuke smiled. He’d have a lot of his brother to taste after this was all done after all.
“Why did it take me so long?” Sasuke wasn’t being precious anymore, wasn’t bothering to take his time. He drilled into Itachi’s arm over and over until Itachi couldn’t hide the pain anymore, until he was groaning and reflexively jolting away from the assault, even if it meant that most times he just ground himself harder against the punishing teeth of the blade.
Sasuke began to grow bored of such quick, easy penetration. He found himself wanting more; he wanted to shred Itachi to pieces. With a savage upwards stroke, he tore clean through four of the thin holes, spraying threads of flesh and blood over the floor, through Itachi’s now soaked clothes, hanging pathetically to the most ferocious point of the blade. Sasuke thought he might cum as he brought his fingers down to feel the part of this man he hated, hated so fully, that was now destroyed beyond any hope of repair. It throbbed with life, danced against Sasuke’s fingers, slick with sweat and blood… Sasuke thought for a moment that maybe he didn’t need the assistance of tools anymore, that he could do the rest of the work with his bare hands.
Now the tears he had waited for finally came. At long last, rolling off the sides of Itachi’s cheeks, they poured. Itachi didn’t wail, didn’t cry out, even against the assault of Sasuke’s fingers as they curled their way into secret, vulnerable parts of him, parts that were never meant to be touched. Perhaps his tears were purely a biological response; nonetheless, they fueled Sasuke, sending him further into his hysteria. The violence had only made his appetite for it grow; now nothing could contain it.
“I’m going to really enjoy what comes next…” Sasuke whispered, coming closer to Itachi’s face, completely without shame now as he let himself sample the taste of Itachi’s tears, eagerly violating Itachi with his tongue. “You’ll understand how I’ve felt,” Sasuke reached for his brother’s cock with trembling, bloody fingers, “all this time.”