Itachi treated blindness like he treated everything else in life; with slight distain. He saw no reason to change his lifestyle, his actions and reactions. He could still kill with little effort, and if he couldn't see the person he killed, then he couldn't see them. There were no pros or cons to blindness. It simply was, just like him.
Itachi simply was.
He'd learned something after he'd gone blind. He could feel Kisame, could feel Kisame's moods and temperments, just like he could feel the larger man's rough blue skin when he got close enough to touch. And, if Itachi were a lesser man, he'd admit that he liked to touch. Liked to make sure that there was still a world past his eyes.
The fact that there was a world was something of a wonder to Itachi. If he'd ever been told, when he was younger - was he ever younger? he felt older than the god damned mountains - that he'd go blind, he would have laughed. Granted, it would have been a empty, derisive laugh, but a laugh none the less.
After all, eyes were everything to the Uchiha
Itachi could feel Kisame's focus and he, for a moment, thought he could see the blue man, staring down at him with that crease between his eyes, lips pressed together firmly. Attention had never been one of Kisame's better looks.
And Kisame had never been one to speak lightly. Itachi wrapped his hands more firmly in Kisame's cloak, using his slight weight to pull the larger man lower. Kisame's focus changed to confusion, bland amusement, and, finally, lust.
Itachi wondered what it'd taste like.
Sex was the one time Itachi felt full, felt like there was something out there that he could actually catch and hold with his hands. It didn't slip away like blood between fingers. It was fumbling and clumsy and there, because Kisame touched everywhere with rough, calloused hands, and his hands felt too big for Itachi's body. Itachi had never felt small before, but now, straddling the man's thighs, pressing down on his dick, Itachi felt doll-like. It wasn't particularly a good feeling, but, as he rocked back and forth, mouth hanging open, he tried to ignore it.
It didn't work so well.
Kisame once told him that Itachi seemed like a ghost. Not quite here, not quite there. He was everywhere and nowhere, and he seemed particularly empty.
If Itachi were a man like other men, he would have thought that it was funny, how close and how far Kisame was. But, after all, Itachi wasn't a man. He was something more, something greater, just like his father always told him. He was the pride and joy of the world, the creature made for better purposes than things as petty as sex.
Itachi leaned forward on his hands, forward until his forehead touched Kisame's chest, and he breathed in slowly. Sweat and sex soaked the room, soaked the man's skin. He could feel Kisame's impatience and wondered, as he straightened up, pulled up and off Kisame, twisting until he could slide off the bed, what it'd be like to feel impatient.
"Itachi-san," Kisame's voice said somewhere behind him. He sounded bland even in his arousal and Itachi wondered what it'd be like to smile at him. He settled himself against the wall, wood digging into his bare skin, and closed his eyes, closed out red red red with empty black, and retreated back into the world where there was nothing that he couldn't see, and he couldn't see anything, so didn't that mean there was nothing?
Sometimes it was very tiring to be so empty.
Itachi could feel thoughtfulness roll off Kisame in waves, slow and placid. He dug himself deeper into the blankets, curling into a ball to keep a bit more warmth in his body, and focused on the faint feeling of Kisame, on the one point in the world he could feel.
And, for a inconsequential moment or two, Itachi felt just a little filled.
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