In a moment of utter stupidity, he forgot the cabinet door above him was open, and he slammed his head into it as he straightened up. He bit back a curse and put his hand to his head to check for b...
There is no point in talking to her. If she wants to talk, she'll say something. Itachi did not let himself think about how it had bothered him that she had not spoken to him since the incident, because it had not. And if he had dreamt of her soft flesh against his own, of bondage, of her mouth on aching, throbbing cock that was so close to exploding, well, it was his own problem. Though, of course, he had not... He hadn't dreamt of his fingers and tongue exploring her soft, yielding pussy in a willing encounter like the one she had asked for. And he most definitely had not dreamt of her body under his, or moans from her that would rock the heavens. He hadn't, and he wouldn't. Hormones be damned, there would never come a day in which Uchiha Itachi was not in full control of himself. Unless, of course, he was tied down again and she was in full control of him... on a silent oath, he began to rise, but a voice he had not heard in three months froze him.
"L'ange de mes rêves aux lesquels je ne peux pas parler." she said softly, almost to herself. Itachi blinked, wondering if she was actually talking to him. When she didn't say anything in a language he could comprehend, he turned around to glare at her.
"THAT'S IT!?!?!" he demanded, yelling at her. "YOU DON'T SAY A WORD IN THREE MONTHS-" Akina did not hear the rest of it. She looked up at him, unable to say anything else, especially with him being so angry. Tears welled up in her eyes and she ran out of the room. He reached for her, but missed and moments later heard her room door slammed. Wondering if it would be worth the effort to use the substitution jutsu, he glared in the direction of her room before deciding it was not worth his time.
Amaya looked up at Itachi.
"What did mom do now?" Itachi looked up. In a moment of utter stupidity, he forgot the cabinet door above him was open, and he slammed his head into it as he straightened up. He bit back a curse and put his hand to his head to check for blood, of which there was none.
"What?" He snapped out this question, shutting the cabinet door with his free hand.
"She must have done something. What did mom do now?" Amaya repeated, pulling his hand to look at the lump that was starting to form on his head. He did not flinch when her lips touched the bruised flesh lightly.
"What makes you think that?"
"Because you're seething, Ita-nii-san." Amaya stated as a matter of course. He closed his eyes and mentally cursed. He was not seething.
"You are so. What did mom do?" He cut his eyes at her when she did not even let him finish. He opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but she beat him to the punch, again. "Don't lie. You were going to deny it." her arms crossed, and he glared at her again for another moment, while at the same time trying to avoid those eyes of hers. He hated arguing with her. She had an uncanny knack for both reading his mind and making him feel like he was wrong, all at the same time.
"...." He sighed and stopped trying to argue with the stubborn little girl. "She spoke to me today." Amaya nodded, waiting for him to continue. "It wasn't even in Japanese- I don't even know if she was talking to me. " a vein in his upper eyelid twitched. "She's infuriating." Amaya nodded.
"Can you repeat what she said?"
"Hell-the-fuck-no." He responded irritably. "Like I make an effort to memorize word-perfect the words that come out of that stupid woman's mouth?" Amaya sighed and walked out of the room. Itachi blinked.
It did not take long for her to come back.
"It didn't make sense." Amaya told him. Itachi's temper flared, and he gritted his teeth, growling darkly. He stood up from the chair he had sat down in to wait. He was going to grab her, and he was going to make her talk, whatever it took, and hell be damned to the person who tried to stop him. "L'ange de mes rêves aux lesquels je ne peux pas parler. It means: The angel of my dreams that I cannot speak to." Amaya told him, stopping him in his tracks. "But why would she say something like that?" Amaya shook her head, then shrugged, a sort of 'oh well' gesture and left the room, leaving Itachi to sink back into a chair and glare at a wall. Why, why must the women of this house torture him?
Akina lay on the bed as her daughter stroked her forehead. Amaya could feel fear from every pore of her mother’s body, and she couldn’t understand why. So she lay her head down next to her and closed her eyes, wondering if her presence would soothe her mother as Itachi’s presence soothed Amaya.
Akina wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her close.
She lived in fear in her own home. Her throat locked every time she tried to speak, to tell Itachi of her feelings for him, of the child she carried that was his, even a simple morning greeting was beyond her. She had no idea of how he would react to her news. Would he be angry and upset? Would he be kind, as Raiso had been to her at the beginning? Or would he be disinterested as Raiso had become once he had learned Amaya’s gender. Would he want the child?
Would he want her?
Akina closed her eyes and tried to stop her thoughts, but to no avail. Self-doubt and guilt clogged her veins and made her blood run sluggish and cold. Sometimes she thought she could hear something in his tone that suggested he did not hate her. Sometimes she could not stand being in the same room with him, to feel his gaze on her skin, burning with hatred and just hoping she would die-
All these things were in her head, she hoped. He did not really hate her, he was probably just indifferent to her. That thought brought tears to her eyes. The fact that no man she wanted would ever want her… Akina would not be satisfied with lust. She tried not to cry and wake her daughter. She was in love with him. The thought wrenched at her heart agonizingly, tearing a soft sob from her throat. He would never love her. She knew this. How much more would he want her dead when he found out?
She was statistically perfect, as was her daughter. A perfectly broken soul; a perfectly broken mind; a perfect face and body; she was a perfect lie. She let her eyes close.
That night, she watched him sleep. He was a light sleeper, but perhaps he had gotten accustomed to her presence in the night as she stole away to sometimes just wake with him. She sat on the floor and crossed her arms on the bed. The slight weight addition made him shift in sleep. She watched the shadows play with the planes of his face, softening features that were harsh only by the light of day, with the scowl that normally beleaguered his face. She did not lift her hand to touch, instead only laying her head to rest on her arms and continue to watch him. Everyone had left that night, other than them two. Her eldest daughter Ritsuki was over at her friend’s home, Amaya had a mission, and Raiso was reworking an old contract and had decided to sleep at the office. Her hands wanted to stray over his body, to take him again, and tell him. He would think it only a dream. He shifted again, turning more fully to her. The years seemed to melt away from him as though they had never been. Relaxed, peaceful, calm.
Akina crawled into the bed and put her arm around his waist, tentitavely laying her head on his shoulder. he turned into her enough to wrap an arm around her waist and she drifted to sleep.
Itachi was wide awake and highly confused. He'd felt Akina's gaze but chose to let her be. He'd heard the longing sigh she had made and felt her crawl into his bed. Amaya did the same often enough that he let his body wrap around her and bring her closer, so as not to raise suspicion. His mind whirred at a million kilometres. he felt her drop off to sleep, and only then did he risk opening his eyes. Looking down at Akina, he wondered again on her words. An idea floated around in his head like a soap bubble. He didn't look at it directly, only stealing sidelong glances untill he could grasp it with both hands. But when he had, he wished he could throw it back without ever even remebering he had touched it.
Now his mind was wondering to itself...
Is she in love with me?