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The voice that answered the phone sounded annoyed, as if the call had interrupted something rather important. "Yes?"

Itachi was hardly in a mood for the snake-man's irritation, and let his voice roll through the receiver in a cool purr, as he prowled through his closet.

"We need to have a talk."

"Oh, Itachi." He said, as if he were surprised. "Did you have a good time last night?" There was a certain amused edge to his voice.

"Considering the amount of blood, yeah, I'd say I did." His voice held a taint of disgust, as he tossed a pair of leather pants on the bed, a plain, linen poet's shirt soon to join it.

"Blood?" There was the soft noise of rustling cloth in the background. "What exactly were you doing last night?" Itachi was silent a moment deciding how much to tell the snake man. Nothing, he decided, as he pulled the leather pants off the hanger and began working them up his thighs.

"That's what we need to talk about, Orochimaru. We can do this at my place or yours, your decision."

There was near-silence for a few moments. Either Orochimaru was very restless while on the phone, or there was someone there with him. "I am not at my house. Give me your address and we can speak there." He did so, lacing up his pants--but not donning his shirt, that would mean he would have to put the phone down.

"The guard will be expecting you." Itachi hung up the phone, placing it back in the charger and finally donning his shirt.

Fifteen minutes later, Orochimaru's pale finger was pressing the button to call Itachi's room. His other hand gripped a sleek silver cell phone, and a small piece of paper, Itachi's address written in neat, black ink. There was a resounding click--the entrance to the main building swung open with agonizing slowness. But before he had time to look around the opulent lobby, a massive black man flanked him--dressed impeccably in a dark suit and designer shades, there was no doubting he was the guard on duty. His voice was a deep, rumbling bass.

"Follow me, sir." Orochimaru strode into the building, his long black coat lapped at his ankles. On the back of the silken material was embroidered a hissing, purple serpent in a very Asian style. He tugged the dark amethyst sunglasses of the most expensive variety from his face and tucked them into his coat pocket.

Only then did he raise those golden eyes to the large man. "Of course," he replied. He was taken up several floors, before being deposited in front of two heavily decorated doors. A delicate relief of Orpheus and his tragic love presented itself. Orochimaru lifted an eyebrow, seeing the pair etched into the door. "Fitting." he said, flatly. Not feeling a need for formalities, he pushed into the apartment, seeking Itachi's precise location within. The apartment was decorated in a theme that reflected his doors--within the threshold was a gorgeous pavilion. Roman columns and exquisite bits of art and drapery lined the walls. Beyond the upraised flat, Orochimaru crossed into Itachi's living room; while it was more practical than the doorway, it was no less opulent. To one wall, there was the massive black leather sofa that often doubled as the Uchiha's bed. Before it, a black lacquer table of a more Oriental design--marked by an imperial dragon of gold and red across the polished surface. To one side the young man's entertainment center--a large flat-screen that took one wall, and an impressive stereo. However, one speaker bore a large hole…?

The "diva" was languidly arranged on his couch, making lounging into an art. His mode of dress was commendable. It started with a shimmer of well-oiled black boots, which moved seamlessly into leather pants--impossible to tell where either met. His shirt was pure renaissance: billowing sleeves and loose. But he had left the stays untied, and the muscular expanse of his chest was bared because of it. His hair was captured in a simple, damp ponytail, and left to drape over one shoulder. If Orochimaru was impressed by any of this, he did not show it. Though, the star's show of wealth was even more extravagant than his own. He tucked the cell phone and paper into a pocket on the inside of his coat, revealing the deep purple tone of the satin lining. He did however let his golden eyes play over the youth's lounging form. He very much liked what he saw. But, as with the apartment, he did not show it.

"What sort of 'fun' were you having last night?" He was never one for small talk before getting to the point.

"A kind you are well acquainted with, I am sure." Orochimaru noted the slight tensing of the star's body as he stepped forward, and amused by it, he continued his little trek. So he does not want me close. How amusing. I wonder how he plans to give me what I want then...

"What is it that you desire from me then?" He asked, his left eyebrow rising slightly.

"I want no trouble that will ruin my career." The star stretched and sat up slowly. Orochimaru straightened the sleeves of his coat, deliberately not looking at the Uchiha lounged on the couch.

"And what would you give me in return?" Itachi's eyes were serious.

"What would you want? You have everything I do or could acquire it." Orochimaru looked down at the man who had not yet stood from the couch.

"Do I now?" Orochimaru leaned in to look down at Itachi. He leaned close enough to whisper in the Uchiha's ear, "There is something you could give me."

"What would that be?" Itachi asked Orochimaru, the emotionless mask still in place. He would not show his revulsion of the other man at all. Swift as an adder, Orochimaru's mouth closed over Itachi's own. Itachi wrenched free of the club owner, slamming him down onto the couch, his hand on the others spine. Orochimaru laughed, low and dark. No one had dared take such action against him. This Uchiha boy would prove far more interesting to play with than he had first anticipated. Reaching behind him, he gripped the young star's wrist. His slender form belied strength to rival Itachi's own. And he showed this as he removed the arm from his spine, twisting it around and up as he got to his knees. He adjusted his position, switching hands on Itachi's wrist to pin it to the back of the couch, his knees straddling the younger one's thighs. His coat draped over the edge of the couch, reaching the floor and covering Itachi's legs.

"And you said you didn't want any trouble." His tone was threatening.

"I said... no trouble that ruined my career." Itachi was impassive, barely batting an eyelash as his arm moved back to the couch, and offered no resistance, brows set above his eyes in an aloof sense of attention. "…Anything else is game."

That impassive exterior was starting to irritate Orochimaru. He ran a single, hooked finger of his free hand over Itachi's cheek "No one ever said this wouldn't affect your career." Orochimaru's captive was not so easily moved, and did not even quirk a brow at his action. But a sudden torque of his hips and shift of his torso forced the club owner beneath the entertainer. "Oh, really?" Orochimaru only chuckled, almost not making any sound at all. He tensed his finger, giving a flick of his wrist, causing his well-manicured fingernail to slice down Itachi's jaw.

Itachi felt the sting, and the sudden warmth of blood rolling down his skin. But there was no reaction in his face; no flinch of pain, no hissing of breath; he dipped his head some, however, to bring their noses together. “...Careful. I don't need any scars."