Chapter Text
*TW: non-con*
The kitchen tap dripped. Birds chirped outside in the early morning. Two Uchiha women stood around him, fussing at a rich bundle of garments. The living room was stacked with boxes of bridal trousseau to be placed with the hefty dowry Hiruzen had sent him. Kakashi had turned away in contempt upon seeing the multitude of gilded trinkets and polished pinewood containers holding expensive porcelain china. Their dazzling pigments reflected an insultingly vibrant hue across the plain walls of his house.
A third woman, middle-aged, stood to the side as she watched with two beady eyes. Some of her hair had started to grey, and she cleared her throat noisily every time the two women around him made a mistake.
“That layer goes on top. Over the top. Yes. On top of that one.” She instructed, and Kakashi felt their hands fumble around trying to keep the fabric from creasing. It must have cost a fortune, though he would never know the exact price of it. The snow-white fabric was silky smooth and embroidered in a cream-coloured thread, completely invisible beyond arm’s length. Yet, when he ran his fingertips over the sleeves, he could feel it there—every ridge and grille of thread woven by the hands of some skilled seamstress.
He had been given many things by various people. Tea sets, sewing kits, linens, paper fans and a handful of omamori. They had all been carefully packed away into boxes, making up more than the small collection of items that were truly personal to him. There were very few things he needed to take with him. Some garments, his favourite pair of chopsticks, and a framed picture of Team Six. Somewhere beneath it all lay Minato’s flying raijin kunai, quiet and unmoving. Kakashi had buried it there just in case.
“Arms up, please.”
Kakashi obediently raised his arms, and the women wrapped a thick obi over the countless layers of kimono, asking him to suck in a deep breath as they secured it with a knot. It forced him to stand straighter, but it also made it all the more difficult to breathe. His scalp prickled against the ornate hairpins fixed into the neatly combed nest of hair on his head. The women had fiddled with it for almost an hour with how long his hair had gotten, pulling out a few too many strands when they started over for the seventh time. He could feel the dangling streams of beads sway at even the slightest movement, brushing against the side of his neck as he walked.
He kneeled down on a cushion as the women began to paint his face with brushes and powders he had never encountered before. He held back a sneeze while they lined his eyes with a dark pencil and coloured his lips in a bright, crimson shade of red. One of the girls picked up a handheld mirror and held it in front of his face once they were done, leaving him stunned for words at how different he looked.
“The palanquin will be here soon.” The madam grumbled, and Kakashi quickly stood up. She regarded him with a disdain that made him want to recoil. “Now, before you make a fool of yourself, I shall explain to you the rules and expectations as a bride of our clan.”
Seeing Kakashi’s nod, she continued. “The groom’s family has requested that the ceremony be succinct. You will complete the sake-drinking ceremony at the altar, we will change your clothes, and then you will eat. The dinner banquet will have a decent number of guests, so ensure that you eat the food, or else the guests will believe you are unhappy to be there. Remember to sit on the left, to the right of your husband.”
The word rocked through Kakashi’s mind like an incantation. Husband. His hands gripped the fabric of his kimono as the lady continued. “Now, there are also general rules and duties for an Uchiha’s bride. You must not begin eating before your husband. You must not leave the home without your husband’s permission. You must address him as ‘Lord Husband’. Most importantly, you must receive all sexual advances from your husband, without question. It should come naturally—at least for most of our clan’s omegas… I don’t know what your practices are, but since you are marrying into our clan, you must follow our customs.”
An audible ‘thunk’ came from outside, and they all turned in the direction of the door.
“The palanquin must be here. Quick, put on the veil.” The madam urged, then rushed to the front door. Kakashi was promptly guided outside, struggling to walk down the steps due to how tightly the kimono bound his body. He eventually slid into the sedan, the women hurriedly tucking in the fabrics pooling at his legs as he kneeled. It would be a painful and bumpy journey. He had seen the route planned out in advance, and they would be cutting through a large portion of the village—thanks to Hiruzen’s elaborate planning for the wedding to be a highly public endeavour.
Kakashi was glad to be wearing a large veil over his head—it blocked his peripheral vision, and the faces from the crowd gathered at the sides of the street, watching as the palanquin passed them, with big, bright banners rippling in the wind. They gasped and pointed at the large chest of dowry trailing behind them on a cart, panelled in intricate marquetry of sakura wood and birch. He feared he would see the faces of people he knew, training his eyes downwards, unable to look up for the entire journey.
He could barely feel his legs when the palanquin was placed back down on the ground with an unceremonious ‘thud’. Pins and needles attacked his skin as he shuffled out, setting foot on the earth of the compound. He almost tripped over his zori, unused to the heel it offered him for elevation, caught by the arm of a woman who Kakashi assumed to be the groom’s mother. She offered him no smiles as she guided him through the towering gates of their home, expression passive as he made his way into the open hall of their home. Kakashi kept his head low, but caught sight of the person standing in the path, dressed in a formal, black kimono and a wide-pleated hakama. He flinched at the fleeting sound of a paper parasol being opened, vaguely aware of the shade it offered above his head as they began walking again.
The ceremony was kept brief. When he had lifted his head to face Itachi, he was taken aback by how much the other had grown from the last time they had met. His face had matured and become more defined with a chiselled jaw, eyes darker than he had remembered and a mouth set in a thin, unimpressed line. All of a sudden, Kakashi experienced grief for the years that had passed and all the time he had lost. Itachi was now taller than him, even when they were both kneeling, broad-shouldered and at the height of his youth.
They drank the sake nine times in a ritualistic fashion, and Kakashi felt the alcohol burn mildly on his tongue as it slid down his throat, grimacing at the light pink stain he left on the rim of the cup. He was then quickly whisked away to change into the iro-uchikake, a layer of a brilliant, intricately embroidered robe of red and gold with fabric so long that it dragged like a waterfall around his feet. Somewhere in the chaos, his white veil had been removed and replaced with a couple of extra hairpins; they had more dangling pieces and gleamed in between the strands of his hair that were already beginning to fall out. Someone had pressed a fan into his hand, and while Kakashi had no idea why he would need one, he was glad that his hands could be kept preoccupied as he endured the awkward dinner.
Kakashi had no family to attend the wedding. Instead, the bride’s side of the room was seated with high-ranking seniors of Konoha, with Hiruzen sitting closest to him. Next to him sat Danzo, and then a few self-important Daimyo enjoying the catering to the fullest. He would have wanted Jiraiya’s attendance, had he not been sent far away on a mission by Hiruzen. Kakashi sat at the low table, taking minuscule bites of food that he could not taste, his whole body buzzing like it was being electrified by waves of nerves that intensified as the evening fell dark.
He was thankful to be sent to the bridal chamber early. While the most stubborn guests drank into the late night and were eventually ushered out, he sat in a kneeling position on the soft futon, heartbeat thumping out of his chest as he tried his best to calm. He was in a whole separate wing, a newly-furnished outbuilding connected to the main building through a shielded engawa curving around it in a serpentine fashion. It was quieter. Though the sounds of cheering and laughter could still be heard, their voices were muted—allowing Kakashi a few comforting moments to himself.
This was disrupted by the distinctive sounds of footsteps travelling over the engawa. He could hear Itachi entering the house, sliding open the shoji doors one by one as he approached the inner-most room. He could see Itachi’s looming shadow through the translucent paper screen as the final door slid open. Itachi stared down at him with an activated sharingan, eyes full of dark contempt as he stepped closer, shutting the door behind him resolutely with an audible ‘click’.
Without warning, Itachi’s eyes bore into his, and Kakashi felt like his mind was being forced to fold backwards in on itself as he fell back, a splitting headache blooming behind his eyes as the world spun, raising all his hairs like the screeching of nails scratching on a chalkboard as Itachi drilled incessantly into his brain. When Kakashi came to again, seconds later, he realised that the screaming had originated from his own voice. Itachi languidly watched him tremble like some wounded animal, letting out a deep, disappointed huff.
“Just as I expected.” He muttered, every bit unfazed. “Your mind has been sealed from me.”
Kakashi said nothing. Partly because he was not able to. The cursed tongue eradication seal in his mouth buzzed with warning against the utterance of any stray word.
“Get up,” Itachi ordered, and Kakashi managed to get himself onto his feet. Itachi raised his arms by his sides as if greeting an old friend. “It is your duty to undress me.”
“Yes, Lord Husband,” Kakashi replied, still steadying himself from the buzzing in his head.
Itachi’s eyebrow twitched. “Just ‘Husband’ is fine.”
“... Yes, Husband.”
He began undressing Itachi, his movements timid as his fingers curled underneath the velvety layers to slide them off. Kakashi gathered each layer into a bundle and quickly folded them before setting the stack of fabric to the side. He could feel the contours of Itachi’s muscles as the material thinned, and the unmistakable heat of an alpha radiating off of him. When it came down to the last layer, Kakashi hesitated before hooking his fingers underneath the lapels, when Itachi abruptly stopped him.
“Are you eager?”
“Huh?”
Itachi gazed down at him, the hints of a smirk playing on his lips. “The undergarments are left to the husband. You are not obligated to take it off.”
Kakashi drew back his hands like they had been set alight. He took a step back, but Itachi caught his arm. “Not so fast.”
He watched as Itachi produced a handkerchief and drenched it using his water release. Itachi raised it to his face and began wiping off the makeup that had stuck to his skin the entire day. Kakashi could feel the other studying his face as the product came off in varying smudges of colour, then realised, once Itachi was done, that he had not marred the stain on his lips. Kakashi chewed on the inside of his mouth as he felt the pins in his hair coming out one by one, setting free the lengthy locks of his hair that had been pinned up in curls. They cascaded over his shoulders, trembling with each breath he took.
He stood still when Itachi began undressing him, feeling the garments loosen from his body and slither off his paralysed limbs, falling into a circular heap on the ground as Itachi picked up his pace. Kakashi gasped when he felt calloused hands slide underneath the collar of his final garment, caressing his skin while impatiently trying to tug the material off.
“I-I thought the undergarments were left to…” Kakashi tried to stop himself from squirming.
“The husband,” Itachi answered from over his shoulder. “I remove yours too.”
Itachi turned him around and gripped his chin, angling his face upward to gaze directly into his eyes. His gaze then travelled down to Kakashi’s mouth, and grazed a thumb over the bottom lip, marking the underside of his thumb with visible red.
He felt Itachi’s lips capturing his mouth before his mind could register that they were kissing. Every fibre of his body was tense as Itachi worked his way inside, breathing in the scent of musky sandalwood while Itachi’s arms pulled him close. When they separated, Kakashi felt his face flushed with a redness that did not recede.
“If you plan on consummating this marriage, I suggest you relax.” Itachi’s words were full of reproach, grazing the lobe of Kakashi’s ear. He turned and picked up a small box, casually opening the lid.
“I am aware you don’t experience your heats on the regular, so I prepared this.” He placed a round, hard pill in Kakashi’s hand. “It will invoke your heat temporarily—just enough for me to mark you properly.”
Marking.
Kakashi swallowed nervously as he saw the pill in his hand. He wondered just how strong the drug would be. He suppressed his panic at the thought of the subsequent activity, and resolutely fed it into his mouth. His tongue rolled back and it disappeared down his throat.
Almost immediately, Itachi’s mouth was back on his, arms locking around his waist to prevent him from escaping. Kakashi tried to be more enthusiastic about kissing, having no idea what to do when he felt the heat of Itachi's tongue against his. He felt the final layer of fabric glide off his skin, completely exposing his torso as Itachi moved to press fiery kisses over his neck. Kakashi fought the deep urge to struggle free and bolt, holding still as Itachi’s teeth grazed over his skin. He must have been subconsciously leaning away, because Itachi forcefully pulled him back in so that they were pressed against each other. Kakashi froze at the feeling of something hard jutting into his abdomen, unable to stop himself from flinching.
“Get on the futon.”
Itachi’s grasp loosened, and Kakashi distanced himself like a timid rabbit. He obediently lowered himself over the white sheets, still holding onto the undergarments bunched around his waist. His grip tightened as he felt a thrush of heat radiate from places in his lower body he did not want to think about. It was all too overwhelming.
Kakashi looked up at Itachi, feeling all too queasy and helpless in the presence of his intense pheromones.
“Can we put out the candles?” He pleaded in a small voice.
Itachi watched him with a faint mirth in his eyes. “It is not customary,” he paused for effect, “but I suppose no one is watching.”
The room was plunged into darkness, allowing Kakashi a small wave of relief. He felt Itachi’s body heat enclose him as their lips met again, warmth seeping into his muscles that had been taut the entire day. He was acutely conscious of the fact that Itachi had taken off his undergarment, and was now working his hands underneath the last layer of material wrapped around Kakashi’s legs. Itachi’s hands caressed the underside of his thighs, traversing upward as he positioned himself squarely in between them.
Kakashi burned with every sliver of touch. His body began to react strangely to Itachi’s pheromones as they became more pungent, like a thick, toxic fog entering his brain as he let out a light keening noise. He could not believe how shameless he had sounded, like the disreputable kinds of coquettish omegas standing outside shady late-night parlours. The burning sensation in his cheeks made him all the more grateful for the darkness that enshrouded them, but it also heightened the sensation of hands travelling over his body, like red, hot iron impressing on his skin. Kakashi tried his hardest to relax, willing away the paralysis in his limbs as Itachi left small, preliminary bites above his collarbone. His breath hitched when he felt something graze his nether region, biting back a small cry at the insertion of a finger.
“You’re not producing enough slick,” Kakashi heard him comment. He could smell the strange, promiscuous substance, and he could feel the dark shift in Itachi’s energy upon encountering it. As the fingers began to move, Kakashi felt his resolve slipping away, meek sounds of pain and pleasure escaping him as Itachi worked. His sanity dwindled as it went on. He couldn’t take it any longer.
“... J-Just put it in…”
Itachi stilled at his plea. Kakashi wondered what was going on inside his head. Perhaps it was best that he did not know. Having made up his mind, Itachi retracted his fingers and repositioned himself. A moment passed with them regarding each other with bated breath, and then he heard his own shaky wail being smothered by a savage kiss as Itachi thrust inside. The pain was unlike anything he ever felt—sharp and piercingly undulating, dismantling all the dignity he locked away inside, tearing him apart one layer at a time, until nothing more was left. His hand slithered over the sheets and latched onto Itachi’s forearm, squeezing it instinctively like a lifeline.
“Breathe, Kakashi, breathe.” He heard him say, and his mind produced flashbacks of their younger days in Anbu, sending another wave of grief ricocheting through his body.
Fingers laced themselves between his own. The steady thrusts began to quicken. The intensity of the pain eventually ebbed away, leaving an oddly stimulating sensation that made him shudder. He almost felt reassured by Itachi’s patience, but still sensed a level of mockery and contempt embedded in the other’s glowing, crimson gaze.
“Shisui never took you?” Itachi grunted between clenched teeth. Kakashi turned his face away, unwilling to entertain the question, and because he was panting too heavily to answer.
As if punishing him for the indignance, Itachi plunged his full length inside, and Kakashi heard himself whimper between the uneven gasps for air. Itachi abruptly pulled out of him, slithered an arm underneath his waist, and flipped over on all fours. Dizzy and disoriented, Kakashi gripped the sheets and balled them into his palms as Itachi breached him again, this time with more ease as they began to move more rhythmically. It was like a tight coil of burning heat was gripping at his internal organs as his moans grew louder, pleasure taking over his rationality while being trapped under Itachi’s body and feeling his hot breath fan the back of his neck.
Kakashi shivered when he realised what Itachi was preparing for. He felt kisses to the side of his neck, moving slowly towards the centre as his fight or flight response suddenly kicked in. His mind screamed at him to run. Fear pooled in his stomach despite the growing desire for release. He made a small sound of protest, but Itachi had no tolerance for the small fuss he was making, and wrapped a possessive hand over the front of his neck. His head was held up against the sharp edges of what felt like canines, preparing to pierce his skin as Itachi’s thrusts became erratic. Hearing a deep groan, his mind short-circuited and incinerated every thought as he let out a strangled cry. Pain bloomed in his nape. Itachi furiously held his neck, sinking his teeth into the vulnerable flesh and filling him with scaldingly hot release.
They collapsed onto the sheets, and Kakashi felt the weight of Itachi lying on top of him. He was trapped underneath, locked in Itachi’s overbearing hold, as something began expanding him from the inside. He gasped and struggled momentarily, but the effort was quickly snuffed with Itachi resting his chin over his shoulder, warning him against it.
“You’re a bit too late for that. We will have to wait.” Itachi mumbled into the locks of his hair. Kakashi could feel the thumping of their heartbeats align in the silence of the room.
He had been mated.