Uchiha Sarada is not stupid.
She has never, not even once, considered herself an idiot. From the time she was old enough to form memories, she was observant, calculating, always keeping mental records of the people around her. It is something she comes by honestly.
Her father may be many things, but careless is not one of them. He taught her, sometimes without words, to watch for patterns, to notice what changes and what stays the same, to treat every small inconsistency as a clue worth filing away. If her friends at school called her intimidating, if Boruto liked to complain that she "overthinks everything," that was fine. She would rather be accused of overthinking than caught unprepared.
Which is why her father's behavior over the last month is impossible to ignore.
Sasuke has always been cautious. It is in his nature, and perhaps in his job, to imagine the worst outcome before it happens. He is a lawyer, and a very good one. That means he knows how to anticipate trouble before it arrives, and when it comes to her, he has always been more than ready to intervene.
She has learned to expect the small but steady rhythms of his protectiveness: checking the locks twice before bed, sending her articles about the dangers of certain neighborhoods, asking pointed questions about the families of anyone she spends time with. His rules are strict, but they have always been consistent. Predictable. The consistency made them easier to live with, even when they irritated her.
This, however, is not consistent.
Her father, Sarada realizes, is starting to crack.
At first, she thought it was nothing. Everyone went through phases, and even her father was human. Maybe it was a difficult case at work, maybe his insomnia was worse than usual, maybe something was bothering him that he would never admit to her. She had been around him long enough to know there were parts of his life he would never share, and she accepted that.
But then she notices that every time Boruto's name comes up, something in her father changes. It is not obvious, not to anyone who doesn't know him well, but she sees it. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. His voice goes still and neutral, as if he is trying to stop it from revealing anything.
And sometimes, when he thinks she isn't looking, his expression slips into something unguarded. It is not quite anger, not quite fear. It is something deeper, like a wound that refuses to heal.
She starts paying more attention. She keeps mental notes. He looks more tired than usual, and not just the kind of tired a good night's sleep can fix. The dark circles under his eyes deepen. His gaze wanders more often, going to some place she cannot follow, until he forces himself back to the present.
Her first real clue comes when Boruto comes over one evening while her father is still at work. She expects a reaction when he gets home. At the very least a question about what they had been doing, perhaps a cold look in Boruto's direction, and certainly a demand that the door remain open while he is in her room.
But nothing.
That makes no sense. If her father's concern had always been about her virtue, then Boruto being in their home without supervision should have been the worst-case scenario in his mind.
So she decides to test it. Two weeks later, she tells him Boruto has invited her over for dinner. She watches as her father's eyes go wide, his face pales. For a split second, she sees panic flash across his features. He tries to hide it, and mostly succeeds, but the damage is done.
Then, she adds casually, "His parents won't be home, though," and the reaction is immediate. Relief washes over him, almost strong enough to be visible, and his shoulders sag ever so slightly.
So it isn't about some typical dad's worry about teenage sex.
Sasuke seems particularly eager to keep her away from the Uzumaki household.
The realization is frustrating, because it raises more questions than it answers. What reason could her father possibly have for being afraid of her meeting the Uzumakis? They are as far from dangerous as a family could get.
From what Boruto has told her, they are annoyingly wholesome. His father is the kind of man who can charm anyone within five minutes of meeting them. There is nothing threatening about them. Which means her father's reaction comes from somewhere entirely different.
She begins to make a list of possibilities in her head. An old grudge. Something that happened before she was born. But grudges do not fit her father's style. He is not petty, and he does not waste energy on things that have no relevance to him anymore. Which leaves something deeper. Something with history behind it.
She hates the idea of there being a part of her father's life she knows nothing about. It is not that she thinks parents owe their children full access to their past, but she has spent her life feeling like she has to fight for every small piece of information about him. This feels like a locked door she has been told never to open, which only makes her more determined to find the key.
-
The next time she calls her mom, she does her best to seem casual.
Sakura sounds a bit exhausted, and Sarada supposes the research project she is working on must be taking its toll. Her mother is a brilliant doctor, one of the most accomplished in her field, but the research work has always been more draining for her.
"So, did your father finally learn how to cook?" she, a teasing note in her voice.
Sarada laughs. "Not exactly. But he's trying, at least. I also do some of it now."
Sakura's sigh is audible even over the phone. "Of course you do. You're so much like him, you know. I don't think I've ever met a pair so stubbornly self-sufficient."
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not," Sarada says.
"It's a good thing," her mother reassures her. "He's a good man. Even if we didn't work out, I'll never stop believing that."
Sarada's fingers tighten on the phone. Now is the perfect time. She knows it. "How long did you know him before you two got married?"
Her mother's pause is long, too long. "What's brought this on, honey?"
Sarada swallows hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "Nothing. Just curious."
"We met in college. We had an on-and-off sort of relationship for a few years. But after he graduated, your dad seemed to decide that we were serious, and he asked me to marry him. It was...unexpected. But I loved him. So I said yes."
Interesting, Sarada thinks. Very interesting.
Her father does not make decisions lightly. And her mother's phrasing makes it sound like the proposal came from nowhere, as if the two of them had never talked about it before. Which means one thing: her father proposed on impulse, without thinking, the kind of thing he would never normally do.
No wonder their relationship didn't last.
"Did you have a big wedding?" she asks.
"Oh, no," Sakura says, sounding vaguely embarrassed. "Your dad was never the type for grand gestures, you know. He didn't want a ceremony. We went to the courthouse. Had a quiet lunch with our parents and uncle Itachi and then flew to our honeymoon. That was it."
Sarada nods. "Right. I didn't think he'd be the type."
"It was a good day," Sakura says wistfully. "One of the happiest of my life. Even if it wasn't what I expected."
There is a hint of sadness in her voice, and Sarada wants to reach through the phone and hug her.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to get so sappy." Her mother laughs. "So, what else is new? Tell me everything. I miss talking to you."
"Nothing much," Sarada says, forcing a lightness into her voice that she doesn't feel. "Me and Boruto have been hanging out a lot lately."
Her mother's voice turns mischievous. "Really? Do tell. Is it getting serious?"
Sarada blushes. "Mom. I'm not gonna talk about that."
"Okay, okay. But I can tell from the way you talk about him that you really like him. Just be careful, okay? You're not a little kid anymore."
"I know," Sarada says, smiling in spite of herself. Her mother, for all her brilliance, is still a bit hopeless when it comes to anything beyond medical science. But she does her best, and Sarada is grateful for that.
"Have you met his parents yet?" Sakura asks, and there's a hint of something new in her tone, something Sarada can't quite identify.
"No. Dad won't let me."
"Is that so," her mother says quietly, and there it is again. That hesitation.
"Mom?" Sarada asks.
"It's nothing," her mother says quickly. "Just...your father is a complicated person. But he loves you more than anything, Sarada. Always remember that."
Before Sarada can ask anything else, her mother makes an excuse and ends the call.
She spends the rest of the evening thinking.
-
When she goes over to Boruto's house (after promising her father several times that his parents are only coming home long after she's left), she notices that the walls are covered in family photographs. There is a picture of a young woman who she can only assume is Boruto's mother, smiling in the sunlight. There are a few pictures of his sister, too. The most recent is a family portrait, and everyone is grinning at the camera, except for Boruto. He is looking down, blushing furiously, clearly embarrassed by the whole thing.
Boruto looks exactly like his father, right down to the blue eyes and golden hair. The resemblance is almost eerie, but somehow, Boruto manages to look different. It is not the features themselves, Sarada decides. It is the way the expressions play across their faces.
Boruto is, she realizes, an open book.
It's a quality that's always been fascinating to her, and not just because it's so different from the people she's spent her life with. Boruto is like a lighthouse, guiding her through the darkness. His emotions are written plainly across his face. If he's angry, the whole world knows. If he' s sad, the whole world mourns with him. He has a way of pulling others into his orbit, a strange and inexplicable talent.
And she has become the most devoted of his satellites.
She does not mind, because she has spent her entire life surrounded by walls, and now she has found someone who does not have a single one.
Himawari, Boruto's sister, is a different story. She has his mother's dark hair, but her smile is all her own. It is the kind of smile, Sarada thinks, that belongs in fairy tales, the kind of smile that makes people want to rescue damsels in distress, to fight dragons.
She'd met her at school, actually, a few times. Himawari had been shy, but pleasant, the sort of girl who always has a smile and a compliment ready. Sarada had liked her, and when Boruto had introduced them, it was obvious that his love for his little sister was endless.
She wonders, briefly, what it would be like to have a sibling. A brother or sister she could confide in, who could keep her secrets, who could make her laugh. She wonders if Boruto and Himawari would have done things like pull pranks together or played tricks on their parents or made a mess of the kitchen trying to bake cookies.
Her house had always been a quiet one, and after her parents' divorce, it had only gotten worse.
"Are you alright?" Boruto's voice pulls her back to the present.
"Yes. Why?"
"You've been staring at my family's photos for the last five minutes."
"Oh. Sorry."
Boruto's gaze follows hers to the wall, and he shakes his head. "Yeah. Those are embarrassing, I know. Mom's into the whole photo album thing. She says it's important to capture the moments. Or something like that."
"It's nice," Sarada says, her voice low. "I mean, having pictures up. It looks like your parents have a good relationship."
Boruto's expression shifts. There is a shadow in his eyes, and Sarada immediately regrets the words.
"It sure looks like that, doesn't it," he mutters. "I mean, it used to be."
"Used to be?"
Boruto takes a deep breath. "Yeah. My mom and dad... aren't exactly together anymore. They still live in the same house, but they sleep in different rooms. My dad's got this obsession with keeping the family together for mine and Himawari's sake. And, it's not like they fight or anything, but... things are different. It's not the same. I wish they'd just..." He pauses, searching for the words.
"I'm sorry," Sarada says.
"It's fine. We're doing alright, I guess. It's good to have both parents around. And I love them. Just...it would be easier if they were happy, you know?"
"Yeah. I do."
It's true. Sarada also wishes her parents were happier. Well, her mom seems to be doing fine. She has a great job, and a lot of friends. And Sarada has no doubt she will find someone else eventually, probably another doctor, who will treat her well and buy her flowers and take her on nice dates.
But her father. Her father is an entirely different story.
Sarada has never met anyone as lonely as her father, and the realization makes her sad. He does not go on dates, does not even seem to have friends outside of his job. She has never heard him mention a single person he would want to see outside of business hours, and when he comes home from the office, he always looks more tired than anything.
Her father, she has learned, is the kind of man who locks everything away, who puts up walls. Walls that he rarely allows anyone else to break down.
She wonders if he'll ever find someone else. Or, at the very least, if he'll stop looking so alone.
"Do you think your parents will ever get back together?" she asks.
Boruto sighs. "I don't know. Probably not. I sometimes think that it's for the best, because my mom deserves someone who isn't obsessed with work. She's too good for my dad, really."
Sarada's gaze drops to the floor. "Do you resent your dad for that?"
"Sometimes," he says quietly. "But I know it's not his fault. I know that if he had his way, things would be different. He would be different. And he tries. He really does. Every day, I think he's going to get his priorities straight, and then something happens, and..."
"And?"
Boruto shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. Let's not talk about my screwed up family. It's not exactly fun."
"Hey," she says, and places her hand on his arm. "I don't think your family is screwed up. Families are supposed to be complicated, right? We're supposed to love each other, even when things get messy."
Boruto laughs. "Since when did you become such a philosopher, smartypants?"
"Shut up." She shoves him playfully, and he laughs again.
"Seriously, though. Thanks."
"For what?"
"Just being you. You always make me feel better."
He grins, and then leans forward, and kisses her, and the whole world disappears for a moment.
When the kiss ends, she rests her head on his shoulder. She likes how warm he is.
"When are your parents coming home?" she asks.
"Mom said she's having dinner with an old friend, so probably not until late. Dad's working overtime again, but he's usually home before eight. Why? Got something naughty planned?"
She rolls her eyes. "No, pervert."
"Then what?"
"My dad seems particularly anxious about me meeting your parents. He made me promise a thousand times that they weren't going to be home tonight."
Boruto raises an eyebrow. "That's weird. Aren't dads supposed to be making you promise not to be alone with boys or whatever?"
"You'd think," Sarada agrees. "But it's not just that. When I mentioned meeting your parents, he looked terrified. Like I was asking him to jump off a cliff. But that doesn't make any sense. From what you've told me, your parents are the definition of nice."
"Yeah, they are." Boruto frowns. "But, wait. Does that mean your dad knows my parents?"
Sarada's eyes widen. "I don't know."
"We should find out."
Boruto looks at her, and suddenly, the idea of investigating her father's past is no longer a solitary mission. It is, instead, a team effort.
"What did you have in mind?" she asks.
"My dad has this box of old stuff," Boruto explains. "Stuff from his university days. He's never let me or Himawari look through it, and he doesn't let Mom touch it either. So I'm pretty sure it's something he doesn't want us to see."
"And you want to look through it," Sarada finishes.
"Yep. Think it'll help?"
She smiles. "Definitely."
-
An hour later, they are sitting cross-legged on the floor, a stack of photographs between them. Sarada's heart is pounding, partly because they're trespassing on territory that's obviously off-limits, and partly because she is curious, more curious than she can remember being.
And sure enough, it's all there.
Photographs of Boruto's dad and her father, arms around each other, grinning wildly. In one, her father is holding a beer, and her father is laughing. Sasuke is never like that, never carefree, never drunk, never smiling at a camera like it's the best day of his life.
"I can't believe it," she whispers.
"Your dad and my dad were friends?"
"More than that," she says. "Look at that. It looks like a college dorm room."
There's a bed in the background, a bed that's not made, and a desk piled high with books. She can't make out the titles, but they look like law books.
"So they were roommates in college?" Boruto asks.
"Looks like it."
They keep flipping through the photos, and the image begins to take shape. It is an image she had never imagined, a life that is foreign and yet familiar, the two men younger and freer than they could possibly be now.
"They look close," Boruto says, sounding vaguely surprised. "Wait, I think my dad did mention something once. That he had a rival, back in the days. Said he was an asshole, and the best person he ever knew. And I thought, who talks like that? But..."
"But he was talking about my dad," Sarada says, feeling a bit stunned.
"Yeah."
"Did he tell you why they weren't friends anymore?"
"Nah," Boruto says. "When I told him they should reconnect, or whatever, he shut down. Told me that was never going to happen. That some friendships just end."
"How dramatic," Sarada mutters.
Boruto shrugs. "I guess. But he said he misses him all the time."
Sarada is not sure how to react to that. The thought of her father being missed is strange. Even after his divorce, she has never sensed any real regret on his part, and the thought that there's someone out there missing him feels... unbalanced. Like the world is spinning backwards.
She is still processing when her eyes catch something in one of the photographs.
"Hey, that's my mom!" she says, and grabs the picture from the pile.
"Huh?"
Sure enough, it is Sakura, her hair a bit longer, but just as vibrant, and the smile is unmistakable.
"Wow, your mom is really pretty," Boruto says, his eyes wide.
"She is," Sarada agrees. Then, she looks back at the photograph. "Hey, that's your mom, too."
"No way," Boruto says.
But she is right.
The two girls are standing next to each other, clearly in the middle of a conversation. Naruto and Sasuke are also there, in the background, and the four of them are laughing.
"So they all knew each other," Sarada whispers.
"Looks like it."
She keeps staring at the photograph. There's something about it that's haunting, something she can't quite identify.
Boruto has a look of confusion on his face, and she can understand. It is like they're peering into a window to a parallel world, a world where all the lines are connected in ways that had never been obvious.
"Hey, look," he says, pulling out another picture. "This is a wedding picture. My parents' wedding. There's no sign of your dad, though."
Sarada does some mental calculations.
"The date says August 2007," she says. "That's a couple of months after their graduation, if I'm not mistaken."
"You're right," Boruto agrees. "So they must have fallen out sometime before the wedding. But why?"
"I don't know."
He flips through the remaining photographs, and then stops. "Hey, this is my dad and your mom. At some sort of party, I think."
He is right.
It is a casual shot, the two of them standing together, holding glasses of wine. Sakura is dressed nicely, and her expression is one of amusement, like she's about to share a secret with whoever is taking the photo. Naruto, on the other hand, is beaming at the camera, clearly unaware of how ridiculous he looks.
"Oh my god. What if they dated?"
Boruto's words send her reeling.
"Dated? Really?"
"Well, why not? Look, they're smiling, and it looks like they're having a good time. What if your mom dated my dad first, and then somehow got stolen away by yours? Maybe that's why my dad and your dad don't get along anymore. They fought over a girl."
"That's ridiculous," Sarada says. But the scenario is playing out in her mind, and the more she thinks about it, the more plausible it sounds.
"Is it, though?"
"My mom did say that she and my dad had an on-and-off type relationship."
"Yeah. And my dad does look pretty stupid in this picture, like he's smitten. So maybe he was, and your dad swooped in and stole her. That would explain why they're not friends anymore."
"I guess," Sarada admits. "But still. Why wouldn't my mom just tell me about this? And your dad too. What's the point of keeping all these secrets?"
"I don't know," Boruto says.
He's about to say something else, when the sound of keys rattling against the door sends them both scrambling.
"Crap, it's my dad," Boruto hisses. "He's home earlier than I thought. Get the stuff."
They shove the photographs back into the box and place it exactly where they found it. By the time Naruto walks into the room, the two of them are sitting on the couch, trying and failing to look innocent.
Sarada feels her heart thudding loudly, and she glances at Boruto.
"Oh, hello," his father says, his gaze flickering from his son to Sarada and back. "I didn't know you had company."
"Hi," Sarada manages, standing up and smiling. "I'm Sarada. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," the man says, returning her smile.
It's true. He is an attractive man. The blue eyes are almost blinding, and his golden hair is messy, but not unkempt. She can see the resemblance to his son, but there's something different in the way he carries himself. Something older.
"You kids seem... busy," he says, looking between them.
"We're just watching TV," Boruto replies quickly.
"Uh huh." Naruto sounds unconvinced, and his gaze lands on Sarada. "It's nice to meet you. Boruto has told me a lot about you. All good things, of course."
"Thank you," she says. "It's nice to finally meet you, too."
He nods.
There's a brief silence, and then Naruto smiles again. "Well, I'm going to start dinner. Would you like to join us, Sarada?"
"Uh, actually, I was just about to leave. My dad's expecting me home."
"Are you sure? I'm making ramen."
"Tempting," Sarada says, and she can't help smiling back. "But no, thank you."
"Maybe next time."
"Yes," she agrees. "Next time."
"Do you want me to drive you home?" Naruto asks.
"It's fine," Sarada says.
"Actually, Sarada, why don't you call your dad to pick you up?" Boruto suddenly suggests. "It's late, and it's getting dark."
She is about to protest, when she sees the look on his face.
Oh.
Is he suggesting what she thinks he's suggesting?
"Yeah, that's a good idea," she says, pulling out her phone.
Naruto nods, and disappears into the kitchen, and as soon as he's gone, Boruto is tugging her outside.
"What are you doing?" she asks.
"You need to call your dad and make up an excuse to get you," Boruto says. "Something that will bring him all the way to the front door. We're gonna get my dad to open up, and see what happens."
"Boruto," she protests, "are you sure that's a good idea? Your dad seems really nice, and my dad and him clearly have some sort of history. I don't want to cause trouble."
"You're not," he reassures her. "Just trust me, okay?"
She nods, and dials her father's number.
"Sarada?"
"Hi, Dad."
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm at Boruto's house, but, uh. This is awkward. I kinda need a ride."
"A ride? Is something the matter? Can't you take the bus like usual?"
A fair question, and one she's expected. She looks at Boruto, and he nods encouragingly.
"I, uh, kinda got my period earlier today. And, um. Well, I'm really embarrassed to say this, but my pants are, uh, stained. It's not bad, but I can't really take the bus."
Sasuke's voice is suddenly tense. "Oh. Okay. Do you need anything? Uh, chocolate, or—"
"Dad. It's fine. Just please come get me, okay? I'm so embarrassed. Or, I can just wait for Boruto's parents to get home and—"
"No!" Sasuke sounds even more panicked, and Sarada feels a twinge of guilt. "No. I'll come get you. Give me the address."
She gives it to him, and hangs up, and immediately turns to Boruto.
"I am not proud of myself right now," she says.
"Relax. It was necessary. Did he sound suspicious?"
"He sounded concerned."
"Good. I think."
"And I had to make up some embarrassing lie," she continues. "And now he's going to be all weird, and I hate lying to him, and-"
"And, we'll find out the truth," Boruto cuts in.
"If this blows up in our faces, I am going to murder you."
"You love me," Boruto says, and then he grins. "Now, let's go inside and see what happens."
She nods, deciding not to correct him.
-
Naruto has a cup of coffee in his hands, and he's leaning against the counter, and Boruto is pretending to read a comic book, and Sarada is pretending to play a game on her phone.
They're all waiting.
For her father.
She glances at the clock. 7:46. He should be here soon.
"So, Sarada," Naruto says, probably noticing how unnaturally quiet they all are, "what do you want to study after high school?"
"I'm hoping to study law, like my dad," she says, because it's true.
"Really? That's great. It's a challenging career path, but worth it. I knew a guy, once, who studied law. He was brilliant."
Sarada's gaze immediately shifts to Boruto, and Boruto's eyes have gone wide, like he's thinking the same thing she is.
"Oh?" she says, keeping her voice casual. "Was this guy a friend of yours?"
Naruto pauses, a strange expression passing across his face. "Something like that," he finally says.
Sarada is about to ask another question, when her phone starts ringing. She answers immediately.
"Dad? You're here?"
"Yeah," Sasuke says. "Come out."
"Uh, I can't. You have to come to the door. I, uh-" she glances at Naruto, and blushes. "My pants. Like I said."
Naruto looks more confused if anything, and Sarada tries not to squirm.
"Oh. Okay. Right. Be right there."
He hangs up, and Boruto and Sarada exchange a look.
"Hey, dad, would you mind letting Sarada's dad in? He's here to pick her up," Boruto says, his tone carefully neutral.
"Uh, sure. No problem."
"Great," Boruto says, smiling.
Naruto shoots him a puzzled look but doesn't push. He balances the cup in one hand and reaches for the doorknob with the other. His smile is easy, his mouth already shaping words of greeting, as he swings the door open.
And then—
It's as if time has stopped.
In the movies, the heroes always react dramatically. They gasp, or their eyes widen, or they stare at each other, wordlessly, and everything slows down.
This is nothing like that.
Ceramic shatters against the ground, the coffee spilling everywhere. Naruto takes a step back, and Boruto jumps to his feet, and Sarada's heart is pounding so hard she's surprised the whole room can't hear it.
Sarada can't see her father's face from where she's sitting, but Naruto's is on full display. It's like watching a house crumble, except the house isn't just the walls and the roof and the floor. It's a person, too, someone who is slowly coming apart, layer by layer.
"Sasuke," he whispers, and it's barely audible, like a gust of wind.
The sound is broken, raw, nothing like Sarada has ever heard. She drops her phone. Her father's name is hanging in the air like a wound. Naruto looks gutted, undone, and Sarada's chest tightens with the sudden, terrifying realization.
Boruto is right.
Something had happened. Something big. Something terrible.
Something that has brought these two men to the brink.
It was a hot summer day, just after graduation.
They had until the end of the week to move out of the dorms. To leave their little room, and their tiny beds, and the memories that filled the spaces in between.
Sasuke stared at the profile of the man beside him, his face cast in shadow.
Naruto had always been loud.
Always.
From the moment Sasuke had met him, his voice was a constant hum. An inescapable sound.
But there, in that quiet, sunlit afternoon, his voice was nowhere to be found.
His silence was deafening.
"I can't believe it's over," Sasuke said, finally.
"Yeah," Naruto agreed. "It doesn't seem real."
Three years of waking up together. Eating together. Arguing. Studying. Working. Laughing. Arguing some more.
Sasuke looked around the room.
They had already packed most of their things, leaving just the necessities behind.
Sasuke could see the marks on the walls where his posters used to hang. Could see the outlines of frames that no longer held photos. Could see the cracks and indents that spoke of a thousand late night conversations, and a million moments between them.
Sasuke had never imagined that three years could feel like an eternity.
Never.
"You're not gonna get all weepy on me, are you?"
Sasuke glanced at him.
"No. I'm glad to get rid of your dumbass."
"Right," Naruto scoffed, "cause it's been so great having a prick like you around."
"Better than being stuck with an idiot like you."
"Fuck off," Naruto laughed.
Sasuke chuckled.
"We'll still hang out, right?" Naruto suddenly asked.
"What do you mean?"
"After we move. You're not gonna ditch me, are you?"
"Don't be an idiot. We've lived together for three years. Why would I cut you out of my life just because we're not in the same room anymore?"
"I dunno," Naruto shrugged. "Cause you're a dick."
"Shut up," Sasuke sighed.
It wasn't like they were moving to different cities. Although Sasuke had secretly hoped that Naruto would bring up the possibility of them living together again, Naruto's girlfriend, Hinata, had already started looking for apartments for the two of them, and the idea of asking him to give that up for a place with Sasuke was selfish, and stupid, and a little pathetic.
Besides, Sasuke wasn't that desperate.
He could live without him.
Sasuke supposed that, somewhere along the line, his friendship with Naruto had become the single most important thing in his life. He had friends, of course, but none of them had ever understood him the way Naruto did.
Maybe it was their differences that drew them together. The way they seemed to mirror each other's flaws and strengths. The way they completed one another.
Naruto had brought a warmth to Sasuke's world, a light, a fire that burned so brightly it nearly blinded him.
Sometimes, it hurt to look.
"When is Itachi coming?"
"Tomorrow," Sasuke replied.
"So, just one more night."
"Yeah."
Sasuke was moving in with his brother. There was a spare room, and he didn't want to impose, but Itachi had insisted. And, honestly, the thought of being on his own scared him. He had become used to a certain kind of company.
Of course, the possibility of getting an apartment with his on-and-off girlfriend, Sakura, had come up, but that didn't feel right either. Not when his heart was elsewhere.
Sasuke wondered if that's what people did.
If, when they were done with their youth, they simply moved on.
Did life get smaller, after that? Did it become nothing but work and family and a comfortable bed at the end of the day?
Did people go to sleep beside the same person every night, and never, ever wonder what might have happened if they'd made a different choice?
Sasuke could think of nothing more depressing.
"We should do something," Naruto declared.
"What?"
"Like, go out. Drink or whatever."
"You want to get wasted the night before we have to move our stuff out?"
"It's better than moping around here."
So Naruto was feeling it, too.
That heavy, unnamable weight.
"Fine," Sasuke sighed.
"Yes!"
Naruto jumped up and threw an arm around Sasuke's shoulders.
"We're gonna have a blast."
"Don't touch me," Sasuke snapped, shoving him off.
"Grouch."
"Dumbass."
-
Sasuke had an interesting relationship with alcohol.
For all his stoicism, Sasuke had a tendency to loosen up with a few drinks. He didn't turn into a raving lunatic or anything, but his filter vanished, and he found himself laughing easier, and leaning closer, and letting his fingers linger.
He had the vague idea that he was a flirty drunk, but the reality was lost in a blur of fuzzy memories.
Still, Sakura seemed to enjoy the side of him that came out when they drank, and Sasuke supposed that's why they kept finding themselves back in the same positions, no matter how hard they tried to end things.
But this time, it was just him and Naruto.
And Sasuke was beginning to understand that maybe they shouldn't be doing this.
He was watching the way Naruto's skin flushed. Was listening to the way his laugh echoed in the bar. Was feeling the warmth that radiated off him as he leaned against Sasuke's side.
It was intoxicating.
It was dangerous.
There was something different about him that night. Something Sasuke couldn't quite name. It was almost as if the distance between them was fading, as if their edges were blurring together.
Like there was a gravity pulling them towards each other, and neither of them had the strength to resist.
But that was a stupid thought.
It had to be.
Because, despite the fact that Sasuke could feel Naruto's thigh pressed against his own, despite the fact that their eyes kept meeting in a way that sent electricity sparking through him, despite the fact that he was starting to feel warm, and dizzy, and restless, Sasuke knew that it didn't mean anything.
Because Naruto had a girlfriend. He was straight. And Sasuke's feelings for him were something that existed outside the realm of reality. They were the sort of thing he would never, ever let slip.
Still, he couldn't deny the strange feeling in his gut. The way it felt like the whole world was shifting, ever so slightly, underneath his feet.
"I need a smoke," Sasuke finally said.
Naruto was halfway through his fourth drink, and Sasuke had stopped counting his.
"Wait, I'll come with."
They stood and stumbled outside, leaning against the side of the building.
Sasuke pulled his pack out of his pocket.
"Can I bum one?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah," Naruto laughed. "It's been a while."
"Hinata wouldn't like it."
"Whatever."
Sasuke handed him a cigarette and lit his own.
Naruto took a deep drag.
"Shit," he muttered. "I forgot how bad these taste."
"Idiot. What'd you expect?"
Naruto blew the smoke out in a long exhale.
"Well, you always look so cool when you're smoking."
"What?"
"Just, it's the way you hold them. The way you flick the ashes. All smooth and shit."
Sasuke scoffed.
"It's just a habit. Gonna quit soon."
"Yeah? Why?"
"Don't wanna die."
"That's a stupid reason."
"Is it?"
"Yeah. If you're gonna quit, do it for the right reason."
"Like what?"
"Like, I dunno. To show someone that you love them. Something like that."
"Love," Sasuke repeated.
The word felt strange in his mouth.
"What's it feel like?"
Naruto frowned.
"What?"
"Love," Sasuke said. "What's it feel like?"
Naruto paused, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Warm," he replied.
"That's not an answer."
"It's all I got," Naruto shrugged. "Love is different, right? For everyone. For me, it feels like... a good feeling. Like a bowl of ramen. Or the sun on your face. Or some fucking cheesy shit like that. Why, how does it feel for you?"
Sasuke turned away.
"Nothing," he lied.
His mouth tasted bitter.
Because for him, love wasn't anything soft, or sweet, or warm.
It was like a fire. Like the heat from a match.
It was dangerous.
And Sasuke was beginning to understand, with an uncomfortable twist in his stomach, that he couldn't stop himself from playing with it. From letting the flames lick his fingertips.
Because, somehow, he was already burning.
"Well, whatever," Naruto finally said. "If you wanna quit, then you should. No point smoking if you don't want to."
"Right," Sasuke agreed.
They fell silent.
Sasuke took a drag and let his gaze fall on Naruto's profile.
"Do you love her?" he finally asked.
Naruto's expression flickered.
"Yeah," he replied. "I think so. I mean, I really care about her, you know? Like, she's nice, and sweet, and she doesn't push me. She doesn't ask anything of me. But..."
"But?"
Something passed over Naruto's face. Something dark, and strange, and fleeting.
"Nothing," he muttered. "I do. I love her. She's my girlfriend, and I should probably just shut up."
Sasuke could tell that something was wrong, but he didn't push it.
He took another drag.
"So," Naruto began, "you and Sakura, huh?"
"What about us?"
"Are you gonna make it work, or what?"
"Probably not."
"Why not? Thought you guys were pretty serious."
"We are, I guess. But sometimes I think... I don't know. I think we're better off as friends."
"Then, why'd you ever get together in the first place?"
"Beats me," Sasuke said.
"Well, maybe it'll work out. Maybe you just need to have a talk."
"Maybe," Sasuke sighed.
"She's nice," Naruto offered.
"Yeah. I guess."
Sasuke knew what Naruto was getting at. He was trying to say that Sasuke was lucky to have a girl like Sakura, but that was the problem.
Sasuke didn't want a girl like her.
He wanted someone different. Someone who drove him crazy. Someone who pushed his buttons. Someone who didn't let him get away with shit.
Someone like—
"It's getting cold," Naruto said.
"Yeah."
Sasuke flicked the remains of his cigarette away and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"So," he said, turning back to the bar. "Let's get shitfaced, shall we?"
"Hell yes," Naruto grinned.
They returned to their seats, and ordered another round, and another, and another, until the lights were spinning, and the laughter was spilling out, and their faces were so close Sasuke could count the lashes that framed those bright, blue eyes.
-
They got back to their room around three.
Naruto stumbled inside, laughing and muttering nonsense, and Sasuke followed him in.
"This is gonna suck," Naruto whined, glancing at their bare walls. "I can't believe we're actually leaving this place."
"Me neither."
Sasuke had lived in this dorm for three years. Had grown to associate it with his youth, with the wild, reckless freedom of his college days.
He hadn't expected his college experience to be much different from his life back home, but then Naruto happened, and everything changed.
"Remember the first time we met?"
"Of course," Sasuke said. "Who could forget an idiot like you?"
"Fuck off," Naruto grinned. "You love me."
Something impossibly bright flared up in Sasuke's chest.
"Yeah, well," he mumbled, "whatever."
"I love you, too," Naruto said, his words slurring together.
He stumbled forward, and his arms wrapped around Sasuke's shoulders, and his nose was pressed against the side of his neck, and Sasuke could smell the alcohol on his breath, could feel the way his heart was beating against his own.
It was like the whole world had slowed down, had narrowed to a single point, a single moment.
It was like the entire universe had come to a sudden, shuddering halt.
"Idiot," Sasuke breathed.
Naruto pulled away, just enough to look at him, his eyes so bright they nearly blinded him.
Sasuke was falling, and he couldn't stop.
Couldn't, wouldn't. What did it matter, anymore?
There was something then. A moment, a spark. Something so brief, so fragile, it almost slipped through his fingers.
"Hey," Naruto said.
"Hey," Sasuke whispered.
Their faces were inches apart.
It would have been nothing. Nothing at all. To lean forward. To let his lips brush against Naruto's.
He wondered, distantly, what would happen if he did.
Would it change anything? Would it be the beginning, or the end?
Sasuke could see his reflection in Naruto's eyes, could see his own desperation, his fear.
And maybe he was wrong.
Maybe he was misreading the situation. Maybe Naruto didn't want him, not in that way, and if Sasuke made the wrong move, if he tried to turn his friendship into something more, then it might all come crumbling down.
But then Naruto's fingers brushed against his cheek, and the world came crashing back into focus, and suddenly the decision was no longer his to make.
"What are you doing?" Sasuke breathed.
"Dunno," Naruto replied, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the darkness.
He moved closer, his eyes searching Sasuke's, asking a question Sasuke couldn't quite hear. But Sasuke didn't have the strength to pull away, and he didn't have the will to ask him to stop, and so he simply stood there, frozen, waiting.
God, he wanted this.
He had always wanted this.
"Man, I'm fucked," Naruto whispered.
His fingers tangled in the fabric of Sasuke's shirt.
"What do you mean?"
"Just..."
It was then, in that moment, that Sasuke realized that maybe they were thinking the same thing.
Maybe Naruto could hear it too, that strange, silent hum between them.
The kind of melody that made his heart ache.
Naruto was staring at his mouth, and his face was so close, and his hair was falling into his eyes, and he was so damn beautiful, and Sasuke couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but let his eyes drift shut.
Because this was it.
This was the moment.
It had been three years in the making. Three long, endless years of wondering, and waiting, and wanting.
Three years of denying, and holding back, and pretending.
"I'm about to do something really stupid," Naruto said, softly.
"Good," Sasuke whispered.
He was going to hell, he knew it.
But, God, if this wasn't heaven.
And, just like that, the last, tenuous string holding them together snapped.
They collided.
-
There were certain things in life that could change a person.
Certain things that could alter the very fabric of reality.
Sasuke could never have imagined that the kiss of another man would be one of them.
Could never have imagined how the sensation of those lips against his own would feel like the first breath of air, the first glimpse of light, after being trapped beneath the waves for far too long.
He could never have imagined how, for the first time in his life, the weight in his chest would suddenly vanish, as if a million cracks were appearing in his armour, as if the stone was finally breaking, and the sunlight was streaming in, and he was falling, falling, falling.
He could never have imagined that a kiss could be so devastating.
So addictive.
So intoxicating.
So consuming.
Naruto's hands slid down his chest. Sasuke's fingers tangled in his hair. Their mouths crashed together and everything, everything, was happening at once.
There was no time.
No space.
Only the two of them, and the taste of alcohol between their teeth, and the unbearable gravity pulling their bodies together.
Sasuke had never been religious, had never given much thought to gods or fate, but in that moment he almost believed in a higher power. Because how could something like this possibly exist? How could a kiss feel so right, so inevitable, as though written into him since the beginning?
When Naruto's tongue traced his bottom lip, Sasuke's mouth fell open of its own accord. His hands tightened, pulling him closer, closer still. And oh, he wanted him closer. He wanted to erase the space between them until there was nothing left at all.
"Sasuke," Naruto gasped, breaking away.
"What?"
"Fuck."
Naruto's hands were sliding beneath his shirt now, fingers trailing over bare skin, palms spanning the fragile lines of his ribs.
"God, I never thought I'd—"
"Shut up."
Sasuke tugged him back, because the last thing he wanted was for words to ruin this, for thought to intrude. Not now. Not ever.
The next kiss was rough, frantic. Sasuke couldn't stop the sounds escaping him, couldn't stop his hips from rolling forward, couldn't stop his nails from digging into the back of Naruto's neck. His heart was a thunderclap, his blood a roar, and the whole world was unraveling at the seams.
"I want you," Sasuke whispered.
"Yeah," Naruto panted. "Yeah, fuck, I—"
Sasuke's eyes were wide open.
Because this couldn't be real.
It had to be a dream, a hallucination, a fantasy conjured by loneliness and alcohol.
Because Naruto had a girlfriend. Because he was supposed to be straight. Because nothing in the universe explained why, after three years and a million missed opportunities, after all the moments they might have turned away, it was here and now that they had chosen to collide.
"This is bad," Sasuke said, the words tasting like ash.
"Yeah," Naruto agreed, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "But you know, it's kind of hot."
"Idiot."
And yet, in his own reckless way, Naruto was right.
Because even if it was wrong, even if there were a thousand reasons not to, Sasuke couldn't think of a single thing he wanted more.
"Tell me this is okay," Sasuke said.
Because he needed to know.
Because he could want him until it killed him, but he would not take without being given.
Because tomorrow the world would still exist, because tomorrow this might break them beyond repair.
"Sasuke, I…"
Naruto's voice faltered. His expression shifted.
"You what?"
"It's always been you," he said at last. "You know that, right?"
And, God, the way he was looking at him.
Like a fucking angel.
Like a goddamn revelation.
"Naruto."
Sasuke couldn't take it. He leaned forward, stealing his lips again, because something inside him was unraveling, something deep and desperate that had always wanted this, had always wanted him.
Because Sasuke had always had an obsession with fire, and he was beginning to understand that maybe he had a death wish, because all he could think about was letting the flames consume him.
All he could think about was how, after spending so many years denying it, he wanted nothing more than to be burned.
"Do you mean that?" Sasuke asked when they broke apart, his voice unsteady.
"Mean what?"
"That you—"
But, before Sasuke could finish, Naruto's mouth was on his again, and he was kissing him like it was the only thing in the world that mattered, like there was no tomorrow, and no yesterday, and no past or future, just a single, beautiful, fleeting now.
"Sasuke," he whispered, voice heavy with longing, the kind of longing that echoed down into bone.
"Yes."
"Yes?"
" Yes. "
The word was everything. The word was a breaking point. The word was an answer to a question Sasuke had never dared to ask aloud.
That shattered his every last reservation.
In a rush, he was pushing Naruto back, pressing him against the wall, stripping the shirt from his body. Their eyes locked. Sasuke's breath caught in his throat.
He had seen Naruto shirtless a thousand times, in changing rooms, after showers, sprawled across beds, but this was different. This was seeing him for the first time, as if he were carved by some cruel, magnificent god.
The smooth lines of his chest. The curve of his biceps. The taut rise and fall of his stomach with every trembling breath.
Sasuke's hands moved of their own accord, sliding down the planes of muscle, brushing the waistband of his jeans. Naruto shivered beneath his touch, breath hitching, throat bobbing as he swallowed.
"God," Sasuke breathed.
He was beautiful. So unbearably, impossibly beautiful.
And the sounds he was making, the soft, broken little whimpers, and the way his name fell from his lips, were enough to send Sasuke's self-control crashing down, were enough to shatter the last, tiny pieces that were holding him together.
His mouth was on him in an instant, trailing over his neck, his collarbones, his pulse. Teeth, tongue, lips, all of him, everywhere at once. He wasn't thinking, wasn't calculating, wasn't questioning whether this would ruin them. He only knew he wanted him.
He wanted him in a way that was so desperate, and intense, and overwhelming, he was barely conscious of the words spilling from his lips.
"Need you," he murmured against his skin. "God, I need you, Naruto."
"Yeah," Naruto rasped. "Me too."
"How do we…?"
"I don't know," Naruto laughed breathlessly. "I don't know. Fuck. What are we doing, Sasuke?"
We're giving in.
We're making a mistake.
We're burning the world to the ground.
"Whatever you want," Sasuke answered, his voice soft and low.
Naruto groaned. His hand shot out, tangling in Sasuke's hair, fingers tightening to the point of pain.
"Fuck," he cursed, "don't say that."
Sasuke was caught off-guard by the sudden violence, by the force of his grip, by the hunger in his eyes. He had never seen Naruto like this, had never thought he would ever want him like this.
Stupid, really.
He should have known.
He should have known it would take a monster to match his own.
"You can have anything," he whispered, the words barely a breath, the confession so dangerous, so deadly, that to say it aloud was a sin. "Anything at all."
Naruto's lips parted. For a moment, the whole world seemed to freeze. Then, before Sasuke could blink, Naruto was slamming him against the wall, kissing him with a ferocity that stole the air from his lungs.
"Wanna fuck you," he hissed, the words muffled by their lips, the sound like fire and thunder and the breaking of the sky. "Can I fuck you, Sasuke? Will you let me?"
A shudder tore through him, his heart lurching in his chest.
Bottoming had always seemed so strange, and foreign, and far too vulnerable, and Sasuke had always thought he would be the sort of guy who could never let someone have him that way.
And sure, he wanted to be inside Naruto. He wanted it so badly he was losing his fucking mind, but, right then, as the words slipped past Naruto's lips, as the meaning sunk in, as the images filled his head, all Sasuke could think about was how he'd let Naruto do just about anything he wanted to him.
"Yes," Sasuke breathed.
And God, the sound Naruto made, the way his nails dug into his sides, the way he ground against him, their cocks sliding together through layers of fabric, it was almost enough to make Sasuke come then and there.
"Oh fuck," Naruto gasped. "We have to slow down. I don't want to come in my pants like a fucking teenager."
But Sasuke wasn't having any of that. Because, did Naruto really think, did he really believe, that there was any possible way to slow this down, to dial back the pressure, to put a dam on the floodwaters rushing between them?
Sasuke's hand was sliding beneath his jeans before Naruto could stop him, his palm cupping the hard bulge through his boxers.
Naruto's hips snapped forward.
"Well that's too fucking bad," Sasuke drawled, relishing the sound of his friend's breath hitching.
"Asshole," Naruto said, but he didn't protest.
He didn't protest when Sasuke tugged down the waistband, when his fingers brushed bare skin, when his thumb rubbed over the wet head.
He didn't protest.
But he did break.
The groan that tore from his lips, the way his eyes squeezed shut, the tremor that wracked his body-- Sasuke felt all of it. He saw it, he heard it, he felt the impact ricocheting through his own bones.
And suddenly it was too much. Suddenly, with a desperation that burned, he needed more. He needed skin, and sweat, and salt.
He needed to taste him.
Sasuke was on his knees before he could blink, before he could register what he was doing. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. It was as if his body was moving of its own accord, as if a stranger was in control, as if some unknown part of him had been waiting his whole life for this.
"Sasuke," Naruto choked, his fingers tightening in his hair, his voice breaking over the syllables. "Oh fuck. You can't—I won't—God, you look so good."
Good.
He had never imagined the word could make him feel like this.
It was too small, too simple. It did not capture the depth of it, the gravity of it, the way Sasuke's world was tilting on its axis, the way he was spiraling, spiraling, spiraling out of control.
He needed.
And, oh, he had never known need like this.
Needed him in a way that was physical, yes, but also a thousand other ways. Ways that had nothing to do with lust, and desire, and the throbbing, aching, painful hunger between his legs.
Needed him like light, and water, and oxygen.
Needed him so desperately it terrified him, so desperately it made him feel weak.
Sasuke opened his mouth, took him inside. And the moment his tongue swiped over him, the moment the taste exploded across his tongue, the moment Naruto's fingers spasmed and his hips jerked forward, Sasuke was drowning.
And drowning.
And drowning.
His actions had seemingly rendered Naruto incoherent. His words were gone, reduced to a litany of broken curses, the sound punctuated by groans and gasps and the rasping of his breath.
It was a heady, dizzying feeling. Sasuke had never been in control before. Never. Not like this. But here, on his knees, with Naruto's cock pulsing in his mouth, the whole world at his mercy, it was intoxicating.
Addictive.
His hands gripped his ass, his head bobbing as he sucked him deeper, his tongue circling the tip before taking him to the back of his throat. He was inexperienced, never having done this before, but there was something animal, something raw, in the way he devoured him, as if driven by an instinct too powerful to deny.
And when he accidentally grazed him with his teeth, when Naruto gasped in pleasure, and arched his back, his fingers tightening painfully, Sasuke understood.
It was a game.
A dance.
A duel.
The goal was not simply pleasure, but a battle of wills. The goal was not to please, but to win. To see who would come out on top, who would emerge victorious.
The goal was to destroy.
Sasuke's hands slid around his hips, urging him forward. His eyes flashed up, locking with Naruto's. The world seemed to slow, and still, and stop.
Sasuke swallowed around him, and Naruto lost.
He slammed forward, and the battle was over.
Naruto came with a shout, the sound ringing off the walls, his fingers yanking Sasuke's hair as he emptied himself down his throat.
And Sasuke drank him down, relishing the taste, the sensation, the feeling of power and pleasure and absolute, unbridled bliss.
And Naruto was collapsing against the wall, laughing, and shaking.
"Jesus, Sasuke. Where the fuck did that come from?"
But the answer was nowhere. The answer was everywhere. The answer was a lifetime of suppressed desire, a lifetime of fantasies, a lifetime of yearning.
It had always been him.
It would always be him.
Then suddenly he was being dragged up, and Naruto was kissing him, and all thoughts dissolved.
"Now I need you," he panted, his voice low and dangerous, the words whispered against his lips.
"Then have me."
Because maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe the whole world was upside down. But either way, the answer was the same.
Take me.
Own me.
Destroy me.
There was a flurry of movement, and somehow, somehow, Sasuke was on Naruto's bed, and Naruto was everywhere.
His fingers were sliding under his waistband. His hands were cupping his cheeks. His mouth was leaving a trail of scorching heat, his hair was brushing his chin, his teeth were sinking into the skin above his collarbone, and all Sasuke could do was gasp, and moan, and try to remember how to breathe.
"Shit," he managed. "Fuck, Naruto, that feels—"
"You're so fucking hot," Naruto said, his fingers digging into his hips. "I swear, it should be illegal. You're gonna fucking kill me."
"If anyone's going to kill anyone, it's—"
"Don't finish that sentence," Naruto muttered. "You're such a bastard."
"Shut up and keep going."
"Bossy."
"Always."
The banter was familiar. It was comfortable. It was something Sasuke had come to associate with him, and their relationship, and everything they'd shared throughout the years.
But, now, it was different.
Because, right then, it felt like a prelude.
It felt like foreplay.
"Take these off," Naruto demanded, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
"Yeah," Sasuke replied, breathlessly. "Whatever you say."
Because he couldn't think. Couldn't focus. Could barely even remember his own damn name.
And then Naruto was kissing him again, and Sasuke's boxers were being tossed to the floor, and the sensation of their bare skin pressed together was enough to send him spinning, and falling, and shattering into a million, tiny pieces.
"I've never done this before," Sasuke finally admitted.
"What? Had sex?"
"No," Sasuke huffed, "had sex with a guy."
"Well," Naruto began, his gaze meeting his own, "if it's any consolation, I haven't either."
"No shit."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you ."
Their lips met again.
"Please tell me your perverted ass has lube," Sasuke muttered.
"Of course," Naruto answered, reaching for his nightstand and grabbing a bottle. "What the fuck kind of college student do you think I am?"
"A fucking moron."
"Hush. I'm about to finger your ass, so be nice."
"Oh, I'll show you—"
But the words were cut off, because Naruto's hands were sliding up his thighs, and his thumbs were brushing his rim, and Sasuke's world was spinning, and melting, and dissolving into a single, beautiful point of heat.
"Fuck," he breathed.
He was hyperaware, acutely conscious of the way Naruto's fingers were spreading him, the way his breath was fanning against his skin.
"Do you know how many times I've dreamed of this?" Naruto asked.
Sasuke's heart was in his throat, his pulse deafening, his blood pounding.
"You did?"
"Yeah," Naruto murmured. "You're so fucking hot, Sasuke. All that anger, all that fire, just simmering beneath the surface. I've always wondered what you would be like when it finally broke."
When it finally broke.
As if this wasn't a sudden, violent thing.
As if they had always been racing towards the edge.
"You have a dirty fucking mind," Sasuke accused, his breath hitching when Naruto's fingers circled him, teasing, testing.
"I blame you."
"Oh, sure. It's—"
His words cut off, the air leaving his lungs, because, suddenly, without warning, Naruto was pushing inside.
It wasn't exactly comfortable, wasn't exactly pleasant. But there was something undeniably exhilarating about it.
About the pain.
About the stretch.
About the sensation of his body opening, giving, allowing.
"Tell me if I hurt you," Naruto murmured.
"Stop being nice," Sasuke groaned.
"Why?"
"It's not what I need right now."
It was then that Sasuke realized how fucked up he was.
Realized that he wanted this, but only if it hurt. Only if the pleasure was balanced out by the pain.
Only if it was rough, and messy, and a little bit terrifying.
"Fine," Naruto answered, and there was something different in his voice, something darker, something dangerous.
And the next time he pushed inside, the movement was sharper, faster, the friction sending a wave of sparks bursting through his veins.
"Oh," Sasuke breathed, his head falling back against the pillow.
Because that . That was good.
"You like that?"
"Yeah," he panted. "Don't fucking stop."
"Wasn't planning on it."
And God, the way Naruto was looking at him, as if he was the single most exquisite thing he'd ever seen. It was enough to drive him mad.
Enough to make him feel alive.
"Another," Sasuke demanded.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"Okay, bossy. I'm working on it."
Naruto added a second finger, and the stretch was more, the burn more, the pressure almost too much. Almost. But it was the best kind of almost, the best kind of pain, the sort of ache that promised pleasure beyond comprehension.
Sasuke couldn't help the whine that slipped past his lips, immediately hating himself for the sound.
"Hurry up," he said, his tone a bit more desperate than he would have liked.
"Don't wanna hurt you," Naruto reminded him.
"I'm about to hurt you."
"Fine," he laughed. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
"Whatever."
But the word died in his throat, because instead of going faster or harder, Naruto twisted his wrist, curling his fingers in a way that made the whole world fade away, and then explode.
Sasuke's hand shot out, gripping his wrist.
"What is it?" Naruto asked. "Are you okay?"
Sasuke's brain seemed to have lost all capacity for words, so, instead, he grabbed Naruto's wrist and forced him to press down again, harder this time, his fingertips curling inside him.
Sasuke's head tipped back, and his nails dug into the skin of his wrist, and a moan tore from his throat.
"Oh."
Naruto sounded like he was in awe.
"Oh, shit," he repeated. "Fuck."
"That," Sasuke panted.
Naruto's eyes were so dark, his expression almost feral.
"That's it, isn't it?" he breathed.
Sasuke didn't dignify that with a response.
Didn't do anything but increase the pressure of his grip, grinding down against his fingers, desperate for more.
His cock was rock hard, aching, and leaking against his stomach, his eyes were locked on Naruto's, and he'd never felt more exposed in his life.
He'd never felt so open.
So raw.
So completely at his mercy.
But Naruto was just as gone. Just as wrecked. He leaned over him, fingers curling around Sasuke's length, hot and sure. Sasuke didn't even have time to prepare before Naruto's mouth closed over his tip, tongue swirling.
"Fuck!" Sasuke hissed, yanking at his hair. "Shit, Naruto, you can't—"
But Naruto could. And he did.
In an instant Sasuke was seeing stars, his vision blurring, body tensing. His hips bucked but Naruto pinned him down, swallowing him deeper, deeper still.
Sasuke had always been considerate in bed, and every time Sakura had given him a blowjob, he had been careful not to thrust, not to get too carried away, not to hurt her.
He knew, instinctively, that those rules did not apply here.
As soon as Naruto's lips wrapped around him, he was thrusting upward, his fingers tightening in his hair, the moan spilling from his lips so broken, so ragged, it was barely human.
"Goddamn," Sasuke panted, "your fucking mouth, fuck, that feels—"
It felt incredible.
And it only got better.
Because, suddenly, Naruto's fingers were back, three this time, pushing inside him, rubbing that spot with the deadly precision of someone who just learned how to wield a weapon.
Sasuke grabbed his head and held him still, fucking his mouth, trying to gain some semblance of control, some semblance of composure. But when Naruto's only reaction was a low, rumbling groan, when his hands just gripped his hips, encouraging the motion, Sasuke knew it was pointless.
It was a fight he couldn't win.
The orgasm ripped through him like fire. Like a tidal wave. Like a storm. And he came so hard his vision went black, and his whole body was shaking, and the scream that tore from his lips was loud enough that it seemed to shatter the world.
He'd never come like this before.
Had never thought it was possible.
And Naruto didn't stop. Didn't pull away. He swallowed everything, drank him down until Sasuke was wrecked, trembling, boneless beneath him.
When his senses finally returned, Sasuke's first instinct was to apologize—for coming without warning, for being rough, for making a mess. But then he saw Naruto's face, saw the dark hunger in his gaze, the swollen hardness between his legs, and the words died.
More.
That was all Sasuke could think.
"What are you waiting for?" he breathed. "An invitation?"
Naruto didn't answer. His hands spread Sasuke's thighs, his mouth capturing his again. Sasuke could taste himself on his tongue, smell the raw scent of sex thick in the air. He was dizzy, spinning, burning.
"Lube," Sasuke gasped, shoving the bottle at him.
Naruto slicked his cock with shaking hands, eyes never leaving Sasuke's.
Sasuke could tell that he was losing his mind, that the thread of his restraint was about to snap.
He didn't want restraint.
He didn't want control.
He wanted all of him.
Every last inch.
"Fuck me," Sasuke ordered.
And the thread snapped.
The sound Naruto made was primal, the growl vibrating in his chest, the fingers digging into his skin. He grabbed Sasuke's thigh, yanked his leg up over his shoulder, and pressed the tip of his cock against him.
"Ready?"
"Don't fucking tease me," Sasuke growled.
Naruto's eyes flashed.
"Fine."
Then he was pushing inside, the blunt tip stretching him, burning. And Sasuke couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
Could only stare at him, his nails carving red lines down his back, his leg trembling where it was draped over his shoulder.
And then, in a moment that seemed to happen in an instant, and yet also take an eternity, Naruto was seated inside him.
He paused, his forehead falling against Sasuke's shoulder, his body shaking.
"God," he whispered. "Oh God. You're so tight, so fucking perfect. This is—"
But Sasuke was done with talking.
With waiting.
He wrapped his other leg around his hips, dug his heel into his ass, and thrust up.
"I said fuck me. "
Naruto's lips parted. Something about the way he looked, the way his gaze bore into him, the way he was breathing like a wild animal, Sasuke's heart stuttered, and stilled, and stopped.
"You asshole," Naruto hissed. "You reckless, stupid fucker."
Each word came with a thrust, brutal and relentless. Sasuke gasped, clawing for purchase, for sanity, for anything at all.
"Oh, God," he moaned, his head falling back, his whole body rocking beneath him.
There was something inhuman in the way Naruto fucked him. The angle was deep, so deep, and he hit that spot with every stroke. He was ruthless, and unapologetic, and utterly fucking glorious.
Sasuke never stood a chance.
Not against him.
"Fuck," Sasuke hissed. "Harder."
"Shut the fuck up," he muttered, and Sasuke was about to tell him to go to hell, was about to curse him out and call him an idiot, but then his cock was ramming into his prostate, and the only sound that fell from his lips was a desperate, and broken, and utterly wrecked, moan.
His earlier orgasm had left him sensitive, and raw, and overstimulated, and each stroke sent shockwaves of electricity coursing through him.
He felt like his whole body was on fire.
Like he was burning alive.
"That shut you up," Naruto said, and Sasuke was vaguely aware that the smug bastard was smirking, but he didn't have the mental capacity to come up with a suitable response.
All he could do was let his head fall back, and his mouth hang open, and his chest rise and fall, and his heart race, and his mind turn blank, and his world narrow, until all he could see was blue.
Blue eyes. Blue walls. Blue skies.
"Look at you," Naruto groaned, pace relentless. "You're gorgeous. So fucking beautiful. Look at you."
He was babbling now, rambling nonsense, but Sasuke couldn't stop him because his hand was suddenly on his cock, stroking in rhythm, and the world shattered.
He came again, harder than he ever had, body convulsing, cries swallowed by Naruto's lips. The orgasm tore through him endlessly, dragging him under wave after wave until he didn't know if he was alive or dead, only that Naruto was there, inside him, everywhere.
And still, Naruto didn't stop. Even when Sasuke was wrecked and shaking, he kept thrusting, kept pounding into him.
"Naruto," Sasuke gasped, his voice breaking. "Naruto, you—"
"Not done," Naruto choked. "Almost. Almost, Sasuke, fuck."
Tears stung his eyes. Too much. Too much, and still not enough.
Naruto's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging his head back, and the sting was the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure, the sharp pain an anchor in the sea of euphoria.
"So fucking hot," Naruto murmured, the words rough and strained. "Jesus, fuck, Sasuke. God, I've always wanted to see you like this. Always."
His thrusts were growing erratic, and uneven, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.
"Naruto," Sasuke rasped.
"I love you," Naruto said.
Sasuke's eyes snapped open.
"What did you—"
"Love you," Naruto gasped, thrusting deep. " I love you. "
And that was it. That was everything.
The words detonated inside him, shattering him open. His body somehow managed another climax, the sensation so overwhelming, and intense, and powerful, Sasuke was distantly certain that it would kill him.
That this was how he died.
But what a way to go.
This time, Naruto was right there with him.
With a final, violent thrust, his hips stilled, his release filling him, his teeth sinking into the skin of his neck so hard it drew blood.
And maybe this was how they died.
Together.
Always together.
The silence was deafening.
It took them a few minutes to return to reality. To catch their breath. To remember how to exist.
Naruto's body collapsed, crushing Sasuke into the mattress.
"Shit," Naruto panted.
For a moment, there was silence.
The silence of a thunderstorm, after the rain had stopped.
The silence of the night, after the last star had fallen.
The silence of the world, after the very last heartbeat had ceased.
Sasuke could taste the salt on his lips.
Could feel the tears spilling from his eyes, and, for the first time in his life, he didn't bother trying to wipe them away.
Instead, his arms wrapped around Naruto, pulling him closer.
Their lips met.
"I love you, too."
The words were so small. So insignificant.
They didn't seem like enough.
But, right then, they were all Sasuke had.
Right then, they were all he could say.
"I've always loved you."
He didn't know who moved first.
Whether he'd pulled him in, or Naruto had reached for him.
But, then, they were kissing again, and their hearts were beating as one, and the rest of the world melted away.
It was only when their lips finally parted, and Naruto slid out of him, and Sasuke could feel his release dripping out of him, that reality, and all its consequences, came rushing back.
"Shit," he said. "What have we—"
"I want to stay with you," Naruto blurted out, interrupting him.
Sasuke's gaze snapped up.
"What? But Hinata—"
"I'll end it."
Sasuke was stunned.
"What?" he repeated, numbly.
"I'll tell her tomorrow. I'll do it," Naruto continued. "I want to be with you."
"I can't ask you to do that."
"You didn't. I want to."
"Naruto."
"Sasuke."
"I—"
"It's always been you, Sasuke," Naruto said. "It's always been you. Always will be."
The tears started again.
"Always."
Sasuke kissed him, and held him, and let his heart speak, and his lips say everything he couldn't.
And, for the first time in a very, very long time, the darkness was gone.
The world was bright.
Everything was blue.
-
Naruto left early the next day, eager to end things with Hinata, and get back home.
To Sasuke.
Even sober, it was hard for Sasuke to wrap head around the events of the previous night.
He had no idea how things had escalated so quickly.
But, no matter how many times he replayed it, over and over in his mind, there was no denying that what had happened was real.
No denying the way his body ached, and his chest thrummed, and his lips burned.
No denying the marks on his neck, and the bruises on his hips, and the fingerprint shaped imprints on his thighs.
He knew, then, that it had been real.
That Naruto had meant it.
So he spent the morning packing up the remainder of his stuff. He packed, and tidied, and cleaned, and waited.
Waited, and waited, and waited.
And when the doorknob finally turned, and the door swung open, and his gaze met Naruto's, his heart stopped.
Because the expression on his face wasn't a smile.
It wasn't relief. It was fear. It was pain.
"Naruto?"
Naruto didn't move.
Didn't even flinch.
Just stared, and stared, and stared, and the longer Sasuke looked, the more his chest ached, the more his heart pounded, the more his blood froze, and his bones turned to ice, and his entire being filled with dread.
"Naruto," he repeated. "What is it? What's wrong?"
He didn't respond.
Just stood there, his fingers curled around the handle of the door, his face frozen in an expression that was both unreadable, and entirely transparent.
"Tell me," Sasuke said, his voice cracking.
Naruto's jaw clenched.
His eyes shut.
He took a breath.
"She's pregnant, Sasuke. Hinata is pregnant."
The world stopped.
The universe collapsed.
Time fell away.
And all Sasuke could hear, and all he could see, and all he could feel, was the sound of his heart breaking.