I'm awake, but you don't know that. I can feel your hot breath against my neck, and it's making all the little hairs on my skin stand on end. I close my eyes, and for a second I am whirling around in a warm wind, only aware of your body's heat inches from mine. You move a bit in your sleep, and I can feel your forehead brush against my blond messy hair. I lay still because I don't want you to wake up from this fragile moment. It sounds cheesy, I know that. But I'm desperate for your acknowledgement. And you rid yourself of the walls you built - here and only here. When you sleep. It's as if you step out of a glass cube and suddenly come clear with who you are on the inside. Or something like that. I'm not very deep, and as you know I wear my feelings on the sleeve. But I too can try to express myself sometimes. Although I always sound like a fool.

You move around in sleep, heck, I always thought you'd be a neat sleeper! But I guess everyone carry their surprises. Sasuke. Your arm is on my waist, and I'm afraid of breathing. Of letting you know my tummy is in fact not the mattress. Your fingers curl, inches from my stomach. I close my eyes again, relishing in this one moment. How could I possibly sleep? The ounce of drowsiness I have is washed away when I feel your hand against my skin, under my t-shirt. Your fingers are stroking the skin above my navel lazily, you press your palm softly against my chest, spreading your fingers. Your hand is big, dry and warm. The soft breeze in my neck is warmer, closer, and I sense a smile as your nose pokes behind my ear.

"You're not sleeping" you murmur, and my breath hitches.

"...Neither are you" is my not so clever reply.

Your hand creeps further up, feeling my warm skin. I wonder if you can feel my heartbeats. I feel yours, as your chest presses against my shoulderblades. Your sharp inhale against my soft skin sends an electrical rush through my body, curling up in the bottom of my stomach, making the blood rush faster. I turn around, and you lean over me. Your hot pelvis against my thigh isn't hiding what you want, and neither is mine.

We don't need to talk, but you still cover my mouth with your hand as you bend down and kiss my neck. It's so unexpected, so intoxicating, that I have to strangle a moan. Maybe you knew it. Maybe not.

Is this it?

You smirk, and I try to bite your hand. I fail at the attempt and pouts. You chuckle, and I try wrestling you down. The sheets get tangled up and warm, and the air is thick around us as we struggle for victory, muffled laughter escaping now and then. Your hand touches my bare stomach as my t-shirt ride up, and our movements freeze. Everything is still. In my ears, all I can hear are your breaths, and all I can feel is that tiny bit of skin against me. Your eyer shimmer with seriousness, trying to cover up for the lust that lurks in the shadows.

This is it.

A yellow light from a lamp post outside my window is reflected in the room, oddly illuminating your face. I want you, and you know that. And your fingertips are telling me that you feel what I feel, but neither of us move for a minute.

Not because we want to hold back. Not because it's wrong, for it is. It is as wrong as it can be, and I want it. But because it can be so easily destroyed. It's so fragile, and you know how clumsy I am, as well as I know about how insensitive you can be.

I take a leap of faith, for that is what I do – trust – and touch your cheek with the back of my hand. My knuckles are pressed lightly against your skin, and I note in the back of my mind how ironic it is that it's harder for me to do that than landing a punch on your delicate skin. Suddenly everything is a rush of feelings as your soft warm lips are kissing mine feverishly, the warmth that lives in my body is rushed to my head and the pit of my stomach, the temperature rises, and I realize that my eyelids are closed tightly as my hands explore your back and hair. All I can think of is you, for it is you who are all around me. You're in my hair, my clothes, on my body and underneath it, and all I want to do is touch you, feel how hard you are.

You're panting in my ear, and it turns me on more and more with each breath. The fact that you want me, need me, is thrilling. Your hips are clumsily thrusting into mine, but the pressure is too good to exist, and I follow your moves with my own. I put my legs around your hips and my arms around your neck, holding you pressed selfishly against my aching body as I grind against you. You are too heavy with heat to stay up, and press your whole body's weight against me, making it feel as if we are one thing, moving erratically while emitting pants and moans and noises.

Your hands are shaking with impatience as you sit up, pulling me with you, and roughly remove my shirt. Then you kiss me again. How could I ever get enough of this? I'm high on your smell, drawn in by your suggestive eyes, hands and lips. I'm already addicted. Your hot mouth kisses my lips, suck on my tongue, nibble my jaw, ravish my neck with a fever that has me shaking with lust.

Your hot breath hovers just above my collarbone as you stop to catch your breath, and I take the opportunity to push your shirt up and over your head, sliding my hands over your fit, sweaty body. Hearing you moan when my hand touches your nipple is almost too much, and I grab you face, kissing you as if there's no tomorrow.

You take control over me again, and despite myself, it turns me on. The intensity, the sheer power of you, allows me to be rammed down in my own mattress by your body almost without protest. The kiss is broken, but you're grinding against my crotch, and it almost makes me come, jerking hard as I arch up against you. The first feeling of your skin on mine near kills me, and I want to feel you naked, flush against me between my legs, shamefully enough. I push you over on your back, and before you have time to protest, I claw at the hem of your pajama pants, tugging them down and off of your legs. I toss the to the floor, along with my own. My eyes are glued on yours as I touch the bulge between you legs. I see the lust, the greed, and the bliss all mixed in your dark eyes as you lift your legs slightly, and I touch you harder, pressing my palm against the quick pulse, making you growl a throaty moan. You try to strangle it, but it escapes easily, and I feel my eyes glazing over with need. You pull me down, ripping off my boxers before you touch me.

This is it.

Neither of us have done this before, but in the heat of the moment, things seem so obvious.

It's obvious when your fingers are digging deep inside my body.

It's obvious when I'm dragging my blunt nails down your back, trying to adjust.

...Light and dark flashes before my eyes. I am barely holding my head above insanity, and all I can concentrate on is how good this feels, and how right it feels...

It's obvious when you're biting my ear loosely.

It's obvious when I'm panting in your ear, as you're pounding into me again and again and again.

All I can concentrate on is how much I want this.

And then you scream my name.

This is it.