It was the year 1942, the war between The Triple Entente and The Allied Powers raged on over a ruined city as it was desperately fought for, the Germans on one side proudly displaying the spidery black swastika on its blood red and now falsely innocent white flag and the British on the other, the Union Jack spread over official tents which housed inside the injured sporting fatal injuries and harsh grimaces.
Over the city, now but a grey haze of dust lining the absent roads surrounded by rickety ghosts of buildings, men and women sat or lay, dead or otherwise. A mixture of blood and grime accumulated beneath every fingernail and smeared itself on faces, limbs and torso, only staying clear of the gaping wounds which bled out such mess. They had died serving their country, that was all that was asked of them; they complied all too easily, naïve to the horror which hid far from the comfort of their living rooms. And now they were dead; and in the minds of their fellow soldiers and those who mourned them back home it was for nothing. But, as they littered the flagstones of the roads, a dead silence lingering over the damaged cityscape, none could echo the thought, only be devoured by the murder of crows which housed in the empty dust laden ruins and rot into the blackened soil beneath. None could whisper out of their cracked, split dead lips the words of those who slumbered beneath in their odd underground barracks. None could say 'why?' into the midnight air as feet and feet below the surface one distraught young man did, spooning out the watery broth into a mug for his supper as the steam rose from the bubbling pot like the smoke had from his rifle, tickling the cold earth roof.
Underground the night party had finished; the celebration of being alive in contrast to the comrades, friends and family who lay cold above was over and in its place lay the unwelcome heaviness of fear and fitful sleep. Or maybe one would just lay in the haphazard cot lain on the floor and listen to the sounds of snoring, of the bubbling of the soup, the whisper of scratchy cloth against muddy boots, the clink of a gun being hefted over a shoulder, the sound of a kiss and gasp and tremble three beds over. Throughout the fear and darkness and cloying desperation there should be love after all, right?
Perhaps that is why, as trembling rough lips scraped over others in a sandpaper kiss, the couple, though frowned upon in theory, were left alone in practice as they clutched at each other under the coarse blue blanket lain above. Hands trembled as they grabbed handfuls of sweaty grey vests and green suspenders, eyelids creased as they pressed tightly, as if without the visual truth the knowledge of being surrounded by others would disappear, and tongues sought the iron laced taste of another's mouth, slick and searching. Naruto Uzumaki pressed himself hard against the body of Sasuke Uchiha as they both tried to find an anchor and a reason to fight the seemingly unending war – as they both tried to hide from the overwhelming darkness behind a bitter sweet moment rushed before the next offensive.
They hadn't meant to come so close to death; to watch it and cause it and feel it as blood trickled thickly over their fingers and stained their heavy uniform. They only wished to win, to smile and laugh and later reminisce. It seemed now that the only place for happiness was cocooned in that bed, with their trousers unbuttoned and hot grimy skin pressed against each other. With fingers, wind chapped, messy, split and bitten, trailing over wiry hairs. With a hand palming a heavy erection through trousers and booted feet clunking together as thighs rubbed intimately.
Naruto gasped and caught a moan in his restricting throat as he was pulled from the grubby confines of his clothing by a rough hand and stroked twice. His blue eyes which were now so normally desaturated were alive and bright as they fluttered free of greasy eyelids. His own hand travelled along pale skin and a thick bone structure to reach into hot and moist trousers and brush against the sensitive uncircumcised head of his lovers cock. Teeth found, bit and pulled at his split bottom lip, the quietest murmur of sounds emitting from a heated mouth. Sasuke's brow furrowed as he fumbled his hands away from Naruto's skin to unclasp his suspenders and push at his trousers, looking down into the gap between blanket and bodies. The sight that met him dimly in the man made cavern sent a shock from his stomach to groin, he bit back a groan as Naruto licked at his ear.
It was awkward as trousers were pushed to misshapen knees and heads fought to stay close together for a kiss, suck, bite; but then there was only skin on warm skin; a crescendo of movement thrusting and rubbing and writhing together. Hard lengths ground into hips and tightened sacs and each other, bodies rolled and came closer to the others that remained unaware with eyes and ears shut. Teeth pulled, lips crushed, eyes drank. Naruto hardly caught a whimper from his mouth; only managing to choke it out by pressing his mouth to a sweaty neck. Perspiration grew on skin, causing it to stick to clothes and to other skin; each other. Sasuke bit into his bottom lip, a recently healed split reopening. Here, with Naruto beside him, beneath him, on top of him, the faces of those he had killed and seen killed didn't go away; no, they still etched themselves onto the back of his eyelids, but they dimmed. The red of their blood and pallor of their skin didn't seem quite so vivid when his member was hard and pleasured by akimbo legs. His akimbo legs.
He grunted into a harsh kiss, thrusting down violently and receiving a small groan which cut itself short. A rough tongue sought his own before pulling away. A column of a paling throat exposed itself and Sasuke pressed his lips to it, unmindful to the stubble that had grown.
"'M close." Naruto hissed and dark brown eyes looked up to catch only the nostrils of a cold nose and a furrowed brow of a face, gyrating continuing.
"Mhm..." The reply had a touch of sound to it, gravelly and roughened as a hand came to jerkily brush a cheekbone. He could feel it too, the raw heat and urgency growing at the base of his erection as they slicked each other in precome. Naruto whimpered as Sasuke shifted to get his other under shirt and hold it in his tightening grip and then he was flying, shooting into the hazy throws of pleasure like Bertha above shot shells into the air, body jerking from spasms and knuckles whitening in the hard grip on Sasuke's vest. A groan followed the sudden boneless feeling of his body as above him with renewed vigour his partner sought the same high he had experienced and, with back bowing finality, he reached it, his own fluids leaking out onto an already messy stomach. The two men lay flimsy and entangled, the sudden chill of the early morning air overcoming them as the fabric of their uniform trousers cut into their leg halfway down. Naruto fought to stay awake and to grab the grubby used vest from Sasuke's grip as the other heaved himself off.
It was quiet between them as they wiped what mess they could from themselves, leaving a sticky and thin layer on their groins and abdomens. This was just how it went between them. They would fight and grieve and kill then celebrate their lack of death before waiting and then copulating and finally leaving to sleep on their own to wake up and do it all over again...hopefully. But, this time, as Naruto tugged up his own trousers, Sasuke already dressed with efficiency only rivalled by that of the enemy SS Officers, something different happened. Sasuke's hand curled around Naruto's forearm and vibrant blue met deep brown.
"I killed six officers today." He breathed, and Naruto, failing to see the point of this, just buttoned up and made a non-committal nasal sound. "One of them had a picture with him."
"Nhn..." More buttons...
"He had a child, Naruto. A little girl and a young boy and a wife and a sister...He was...a person." Sasuke's hand shook Naruto's arm with urgency and as their eyes met again they searched within veins of sky blue and the odd strand of yellow for a reassuring statement. He met a dimness that had not been present in the minutes prior spent in each others arms and lips and hips.
"So do you. So do I." The steeliness of the statement struck only with expectancy. Sasuke tore the eye contact. "We fight because we are told to, not because we want to. I promise you, Sasuke, that someday and somehow the war will end. We can be happy then."
Sasuke closed his eyes. "If the war means silence...if there are no sounds of bombs, how will I sleep?"
"You'll force it."
"How will I sleep without you?"
"You'll have to."
"Stop it." Sasuke looked at his partner sternly. "Stop knowing me so well when tomorrow you could know no one."
There was something about the conversation that wasn't right. It was muddling and foreign. It was heartfelt and heart wrenching.
"...If the war meant I was with you I wouldn't want it to end."