AN/ SasuNaru ahead: don't like, don't read. Simple enough. I personally am quite proud of this. It took me an hour and a bit when really, all I wanted to do was get it quickly onto paper and SLEEP. Also, about fifty rereads to correct it all. I don't think I'll ever be happy with it completely. XD But yeah, it's alright.
Silence
Mouths are hot pressed, against each other, hungrily, needing, though you know he'll never admit that he needs you, not even to himself. His hand has its fingers caught in your blonde locks – had you felt like your usual self, you would have questioned whether his hand was stuck. You've not brushed your hair for weeks. But right now, all you can think is 'is this happening? This is happening. This is finally happening'. All you can feel is how good he tastes and your heartbeat is frantic, your stomach twisting – but in a good way – and, yeah, you'll readily admit this is a thousand times better than ramen.
When his mouth leaves yours, you don't even have time to register it, let alone complain (because you know you would) before you feel his lips – yeah, those lips, Sasuke's lips, which taste so much better than ramen ('do they have Sasuke flavoured ramen? Am I delirious?') – on your neck, a soft bite that would never hurt you, but feels so good, and your arms tighten around him, whimpering slightly. He almost smirks, but your bright eyes are closed; you wouldn't see it anyway.
You wondered, briefly (before he started attacking your neck, moving down, his hands from your exposed chest, so slowly, so lightly, tracing downwards with his nails and you can't think anything at all after that) what would happen if his 'fan club' found out about this. Jealousy can be a funny thing. If they saw you and him, his body (you won't admit to admiring it as much as you do) on top of yours, lips on yours, on you, your bodies lying on the floor like 'you're the only thing that matters to me' (or, at least, that might be what it mean – it's all you've managed to think about this whole situation)… But no one is there to see you. It's just you and him and all these feelings.
Now your mind is utterly, completely blank; devoid of all sounds but the tingling down your spine and that one phrase circling and repeating itself over and over again in your mind (iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou). Just you, him, iloveyou, those feelings, his breath on your neck and the only silence you'll ever be able to stand. The only silence that you'll ever like, that you'll ever, ever crave.
And now you find yourself sitting there, on that same cluttered floor of your bedroom that you'd lain on with him only weeks before… before this.
And now you're crying.
Because now there's only you, the tears, no breath on your neck, still the iloveyou, and that goddamned awful silence. And it's the only silence that you'll ever really hate, because it's not the right kind of silence, never the right kind of silence. You trace your fingers lightly, softly over the seal on your stomach, but it just feels empty, never good like he could make everything feel.
It's just you, your tears, the emptiness and silence. And you've never hated it more.