Summary: Under flashing club lights and through and drunken haze, I made a mistake. Who hasn't? While the error was simple, the repercussion was much more complicated. I never new I could do these things (God, is he a pervert). And I never thought I could feel this way (about a guy) . So, what am I supposed to do now that I can't seem to get enough? NaruSasu. AU. M for language and lemons.
A/N: I can't stay away! Every time I say I am going to start working on an original piece, some devious plot bunny plants itself firmly in my brain until I can do nothing but write it. As with most of my fics, this one got away from me. My original plans got shot to hell as the story decided to write itself in a completely different direction. Nonetheless, I believe you will enjoy it.
Warnings: Level 1 citrus: Kumquat.
Disclaimer: *sigh* I don't own, I don't profit and I don't appreciate having be reminded of either of these facts.
Beta'd by: My literary angel, Itabitaboo.
I'm what you might call "mild-mannered". I got into a little trouble now and then when I was younger, but since I graduated college and decided I should try my hand at being an adult, I've kept a pretty low profile. I thought I was doing everything right—girlfriend, decent job, car I can't really afford—but last week, well... last week things got a little weird. I might even go as far as to say things got pretty fucked up.
I'd like to say, given how much my life has been turned upside down, that it's a long story. But really, it's not. It boils down to one night, one single encounter, and the awkward, confusing events that followed.
Allow me to take you back to that fateful evening.
Imagine a club, like any other—thumping music, strobing lights and far too many people. Now, picture a lone blond in faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt sitting at the bar, wasting no time getting shit-faced. That'd be me. Let's start there.
"Another," I say as I slam my highball back onto the counter, causing the shot glass inside to clink.
The bartender stares at me for a second, like he's trying to determine if I've had enough. I've already had three. What's one more? Nevermind that Kiba told me to stop at two. He's not here right now. The guy behind the bar must've decided I'm okay for another, as he refreshed my Red Bull and slid a shot of jager next to it. I nod my thanks and slap a crumpled ten on the counter. I drop the shot and bring the glass to my lips. The liquor burns its way down my throat, leaving an anise flavor lingering on my tongue and a warmth blooming in my belly.
I feel a pleasant tingle wash through me, further loosening my muscles and blurring the edges of my vision. It fills my mind with a soft static... almost enough to drown out the icy voice that has been echoing in my head all night.
"You're such a fucking loser, Naruto. I'm so done with you."
God, what a bitch. Why is that you never see it sooner? How can you be with somebody for over seven fucking months and never realize she is actually a raging cunt? I don't usually use that word, but... there's just no other way to describe a woman that calls you a loser and breaks up with you the same day you're laid off. And it's not like I did anything to deserve losing my job either. It's the fucking economy. Half the damn office was fired today. I just happened to be a recent hire, so of course I was going to get cut.
I sigh and consider ordering one more drink, just to make sure I forget, but I'm pretty much tapped. I need to save the cash I have for a cab, so I slide off the barstool and head towards the dancefloor. My first few steps are unsteady, but my equilibrium catches up after a couple more strides and I make it through the crowd without incident.
All I want is a night to forget. I want to get trashed and laid. I've accomplished the former and now I'm gonna start working on the latter. Kiba was supposed to be my wingman tonight, but the bastard picked up some chick after the first drink. It's the fucking leather jacket. Girls see him leaning against the bar, looking all aloof and dangerous, and their panties are wet before he even says hello. I should be so lucky. Since when has blond hair, blue eyes and a charming smile failed to attract the ladies? Well, since tonight, I guess.
But I'm about to change that back. If brooding at the bar didn't work, then rubbing up on some hot bodies will. I scan the crowd, looking for somebody I can sidle up to. My eyes move over people, quickly assessing and dismissing potential partners. I skip all the fair-haired girls. That hue is just a little to close the strawberry-blonde that just dumped my ass. You know what, no redheads either, for that matter. I need to find somebody different. My gaze lingers on a couple brunettes before the crowd parts and reveals a girl almost directly in front of me.
I can tell, even from behind, that she's exactly what I want. She's tall and lean and dressed all in black, the complete opposite of the pretentious bitch I've been dating—Sakura was short and curvy, with an affinity for pink. I make my way towards her, watching as her hips swivel and sway in time with the music. She's got a punk look with her pitch black hair that's been spiked up in the back and the thick, studded belt that tops her skinny jeans. A tight racerback tank hugs her slender torso and on top of that, a sleeveless fishnet shirt. I look her up and down once more now that I'm closer and see she doesn't have much of an ass, but what is there is moving in enticing circles.
The song changes, turns to something slower but with a beat strong enough to guide my movements. Being this drunk actually helps my dancing skills. I feel loose and relaxed. The bass is thumping through me and my body undulates in time. Slowly, I close the distance between us, making sure I don't invade her space too suddenly. Our bodies brush inadvertently and I wait to see how she responds to the contact. I sense a moment of hesitation before I feel her hips roll and push back against me. Encouraged by this reaction, I press harder and start to grind.
As close as we are now, I can't help but notice her scent. It's not the strong, floral perfume I've become accustomed to. This has a distinct spice, with a fresh undertone. Maybe it's her hair gel. I risk a closer nuzzle into the spiked ebony hair and inhale. It entices me and makes my stomach twist.
"Mmm," I whisper and gently place my hands on her waist. "You smell good."
There's an emphasized roll of hips and throaty chuckle in response. Slowly, she turns around and I feel her body shift under my palms—she's surprisingly firm. Flicking back her bangs, she looks up to me.
I blink. And then I blink again. It must be the booze. It takes me a second to process what I'm seeing—dark, almond-shaped eyes fringed with thick lashes, high cheekbones and pouting lips. As attractive as these features are, there is something decidedly unfeminine about them. Then it hits me—she's a dude—and my jaw drops in surprise.
"Am I that hideous?" he asks with mock offense. His voice isn't as deep as mine, but there's a thick quality to it. It's the kind of voice that you can lose yourself in.
"Sorry, I didn't realize you were a... I mean, I thought you were... uhhh," I can't seem to piece together a whole thought.
He smirks like he's enjoying my confusion. "A chick?" he finishes for me. "Trust me," he continues, then reaches for his crotch and gives it an emphatic squeeze. "I'm all man."
I'm in some sort of shock and I can't look away. As he gropes his junk, I realize that he never stopped dancing. His hips are still moving, rocking back and forth with the beat of the music. After a moment, his hand trails back up his torso and he laughs. "Eyes up here, handsome."
My gaze immediately snaps to his and I can feel the heat of my blush crawling from the back of my neck, over my face and to the very roots of my hair. Luckily, I know he won't be able to see it. Thank God for the poor lighting in here. Or, actually, maybe not. It was that same poor lighting that led me to believe he was a girl.
"Sorry," I say, having finally regained some of my senses.
I begin to pull away, but he reaches out for me and snags my forearm. "Thought you wanted to dance?" he asks innocently, as if it's not horrifically obvious that I've made a mistake and am trying to gracefully escape.
"Yeah, well, I thought you were a girl," I reply—a bit sardonically, I admit. I just don't know how I'm supposed to respond to this situation. My mind is reeling and my body isn't even trying to catch up. I can still feel the the excited buzz that first coursed through me when I pressed my body against his. And the longer I stand here, the more intense it becomes.
He starts to move closer, not so close that we're touching but enough that I can feel his body heat. The hand he has on my arm moves up and down in a slow stroke, a sensation I'm acutely aware of and seem incapable of stopping.
"Come on now," he says with a coy smile. "You were just starting to get into it."
For the love of fuck, I don't know why I can't turn away. He's even closer now and I'm still just standing here. I guess he takes this as permission, because the next thing I know he's sliding his other hand around my waist and moving his body to fit against mine. He's straddling my thigh, grinding against me, and all I can think is that he smells so damn good.
My mind is slowly registering the situation, cataloging the sensation of his body against mine. Both of his hands are moving now, the one up and down my arm while the other is pressed against my lower back, persuading my body to move with his.
He leans up, causing our chests to bump. "I'm Sasuke," he says into my ear. There is something in his tone that tells me this isn't so much an introduction as it is an invitation.
And I don't know whether to accept it. I've got all kinds of signals going off in my brain, all completely contradicting one another. The logical part of my brain, the part that the alcohol has made fuzzy and dull, is telling me that this isn't right. Another part of my brain is insistent that anything that feels this good can't be wrong. The final part of my brain, the bit that is focused on keeping me alive, is also struggling to function. It's screaming at me to take a damn breath, you idiot!
But I can't. I can't breathe with those lips against my ear. His breath is teasing the fine hairs on my neck and my lungs are completely seized up.
He pulls back enough to peer up into my eyes and I suck in a ragged breath. "Naruto," I say along with my exhale. He smiles at this.
That's it. Whatever part of my brain that was resisting has died. It's been smothered by my hormones, its corpse buried under a deluge of desire.
With that conflict resolved, I regain control of my body. I put my hands back on his waist and start to move with him, pulling him tight to me so I can grind against his thigh like he is against mine. I can feel my pulse quicken and my blood heat up. Slowly, but surely, my veins begin to sing with liquid arousal. It doesn't help that his hands are fucking everywhere, running over my back and sides and chest. He's sinking his fingers into my hair and dragging his nails down my arms.
He must sense the change—the shift from dancing to foreplay—because his gyrations become exaggerated. I slip my hands down from his hips, run them over that studded belt, and grab onto his ass to encourage the forceful rocking.
There's no hiding it now. We're both hard. Jesus. It's humid, the air is saturated with desire and we are fucking hard. Christ, Almighty. I can feel his dick pressing into my leg and it's making me nauseatingly horny. I can't remember the last time I needed to fuck. Wanted to? Sure. But needed to? No. I have never felt such a powerful urge to bend somebody over and fuck them raw.
I don't know if it's the booze or the break up or the fact that this is completely insane... but right now, in this moment, this feels exceptionally correct. Whether it's right or wrong, I'll figure out later. All I know for certain is that I need this.
I look down at him while we essentially hump each other. He's got his face lowered, probably watching his hands as they grope my chest. Reaching one hand up from his ass, I brush back his dark bangs. When he peers up, the flashing lights catch a glint of metal. I see now that he has his right eyebrow pierced, a barbell with those cone beads. After another flash of magenta light, I notice a ring through his bottom lip on the opposite side. The piercings intrigue me, especially that lip ring. It's enticing in a way I can't quite explain. It's like icing on a cake—beautiful and decadent and begging to be tasted—and I have a sudden urge to know what it feels like...
I boldly lash my tongue across his mouth and feel the ring slip against it. The sensation is a smooth, cool contrast to his warm, plump lips.
I think I surprised him, if the little gasp he just made is any indication. I manage to flick the ring one more time before he parts his lips and sucks my tongue into his mouth. Now I'm the one who's wide-eyed with shock. Then his hands are in my hair, aggressively tugging and slanting my head, and our mouths form a tight seal around our writhing tongues.
We switch the angle of the kiss and I can feel that ring rubbing against my lip, abrading it in the most sensual way. I grab onto it lightly with my teeth and tug. Sasuke makes some amazing groaning sound in response and I slip my tongue back into his mouth to roll with his. The embrace degrades into madness. Pure, lust-induced madness. I block out the world around me and focus on delving my tongue deeper and deeper into his mouth.
He tastes like spearmint and vodka. The flavor makes my heart thump wildly in my chest. I can literally feel the blood being dumped into my dick, making me swell and leak and... Oh Lord. His tongue is pierced too.
I have to break the kiss, before I come right here on the dancefloor. I don't pull back too far though. I leave our foreheads pressed together and inhale deeply as his delicious breath fans across my face.
Eventually, my senses return. I can hear the music thumping rhythmically and see the people standing all around us. I'm suddenly aware of the eyes on us and, even though the music is far too loud, I swear I can hear whispers. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, as this isn't exactly a gay bar. In fact, in the few other occasions I've been here, I can't recall having ever seen any even remotely queer activity.
"Let's get outta here," he says, looking directly into my eyes. There's no questioning his intention. I can see it plainly in those midnight pools.
I don't think twice. "Yeah," I reply and let him lead me off the dancefloor.
The world feels like it's spinning and I can't seem to keep my balance. We pass the bathroom and I stop, causing Sasuke to turn with a questioning look.
"I'm 'a take a piss real quick," I say, trying to keep from slurring too badly. He just nods and leans back against the wall.
Once in the bathroom, I head straight for the sink. I grip the porcelain until the tilting settles, then run some water to splash on my face. After a minute, I feel confident that I can make it to the urinal without falling down. I've got one arm braced on the wall with my head resting on my fist when I hear the bathroom door open. I ignore it, choosing instead to concentrate on the forty dollars worth of liquid I'm currently draining. Needless to say, I'm caught off guard when I'm shoved roughly by the shoulder. I stagger to the side just as I finish pissing and cast a glare to my left. My expression quickly turns from angry to confused when I see Kiba standing there, practically gawking at me.
"Dude... what?" I ask as I tuck myself back in and zip up my jeans.
"What?" he parrots back dubiously, followed by a more shrill, "What?"
"Yeah, what? You don't just walk up to a guy and get up in his face when he's got his dick out."
He stands there for a moment, apparently speechless, just staring. "Really, Naruto?" he finally says. "Are you sure about that? 'Cause from what I just saw on the floor, you might not mind if a dude came up to you while you had your dick out."
I meet his challenging mahogany eyes with my own for a moment before I bring my hands to my face and sigh. There is nothing I can say that would explain this situation. Even I don't understand exactly how I came to be making out with a guy on the dancefloor. "I don't know," I say and sidestep him, getting closer to the door. "Okay? It just sorta happened."
Kiba doesn't look impressed with this answer. "What does that even mean? How does that 'just sorta happen'?"
I shrug a shoulder and nervously scratch the back of my head. "Thought he was a chick..."
"Thought he was a chick? Thought he was a chick?" Kiba asks, his volume raising with each word. "Jesus, man. How drunk are you?"
"Drunk enough to take a swing at you if you don't back the fuck off!" I snap back. I can see the shock on his face at that—we've never fought like this before. But I don't want to deal with his questions right now. I just want him to back off and let me do what I want to do. And strange as it is to admit, what I want to do... is the guy standing out in the hallway.
"Look, I don't know. I thought he was a girl. He's obviously not, but he's still fucking hot." I pause for a moment and consider the words that have just come out of my mouth. I shake my head and continue, my voice almost a plea. "I don't care. He's not Sakura and that's what I need right now."
Kiba blinks, then wipes his hand down his face. When he looks back at me, there's only concern. "I just wanna make sure you know what you're doing. I didn't know you... swing... that way."
"I don't," I say, then chuff something between a laugh and a sigh, "but, whatever." I take another step towards the door. "I mean, I don't care. I know what I'm doing. Tonight. I know what I'm doing right now. Who knows what I'll think in the morning... but this is what I want tonight."
Kiba purses his lips. He has this sort of exasperated look on his face like he doesn't know what to do. I make it easy for him and just walk out the door. We'll talk more later. Right now, I just wanna get out of here before my buzz wears off.
Sasuke's still leaning against the wall right across from the bathroom. He gives me an assessing look before asking, "Everything okay?"
He must have heard that little argument. Doesn't matter. I look him up and down as he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest. My eyes take in what I've already seen as well as some new features— like the indigo streaks in his bangs, piercings in his ears and fraying holes in the knees of his jeans.
I finish my appraisal of him with a smirk. "Everything's fine. Let's go."