A/N: I take sick pleasure in stuff like this. I'm sorry you guys.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Naruto characters.
Warning: Yaoi (malexmale), crude language, sexual content, nudity, implied!SasuSaku
Rated: NC-17
Pairing: Sasuke Uchiha & Naruto Uzumaki, from Sarada Uchiha's POV
Summary: She didn't understand why someone as loud and as stupid as the idiot that was referred to as Nanadaime of Konohagakure. Seriously, the man was a redundant fool with a fickle mind. He was completely undeserving of her respect. Why couldn't her father see that?
Uzumaki Affliction
Raising an elegant hand, Sarada pushed the bridge of her glasses further up her sharply sculpted nose, the glare of her lenses flashing briefly, dangerously, as he she took in the scene before her with dispassionately cold eyes.
The dreadful man was here. Again.
She did not understand why her mother was hell bent on making the blond man constantly stop by for dinner. God forsake that he miss a meal every other day. Scoffing, she soundlessly picked at her peas, the voice of her current plight grating on her nerves by the second.
"-amaru doesn't allow me to make a few quick stops to Ichiraku Ramen anymore! Can you believe that, Sakura-chan? Its…its blasphemy! Oi, Sasuke-teme, do you think you can sneak me in a few bowls every now and then?"
Without much thought, she concluded that she absolutely hated this man. Maybe it ran in the Uchiha blood since she's only heard rumors of the epic battles between Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto and it's piquing point after the Fourth Great Shinobi War and even of her own uncle, the infamous double-agent Uchiha Itachi going after the Kyuubi jinchuuriki at one point. Or maybe it was the blatant disrespect he showed her prestigious father that irked her just as much.
Either way, the man was a nuisance and if you asked her, it should have been her father that should have garnered the title of Nanadaime of Konohagakure. Not this dimwit of a weak and facetious imbecile. He was a disgrace to the shinobi world everywhere with his loud proclamations of the most inane things and his incorrigible clumsiness that has gotten more than a few people hurt with minor injuries. Honestly, she didn't know what the reputable Hatake Kakashi had been thinking when she chose this idiot to be his successor out of everyone (including her father of course) he could have chosen from.
If anything, it had been her father that had ended the war that could have brought humanity to its knees, not the useless Uzumaki. To his credit, he had indeed played an important part in the war but it was nowhere near the level of prominence that her father had partaken in. Without him, the blonde probably wouldn't have been able to do much of anything since it was her father who constantly had to rescue him. Just like in their genin days, Sarada determined, like her mother had recounted to her some months ago.
There was a sudden crack that sounded over Naruto's fervent babbling and they all took notice at the broken pair of chopsticks in Sarada's dainty hand.
Naruto immediately stopped talking and Sasuke raised an elegantly shaped eyebrow at his daughter. Seated beside him, Sakura furrowed her eyebrows, a hand unconsciously coming up to rub at her bulging stomach worriedly.
"Sarada..?" she questioned softly, noticing the slight tremble of Sarada's hands. She remained quiet for a few moments, lips thinning and eyes pensively drawn to her barely-touched dinner.
"Sarada." The stern voice of her father had her straightening up in a matter of seconds, black, bottomless eyes so much like her father's once ago boring directly into wide blue ones.
"I hate you."
The definite statement was met with the widening of three pairs of eyes.
"Sarada-!" her mother started but she was quick to cut her off, her gaze never leaving that of Naruto's.
"You are weak. I'm ashamed to have someone like you as my Hokage. The level you are at now, you can never hope to surpass my father. He should have been chosen to be our leader. Not you. Your kindness doesn't dissuade the fact that you are a pathetic and weak man. People may be blind to it, but I'm not. Your emotions overrule logic and because of it, our village suffers and pales in comparison to other nations. We are a mockery to the Five Great Nations and it's all thanks to you." Her words were scalding him, she knew.
Sarada was no longer a little girl unperturbed of the idiot Konoha blindingly inducted as their leader. She was a full-fledged chuunin now, and she'd been on enough missions to realize how much of a joke Konohagakure was viewed as by other villages. There were numerous organizations rising up along the borders and every one of their reasons was starting to become a pattern in her eyes. Naruto was an inadequate leader with too much influence.
Yet, despite her scathing words, the man remained still, just like the rest of the occupants at the dinner table, and his face betrayed his raging emotions.
Sasuke was shocked still, mouth slightly agape for a moment until he managed to form words in his head, but as he was about to speak, a loud screeching of a chair scraping across the floor alerted them of Naruto's sudden movement.
If Sarada was shocked to see the smile spread across Naruto's face, she didn't show it.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Sarada-chan." His voice was low but it spoke volumes of his restraint. The depth of his eyes that had once held a bright cerulean were not bottomless pits of something darker, something more sinister that unconsciously sent a shiver up Sarada's spine.
"Well, I think this is my cue to leave. Thanks for dinner, Sakura-chan! See you later, Sasuke-teme!" The cheeriness in his voice was notably strained and the creases to around his aged smile were tight.
Turning on his heel, his simple, black cloak whirled around him as he took his leave with languid strides, head held high and eyes looking ahead.
"Naruto-" Sarada watched her father stand, normally dispassionate eyes alight with something she had never seen before, let alone knew it existed within someone as strong as her father. Unadulterated fear swam in his aging, mismatched pools and something in Sarada squeezed painfully in her chest.
Without thinking, she stood up as well, ignoring the frightened eyes of her mother but not missing the way she reached out a desperate hand to her husband who'd followed after Naruto. Sasuke didn't even acknowledged the forlorn touch around his wrist as he slipped out of her grasp almost blindingly.
Sarada took brisk steps into the family room, remaining deathly silent as she observed the hand of her father clutching Naruto's upper arm tightly, bruising.
"Naruto, I tr-"
"You're still such a coward, Sasuke." He was succinct but the spiteful vitriol had Sasuke recoiling as if he'd been burnt.
Sarada could only watch, completely entranced by the raw display of emotion on her father's face that she had never witnessed in the span of her sixteen years spent living. Steely, cerulean eyes turned to regard her for a painstakingly long moment in nerve-wracking silence, but it was enough to see the withered edges around his eyes, the underlying pain of waiting a lifetime for what, she did not know.
Her body stiffened on its own accord, her Sharingan flaring unconsciously and it baffled her how it was only now, alongside the anguish, that she felt the overwhelming strength thrumming in the man's body. For once, she was scared, her thoughts becoming conflicted with uncertainty as the sliver of power crushed any hopes of winning against the shinobi she had dubbed as a pathetically weak shell of a man. To think he possessed such raw power that instantly demanded supremacy…
The sudden, despairing, pitying smile had her reeling instantly. He took his leave.
Everything was eerily silent.
Fully expecting to face her father's undeniable wrath, she firmly held her ground. To say that she was surprised when he abruptly turned around not even bothering to spare her a look, and stalked in the direction of his bedroom was an understatement. The door was slammed shut with such an intensity that it echoed throughout the estate with unrestrained rage.
It was at that moment her mother chose to step out of the safety of the kitchen. Her frail but particularly rump boy was visibly trembling as she gazed worriedly down the hall, the sharp sound of something hitting, and most likely breathing through, the wall, followed by a palpable quietness. It rendered them at a los for words.
But only for a moment.
"Sarada, stay in your room."
No yelling, no shouting, no stern reprimand. She simply turned, long pink hair dancing with the sway of her movement. The soft thump of the door shutting closed let Sarada exhale the breath she'd been holding.
She had no intention of retreating to her room. Instead, she stayed in the family room, eyes closed as she listened to the harsh whispers traveling through the empty hallway.
"Sakura…not tonight."
A shuffling of clothes, the chaste sounds of one-sided kisses.
"Do you love me?"
Impending silence. Sarada swallowed thickly.
"Sakura…" A breathless whisper, small traces of hesitance and warning.
A choked sob.
"I gave you a family! Something he couldn't do, remember?"It was louder than intended and the anguish behind her mother's words made Sarada's blood boil.
"Stop causing yourself stress." Her father's tone was harsh and unforgiving.
"Why is it always him?"The words were spat, disgust apparent and without remorse. Such scathing words and underlying blame had Sarada wracking her brain of whom her mother was speaking of. She didn't have to search very far.
She left into the dead of the night, not having to stay to know her mother was unconscious and memories effectively erased from her mind with the powerful Mangekyo.
Possessing the same elegant swiftness of her father, she stealthily merged with lurking shadows, hiding away from diligent surveillance. Sarada didn't have to guess where the man was, having heard her mother complain loudly to her father of the long hours Naruto spent at the office. Anything to stay away from the overbearing loneliness of his lavish home.
But when she looked into the office from a nearby towering building, it was completely devoid of life. Cursing softly under her breath, she sped off into the woods where she knew the Uzumaki estate was.
The spacious home was dark, but the full moon overhead illuminated the night with iridescent light that glittered on the calm surface of the lake, the brightness reflecting off the crystalline water and helping her see.
The Anbu guards usually stationed were farther away around the perimeter. She had successfully bypassed them with the Uchiha genius she was renowned for.
This time thought, she did not let her pride and satisfaction get the best of her and, pushing her glasses once more, she went around the side of the estate, piercing eyes searching despite the house looking seemingly empty. None of the lights were on but she knew without a doubt he was in there.
There was a slight breeze, bringing along the scent of mid-spring as the trees groaned and swayed, the thickets were rustled and numerous leaves fell to the open wind, spinning wildly like a never-ending dance. Finally, her interest emerged in his study, the wide window allowing her to see his desk. Papers and pens were strewn about, scrolls haphazardly splayed about and the chair was a few feet away from its designated location.
He seemed angry and visibly flustered, if his rapid pacing was any indication.
Mulling over the possibilities of how to approach her Hokage, to ask him why he was driving a wedge between her parent's marriage, why he was so important to her father,and why he had such power, both physically and emotionally on her father's part, but, for reasons unknown to her, she remained completely still.
Perhaps it was the forces of the world, the interwoven strings of fate, or maybe even dumb, unfortunate luck that let her witness the act that brought her world to a total stop, a deep crack forming in the very core only to spread like spidery cracks of broken glass, shards containing all the memories she'd known, but now all the feelings that had been conveyed at that specific moment were leaking through the gaps, the controversial emotions – no, instances, of her childhood now underlined with falsity that was thicker than blood and even more bitter to swallow.
She couldn't breathe, but yet she never tore her gaze away.
Naruto whirled around suddenly and she could barely make out the opened door and the partially revealed leg of the person who had just entered. The person strode forward with meaningful steps, gradually revealing a muscular body done in all black, then slivers of alabaster skin illuminated by the glowing moonlight. It was a man, that much was for sure, but his face was hidden behind the wall, the window not sufficiently large enough to show the entirety of Naruto's study.
The man was still, but Naruto's mouth was moving, his posture rigid even as he moved his arms in frustration. Activating her bloodline limit, she made out the words leaving his mouth.
"Why are you here?! I said no more, remember? You made your choice, why can't you just leave me alone?"
The last part was said more as a broken plea rather than an actual question, the earlier defiance in Naruto's body leaving him as he leaned heavily against the edge of the desk, head buried in his hands.
A step was taken and Sarada's blood ran cold as the face of the unknown man was finally revealed.
"Tell me you don't love me and I'll leave, Naruto."
Naruto dropped his hands, eyes trained on the floor instead of at Sasuke's smoldering gaze.
"I don't love you…"
"Say it to my face. Look me in the eyes and say it, Naruto."
A blond head was raised only slightly, shoulders low and resigned. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Sasuke stepped forward quickly, grasping Naruto's jaw with strong fingers and boring into glazed, sapphire eyes.
Nothing was said for the longest.
Then, in a split second, Sasuke's tongue was plundering inside Naruto's mouth.
Sarada's fists clenched at her sides, watching as her father – her mother's husband – swiped the desk clean and ravished Naruto's – a man's – willing mouth. Eager hands tore off meager barriers of clothing, leaving nothing for her to wonder as honey-colored skin was exposed. They separated for mere seconds to regain breath before they were back at it again, lean legs wrapping around her father's rolling hips.
Pale hands groped and caressed the writhing man below him in a way Sarada had never seen done unto her desperately wanting mother. Sasuke's actions did not hesitate like they did with Sakura, his touches expressing the tender delicateness he was only capable of conveying to the man in his grasp.
Open-mouthed kisses were splayed along an elegantly craned neck, down firm pectorals, lowering to the hard planes of a sun-kissed abdomen, and then…
Sarada blushed, but her scarlet eyes remained dead as she watched, detached, as her father's head disappeared between strong, flawless thighs, the spikey ends of his hair moving up and down.
Naruto's body lay at an incline on his desk; his head was thrown back and she could clearly see the deep furrow of his eyebrows, the tightly scrunched eyes, and the petal-pink lips that were slightly parted and gasping harshly for breath. This man that radiated power in the clever disguise of idiocy as an unwavering leader, was too beautiful for his own good and in that moment, and as she practically heard the breathy name that spilled forth from pleasure-filled lips-
"Why can't we just let go, Sasuke?"
-she knew her father had no hope of escaping this man.
For how could he ever leave a man with fragments of the clearest skies for eyes that so freely expressed unwavering devotion and heart-wrenching love?
An elegant hand was raised and disappeared partially into the roundness of Naruto's rear for a fraction of a moment, the swift movement in time with her father's bobbing and this time, she did not flush.
She didn't even blink as Sasuke stood proudly, bare-chest for the world to see to gaze down at Naruto who lifted shaky hands, one trailing the hard planes of her father's broad chest, bandaged fingertips lightly teasing the porcelain like flesh of Sasuke's arm until rough dressings overlapped skin, covered fingers entwining and Sarada was yet again reminded of the inevitable bond they shared together. The other hand, she noticed was trailing up along her father's chest slowly, cupping the strong jawline and high cheekbone that only seemed to intensify the Uchiha beauty. A thumb swiped along the patch of skin under the powerful eye.
Bottomless pits of onyx and deep amethyst were burning with a passion she'd never thought possible and right then Sarada knew that this was more than just simple carnal desire. This was a passion that neither man could hope to escape no matter the hardships or struggles that they were met with. This was love in its most complicated form, if not for the fact that these were two men, then because one was married with two children and the other a prominent leader who refused to marry.
Vaguely, she wondered what it would take for them to let their star-crossed love go.
But, as she watched her father lean down unblinkingly to meet bruised lips in the most desperately hungry yet so tenderly given kiss, hips slowly moving forward, she knew that nothing could ever hope to break the bond these men shared. For it ran farther than what her young mind was capable of comprehending, but because of her brilliant genes, it was not impossible for her grasp an inkling of understanding.
Both bodies tensed under the moonlight with only God (and Sarada) as their witness to such a testament of resolute and poignant emotions.
She watched on with calm ease, each thrust and gasp and moan and breathless whisper shattering whatever resolve she had left but letting her understand nonetheless and Sarada wondered if such a thing were to exist for her, would she be just as selfish to divulge in such pleasurable and emotionally-fulfilling sin?
Life was cruel, she mused. She had no doubt that her father loved her, but she couldn't help but thoughtlessly wonder just how much more love he would have shown her if, instead of dispassionate obsidian eyes she had a pair of dazzling blue irises and a bright grin to match bright hair. Probably a lot more, she surmised.
The knowledge didn't hurt her though, because she was an analytical thinker and instead of her emotions blinding her, she just let the facts sink in. It wasn't as if anything could be done at this point. Her father was suffering enough without her interference and again, she pondered what it would feel like to be stuck in a lifetime doomed to love someone so unattainable.
Focusing in again, she gazed down at the sweaty and intermingled bodies below. Tan arms were wrapped around her father's neck while his own encircled a rippling back, hips rutting at a frantic speed with such a ferocity she was momentarily baffled that Naruto wasn't complaining, much like her mother did when Sasuke's roughness was too much to handle.
Another reason, Sarada concluded, that her mother was not fit to chain down such passionate, stoic man such as her father. Throughout her life she bared witness to Sasuke's struggle to simply live a simplistic life with a needing and tender wife, when everything he honestly ever needed lay within a single man known for his fiery tenacity and unwavering loyalty, someone who could bear the brunt of an Uchiha's cold demeanor yet ardent, bordering on crazy tendencies and meet it punch for punch, kick for kick, even at the risk of death.
Her gaze flickered onto the scar running vertically just above her father's heart and she knew that Naruto had one just the same and yet again she was reminded of their unbreakable bond.
Sarada could see the small trickle of blood running down Naruto's back as Sasuke's fingernails dug into the flesh, plunging deeper into the sinful heat of his lover who clawed at his own back with animalistic vigor. Gritting his teeth, he felt the muscles of Naruto's walls clench deliciously around his throbbing girth and it'd been such a long time since he'd felt such an intense pleasure that he came the same time as the man below him with a growl of Naruto's name.
His vision blurred exceptionally so, his muscles tensed as he shot spurts of his scorching essence deep within the welcoming and velvety caverns of his lover and then they relaxed in a way that had him quaking from such a sweet release.
Sarada watched on silently, as her father was brought to his knees before the man she inevitably hated.
Yet she couldn't help but harbor a deep respect for him.
Not that he'd ever know, she thought tersely, slipping into the shadows of the night once more, the faintest trace of a shrewd simper on her lips.
Unbeta'd
A/N: Uh, no flames please. I hope I put enough warnings at the top.