Spacey multi-coloured dance floor inside, dry as dust cement structure tattooed with fixtures outside. The frivolity contained within the near-loveless structure was like a pretty present wrapped in a plain box, the cement foundation sucking up every last drop of hazy, over-eager adolescent sweat into its enduring pores.

Sweet 16s and lonely 17s and all but forgotten 18s trickle out of the building like dirty honey, separating like pairs of flies to do what the birds and bees are supposed to. Shining, sweaty faces hit the humid night air and breathe like they've suddenly been smacked across the face with the realization of adulthood, of this first night of initiation into a world that tastes bitter and needs to be dulled. Boys stumble out of the dance in anticipation of their first blowjob (for most of them, receiving it), and girls trip-trip along beside them hoping to take something warm and squishy up between their thighs.

No matter how sweet these young princes and princesses are, no matter the part of their hair, the scent of their breaths, the cost of their clothes, these eager young duchesses and suitors, these future dropouts and kings of industry; they are all dirty whores when they get out of the light. The glimmer in each eye turns to the potential of only one miserable outcome – a hasty first encounter with the beast, groping and tugging and crying and kissing up against a dry cement wall on a humid summer night.

They're a slobbering hoard, so far as this prince is concerned. This is the most beautiful and brutal reluctant Homecoming King, blood thick with majesty, 16-years-old and already plotting the perfect crime. Uchiha Sasuke got out here not a moment after the ceremony began, resided to a corner and sucked up all the stagnant air like it was smoke. It only seemed right that he come, his brother being head of the student council, so come he did, tore open his tux before the back door, and slipped out into the silent scenery to soak up all the sex-stained ceremony.

They were all a slobbering, filthy, ignorant mess, at least according to this smooth assassin, darkness and cruelty lingering in his extremities, fit to encroach upon his insides. The mob all unaware of the casual brilliance he dispensed every day, and of the state of ruin in which they were putting themselves. All of them except one – of course, there had to be one, one that kept the dark heir's heavily scrutinising attention.

The true prince, golden, displaced and misplaced by the ages like a young artefact, wandered away from home the moment he was born. He held his chin high even when it was pounded over and over again by the walls built around his potential; he shone so hot and hard it would burn a hole in the sun, if ever he was allowed to see it. He was Uzumaki Naruto; chaotic birth, meaningless name, with eyes that held the expanse of the ocean and constriction of the looming sky.

The image had to be struck, violently, into even Sasuke, he would admit; though now that he saw it, it was far too clear. The golden prince would raise them all or wreck them all, he would be their destruction or their saviour in the end. Sasuke put his arms across his suddenly tight chest, lips wet and hungry like a greedy dog.

Sasuke imagined that prince, golden, displaced, his sun-soaked straw-blond hair matted up on his forehead, the muscles in his throat heaving with strain, imagined he would drag himself up out of the sweaty, soaking frenzy he was pulled down into . . . his sweet nipples, shiny and red like a newborn, tugged up by his shameful arousal, tits hard like pressed dough, hips bucking erratically with fear. . . fear and ecstasy coming together in a messy, needy collage of hurried touches, glances, pokes, nudges, thrusts, jolts, until the final door broke open and showered him in light–

Sasuke had to shift his focus before the light got him too.

Already he was planning on how to wedge the prince away from his date – a miserable little spoiled whelp who held her hands nervously over her lap and shook like a cowering pup. Hyuuga was brave, though, asking him out, which made Sasuke furious, that that sugar-soaked doll, rain in her eyes and covered in silk since the moment she was born, was braver than he in that way.

Worst of all, she was happy just to proceed at Naruto's side, ribboned shoes clicking together alongside his strides; rather than to clamber through the sticky masses for a chance to take advantage of his lasting virgin pureness. While Sasuke hated the slobs who came here for the only purpose to procreate, he hated the slobs who pretended they didn't even more.

Suddenly Sasuke's doppelganger rose out of the shadows like he was part of them, a pale reflection, physically, at least, of the Uchiha heir, suit pristine and tall, smile pristine and wholly false. Sai – less than a snake, just a drawing of one; leant against the tired rail next to Sasuke like he belonged there.

"How are you planning to get him alone?" Sai asked quietly, hands still at his sides next to Sasuke's shoved in his pockets. And unlike Sasuke, who'd torn off his tie and thrown it somewhere for some desperate slut to strangle herself with earlier in the evening, Sai's tie was folded neatly against his breast.

No response came, but the answer was obvious.

"How about I give you a hand," Sai proposed, and suddenly his lips were near enough to Sasuke's ear to blow his mastery directly into it.

Sasuke moved slightly; it wasn't the proposal he was expecting. Sai stood like an airy cardboard cut-out against the prop of the parking lot, the light echoing out of the gym's open backdoors shining dusty and dull on his flat personage. Tipping his head slightly up, Sasuke bade him to continue.

"I distract all the lonely beggar boys out here –" Sai began, "the ones who aren't lonely are distracted enough – you pull him into your car while she's tending to the punch stain on her dress."

"Stain?" Sasuke asked.

"Where do you think I just came from?" Sai replied, the smile on his face far too friendly for his sinister deed.

The tip of his tongue was hot, salty; Sasuke could already see leather seats creaking under prodding fingers, course yellow hair pinched through his knuckles, little round beads of fluid dripping out of–

But no, it seemed all too close it was dangerous. Dangerously easy. Sasuke raised his eyebrows.

"You expect me to think you'll do this with no strings attached?"

Sai's darker-than-dark lashes flickered like the light on the bars of a cage. His nose and lips were pink like they'd been crushed against a fist, or stretched around it. "I just want you to come back here and tell me all about it."

Black eyes seemed to shine red like those of a bull.

"You pull him into the back seat, take his virginity by any and all means necessary – it shouldn't be difficult, everyone knows he's yours – and simply report back to me all the wet, sticky details."

Sexual conspiracy was gaining its first plots, first gridlines drawn back and forth between the two devious youths, spreading like a net.

"Tell me if he cries, if he moans. What he does, what he says; is it a nervous 'no, no', or an anxious 'yes, yes'?" Sai tempted, each word a hook wrapped with bait. "Does he ask you back again? Does he use you like a dirty toy, does he beg you to be more gentle?"

"Alright," Sasuke replied, mouth wet like a hungry dog's, "you've got yourself a deal."

Sai smiled a false smile and nodded in agreement. He shifted out of view and into the shadow of the looming hall, into the company of a group of younger, rougher males struggling to light cigarettes.

Sai made his proposition by circling his middle finger around his parted lips, asking "do you wanna . . . ?" with his eyes, and next thing Sasuke heard was a hurried shuffle of suddenly tight dress-pants and the triumphant cry, "some faggot's giving out blowjobs over there!" and couldn't help but smirk.

The crowd around the door was clear. Now, for the real business. Sasuke gathered his high pride, pulled his shirt slightly more open, and slid into the tumbling light of the party.

Cries of desperate onlookers groping at his chest, Sasuke waded across the deep valley of despair and giddy ecstasy, possession and jealousy, to his target in the finder. He sought out the true beauty of the ball, the invisible one: his shoulders stressing slightly against his jacket, excited sweat colouring his cheeks and nose, eyes wide like a child offered candy. Sasuke, wanting to possess him in every possible way, latched quickly to his wrist and all but danced him across the hall and out the back door.

A few meandering protests and a heavy crash against the back seat of his car later, Sasuke had dropped the prince exactly where he wanted him. In his confusion Naruto reached for the door handle, but Sasuke snatched up his fingers into his mouth and locked them in.

"Sasuke–? What are you–?" the blonde's struggling was a joke, tainted by the dizzy excitement of the party and defeated by the fact that he had not a single ounce of resolve against Sasuke, ever. If (and when) Sasuke wanted to push him down and hold him there, he could.

Sasuke shoved Naruto into the back seat bench and slid down between his legs, bending his knees like a tiger poised to pounce. He secured Naruto's knee with one hand and reached instantly for the place between his legs with the other, gripping the warm rod with the palm of his hand through Naruto's trousers. As if it were a handle to hold him in place, Naruto stopped struggling and jolted back his head, body frozen stiff.

Sasuke seemed to let out the breath he'd been holding all night, all month, longer, perhaps, since their first frantic kiss over some brat's desk, knees knocking together, lips awkwardly splitting against teeth, the furious screams that followed . . . With a relationship that started like that, wasn't it only fitting that this scene be just as sudden and furious?

Black eyes slid from body part to body part, from his hand gently massaging the proud manhood up, the folds of fabric tightening as Naruto spread his legs wider and wider, to his shoulders drawing anxious, shivering breaths, his bottom lip curled tight between his teeth.

"What're you . . . doing . . . ?" a pair of chewed-soft lips whispered. Naruto's eyes were misty like a fresh cloud, the boy already ready to fall into the uneasy embrace of sexual congress. He felt the zipper click-click down his dress-pants and sat hurriedly up.

"Wh-wha-what are you–?" the tight grip over the head of his manhood made him freeze again.

Sasuke drew closer to his chest and continued to stroke him. He pushed himself up, supporting himself with a knee pressed into the outside of Naruto's on the edge of the seat. A hand snatched open the top few buttons of his shirt, then tearing, pushing, pulled it down over one shoulder like a hasty medic desperate to find a wound. Sasuke palmed his warm, tan pec, squeezed the nipple through two fingers. All the while softly stroking his groin, he covered the quiet pink nipple with his mouth.

In a disturbed but familiar way, this didn't feel to Naruto like it was the first time Sasuke had molested him, as though the Uchiha's touches had always been on him, under the skin, waiting to surface. He moaned and shivered internally, spine prickly with electricity, determined not to watch Sasuke sucking his chest like a suckling kit. Suddenly ivory teeth bit down on his nipple and he jolted up, slamming his hand into the door handle.

Sasuke grabbed his hand. From the outside, the scene looked gratuitous, downright scary. But in Naruto's voice there was only desire. While he wove his fingers into Sasuke's, he felt like it was a betrayal to Hinata, but to deny Sasuke was an infinitely bigger betrayal. But still he did not look the predator above him in the eyes.

Sasuke slunk back down into the dark carpet of his back seat, sucking and gliding his tongue down Naruto's stomach as he did it, keeping a hold on the nipple he'd exposed. He hurriedly exposed his prey's cock, made him naked to his view, took a hold of the prize he sought, and put it in his mouth.

Naruto stretched out like his body was ascending, chest lifting towards the ceiling, and as his hand fell into Sasuke's hair, the scene came together like a lewd painting.

Sasuke smiled as he bobbed his head, slowly enough to be agonizingly tempting, fast enough to bring Naruto close to the edge. The boy was still fighting beneath him, but in moments he knew he could get Naruto to melt like caramel in his mouth.

"Sasuke . . . Sasuke . . ." as Naruto's words became more desperate and panicked as they rose from his straightened throat, Sasuke couldn't help but smile to himself and think this is it. This is what they all talk about. God, how he would love to lay Naruto flat on his back on the hood of the car, and hold his ankles up while he thrust it in deep, in view of all of these go-nowhere brats- but this would have to do for now.

"Sasuke-Sas-" Naruto's words wouldn't even come out anymore, breaking off in shaky, squawky cries, as he tore at the leather of the back seat bench with one hand, and held Sasuke's with the other, squeezing as hard as he could until-

"Ah-ah-aaah!" Naruto gasped, mouth wide open, no reservations, chest heaving out. Sasuke, well anticipating his partner's climax thanks to his noisy gasping and ready cries, took everything into his mouth, greedily sucking him down.

Sasuke, still on his knees, looked up at his long-time crush and longer-time rival, a satisfied grin on his face. He watched Naruto breath's gradually slow down, the exposed half of his breast swelling with each inhale, his eyes lidded with an erotic haze. He looked down at Sasuke, half in shock, half-expectant, while still seeming to be in control of the situation, like he knew all along what his partner was thinking.

"Aren't you . . . " Naruto breathed, "going to kiss me?"

Sasuke's eyes widened. He felt himself unconsciously lifting up off of his knees, ascending toward his blond prince.

"After all that . . . " Naruto's voice was ragged, like a torn piece of cloth, "aren't you going to kiss m-"

Sasuke needed no further encouragement and pushed forward, sealing their lips together. He knelt on the bench, pressing his chest against Naruto's, sucking in his lips, diving in and out with his tongue. By the time they pulled apart to breathe, they were both gasping for composure. They stared at each other, separated by a few mere centimetres of heated air, blinking their way back into sync.

After a few moments Naruto glanced slightly over to his hand, and at that point Sasuke seemed to realize he was still clutching it so tightly. He let go, fingertips brushing fretfully over Naruto's, and pulled up on the lock.

"I'm going back into the dance," Naruto said, his tone straddling the edge between irritation, and regret, to this day unclear to Sasuke if he was mad at him for stealing him away from his date, or for not asking him in the first place. Sasuke climbed out of the car and landed on the pavement, his ankle hitting the hard ground sending a shock through his body that echoed upwards through his body.

In the doorway, Hinata was frantically looking around the dark parking lot for her lost date, and Naruto quickly made himself seen to her. A sigh of relief fell over her like a curtain, draping her in yet more sugary beauty, and making Sasuke's hair prickle with rage. He didn't hate her, not particularly, until this very moment.

Sai, who was wiping at the corners of his mouth with stretched thumb and index finger, was waiting to the side of the doorway, in the shadow of the big double-doors. He looked positively un-ruffled, hair smooth and skin pristine, quite unlike his partner-in-crime, who looked now like he'd been dragged over a sticky pub counter. Sai caught Sasuke's glare and bit back with a grin that was forcing itself not to be amused.

"So, how was it?"