Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor am I making money out of writing this.
Warnings: hints of sexual activities, hints of murder. Shounen-ai/yaoi (SasuNaru). This is an experiment-fic.
Summary: Their love is frozen and melted at the same time. There is nothing lukewarm about it, Sasuke thinks.
The Last One Alive
Written by Venerate
The night is as pure as freshly fallen snow, but he doesn't care. Why would he care about something as silly as snow? No, his mind is far from pure and his thoughts are not touching the subject of winter or snow. This man is Uchiha Sasuke and he doesn't think of stupid things. He is Uchiha Sasuke and he doesn't care. Weather is irrelevant at these times. His mind is somewhere else, accompanying his thoughts. They are swimming in a small hot tub – it's a vicious cycle, the same thought over and over again since it simply can't reach further in the hot bath water.
With styled hair and designer clothes, Sasuke takes long steps to get inside of the lobby. It is brighter inside, but he can't see the receptionist's face. She doesn't mind his glum persona, offering a red smile and a light welcome home. Sasuke doesn't care; he isn't listening.
All he can think of is the dead body. A white naked body with toned abs and biceps. Long, greyish hair that had been violently pulled out of the strict ponytail spread all over the chest. Red, red and again red. Red, grey and white. Blood, hair and skin. Yummy.
Sasuke absent-mindedly fiddles with the buttons on his black jacket, wonders if the inside is ruined by now. Is it stained like the front of his shirt? It is his favourite shirt, but it had suited the scene a few hours ago. He wants to get inside his apartment and eat something. He isn't tired, despite the time nearing ten o'clock. He is just hungry. For what, he doesn't know. He knows that the fridge will be empty.
The elevator ride is quiet and fast, only a minute long. He steps out in the corridor of the fifth floor and walks over the royal blue carpet to his door. It is open, so he just gives the handle a little touch. He isn't surprised. Not at all. Not a feeling of shock, revelation or astonish. No, he knows what this means. He doesn't have to go to bed hungry tonight.
"Welcome home!"
This isn't light, there are no red lips smiling. No feminine eyelashes fluttering towards him, no painted fingernails trying to grasp his jacket for him. No short skirts and no silk blouses. Not a bracelet around thin wrists and no pink blushes.
This is Uzumaki Naruto and Sasuke loves him for that.
No blushes, but faint scars. No painted fingernails, but Naruto's are blunt and don't hurt much when they claw at his back. There is no jewellery on Naruto, except for the necklace with sentimental value. Sometimes, Sasuke wants to take that necklace. He wants to take it and stomp on it, throw it in the toilet and watch it melt in the orange fire. He hates the necklace, but won't touch it. He will never touch it, because it is Naruto's.
Sasuke takes off his jacket, leaving it on the floor. Naruto stares at him with impossibly blue eyes, but the blond-haired man isn't disgusted. The blood has dried on some places, and it looks obscene against his crème-coloured dress shirt. It's art in a cliché way that should be photographed. Sasuke is beautiful enough for art. For Naruto, the artist, Sasuke would wear the stained dress shirt and paint his lips red.
"Who is that?"
Naruto trails a long finger over a stain that isn't fully dry. Red is stuck on his fingertip. He already knows who and what Sasuke did. Naruto isn't surprised at all.
"I never got to meet him."
There is disappointment that Sasuke don't want to hear, but there is also something amused in the rough voice Naruto had. It is amusing, and Sasuke wants to smear blood on Naruto's face. Then they could both be beautiful in red.
Sasuke speaks, "take a photo with me."
Naruto smiles. Then the blond man disappears into the apartment, and Sasuke follows. The living room is the biggest room in the apartment, with a cocoa-coloured sofa and minty walls. The windows are big and the room is bright. Naruto likes it that way when he plays with his expensive camera. Sasuke loves it when Naruto is happy, but he also likes to tease him by pull the heavy satin curtains together and cover the wall of windows.
"Naked," Sasuke says. He wants to get out of his clothes. He wants Naruto out of his clothes. They are beautiful naked. Swiftly, he unbuttons his shirt and gets out of his pants. His dark eyes watch as caramel skin is revealed when Naruto undresses clumsily. It is a sweet game, and Sasuke loves to see the photos afterwards. Sometimes, Naruto puts them in his gallery and in his art shows. Uzumaki is a famous name now.
When they are naked, there are secrets and truths coming together to blend. It is raw and honest, cold and sometimes unfair. It doesn't matter, because there is also beauty. The truth and coldness in Naruto's eyes are cobalt and teal. Sasuke's eyes are warmer colours, red and black shifting between life and death. It is ironic, because Naruto isn't cold and Sasuke isn't warm.
When they shower together it is scolding hot and when they sleep in different apartments it is freezing cold. When other people are around it is lukewarm and they always make sure to be alone. Alone and together to make sure that no one will be stolen.
Green. Sasuke is army-green when others are present, but he doesn't want to think of that now. He wants to feel Naruto's hands on his thighs as he looks at the young Uchiha through the camera. Click. Click, click. Three gorgeous pictures of naked, honest and cold Sasuke. He's warm inside.
Thoughts of Uchiha Itachi and blood and hot showers are pushed away when Naruto kisses him. It is soft and trying in the beginning, but not shy or hesitating. Just experimenting without tongue and saliva. Chapped lips and warm hands against his porcelain skin. He doesn't feel fragile and presses his lips harder against Naruto's. It feels good.
"I missed you," Naruto whispers. It's deafening and wild. Like the black and white photo of Naruto that hangs on the periwinkle walls in their bedroom. Grinning and open with hidden desire and private love confessions. For Sasuke. "I missed you," Naruto repeats and plants a kiss on thin, pale lips.
Sasuke doesn't answer, but Naruto knows already. Naruto knows a lot, but he is in eternal search for recognition and acknowledgement. As an artist, a photographer, a friend and a lover. Lover, Sasuke's lover. No one else's, because Uchiha Sasuke would kill them all in the blink of an eye. Cold-blooded slaughter with whole-hearted sadism. Mm.
Click. Dark eyes glimmering with murder and control. Because Sasuke is controlling, domineering and possessive. He knows everything and nothing; jealousy is the army-green that doesn't fit his navy blue turtlenecks or his black wife-beaters. Click.
Naruto is skilled, but Sasuke has never said it aloud. He enjoys watching Naruto work. Now. Naked. Standing on his knees in the sofa and watching the world through his professional camera. Sasuke is impatient, eager and calm at the same time. He wants Naruto to tell him that he's beautiful, he wants to hear it. He wants to hear it come from Naruto's mouth.
Click. "This one. This one, this one, this one, this one!" Naruto is excited and enthusiastic about whatever he caught through the lens, his smile wide and his teeth white. He hands the camera to Sasuke to let him see the photograph.
Sasuke sees himself with distant eyes, knowing that there are no flaws on his body or face. What bother him are his eyes. Dark, searching for appreciation, where he wants to hear Naruto say that he's gorgeous. A small smile, barely there, only the corners of his mouth pointing upward as he remembers all the times Naruto has told him so. The slight scrunch of his perfect nose when he recalls all the times when Naruto hasn't told him.
He's alive and his eyes are as dark as his hair. The smell of coppery blood is near, on the floor, and their nakedness can't stop it. Sasuke gets up, not throwing a look over his shoulder, and instead heading to the bedroom without a word. Naruto follows, the camera turned off and forgotten on the coffee table.
The sheets are grey and cold when he slips in between them. He waits for Naruto, but the younger man simply enters with a pack of cigarettes. Naruto likes to smoke before sex, because he always falls asleep afterwards. Sasuke likes to be awake then, taking one of Naruto's cigarettes and pretend that he enjoys the nicotine kick and the horrendous smoke. He pretends, perhaps in a try to understand his addicted lover.
He watches quietly as Naruto leans against the window sill, the window now open and sounds from the busy town slipping inside with the cold wind. Sasuke is glad that he's under the comforter, waiting. He can see that Naruto is freezing, but he is so beautiful that it aches. His lithe, bronze form leaning forward against the window sill together with an old cactus and a black, thick frame. No one is inside of the frame.
When Naruto is done with the cigarette, they both know what is to happen. Sex. Sex, sex and more sex until the room is red and they can only see black as they climax and orgasm and cum.
"How did you do it?" Naruto asks carefully, and Sasuke knows exactly what he means. He doesn't answer immediately, because Naruto is climbing onto the bed, which distracts the young Uchiha perfectly well. That tone, beautiful body could distract anyone, Sasuke is sure. "How," Naruto demands.
"A hammer."
"You killed your own brother with a hammer."
It sounds cold, but it is said with outmost normalcy. Sasuke doesn't know what to think, but to imagine the bloody-naked-pale body on hardwood floor. The hammer is disposed of; because Sasuke is aware of the fingerprints he may and may not have left. It doesn't matter. He is used to this.
Tan hands move over his chest, and Sasuke is back to present. Naruto always brings him to the moment. They are quiet and smooth, aware of what to do to please each other. Occasionally, Naruto experiments curiously, but it is never disagreeable. Sasuke likes this.
And when they cum, orgasm and climax it is all over for seven seconds. They try to breathe, but can't. They try to move, but are frozen. Sweaty bodies finally move, chests moving up and down, and they are alive again. Naruto wants to go at it again, because he loves the adrenaline, the feeling of his heart skipping a beat. It is almost poetic. Erotic, is the name for it.
Naruto loves to die and come back to find Sasuke there. Sasuke loves it just as much, but he can control himself. Somewhat. They love it, each other, and the hammer.
Thinking of hammers, Sasuke tells, "I hit him in the chest, over his heart." Because he tried to kill you. "I hit him in the head, through his brain." Because he killed my parents. "I hit him on his throat, on his Adam's Apple." Because he lied to me.
Naruto knows, and he hugs Sasuke closely. They both know, and it is with comfortable silence they sit in a warm embrace. They don't mind the thoughts of crows and Itachi, or the images of hammers and blood. They are a part of everyday life.
They go to sleep, and Sasuke dreams.
The End
Author's note: Make sure to leave a review with your thoughts. Thank you!