Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's good to be back! I'm trying something out here, so let me know if you like this and would like me to continue it or move on to a different story idea because I have others. At the moment I have two complete chapters for this so if you want the next one let me know. As for the story itself, I'm going to try to focus on the growing relationship of our two favorite boys for the most part. The entire thing will most likely be told from Sasuke's POV, but I can add chapters with Naruto's POV if you would like. I tried to keep Sasuke as in character as possible, and I'm sorry he's the uke in the first part, which I must warn is explicit, but honestly though he's more of a seme, I can see him in both positions. Anywhosels, here is my second multi-chapter Naruto story. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: never have, never will and never hope to. Honestly, you think I could continue that without ruining everything? Though there would be more yaoi if I did...

Warnings: Sex between men (as in the very first part is sex, but not just random smut I'll have you know), yaoi, boys kissing, loving and otherwise touching boys, swearing, and possible OOCness. Oh, and Sasuke as uke at first. But he's not a stupid naive, adorable uke, so it's all good! It just happened to work out this way when I started writing... .'

Chapter 1

They say it isn't love.

"Nngh! Aah…aaaah." He bites on my nipple before licking it and giving it a chaste kiss. I arch up into it, wanting to feel more. More contact, more pain, more pleasure. Just more. He pulls away with a ghost of a grin on his face as his hands keep roaming my skin, leaving trails on ice behind. I can't see his expression because I don't look; but I know it's there. I just don't want to see it.

One hand travels south, so close, so close—I can feel it just ghosting by my erection—as it bypasses my need to massage and stroke my inner thigh. I'm wriggling and writhing underneath him, I know. I'm moaning and letting out gasps, because even with just these feather light touches or harsh bites, it feels so good! I close my eyes that are rolling back into my head as he touches his lips against the head of my cock, and I'm so sensitive now that just that small touch makes my need go into overdrive. I hear him chuckle at me, like this is the most amusing thing he's ever seen, but he doesn't full out laugh.

I guess I should believe them.

It feels like forever until he finally does something. At first he just licks it, but then he takes the whole thing in his mouth and I'm mewling and moaning even more than before, and I just can't help it. My eyes are still closed, and I can hear him sucking me off. It sounds like someone messily eating soup, slurping and smacking their lips. It isn't appealing, but it doesn't take away any from the white hot pleasure I'm getting from having his mouth around me. I can feel his head bobbing up and down, his hand stroking me a little while the other is at my hip, caressing. And then the hand moves down, past my balls and to my entrance, and I'm just panting with anticipation for that pang of pain and pleasure that this kind of invasion gives. The kind that comes from allowing another to dominate and control and invade you in such an intimate way.

And now, I hate to think that this is really intimate, but it is. And there's no other way to feel this sensation.

It's never felt right anyway.

"Aah! Yes!" I moan out, moving to grab at his hair instead of the sheets around us. He has two fingers in me right from the start, but it doesn't hurt as much as it should. We've done it enough that it doesn't take very long to prepare. Even before him, it never took long to prepare because I was never out of practice. But I've been with him the longest, so it's only fair that he's the only one that prepares me now.

He shifts his angle and adds a third finger. I jerk and cry out in response as he hits my prostate, the heat in my stomach coiling ever tighter. It only takes a few more thrusts of his fingers before I cum into his mouth with a loud moan. He laps it up, taking his fingers out of me, and then crawls back up, one hand trailing over my stomach and chest, up to my neck where he rubs his thumb along my jaw line, all the while leaving more trails of his ice cold touch to burn into my skin.

But still…

I open my eyes and look up into that amused and lustful smirk. I'm panting, but I manage to smile back up at him, knowing my face is flushed with pleasure and my eyes are still glazed from post-orgasmic bliss. My hands are still tangled in his hair, so I pull him down into a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue.

He pulls back, his breathing uneven as well, and his smirk still in place. One of his arms moves near my head to support him as his other hand traces up and down my side, then back down to my reawakening erection. He leans his head down and I shiver as I feel his breath against the shell of my ear.

Still…

"You came so quickly. Did you miss me that much?" he whispers as he nibbles on my ear and then dips his tongue into it. His voice is deep and smooth. I rarely get to hear it, even in bed when even I call out more than usual.

"A-ah! O-of course not," I say as evenly as I can, unable to really concentrate on answering. My ears are my weakness. He knows this and uses it to his advantage. "We just…mmh, haven't done it in a while."

He chuckles lowly in that same amused tone and I shiver again.

"So you get this sensitive if I leave you alone for a week? Maybe I should go away more often," he says and then kisses his way from my ear, across my cheek and back to my lips. I moan as he starts grinding his hips against mine, telling me just how ready he is.

I still manage to glare despite the amount of pleasure that's crashing into me with the delicious friction he's putting between us.

"And leave me deprived? Hell no."

He stops and I almost whine at the loss of friction. Our noses touch and he looks me straight in the eyes. I want to look away, but it's only my pride that keeps me from it. Because this is all an act.

I don't want to give up this warmth just yet.

"Then I'll just have to supply you until I return," he says seriously before pushing into me with one thrust. I'm arching off the bed again with the sensation of being filled enveloping me. He doesn't give me any respite; he just keeps thrusting into me as if it's a desperate motion.

Even if I know it isn't love.

I keep moaning and moving with him in that same desperately quick rhythm, rolling and bucking my hips to meet him. There's nothing slow and loving about it. There's just need and want and pleasure and pain, and still all I want is more. I want more, more, more, because I know it will never be enough.

"Ha…ah! Harder! Aaahnn…!"

He does as I tell him, moving quicker and harder and deeper than before. I want him to kiss me, but I know that he won't. I want to kiss him, but I know he won't let me. Not anymore. So I just keep moving with him and moaning, my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He lets me pull his head down to my shoulder, and it's like a weird, moving hug, an embrace. I don't want to let go. But then he's pulling my arms from his neck, pinning them beside my head. His lips travel from my collar bone and across my chest. They kiss and nip and lick at my nipples again until they're hard and wet with his saliva, and I'm nearly at the edge, beside myself with pleasure.

I feel the coil of heat in the pit of my stomach wound nearly to its breaking point, and it only takes one more thrust before I'm cumming over my stomach, hard. My muscles clench and he cums too, splashing my insides as he rides out the orgasm.

He stops moving, staying inside me, and he drops his head onto my chest. He kisses it a few more times and I just want to tell him to stop, but the words get caught in my throat. I take a shuddering breath as he works his way back up along my neck, but never touching my face. We're still connected, so he keeps giving me these sweet touches. I don't want them. I don't want them anymore if he can even do them without any feeling behind them.

I take another breath, my heart rate slow once again.

"Hey…"

He stops. My tone is soft but cold and hard as ice. I've ruined the moment. We both know it. I don't care. I just don't care anymore.

"Yeah?"

He's frozen in place, his lips brushing against the skin of my neck as he says it. His voice is neutral. Cautiously so.

I gather the words on the tip of my tongue and push them out before they're swallowed yet again.

"This is the last time, isn't it?" I ask, my voice the same tone as before. It isn't accusing. It's just cold. Indifferent. How I wish I could be.

I can feel him tense, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he just buries his face in my neck and holds me close. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close too. No tears fall. I've disconnected my emotions. They just make everything harder. Instead I just listen to the heavy silence and take in the last of this warmth and his achingly tender touch. He never says anything after that, while we hold each other, but his silence is all the answer I need.

Even if I know this is the last time…I just want to feel this for a little longer…

I wake to the sounds of loud footsteps and voices moving along outside. Growling low at the disturbance, I lift myself from bed. Normally, I'm a morning person, but not when I only fell asleep two hours ago. Lack of sleep added to that dream (memory, my mind shouts at me; nightmare, I shoot back at my mind) I just had are enough to make me irritable. It's the beginning of a bad day, and I can only pray that it will get better.

I glance at the clock on my way to the kitchen area. It's almost seven in the morning. I know I could just go back and hide under the covers for a few more hours, but I know I won't actually sleep. I don't want to dream of that again. I'm afraid to, even if I would never admit it out loud, and so I decide that finding a distraction in my work would be best for now.

I should be over it by now, but it's achingly clear that I'm not. Three months ago. Only three months ago I lived in a different apartment and had a lover. He was quiet and a bit anti-social like me, but we got along well enough. His name was Gaara Subaku. We met in the writing club at college, and somehow from there we got to being lovers. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he cheated on me for a whole month before he finally left. We never said we were exclusive or anything. I just thought it went without saying that we were after a while, and that's how it was…for a while. It didn't take much to figure out he was seeing someone else. I'd done it enough times to other to know the signs.

The only thing that haunts me is the way he held me that one last time before he left without a word.

I move to the kettle on my stove and light the flame beneath it so the water will boil. I hear loud knocking sounds and a worried voice shouting, but I can't hear what it's saying. I don't really care. I just want them to be quiet soon so I'll be able to work later. I need to get my mind off that dream as soon as possible.

The kettle lets out a high keening, letting me know the water's boiling. I turn the flame off, pour some of the steaming water into a mug, and place the kettle back on the stove. I get a tea packet and put it in the cup just as the phone starts to ring as luck would have it. With an irritated sigh, I leave my cup on the counter and move to the phone in the living room.

"Yes?" I ask into the receiver as the voice outside yells again, sounding like a muffled 'be careful.' I figure somebody in one of the other apartments is moving furniture. Or maybe someone is finally moving into the apartment next door. It's been vacant for a while, so I guess it's about time the landlord found someone to occupy it.

"So you're up! Good! Just wanted to make sure, Uchiha," a cheery voice rings in my ear loudly. I contemplate hanging up the phone right then and there, but decide against it. She may actually have something important to say today.

Ino Yamanaka. She's my editor. We met in the same place I met Gaara, but we didn't get to know each other until she was assigned to be my editor. She was annoying back in college. She's still annoying now, but she isn't as clingy as she used to be.

"Any reason you're calling me this early in the morning?"

"I just want to check on the progress of the manuscript. I know you don't fall behind on deadlines like most authors, but checking in once in a while doesn't hurt."

"It would be going better if you didn't call me everyday." My tone is flat, but I know she can hear the sarcasm in it. I actually enjoy it when she calls sometimes. 'Sometimes' being the key word.

"Oh, you're so mean Uchiha!" she exclaims in a hurt voice. I can tell she's just pretending. "But you know you like it when I call sometimes because you get so lonely in that apartment all by yourself~!"

"Thank you for reminding me Yamanaka," I say. It comes out colder than it should. What she says shouldn't set me off, but it does. She jokes about it all the time, and normally I don't mind. Today I do. I'm tempted to hang up on her again, but she's caught my tone and knows what it means.

"Sorry Uchiha. I didn't mean it like that, honest," she apologizes quickly enough. "But you really should get out once in a while. Even when it isn't close to a deadline you just hole yourself up in that place. I worry about you."

I know she does. I can't really bring myself to care right now. I don't want to talk anymore. It's become a day when I really hate it when she calls.

"Whatever." I hear knocking on my door. It's as good an excuse as any to hang up, so I take it. "Someone's at the door. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Wait, Sasuke—!"

She doesn't get more than that out before the phone is back on the receiver. The knock comes again and I sigh. I go back to pick up my tea and take out the tea bag so it doesn't get too strong, and then I'm over at the door. When I open it the mass of bright blonde hair is the first thing I notice. I don't know whoever it is, but I'm staring at his back. He's got on this horrendously bright orange sweatshirt and loose fitting, worn out jeans. He doesn't notice that I've opened the door. Instead he's leaning over the railing, waving to some people below that are getting back into a truck. I notice the logo on its side and mentally groan. So it really was someone moving in. My eyes move back to the oblivious blonde before me and decide to wait for him to notice me. I lean against my door frame and blow on my tea in the meantime. He turns around just as I take my first sip of it.

"Gah! What the—! What are you, a ninja? How'd you get there?" he shouts in surprise, hands coming up in what looks like automatic defense. His bright blue eyes go wide and he looks like he might have run away for a moment from the scare. It's amusing. An unexpected distraction. How nice of the universe to just drop this on my lap.

"I opened the door like a normal person. It's your fault for not noticing, moron," I reply, still feeling the irritation from Ino's phone call but not quite as much. His cheeks puff out in a pout and it makes him look like even more of a moron.

"Bastard. And here I was hoping I would have a nice neighbor for once," he complains.

"Good luck with that," I reply, if only to see his reaction. I realize that annoying him could become quite a good pastime when I get bored around here, making the presence of a new neighbor more bearable. My only other hope is that he isn't some idiot who likes to make a lot of noise.

"Jerk! Jeez, who mocks someone they've just met?" he asks indignantly, the pout still on his face. I just stare blandly at him and take another sip of tea. He lets out a long sigh, seeing that I wasn't going to answer, and a frown replaces the pout.

"Well whatever. I just came over to say I'm the new friendly neighborhood awesome person, Naruto Uzumaki, and I just moved in next door," he says, planting his hands on his hips. I think he's going for some kind of heroic pose. He completes it by giving me a peace sign and a grin.

I debate whether or not I should give him my name as well. He's exhausting and I'm realizing that I don't want to deal with him right now. Before I can answer with anything though, he's leaning closer to me than before. I take a couple quick steps back, not wanting him any closer to me than he already was, and he looks up at me with a little bewildered expression. Obviously he doesn't have much sense about personal space (is what I think, despite the fact that I know I have more issues about personal space than I'm willing to admit). He blinks and so do I, as I steady myself and try not to look as surprised by his sudden proximity as I actually am.

"Sorry," he says, uncertainty written clearly on his features. I feel like slamming the door on the idiot's face, but that would only make me seem like a coward. Not to mention, he's probably the type to not leave you alone when he wants to know something. So I squash the urge and stand there, a few steps into my apartment, staring back at him. I make no move to go back to where I was. This distance seems suddenly safer than where I was previously.

"Don't apologize, moron. What were you doing?" I say, my voice none too friendly, but not exactly hostile either. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't question my actions.

"Your tea smelled good. What kind is it?" he asks a little awkwardly. I'm even more surprised at this. He was smelling my tea…?

"Indian Spice Chai," I reply just as awkwardly, not really knowing what else to do. We just stand there for a few more seconds before I decide I've had enough of this newcomer. I have work to do, and despite the fact that Ino thinks I should get out more; finishing the manuscript is more important to me than a social life. Especially since I've never been a very social person in the first place.

I take another step back and reach out for the door, thinking whether or not I should just close the door in his face, but then decide to be polite, if only just this once.

"I have work to do, so if you don't mind, I have to go now," I tell him.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I guess I'll just see you around then," he says, still seeming awkward and unsure what to really do with himself. I move to shut the door but his hand shoots out with an exclamation for me to wait before I even begin to close it. I really shouldn't. I don't want interaction anymore. I don't want a distraction anymore. Not right now. Maybe later, but not now. But I wait like he asks, not sure why I am.

He digs around in his pockets and pulls out a small slightly crumpled, rectangular piece of paper. He offers me a grin and holds it out.

"Here. It's my business card. I'm pretty good at fixing computers and things like that, so if you ever need someone, I'll be happy to help," he tells me. I look at the piece of paper skeptically but take it if only to make sure he won't bug me to take it. I nod my thanks and go to close the door again.

"Wait! I never got your name!" he says quickly, hand shooting out to stop the door. I glare and remove his hand, no longer in the mood to entertain the idiot. But I find myself giving him the answer even as I shut the door in his face.

He doesn't get a chance to take it in and respond before the door is closed. I have nothing more to say. I don't care that my action makes him grumble on the other side and call me a bastard. I ignore it, take a sip of tea, and move on as if he hadn't just moved in next door. I go on with my daily routine.

Author's note: There you have it! Wow, I've realized that when I write, I make characters depressed. Weiiiird. Well, let me know what you think and if you want to see more!