Well, I've been incommunicado for... a while. (Not that anyone noticed. Noob writer, FTW~ xD) Anyway, this was the result of a random bout of inspiration that smacked me in the face and refused to be ignored. What could I do but see it through to the end? Now I have a bunch of math homework to get back to, but at least you have this oneshot to enjoy. ^_^ NaruSasu love~
Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto, all my readers would have deserted me, and I would probably jump off a bridge because I was so unsuccessful. ^_^ *can't draw to save her life*
Feedback would be appreciated~ =D
[Edited for...ah... crappiness...? Inconsistencies...? Yeah. xD]
Our bodies crashed together, katana meeting kunai in a spray of shimmering blue sparks. His pupils were slits, eyes shining red with the power of the Nine-Tailed Fox. The fingers gripping his small weapon were tipped with sharp, claw-like nails, white at the knuckles. His face was scrunched up in a feral snarl.
What was this, the fifth, sixth time he'd come after me? I'd tried to make it clear to him that I had no desire to return to the village. I had tried everything; venom, force, lies. Nothing seemed to work on him. Obviously, he had grown no less stubborn since our time together as Leaf genin. And that time had been good, while it lasted; I had companions, friends, people to watch my back while I watched theirs. That was back when I still felt capable of trust.
Through my Sharingan, I saw that he was about to shove us apart, and hurried to follow suit. As the kunai fell from his grip, and the weight of his body separated from mine, a chill grazed my arm for barely a moment.
I let a scowl fall across my face, but inwardly, I sighed. Power was something that I valued dearly, as it was the only way to reach my goals. But I could almost say that there was something I valued even more, not that I'd known it when I'd made my choice.
My blond opponent whipped out a few shuriken, chucking them my way. I deflected them easily. Really, he should know by now that he would never be able to best me without a killing intent behind his attacks; otherwise, we stood on equal ground. Granted, I wasn't aiming to kill, either. I let him think I was, but really, I was just trying to stall him enough so I could get away.
During those quiet nights alone in my room, a shroud of darkness hiding my surroundings, I liked to think of it as redemption. I wasn't without guilt for leaving the Leaf, and it wasn't as though I had been looking to forward Orochimaru's aims. I just happened to want power, and he just happened to be able to supply it for me. For that reason, and that reason only, I had left. And for that small pocket of remorse I felt, deep in my heart, I left people like Naruto to give me a hard time. Almost the way that Itachi had left me alive, had he a heart at all to feel regret.
Naruto's hands flew together in a ninjustu seal. "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"
About twenty more Narutos popped into existence, all immediately lunging for me from different angles. It was at times like these that I really treasured my Sharingan; I blocked each and every one of their attacks with ease, quickly doing away with each of them in a puff of smoke. As the smoke before me cleared, a blue ball of light became visible; the image was closely followed by a livid beast of a boy in an orange jumpsuit, thrusting the entire weight of his body at me.
I had no trouble remembering, though, that this was only the image my Sharingan was showing me, an image of about two and a half seconds into the future. It gave me time to sheathe my blade and fill my hand with leaping, dancing chakra; the sound of a thousand chirping birds filled the air.
"Rasengan!"
"Chidori!"
A bright flash of white light, and I was hurled backwards, my back striking a nearby tree with a dull thunk. Water from the wet ground seeped into my robes, poured through the leaves overhead, and trickled across my already waterlogged skin. Groaning, I pulled myself up, navigating through the trees until I stood once again in the clearing. Within seconds, Naruto appeared across the way, just as battered and mud-soaked as I imagined I was.
As our eyes locked, the fire in his gaze flared up once more. He charged, brandishing another kunai at me with almost reckless abandon; but even this was not meant to kill.
Drawing my sword once more, I blocked the attack, flinging the weapon from his hand. Now, I held my blade flush against his throat. A droplet of blood trickled down the smooth skin of his neck, mixing with stray drops of rain until it finally disappeared within the neck of his shirt.
This was it, my chance to run, and every time, I took it; with a quick blow to the head, I could incapacitate him, lay him gently across the wet ground, and make my escape. He would wake up in a few hours, maybe even less. He would open his eyes groggily. He would remember where he was, what had happened. He would gaze sharply, searchingly, at the empty land around him. He would curse at the silence. And then he would trudge home, once again, with empty hands.
This was how it went, every time.
But now, as I stared at his snarling, animalized face, something tugged at me. It was in the tips of my fingers, the heels of my feet; it was in the back of my mind, and in the core of my heart. It told me to pull back. To sheathe my sword, surrender everything, and follow him back home.
But, of course, my head said otherwise. It told me to do what I always did, to follow my survival instinct, preserve my freedom and my solitude.
These feelings warred within me, and I grimaced with the effort of merely standing my ground. On the one hand, I wanted to go with him; on the other hand, I knew I couldn't. But the other option didn't appeal to me, either.
The tension built in my legs, itching to move. My knuckles turned white. My jaw clenched.
And I gave in.
I withdrew my sword, letting it fall from my grip. My hands flew up. And I tipped forward, crushing my lips against his.
His grunt of surprise rumbled through his chest, the vibrations translating back through mine, which was pressed flush against him. I wrapped my arms around his torso, trapping him there, willing him not to resist, to just let me have this moment. I needed it. I needed him. His hands, his chest, his hair, his lips, his eyes, his voice. I missed him. God, how I missed him.
My chest was tight with worry. I expected him to shove me away, to stare at me with disgust, to curse and rage at me and attack me with everything he had. I didn't expect him to accept me, after all that I'd done. I didn't deserve it.
So when his lips moved against mine, and he kissed me back, my breath caught in my throat.
His arms snaked around my neck, his tongue lashing out to force its entry into my mouth. Obviously, he wasn't above inflicting pain on me. Not that I minded. This was enough, his warmth around me, his body against mine. His tongue danced, hot and wet, in my mouth; I gratefully vollied back, thrusting my hips forward almost without realizing. His groan of pleasure brought a smile to my face; I rocked forward again, savoring the sweet friction. Feeling the bulge of his pants against my leg, I shuddered.
But I needed more, of this, of him. Who knew when I'd get it again? I pulled my mouth from his, a string of saliva still connecting our lips as I traveled downward. My lips trailed along his jaw, down his neck, across the pulse point at his throat; his skin was soft and warm beneath them. I lapped at the shallow cut left from my blade, nipping at the vein beneath it, relishing the soft moan that rumbled from the depths of his chest.
The fingers of his left hand spread across the small of my back, forcing my pelvis forward, just as those of his right gripped tightly the hair at the back of my head. He had me wrapped around his little finger; I moved wherever he wanted, after all, it was the least that he deserved. This, the pinnacle of perfect humanity, whose spirit was so vivid and undying, whose dreams sparkled in any weather, whose eyes shone with determination and willpower. He was a fire that burned, everlasting, beneath the hearts of all that he met, lighting them with their leaping flames and setting my skin ablaze.
My breath rasped against his throat, bouncing back hot and wet against my face. His arm forced our hips together, again, and again, and I nearly cried out. Retracting from his neck, I bored my onyx eyes into his shimmering blue-green ones.
"Lie down," I ordered, voice husky.
Naruto complied without protest, and lay flat against the sopping wet ground. I climbed atop him, pressing him further into the mud, bringing our lips together once more. Now, my hips rocked freely, creating a slow, deep rhythm between us. He moaned, arching up when I thrust down, encircling my waist with his sturdy arms. I kept the friction going, slow, in no mood to rush.
He, however, seemed to have different ideas. When I made no move to escalate things, Naruto growled deep in his throat and summoned up enough force to flip us over. From his new position above me, Naruto attacked my throat with his lips and teeth; he was so ferocious I was sure that he would leave a mark. He rolled his hips against mine harder, and faster, breath hot against my throat. I felt the heat and pressure building below my hips; a small, pleading whimper escaped me. I flushed at the sound.
I could feel the chuckle bubbling from his chest; he forced his thigh between my legs, spreading them apart, and one of his hands went to untie the rope about my waist. My hands, which had been busying themselves about his tight ab muscles, drifted down to the zip of his pants. There was now considerably more pressure there than there had been, and I smirked as I removed the offending piece of clothing.
Now, we were skin-against-skin, his hard cock pressed up against my entrance. The funny thing was, I'd always imagined it the other way around: he beneath me as I penetrated him for the first time. Not that I was complaining, especially once his fingers began their slow, sensual strokes up and down my length.
A sharp pain; my breathing constricted, and I opened my mouth to let in more oxygen. He pushed further inside, slowly, giving me a chance to catch my breath. I grunted. At first, it was just that piercing ache, sharper than a blow but duller than a blade. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, and for an instant, I wished it would go away; but then I remembered, this was what I had guiltily imagined for years, what had set my blood boiling and my breath hissing and my cock aching. I had longed for this. And it was him, inside me, with his fingers stroking my cheek in gentle reassurance and his voice whispering softly for me to relax, just relax.
Finally, I listened, loosening my muscles as much as I could bear.
At first, all it did was relieve a little of the pain. When he felt me loosen around him, he pulled out a bit, then thrust back in. My breath hitched. He repeated the process a couple of times, seeming to expect something.
I gasped. "Shit."
That was it. As he thrust in one more time, the edges of my vision exploded in white light and vibrant colors, the breath streaming from my lungs with a resounding whoosh. My mind went blank, all thought chased away but this all-encompassing pleasure. It crashed through me like an ocean wave, forcing a powerful shudder through my spine, filling my head with all sorts of vivid blues and greens and yellows and reds. I could hardly remember how to breathe for all the raw emotion flooding my mind.
Naruto smirked and withdrew further, only to return with twice the force, aiming for that spot again. I stopped breathing for a moment, eyes clouding over.
When my breath returned, I hissed, "Fuck."
He seemed to take this as encouragement, and soon, he had a rhythm going. Out, in, out, in, hitting that same place over and over again. My fingers were lost in the sweet gold locks of his hair, and in the coarse fabric of his shirt; my mind was lost in the soft touch of his lips on mine, in the glittering sea-green of his eyes. Our bodies rolled together, hot and sweating, so very alive.
I cried out, the sound low and husky as hot, white liquid spewed forth, covering us both. My mind was lost in oblivion for a moment, a blank, white wasteland buzzing with life and light, overcome with pleasure. Just as I started to roll back into the present, I felt his thick seed fill me, and he retreated, lowering himself onto my chest. His breath ghosted across my collarbone, the pace calming slowly.
As reality began to set in once more, I once again became aware of the squelching mud beneath me, of the soft breeze raising goosebumps on my arms, of the harsh rain pelting my face. But there he was, lying across my body, chest rising and falling with his braking respiration.
I caught my breath and just lay there for a while, wishing I had more time, wishing this didn't have to end. But he sat up, and I followed, dreading what would follow.
Our eyes met. For the briefest of moments, I saw in his eyes a bubbling, blue happiness. But then it fell away, dampened, turned gray with the grief and sorrow of years spent alone.
He knew what was coming. We both did.
I shifted closer, raising a tentative hand to stroke his cheek, peering into his eyes and allowing a scant instant of my own melancholy to trickle through. I reached behind me, sliding my sword toward me across the mud. I whispered the words I had been holding in for what felt like a lifetime.
And I struck him in the temple, knocking him out cold.
My feet fly beneath me now, barely touching the ground as I pick my careful way through the trees, back to the hideout. My mind is awash with the feelings of my short time with him, all the sensations that I had dreamt of, but never experienced for myself; the satisfaction had only lasted as long as the moment itself. Now, all that's left is a vast emptiness, the cold wind whistling through. My own words echo back and forth across it, a never-ending cycle of regret.
"I'm sorry."