For Thine is the Kingdom
Rated; Hard R
Summary; They know things aren't supposed to be this way, but they make due with what they have.
Disclaimer; Naruto's not mine, the fic is.
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There is a certain grace to the mist, curling down, lost behind marble steps, disappearing into the gaping mouth of what was once a deep green forest. The fog has rolled in from the ocean, settled upon the shoulders of the mountain, stolen the colors of the world like icy wind steals the rose red of children's lips. In the damp morning, Uchiha Sasuke is slipping through the fog like a ship through the shadowy graveyard of the sea, silent, dependant on the misty expanse to hide his presence from a world still awakening.
It has been days since he's seen color, what with the fog draping, clinging, lurking around the school campus--a lapdog and herald of the coming fall. The students linger in outdoor hallways, rats in an unforgivable maze as they chatter and search for purpose, unseeing in the suffocating white cascade of muted dimness. They do not venture outside the glow of classroom windows, huddling carefully among the halos provided by the light, safe and easy in their pathetic numbers. Sasuke has no use for numbers, lights, safety. He enjoys pulling curtains away from a disguised earth and discovering what lies within the shrouded, dim landscape.
Sasuke's avenue of choice is the historic half-courtyard, encased in stone, open to reveal fountain after fountain, on into the distance. His shoes slide against the clean, slick stone; stone damp from the clinging condensation, shiny in the icing of autumn. The subdued crash of water is heard in the near distance, hanging drizzle hiding the furthest fountains from the eyes as if they were secrets to be kept shrouded in darkness. Sasuke's eyes linger on the unrelenting statues lining the half-oval stone patio; the lion, monkey, and tiger stare at him almost defiantly, challengingly. Yet they are blank and empty--encased in rock and carved by the hands of a human, very much made imperfect by the means of their crafting. Sasuke walks along each one willingly, dark eyes studying the features idly but carefully, the perfect combination of hawk and mouse in that subtle, decisive gaze.
It is with little preamble that he stumbles upon the Hyuuga.
Suitably presented at the foot of a stone angel, the senior student is curled precariously around himself, head bent to knees, forehead touching ever so softly as if the meeting of his own body would deform or damage the delicate skin of that face. Sasuke notices the limp state of the other boy's clothing, white and black, white and black, just like the Hyuuga himself. Suited perfectly for this weather, though more than the fog had stolen the color from Hyuuga Neji's skin, face, hair, clothing. Sasuke's shoes make a grating noise as he comes to a halt a mere foot from the small figure, noting the fall of hair over narrow shoulders, the dull shine of shoes against the glistening surface of rock beneath.
Slowly, like a bud unfurling to full flower, Neji lifts his head to turn an unnaturally deep, icy gaze on Sasuke's upright figure. Even through the sheltering mist, it cuts like icicles, but Sasuke does not waver. He is immune to ice, and Neji.
"You are unnaturally recumbent, Hyuuga." Sasuke's voice is hard, but lilting. Invasive like the sea-mist, like water twisting between the rocks of a river bed. Neji's gaze is unfathomable, no discernable emotion present on that clean, white continence.
Sasuke would prefer the Hyuuga to watch him as if he were some type of disease, crafty, invasive--rather than something he i knows /I , has deciphered already. But Sasuke does not shift, nor make any further statement until Neji's gaze sweeps away, untouched as a feather in a still room. Sasuke still knows (despite the easily lost gaze,) that he's greater than any monument Neji could choose to rest his colorless orbs upon, and is haughty in this knowledge. Convinced that Neji knows it, too.
"Your eloquence is a stunning display of hidden insult." He is speaking to the courtyard, and his words are oddly thrifty through the still air. Sasuke studies Neji's profile and waits, eyes barely able to discern the alabaster skin from the white curtain of fog beyond. The line of the throat gives prelude to further vocality. "Appreciation of the silence often lies in the idleness of the body."
He is lying, but not outright. Clever in the deception of the tongue, this Hyuuga knows how to skirt words and topics and redefine focus, spotlighting something that seems important, yet fails to hold Sasuke's attention. Sasuke is instead attentive to the posture, the position, the way Neji's nimble fingers cling at the cuffs of his white-pressed school shirt as if slipping up and holding on to some type of barrier. Sasuke's intrigue is not apparent on his face, his sudden lust to take a underhanded shot at the regal creature hidden behind closed lids.
There is the slow, melodious trill of birds in a tree far away, and Sasuke's sudden smile almost infringes on devious.
"You think your easy words will hide your insecurity from--" the Uchiha's voice trails off as Neji stands in that graceful hush of damp clothing pressed to perfection. It steals his words and is almost rude in a sensual, disturbed way.
"Who–you?" The look Neji gives him offers no apology, nor even recognition that he has interrupted Sasuke's spoken thoughts. Spoken thoughts that--Sasuke suddenly realizes quite harshly, a tree slamming to death in the forest--are wrong, misplaced. Neji hides nothing from him. He never could.
The Hyuuga seems to be hiding from himself.
It is almost with chastised raptness that Sasuke watches Neji now, sees that too-slim figure move beneath the standard clothing, watches the hips shift and the feet fall. He admits to himself that he is caught, eyes clinging like cardboard stars glued to butcher paper. For all that he wants to see him fall, Sasuke also wants to i be /I that downfall. It is only when Neji is halfway across the courtyard that Sasuke realizes--he hears no footsteps. The Hyuuga moves as if ghostly. Sasuke's own personal spirit.
But Neji is very real, and as he turns back, the look that he gives Sasuke--a look that screams hollowly, i this is only for you/i --is a telltale sign of wishes that can only be made through the living body. A tempestuous spark of control and i come hither /I and i I will show you all my secrets /I in one gaze that Sasuke can not place in his mind, confusion that scrambles very quickly for some hold before he sees through it all and recognizes nothing but a haggard, broken boy sealed in the timeless grace of noble beauty. A boy that he has always known is just like him in every way that matters. Almost (but hardly) against his will, Sasuke follows. Pulled by a chain of half-formed hopes and desires crafted in a suddenly feeble mind, unwilling to deny the ethereal creature in the mist.
They disappear behind white pillars of the history building, slipping into shadows lightened by the ever-present dusk of water particles.
Sasuke slides closer than is absolutely necessary, but the pads of Neji's fingers are hardly any barrier against his chest, not really. There is a hush of breathing--birds taking flight in a still morning, or bed sheets being folded as Sasuke's slim fingers wire around Neji's wrist before moving suddenly to pull back the stiff white fabric in a gasp of material. The move quickly reveals spirals of deep, purple bruising.
Neji's eyes offer no explanation, no rebuttal for Sasuke's accusing glance. His fingers only shift to curl around the imposing ones that encircle his tiny wrist. Sasuke already understands all too clearly.
"Neji--" Neji cuts him off with a sharp kiss to the lips. It is subtle and rushing at the same time, liquid water and heat and a gasp that drives Sasuke blind and clearly states i Save your pity. Your wounds run just as deep. /I
So Sasuke does. He saves it through the seal of a kiss on warm, almost fragile lips. He holds it by pressing the older boy against the smooth ivory pillar behind him, flattening his body against cold stone, shoving the Hyuuga into life and realization. The understanding that passes between them then drags up ghosts of Sasuke's past, ghosts that have been filed away--pressured into seclusion. Every wrong word, callous touch, harsh handling rushes between them in the silence of that courtyard, and Sasuke can feel all that Neji i is /I .
"We are the hollow men," Neji is saying against his hair, but Sasuke is all to distracted by the Hyuuga's shirt, providing too proper a boundary.
Sasuke's fingers know where to go--know where to push away dark, flowing hair to reveal every bruise around that swanlike neck, every mark on that perfect skin. Every move Neji makes in reply is graceful, i begging /I to be liberated, and Sasuke can not wonder how this boy became so broken, knows that any answer would break the perfect picture that is created in this scene in a such a place apart. i Knowing /I would be too much when he already knows.
Neji's white shirt crumples at Sasuke's fingers like a monument erected only to be sullied, each button revealing paper white skin encasing trembling, powerful muscles. Bandages hide what Sasuke already knows is there and he makes short work of touching that skin, knowing that this act is not meant to be beautiful–Neji wants something angry, violent to pull him away from his internal violence, something caustic and abrasive to make him feel I real /i . Sasuke is not cautionary when he digs his fingernails into Neji's pale, pale skin.
They stumble through the white, double doors of the history building, pushing and pulling each other in a relay race that has only one destination. The building is quiet and empty, but the hall is large, dark, echoing the scuffs of their wet feet and the sounds of their sin. The old framework is dusty and glum–the place has not been used as a teaching institution for years; kept open only so the students may come inside and remember the great history of the academy nestled within the mountains. No one remembers. This history is tucked away where all histories are–behind the heart where they can make sores and form scars.
Sasuke pushes Neji into a dark corner by a grid window, the dim, dusty light filtering into dark, dustier light that barely seeps to the deep brown floorboards in its weakness. Neji is kicking off shoes and moving fingers around the general vicinity of Sasuke's belt buckle, lips scalding and hot against the Uchiha's neck, his jawbone, his ear. Neji is everywhere, trailing his ghosts over Sasuke's skin, pulling his memories sinuously through fabric with long, impatient fingers. Sasuke is anything but patient, but Neji is hovering on pushy–he wants his relief to go quick and right to the source; a anesthetic to numb the pain.
They grind blindly, but precisely. Not a movement is wasted.
Neji's pants are down, and Sasuke doesn't remember sliding his hands over Neji's shoulders to remove the shirt, but he has, and it's gone–his hands are resting on a thin waist, fingers pressing into soft, cool flesh–posessive. Those fingers chant i this is mine–this broken thing is b mine /b /i . Against the deep wood, Neji looks like a marble god crafted centuries earlier, features pouring out of the stone and trapped in a timeless allure. Sasuke has the urge to enflame those pale lips, bring color to the ashen cheeks, draw life from the barren throat. Neji's lips find his chest instead.
His shirt is lost before Sasuke realizes it, and his pants pool at his ankles just before Neji's warm mouth is around his cock. Self control is lost in his shock, and he wonders why the first time he has ever seen Neji vulnerable is the first time he admits to wanting something other than resolution.
There is no way to break the trance Neji traces up the already stiff organ as Sasuke stares at an odd angle out the window into the cool, wan distance. His fingers are buried in Neji's silken hair, pulling him closer, pressing himself up into that wanting mouth. It is a fiery gorge, suffocating, intoxicating, and Sasuke has to concentrate on breathing. When Neji pulls away, it is as if Sasuke has been thrown out of heaven.
"Fuck me." The Hyuuga commands, and Sasuke sees now that such lips have always been made for dirty words.
He wonders what they will look like forming his name.
Sasuke wants to be entranced by the movement of Neji's fingers when the Hyuuga presses them inside himself, stretching, pulling, his own digits disappearing in an erotic display of perfect control. Instead, all he can stare at is the way dark hair shifts against Neji's back and the cruel, clinging bruises exposed by the dark curtain. When Neji pulls Sasuke closer, it is into a waiting heat that drags a guttural groan from Sasuke's throat. It takes Neji sliding up the wall, pressing against him heavily and wrapping his legs around Sasuke's waist to bring the Uchiha back to reality. He realizes just how gone Neji must be to fall this far, but when he looks up into those pearly eyes, he knows that the boy pressing against him is not gone, just smart enough to know when to escape–and how.
"You'll call my name in the end, Hyuuga." There is pride through pleasure, and though Sasuke sees Neji's demons dancing with his own, that strained existence of vainglory will always be there, lacing his voice. Neji answers with a smirk, though there is pain behind it, etching deep in the elegant brows and over a bandaged forehead. The greatest mystery lies beyond, but Sasuke can't bring himself to care when he's already deep inside, engulfed by tight heat.
He moves precisely, swiftly, dangerously, as if born to fuck.
The setting is void as the two geniuses move together, Sasuke pushing his control, Neji pulling greedily. Neji is like nothing he's ever touched, hollow and dark in all the right ways, empty and broken enough to be beautiful. Sasuke knows he can never want something i whole /I , instead he plunges into Neji and forgets what he's meant to forget, trading it for white-hot pleasure and numbness tracing down his spine. It is a difficult angle, but Neji is light–too light–and supporting himself against the wall as Sasuke grasps at his ass and lifts his head to be kissed.
The want is denied, and Sasuke growls against his pleasure, teeth finding Neji's shoulder to bite down roughly as he thrusts harder. He can feel the Hyuuga tense beneath him, and when he looks up, the angle almost allows him to see the quiet boy's thoughts. Yet, that face is ever serene.
For the life of him, Sasuke can't distinguish a single thought in his own mind. He realizes a flash of gratification later that this is what Neji had in mind the entire time.
It is with a certain amount of dignity that Sasuke slams Neji into the wall now, hard, unforgivable. Everything into the Hyuuga, and everything into Sasuke in return. They trade illusions in those seconds, fucking hard, Neji's heels digging into Sasuke's back the only indication of any i feeling /I within the Hyuuga, as there is nothing written on his face. Sasuke roughly grabs Neji's cock between them, giving it an erratic pull in tandem with his own thrusting, eyes glued to that blank continence. He wants to see something there, more than a flicker of pain or lack of absolution. The part of him that has always wanted to see Neji surrender shudders with pride when the Hyuuga's eyes fall closed and the moist lips part. It is as much of an admission of defeat as he has ever gotten.
Sasuke pulls out again, changes the angle and thrusts, smirk in place as he watches Neji's face transform from placid to disrupted. The sound that Neji makes then is not hollow, and Sasuke breathes his own delight against the bandages of the Hyuuga's chest, heat coiling in his stomach, waiting to be released. The unchecked movement of Sasuke's hand is the only indication of his drive to push Neji over the edge before he comes himself, and as he wipes the precum from the head of Neji's cock with his thumb, thrusting irratically now (all rhythm forgotten,) Neji forces their lips together and moans, "Harder." against Sasuke's mouth. "You wanted–to make me scream...didn't you?"
The next thrust is enough; Sasuke takes everything in the perfect angle, watches Neji throw his head back against the wall in a perfect arch as he spills himself, hot and sticky between them. Sasuke has to listen hard to hear his name (panted breathily, erotic against the still air,) but it's enough to send him trembling into that hot chasm only once more before a heavy release that has his vision blurring and throat begging for a vocalized testament to their perfect union.
Yet despite the perfection, Sasuke knows as he thrusts once more and detangles himself from Neji's limbs, that it was just something crude and vile to push away other sins. A measured escape performed, not for the first time, but i like /I the first time. Sasuke leans his head where the sweat collects in the recess of Neji's collarbone, and their skin clings together like wax paper. "This is the way the world ends." He whispers, eyes drifting shut in a brush of dark eyelashes on marble skin.
"This is the way the world ends," Neji's tone is almost agreeing (coming down,) and Sasuke's eyes open over his shoulder to notice that the window is fogged. He reaches over to trace patterns there, but there is no promise of initials and hearts, simply lines made by shaky hands.
"This is the way the world ends..." Sasuke's voice is fading, and he can feel Neji touching his face, knows that the Hyuuga is waiting for their eyes to connect, and when they do, the world is ending.
"Not with a bang, but with a whimper." Neji's lips say against his own.
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Author's Note; Originally written for a friend. People who catch the blatant Eliot allusions get cookies.