Pairing: NaruxSasu, Implied OroxSasu
Warnings: Short. Slightly AU…actually quite AU….I don't know what else to call it. Language.
This fiction requires a little bit of history….basically this is the aftermath of a meeting between Orochimaru, Naruto and Sasuke where Sasuke chose to go with Orochimaru instead of Naruto. I just didn't want to have to write that part… :) Just a little thing I scribbled down in the wee hours this morning. If this was DeviantArt…it would be in my Scraps.
I posted this on AFF and got absolutely no reponse…hopefully this site will be kinder…
Restoration By HellagoddessTurning on a dim light in the bedroom, he took a bottle of brandy and a glass from the cupboard, sat in the little armchair to the side of the bed, drank and waited.
The agony came like a thunderstorm at sea: distant rumbles, flashes of lightning, a sense of foreboding. The natural anaesthetic the brain uses to protect itself gradually wore off and the terrible, desperate sorrow began to fall. At first in large splattering drops, then streams, waves of despair. He went over and over every minute detail of the encounter like a pathologist, prising it apart, holding it up, measuring the humiliation, the embarrassment. He screwed his eyes shut, but the smirk on the Sannin's mouth hung in his retina and, behind it, Sasuke's face, turned away, disappointed and sad.
Naruto imagined them returning to Sound, the arguments, the tears, the sex. 'The best fucking sex we ever had. Did he tell you? Would you like to see?' The snake's voice in his head. He imagined Sasuke's face, the damp, dark eyes, turned down, then up, then slowly closed. The beautiful mouth parted, a little sigh, a hand guiding the pale cock to his body, slowly, gently, letting his hair fall forward.
'Aahhh, ' Naruto shouted with pain. The images, the hopelessness, the incredible loss scythed through him.
He drank but drunkenness didn't follow. He paced, but he'd never felt wider-awake. Every pore, every node, every electronic receptor fired and fizzed and missed nothing. The voice in his head whined and nagged, 'What did you expect? What did you expect?' Half a bottle, a whole bottle. He was sick. The whole hateful evening gulped, rewound, acid-sour, hot and wasted. Naruto knelt on the bathroom floor and laid his face on the cool ceramic and sobbed with all his heart. He howled until his breath came in ragged swatches. He got up, splashed water on his face, rinsed his mouth, spat and stared in the mirror. The tears welled and dribbled, the thin mouth trembled and turned down. Naruto was lost in his own skin. 'This is the most alive you will ever be' His voice called clear in his head. 'This is the yearning.' The yearning.
He returned to the chair. Naruto imagined Sasuke having sex, naked, on his knees, back bent, ass in the air, arms hugging the pillow, the sickly, pale hands spreading him, long tongues. All night he sat and imagined and listened and with the dawn he fitfully dozed, head lolling, dribbling on his stinking shirt.
The doorbell woke Naruto with a start. He looked at the clock on the wall. Six-thirty. The birds outside twittered their contrapuntal joy. He opened the door. Sasuke stood, chalk-white, dark-eyed, dressed as he had last seen him. Beside him, a large suitcase.
The horrors of the night fled, evaporated into the early sunshine.