A/N Sigh…I hate it when chooses not to let me sign in x.x oh well. It finally does again.

This is more smut and less plot that my other ongoing two fics. …actually, that might not be so…this IS my yaoi account anyway. But that's okay XD

Don't own anything. Except a Naruto blanket. Mmm, my Naruto blanket… -snuggles into picture of Sasuke- XD

Yaoi/shonen-ai/incest warning. Oh, and a bit of S&M I guess. Sasuke likes it rough…

Rated M for the previous statement.

Enjoy!

Maybe we shouldn't, he says, and I'm scared. I'm excited, but I'm scared, so scared. Maybe we shouldn't. The three words that will change us forever.

Maybe we shouldn't stop, say his lips as they travel away from my mouth, to my cheek, towards my neck where they lick and suck delicately, almost instinctively.

Maybe we shouldn't care what others think, say his strong arms as he lays me into the soft cushions of the sofa, pressing his body into mine. So warm…he's so heated compared to the wintry mess outside. Out there, the outside world – it's chaos. In here, in our own world – it's paradise.

Maybe we shouldn't worry that this is going too fast, say his hands as one sneaks up my shirt and the other starts to creep down my p—

"Wait," I manage to gasp out. My brother – my brother – looks up, bringing his hands to perch on top of my (still-shirted) chest. Beautifully smoldering eyes of blue furrow their brows through hair that's just starting to dampen with sweat. I know him so damn well; I share a room with him, I live with him, I share DNA with him – Damn it. "Wait," I say again. "What the hell are we doing?"

He stops for a moment and thinks. As he does, he shifts his weight so he's sitting on my stomach, and I can't help but wonder about parts of him I've never thought about (at least, in much detail) before. And then his face lights up and he shifts again, so he's lying on my stomach with his eyes so close to mine. So close.

I shouldn't want to kiss my twin.

I shouldn't want to touch him, to have him touch me.

I shouldn't feel a stiffening beneath my jeans at the thought of my brother's breath mingling with mine, his lips nibbling at my skin – oh, oh, and oh, it's not just those thoughts. I definitely definitely should not feel a stiffening beneath my jeans at the thought of my brother's teeth scarring my flesh. Or his nails clawing down my chest. Or the thought of him inside me, breaking me, tearing me, hurting me, making me scream his name just because my mind was devoid of all thought but him. I shouldn't.

Clearly, though, shouldn't's are what people say when it's already too late for "don't"s and "won't's. And given the harshness of my breath and the tightness below the denim surrounding my legs, it's way too late for me.

But—but—not only is this my brother – this is Naruto! Disgusting, irresponsible, immature Naruto, whom I spend all my life cleaning up after and taking care of and loving in my own disturbing way.

Oh.

Naruto reaches this conclusion the same time as me, I think, because he opens his mouth (which I never noticed was quite so pink before) and says, more softly that I've ever heard him make noise:

"We are loving, Sasuke-nii-san. We are loving like brothers do, except we are so much closer than brothers, right?" He arches his back, grinning at the wideness of my eyes as the parts of us that I know he meant to rub together do just that, sending a warmth I had never felt before shooting to my brain. I clutch at his sleeve. I know he's right. We are so much closer than brothers. And I know that no matter what I do, I can't fight this. That's not to say I can't fight him – hell yeah, I can fight him. But I can't fight this. Because I know, in a place that's not so deep down anymore, that I don't want to fight it. "Actually, I don't think there's any damn way to deny we've been closer than brothers since the day we were born," Naruto continues. "From the day, way before either of us remember, that we looked here" – he touches the skin right under my eyes — "and here," passing a hand across his own.

"Then" – I gulp one last time and stiffen my resolve (well, it kinda stiffens itself. Naruto smirks, the idiot) – "Kiss me."

His face spreads out into a smile and I tug him closer. Our lips don't just come together – they attach, as if they were puzzle pieces created to fit. This time, his hand isn't the only one making its way through fabric to flesh. Nervously at first, and then with more emotion as my heart started to take over my mind, I move my hips along with his, pushing upwards when he pushes down so we create a ripple, pulsating and alive with a fire bred within us.

For a moment – the very moment when I've gathered enough courage to move my hands from his ramen-filled belly to the side of his chest – he pauses.

"Is this wrong?" He's not being contrary, and he's not trying to be second-guessing. He's dead serious, and as scared as I am. But I run a thumb over his lip, because we can't stop now. And because—

"No." And I believe it.

"How can you be sure?" He's worried now. I kiss him again, and it doesn't feel as weird as kissing your brother should. It doesn't feel weird at all, and I know it doesn't to him either from the way he kisses back.

"Naruto, what is your mind telling you?" I say, in the fraction of the second I allow our mouths to part.

"That this is what I want," he replies without hesitation.

"And what is your body telling you?" I don't need to ask. I can feel it pressing against my stomach, warm and moist.

"That this is what I want." I've convinced him. "And need," he adds as an afterthought.

Without further words, we know what's going to happen. He slips off my shirt in a fluid and experienced motion; I manage to throw his onto the floor (ignoring my mild OCD momentarily) with minimum embarrassment. His mouth suckles at my neck again, making me writhe and twitch under him, and doing what no girl has ever managed to do: making me completely aroused.

Then he reaches for the button on my pants and I realize something.

"Otouto – shouldn't I be the one on top?" I blush, but I'm serious. Not that I'd really know what I was doing, but I'm Sasuke. I dominate. I've guided him through every step of his life. And –

"Now it's time for me to pay you back," he says softly, as if he heard my thoughts. Maybe he did. Our connection is so intimate sometimes it's hard to tell where I end and he begins. "Later, Sasuke, you can do what you want with me. Later. But let me give you this, okay? I'll be gentle, I promise."

I hold on to the sofa cushions and let him slip off first my pants. Then, with shaking but determined hands, my boxers. He eyes me for a moment, and we know there's no going back now. I worry, for a second too short to be split, that he's changed his mind now, now that he can't change it anymore. But then he leans to kiss me on the lips, all too nicely, and cradles my erection in his hands.

"No."

"What?"

"Don't be gentle." My eyes are half-closed with the sensation of his hands around me; my breath coming in the sickly gasps that practically advertise first time. "You can hurt me. Hurt me. Please."

I feel his own erection grow harder at my words, but I can see him through slitted eyes, and he shakes his head.

"I've heard it hurts, to do it like this. I heard it hurts a lot. I don't want to make you hurt. I don't even know what I'm doing." His reluctance doesn't mask his arousal. I know my words turned him on, and I meant them.

"Then just hurt me a little," I say. I reach for his wrist and pull it tighter around me, making his nails dig into the sensitive skin. He gasps and I gasp, and maybe it's for different reasons and maybe it's not, but whatever it is, it's the beginning. Not the beginning of the end, because there's nothing to end. This was always here, lurking in our minds, never showing it's taboo face. Just the beginning of a new beginning.

He leans to bite at my nipple with quick teeth and I pull him closer, moaning his name. I fight back, scratching my nails across his shoulders and feeling him shudder. I bend my knees and push his sweatpants off with my feet, and then our midsections touch and our eyes widen, then shut. Our breathing comes roughly, but we don't stop. I look down and manage to smile. Though our faces and bodies are basically entirely different, there is one part of us that seems to be exactly the same in size. Hesitantly, I touch him there. It feels odd. Wet and soft, though not very soft. His teeth graze against my shoulder and he puts his elbows on either side of my head.

"Please…" he says in my ear desperately. Heartened by this, I take him fully in my hand, finding his member only through touch, since I'm still underneath his body. He jerks into my hand. I don't exactly know what to do, so I tentatively squeeze and rub my fingers along the underside. His body thrashes above me, his voice repeating my name almost subconsciously. I seem to be doing the right thing, at least. I clench my fist tighter around him and move it up and down. His breath grows more and more ragged, and through my palm I can feel, with a rush of pride, that he's almost at his peak.

And then he stops me. He pulls himself out of my hand with a frantic groan and scratches painfully down my chest, making my breath catch in my throat as red welts blossom and start to bleed.

"I can't," he murmurs in a guttural tone, "I can't. Not without you. It won't be fair."

My eyes widen. I know there is no trace of black in either of our eyes, betraying the emotion that needs to be let loose. I want to say I'm scared, I want to ask him to take care of me – but then I don't. I trust him. I want to feel him, really feel him, all over me. Not just lightly, not gently, but rough and painful and oh God I need him now.

"Hurt me," I say. It's not a whisper, it's not a mumble, it's something much, much more demanding. "Touch me. Do it. Now."

He doesn't waste any more time. With me still lying on my back, our erections rubbing against each other, he reaches around me and inserts a finger into a place that I had never known existed. I clutch at his skin, scrabbling my nails across his chest, but I don't protest. He leans down and licks the blood off my own chest, letting the muscle of his tongue probe into the wounds as he does, making shots of agony mixed with an inexplicable erotic bliss fire through my nervous system. When most of the blood is gone, he moves up to my shoulder and bites me. Hard. One hand reaches down to stroke my crotch in a fashion much more expertly than I must have been doing it, while the other hand still has a finger pressing into me.

I can't last much longer. I wrap my legs around his waist – my arms are too weak to do the same to his neck – and hope the words come out as more than a murmur.

"I can't wait anymore."

He pulls back to look at me, sweat and my blood along his face, and gives a shaky grin.

"I promised I'd make this part good, right? The part before?"

I try to nod, but my brain only has one thought in it right now. It was good. Is good. Mind-blowingly. I just need him. At once.

His face softens and grows serious at the same time.

"Okay," he whispers, and turns me over with ease. I weigh as much as him, but my muscles aren't functioning properly. He scratches down my back and laps up the blood again, sending uncontrollable shivers through me. My face presses into a cushion. With a huge effort, I wrap my arms around it and hold on tightly. He puts the finger in again, while still grasping and moving around my cock, and I can't take it anymore. One more finger…no.

"Don't – stretch me." I think there are the beginnings of tears starting to form at the corner of my eyes. I don't care. "Just – do it."

I can feel his hesitation and I almost go insane.

"I told you, you can hurt me! Do it." I bite my lip.

"You want it rough?" His voice sounds odd. He withdraws the fingers and yeah, a tear slips onto the pillow.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he says, and my world explodes in pain.

It takes a second for me to understand what was happening. In one swift motion, he had placed four fingers into me, two from each hand – and pulled. He wasn't stretching me, or preparing me, he was ripping me open.

And fuck, it feels like heaven.

Then the raw agony was filled, with something large and hot, and it barely had to move at all to touch the spot inside me that made spots flash in front of my eyes.

"God, Sasuke, you are so much better than Hinata was…" His voice is gruff in my ear as his chest presses into the scratches on my back. "This isn't too much for you, is it?"

I gather my voice with an immense effort. Still, I can only manage four words.

"Shut up," I growl, "and move."

And he does, in and out, hitting that cluster of nerves every time while his hand explores me, coaxing me and pressing me and rubbing and even running his nails along the edge of my length. His flesh twists and turns, around me, above me, below me, inside of me. He keeps pounding into me, and it hurts like hell, but I never, ever want it to stop. My lips fall apart, but no sound falls out of them except his name, over and over again. I can't say harder faster more because I don't need it, he's perfect, he's doing it perfectly.

His hand shifts to touch right below my shaft, right underneath it, and he applies certain pressure. Combined with him thrusting hard into the exact right place inside me, and his other hand circling my nipples, and his lips dusting along my neckline –

My heart halts. I let out a rough scream, blinded by ecstasy. Intense waves of pleasure shock through every fiber of my body, making every part of me shake. My body involuntarily tries to shift both forward and backward, forward to thrust further into his hand, backward to make him thrust farther into me, so my limbs end up racked by spasms.

This should be wrong. It should be worse than sin.

But hell, who the fuck cares when it feels as good as this?

I hear Naruto's satisfied laugh get cut off by a whimper and a scream almost identical to mine, and then I feel warm a substance pump out of me (mine) and into me (his) at the same time.

And then it's over. His hand releases me and he pulls out of me. He reaches around my body and turns me to lie on my back again, so that our naked, fluid-covered bodies can press into each other.

For a while, we don't say anything. We can't. He leans over to kiss me. Softly, gently now. Now it's okay to be gentle. I know it won't be the last time we'll be rough. And next time…

I'm gonna be the one who's rough with him.