the sensation of touch
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something beautiful happens there,
in the space between the base of his neck
and where dark hair feathers out like dark thoughts,
burning and beautiful and soft.
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Naruto longs to reach out and touch that spot,
imagines the skin to be hot and smooth,
no dirt or oil or scars, only
burning and beautiful and soft.
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he does not. with admirable restraint
manages to stay away, instead meeting
that blank black gaze on occasion,
caught staring, unable to look away.
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then: a day when cicadas whir incessantly
and the sun blurs the edges of buildings,
Sasuke approaches hand outstretched, to touch
with careful fingertips, eyes wary asking
for permission to grip at sun kissed skin.
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Before his mind can comprehend
what is the sensation of touch
the other is running pale hands
over his own flesh, asking if this
is why he has been staring.
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and then he does touch, that sacred expanse
of skin, the space between the base of his neck
and where dark hair feathers out like dark thoughts.
-
it is hot and rough and beautiful
and soft.
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