Disclaimer: you know they ain't mine cuz they're always wearing clothes...damnit
AN: THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH! All of your great reviews made this more fun to write than I thought it would be. I'm sorry about the amount of time it took to produce this. ::Sheepish grin:: I've been sick and without internet for the last two weeks. I'm hoping to have the next chapter out in a few days.
::bows to everyone:: Enjoy
::shuts up and wanders off for food:: I hunger...
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Chapter Three
It wasn't his body. These weren't his hands, those weren't his feet, he wasn't who he had been when he had shut his eyes and fallen asleep. Somewhere in his mind, he dimly recognized that to be realizing this he had awoken, but pushed the thought away. To acknowledge this, would mean he had failed once more.
His eyes were clamped shut; he didn't want to open them, wouldn't open them. This place wasn't where he should be, he knew, without having to see. He was warm, and he was comfortable. And he was alive. Three things he should not have been.
He flexed his fingers and realized why they felt so foreign, so alien. They barely responded to him. His feet reacted in like fashion. Light shone from behind his closed eyelids, the hazy glow at once inviting and frightening. Absently, he wondered why he was so afraid, nearly terrified, of opening his eyes.
He was in another person's home, this much he had gathered. Nothing material in the desolate wasteland he had been "rescued" from felt like soft, cottony linen, nothing was as warm as a downy coverlet, nothing had the crackling sputter of a fireplace. Straining his ears as much as his weak body would allow him, he detected two sets of breathing.
The first he heard was beside him, and was deep and loud and hot and moist and undeniably panting. Whether it was a large dog or a man out of breath, he did not know, and could not choose which he preferred. The second sounds of respiration were lighter, fainter, and coming from his right.
Suddenly, he felt something scalding slide against his still-cool face and he sat bolt upright with a start. His onyx eyes looked to his right side, where his assailant had been situated, and found himself staring into deep, honey eyes. It was a large beast, and his eyes noticed the size of the dog's paws were incredibly large, like those belonging to a wolf.
His fur—for he noticed the animal was undeniably male—shone like sheet metal, glinting in the firelight. He was a lustrous silver color, as though a pewter statue had come to life and sat staring at him. The burning across his face was none other than a kiss, so to speak, from said wolf-dog. The honey-hued eyes sparkled with keen intelligence and an animalistic sense of good humor and he found himself nearly grinning in response to the beast's warm display of fangs.
Tentatively, he reached out to the animal, his fingers stinging as he scrunched them to stroke the creature's forehead. The dog made a faint, guttural sound of pleasure, and scooted closer to him. Whether he had purposely chosen not to think about the other being in the room with them or had truly forgotten, it did not matter.
Four wooden legs of a high-backed, red velvet chair squeaked as the weight on them shifted. His hand fell to his side, the dog nuzzling his hand for more affectionate touches. He could not, however, find the ability to move. Or think. Or speak. Or breathe.
Somehow, the air seemed to be squeezed out of his lungs as he forgot his own name. His body hummed with energy, as though he would jump from a great height or perform another equally daring task. Adrenaline flooded through his veins and the gates in his mind opened and shut, trying to process what stood before him. His mouth followed the actions of his mental doors, flopping between shut and gaping like a trout.
Promiscuity had always been one of his top values, and he prided himself in achieving his goals easily. He knew he was handsome—he had inherited his father's good looks and naturally muscular form, softened by his mother's graceful and elegant features. He could have anyone he wanted, and often did. Though he frequented with women, there had been the occasional man to wander into his bed. Now, staring at the figure before him, he felt as though he was a virgin, eyes gliding along the form of his first lover.
The first feature he noticed were the other man's deep, almost painfully blue eyes, glittering with a sort of permanent mischief. Forcefully ripping his gaze away from their azure depths, his vision wafted downwards, focusing on a beautifully sculpted nose. Beneath were large, pale pink lips, full and almost begging to be kissed. He licked his lips hungrily, starting forward reflexively, wanting to capture that mouth in his own. However, he found his legs would not move, and he voiced a faint curse, snapping himself out of his sensual reverie. Adorning that angelic face were shining golden locks, the color of waving fields of grain.
The dog beside him gently nipped his hand impatiently, tongue lolling onto his hand.
"Ookami, leave him alone," the fair man laughed gently, the dog barking in obedience and trotting to his side. He stared at the pair openly, feeling a strong kinship between the two he did not know. The blonde smiled at him widely, bearing sharper than usual canines, his face strongly resembling a fox. As he walked closer to the bed, his face seemed to be searching for the right words to strike up a conversation. It was apparent he could not find one, however, when he thrust out his hand, eyes shining. "Naruto," he grinned, his voice at once deep and light, flowing out of his mouth like warm honey.
He gazed at the hand for a second before realizing what he was meant to do. His brain was moving at a horribly sluggish speed; whether it was due to his near-death or the dazzling beauty of the man before him, he did not know. He had a sneaking suspicious it was the latter. He reached out and gripped the hand, fingers half-wrapping around the other's flesh, continuing to revolt against his wishes. "Sasuke," he said, his voice sounding embarrassingly feeble to his ears.
"Sasuke, you know you almost died out there," Naruto asked quietly as he squeezed the hand gently before releasing it. His blue eyes searched Sasuke's face, and he sighed tiredly. "It was lucky I found you when I did, or else you would be a Sasu-cicle." He laughed so adorably, the wretchedly corny joke was forgotten ignored.
Suddenly, Sasuke did not want to admit that he hated life, something about those eyes on his, that warmth radiating off that body made him ashamed of himself. He pulled his arms back, lying down on the bed, pulling the downy blankets over his body, flopping over till he faced the wall. He could feel blue eyes bore into his back with an intent stare. "I was walking outside and was tired," he lied, hating himself even more. "I just wanted to take a little nap, you understand."
"That was very bad," Naruto whispered gently, sitting on the mattress. The springs buckled under his slight weight, and Sasuke shivered, fighting the desire to snuggle close to the warm stranger. He half expected the man to run fingers through his hair, but banished such thoughts of foolishness. Though he was certain he was safer than he had ever been in his life, the man could have been a serial killer or rapist. He shivered in surprise as he felt a gentle palm rest itself on his shoulder. "Taking a nap in the snow is suicide, Sasuke."
"Yes. I know."
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Was that alright? I'm not too sure that was as good as the other chapters, but I'm not very good with keeping things descriptive and adding dialogue at once. ::blushu:: ignore me, I'm rambly :3 It's 2 in the morning...forgive
