Rating: T
Summary: Thunderstorms electrify Naruto.
With the Storm Comes…
GreenBird
The thunder rattled the windows, reverberating into his skull. With his head set against the glass, Naruto felt every strike to the outside world. If his eyes had been open, he'd have seen how brilliant the shadows were when the lightening struck, but his lids were clamped shut and his mind was certainly elsewhere.
His short, gasping breaths were fast and thin, desperate for something other than air and often he inhaled through his nose. The abandoned forehead protector was pressed to his cheek, rubbing the kyuubi marks. The scent of sweat from its former user was long gone, but it was what he imagined… what he remembered that counted now.
He remembered feeling challenged but wanted, an annoyance but also a companion. He remembered feeling comfortable, feeling close. He remembered a rival-in-friend. Those things, he had been told, were just fabrications. Stupidity.
But he felt them, so they had to be real.
Legs too solid for someone his age trembled as his free hand reseeded his memories, made them into something brilliant and false. And it was Sasuke he felt, keeping him company in the storm, being a pervert like boys their age are. It was Sasuke's sweat he smelled, after a long day of training. It lingered on his clothes and in his hair. It was natural. It was real.
He let the name slip out as he moved too fast, pretended it was whispered back, into his ear; a nervous, warm breath.
Naruto fantasized he was discovering himself with Sasuke. Learning how boys functioned, how to get them to melt. They had done a lot of important things together, and now, this was just another thing to find out. Together.
The sliced forehead protector found itself placed in between his teeth as another, no-longer-shy hand slid under the elastic to help out. He was whimpering in his throat, and knew he'd be made fun of, called a weakling when it was all through.
Why are you crying, stupid?
But Sasuke wouldn't understand, so he'd have to make Sasuke cry the same.
And at the thought of it he was suddenly hot and terrible, mildly horrified and eager at once. With a flash of fabricated reality and slick palms it was over, and Naruto trembled and gasped between clinched teeth. His eyes jammed shut, imagination hard at work.
Long minutes passed and the torridness grew damp and uncomfortable. In his mind he prepared himself for a lashing, nasty rebuke about how quickly he finished, but was well aware it would never come. The protector fell to the coverlet, glinting unseen and the fantasy drifted until all that was left was the face he once knew.
Thunder rattled his head, brows furrowed. He felt a sleepiness creeping in on him and with it, a pall of depression. The dark eyes he saw were flat. Naruto sighed and felt for the lip of the covers, not caring about cleaning himself up.
Flashes of light danced muted under his lids, but Naruto did not open his eyes. With the storm came Sasuke, as real as the pattering rain. He was afraid that when he finally did look at the world as it was, he would lose the face he fought to hold onto. He was afraid the lightning would strike, and then he would see his shadow.
Naruto would see just one shadow, alone.
Sometimes I touch on fanfiction.
Your Servant GreenBird