Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Alone ❯ Alone ( One-Shot )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: Alone
Author: tir-synni
Disclaimer: Considering the only thing I can do in Japanese is cuss and say hello, I don't think
I'm the creator of a Japanese series.
Author Notes: While I like angst in my fics, this is a whole new variety for me . . . and a very
unusual pairing, too.
Warning: Lemon, angst, slash, disturbing content, shota-con, OOC.
Addy: relisprince@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17


Alone
by tir-synni


The definition of "alone" is different for everyone, I guess. From what I've seen, the
Hidden Leaf village is full of loners, and I suppose they each fit their own definition of "alone."
There's Sasuke, Neiji, and there's also Gaara of the Sand. For my definition, I consider myself
alone. Sure, there's Iruka-sensei. He does his best to stand beside me, to help me, to . . . well,
be there for me. And I love him for it. He does so much for me. But by my definition, it
doesn't mean too much. Kyuubi will always be there, and he'll always keep Iruka-sensei from
getting too close. Iruka-sensei has even said that he considers Kyuubi and me two separate
beings. I know he thinks he loves me, but how can he when he hates the fox demon so much?
We're *one,* our thoughts, emotions, and souls hopelessly mixed. Heh. Kyuubi's the reason I
love ramen so much. He took one bite out of the stuff, and I've been having wild cravings ever
since . . . although I didn't know that was the reason at the time. He's so much a part of me that
I don't know where he ends and I begin. When I first found out he was there, I became so
hopeful . . . and then realized it meant nothing. Kyuubi affects me, he protects me, he heals me,
but he can't keep me company or ward the loneliness and pain away. Hell, he's the one who
brings the loneliness. A lot of the adults know Kyuubi's within me, and they warn their kids and
the other adults to stay away from me. They hold me personally responsible for all Kyuubi's
sins. *This* creates my definition of being alone. When you're surrounded by people who
despise you, the people who dare to care about you hate or fear you at the same time they say
kind words, and your companion for life is so separated from you that, even when you're together,
you're forever apart.
Sometimes, that loneliness gets to be too much. I know it won't change anything in the
long run, but I still want people to look at me, let me know I *exist!* And sometimes, they touch
me, even if it is only to smack me in the head. Iruka, as much as I love him, doesn't understand
how badly I need to be touched, and I don't want to initiate it. Maybe he doesn't touch me
because he fears how close the fox is to the surface. I dunno. All I know is, I love when
someone pays attention to me, and I adore it when they touch me. If I need to be punished to get
this type of attention, then hell, I'll do it!
And . . . well . . . this is better than being punished, right? I mean, he pays attention to
me, he touches me, and best of all, he isn't making fun of me. This is better, right?
I do my damnedest to convince myself of this when he bites especially hard on the
junction between my shoulder and neck, resting more of his weight on me. He pressed me down
into the mattress, and I feel his teeth draw blood. After so many times of him doing that, I'm
beginning to think he's the one with the predator in him, not me.
I moan in pain, but the sound is lost in the pillow. I'm always hiding my face in the
pillow, almost never facing him. We both prefer it that way. We both know we shouldn't be
doing this. It makes us both feel better when we can't see with whom we're doing this.
Right?
I feel his cock between my cheeks, but he doesn't push it in yet. Surprisingly, he never
rushes it. I come in, the room is dark, I settle myself, and we work our way from there. Never
once has he immediately fucked me. He usually bites my shoulder first, then plays with my
body a bit. I'm not complaining, no! It feels good, and I like being touched. But. . . .
I moan loudly against the pillow when he starts toying with my nipples again. His long
fingers scrape against my chest before pinching the hard nubs. When we first started this, I never
imagined it would feel so good! He pinches, he pulls, he rakes his nails against them . . . I cry
out softly as he starts yanking gently at one, pulling it a little away from my chest before
releasing it. Pain and pleasure spiral around my chest. I've tried doing this alone after he
originally showed me this. I always stop quickly.
It was an accident when we started this. Neither of us meant to do it! We were both just
. . . so lonely. . . .
His other hand rakes down my chest and toys with my belly button. I sob softly, feeling
his fingers slipping carefully over the seal. Not even my dick is as sensitive as my lower belly.
Always, he treats it so gently, like if he pressed too hard, the seal would shatter. But it feels so
good! He rubs it, and my whole body shudders, liquid heat burning inside me. But, as always,
he doesn't stay there long.
It's kinda sad. After everything we've done, Sasuke is still the only person who has ever
kissed me. And even then, it was by accident. Something never mentioned by either of us again,
no matter how sweet his lips were. I wonder if he knows that he's claimed my first and only
kiss? Probably my last kiss, too? Does he even know? Does he even care?
I never get kissed. That would mean he has to see my face.
I keen low in the back of my throat when he finally grabs the base of my dick. Behind
me, I can feel his own dick slowly easing down my crack, heading for my entrance. He hasn't
prepared me, something I know makes him uncomfortable. I don't care. He has lube on him to
prevent major friction. The demon fox within me will keep him from injuring me too badly, and
after all this time, I know I'm not tight enough to harm him. I need the pain. I need to know
he's truly there, that I'm not really alone. That's why I let him bite me as much as he wants,
even when I feel the blood dribbling down my back.
His hand pumps slowly, and I moan, allowing it to distract me from the erection poking
me. Heh. The pervert. He knows exactly how to move, probably due to so much experience
with his own cock. Ohhhh . . . his hand is calloused and firm. It's worth it, this feeling has to
be worth it!
I know who he wants to do this to, just like he knows whom I want in return. He doesn't
need the Sharingan to see through me; it's easy for a person to recognize one of their own. After
seeing those lovelorn eyes in the mirror every morning, I could see the familiar emotion in his
one visible eye. It was that empathy that brought us together, in the beginning. It's desperation
that keeps us together.
I can feel that desperation in me now, growing with each rough stroke of his hand. I can
sense *his* desperation, pulsing against my entrance, breathing hard into the bloody wound on
my shoulder. The thick, wet head of his cock shivers before piercing me. He pauses for the
barest moment before shoving the rest of the way inside me. I drown my scream in the pillow.
If he heard it, he pays it no mind. Even with the power of the Ninetails, I can feel the blood
dripping down my thighs. Lightning arcs up my spine. In the beginning, there is no pleasure,
only pain.
I love it.
My cock never softens under his hand. He keeps stroking it, now in time with the harsh
thrusts inside of me. I hear my own voice, begging shamelessly for more. His grunts answer
me.
Maybe Sakura-chan is right, maybe I am a masochist. But the pain . . . Don't they
understand? The feeling is so much sharper than any pleasure, racing through my veins. This
pain lets me know he's here with me. Long after he leaves, that pain will remain, even if it fades
into just a memory. Still more potent than the pleasure.
His teeth grind harder into my shoulder as his thrusts grow erratic. His hand tightens
around the base of my cock. I arch into his touch, my voice rising in a scream. Yes, oh yes,
more! Please, give me this! Please!
The thick head of his cock slams into that small bundle of nerves inside of me, again and
again and again. My voice grows hoarse, but in the morning, it will be fully restored, just like
the skin on my shoulder. All the more reason to enjoy this now.
His whole body is shuddering, and I shake within his firm grip. He's going to come, I
know he is, I can feel it. Please, give me release, don't leave me alone. Just a little longer, just a
little more.
He slams hard into me, one more time, and I surrender myself to the whiteness creeping
into my sight. The world spins, pleasure and agony lighting each nerve on fire as I spill onto the
plain sheets. I feel him inside me, pouring his essence but not an ounce of himself. Tears
burning my eyes, I collapse onto the soiled futon. Fresh blood erupts from my shoulder as his
teeth bite even harder before pulling away.
I don't see his face. He doesn't see mine. I tune out the sound of him cleaning himself,
instead concentrating on the feel of semen and blood soaking my body.
This . . . has to be worth it.
He walks out of the room without a word. I let him.
One day, he'll walk out of the room and never return. He'll get up the guts to speak, and
then this mockery will be over. And then the only hands I will ever feel on my body will be my
own.
Surely . . . any touch has to be better than none, right?
I don't know why I'm crying. All I know is I can't stop.