Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Inside ❯ One-Shot

Somehow, it seems easier than it should be.

No bolt of lightning from above. No Iruka-sensei bursting in from nowhere, armed with a deadly-boring lecture on the moral code, the dos and don'ts of ninjahood. Just a moment to build the familiar picture in his head, a poof of smoke, and--here he is.

Staring into the mirror at a face he's known for as long as he can remember. A face that's nothing like his own.

Swallowing hard, Naruto reaches up a hand to brush black bangs out of his eyes.

---

He'd thought it would go away after the first time. It hadn't been more than a stupid idea to begin with. A practical joke. Nothing. Occurred to him one moment, done in the next, without thinking at all.

It wasn't unusual. That was how he did most things.

So what if it had felt--good to climb out the window with Sasuke's bandages tight around his legs; to speak to Sakura and hear Sasuke's voice roll off his tongue?

Sasuke had everything. Perfect grades. The universe's attention. Just that--coolness, in the way he looked, the way he spoke, the way he stood. Like he breathed it. If Naruto was just the tiniest bit envious--not that he was, because that was stupid, Sasuke was an ass--well, nobody would blame him. It was natural. Meaningless. Simple, to want to spend some time, just a little time, in. Inside. That.

Besides, hey, Sakura. Sakura who'd always been so artless with her feelings for that jerk, sitting closest to him, smiling just for him. A dreamy soap bubble just for two, and of course Naruto wanted inside of that most of all.

He'd wanted it for as long as he could remember. Even back when they were all too young for cooties; too young to know that girls and boys were supposed to want things from each other. Recalled so keenly hanging on the periphery, watching Sakura shamelessly worm her way into the attention of Sasuke (silent Sasuke, Sasuke who never let anyone, anyone near) again and again, like she simply couldn't imagine doing anything else. Like life was bright and easy. Like the world could never whisper behind your back or look at you with terrible, damning disgust in his eyes.

And aching. So clearly. For--something.

A wish he couldn't describe.

To be. To be like. To be a part of that.

He'd thought, if he just tasted it. Just once. The ache would go away.

---

In the mirror, Sasuke looks jarringly unsure of himself. Naruto scowls without thinking and--freezes.

Even knowing it's pure illusion, feeling his own mouth pulled down and his brows drawn together and the familiar, commonplace annoyance behind it, it's enough to make his heart jump in his throat.

This. Exactly this. Lip curled in brusque annoyance, dark eyes glaring like the deepest, most aggravating, most perfect secret. This face, right inches away from his nose, is Sasuke.

Only, it's--him.

He's inside Sasuke. He is Sasuke.

It's exactly what he'd wanted from the start, what he's wanted for years without letting himself admit it, but the rush of violent, trembling pleasure it brings still swamps his expectations.

The cool, fine hair that brushes against his cheek. The lips, a little chapped, that he can dart out to lick with his tongue. The warm, strong, capable fingertips against his thigh. All Sasuke's.

And now, all. His.

Naruto raises a hand (Sasuke's hand) and stares at it, the tanned knuckles, the close-shorn fingernails. It's shaking a little.

He's hard. He's been hard since he first looked in the mirror.

This is, god. This is so...

...so way too late for second thoughts.

Naruto slides a hand beneath Sasuke's shirt and has to shut his eyes.

Has Sasuke ever done this? Has Sasuke ever bitten his lip at night and pressed his palm flat to the warm, hard-trained muscles of his stomach--felt them jump at the roughness of his calloused fingertips? Does he feel the same fascination with each faint dip and ridge, the same thrill at the coiled power he's worked to sculpt into his body--or is it just a tool to him, to be used an ignored, abused when it fails to meet his expectations?

Just the idea of either makes Naruto's breath come shorter, his blood burning through his veins. Then his hand jerks mindlessly higher, brushing against a nipple, and it's--oh, god.

He can't stand anymore. He slides choked-gasping to the floor, barely registering the wall beneath his back.

He's barely registering anything but (Sasuke's) hand on him, (Sasuke's) skin like iron fresh from the fire, and he needs--he needs--he needs to see.

Naruto drags his eyes open and stops breathing.

Sasuke absolutely out of place on Naruto's gritty bathroom floor, shirt rucked up and hand moving against a mile of desperate skin. Sasuke, legs spread and teeth clenched, dark eyes blown into black holes of pure, unconcealed need.

Is this what Sasuke looks like when he jerks off, alone, aching for it like he'd never let anyone else see?

Naruto has to close his eyes again, so he can grab through his shorts and squeeze painfully tight without seeing Sasuke touch himself.

This is. C-control. He needs to get control back. It can't end this soon. Jesus, please no, not when he's wanted it for so long, not when, god, he hasn't gotten anywhere near enough...

Skin burning, Naruto forces himself absolutely still, listening to his ragged breaths echo against the tile. Painstakingly not thinking about how they're a little too low, a little too husky for familiar.

Control. Like Sasuke would have. Let's--start again.

Taking one last, uneven breath, Naruto lowers his gaze to avoid the mirror and slowly opens his eyes.

Familiar curve of a wide collar just beneath his chin. Dark blue shirt beneath that, wrinkles like rolling hills marching toward the horizon of his stomach.

Pale grey shorts. Loose, but unmistakably. Tented between the legs.

Familiar, familiar pale grey shorts.

Naruto's throat is impossibly dry. Swallowing doesn't help.

Reaching up with lead-heavy hands, he lays a palm--tentative, so tentative--against it. Squeezes.

Sasuke's legs spread involuntarily wider. Naruto's heart skips a beat for a moment, before he--feels stupid.

Clenching his jaw, he pulls his hand off and fists it in his shorts.

He's having trouble breathing properly.

Control. Like Sasuke would have.

Control.

Naruto licks his lips. His fingers slide dizzily to the button above Sasuke's fly. Slip it free.

The zipper. Grind of teeth agonizingly parting. One. Two. Three. Four.

Naruto feels something warm and wet leak between his legs. He chokes back a sound.

Sasuke's boxers are navy blue. Naruto's hands are shaking.

He thinks of Sasuke putting on these boxers every morning, and taking them off every night, and nobody ever seeing them but him, when it's private, and he's alone.

The way Sasuke's hair falls into his eyes when he bends. It would do that, when he bent his head to fasten his fly--

A strangled sound explodes past Naruto's clenched teeth. He yanks the zipper down the rest of the way and fumbles frantically for the slit in the.

shoves his hand through and.

Oh. He's in. Inside.

Oh. Sasuke.

The low, broken moan is shockingly loud against the tile.

Sasuke's voice.

Need in it. Sasuke. Needs.

And Naruto--Naruto can give it to him.

Realization with hazy, dreamlike awe.

Naruto can give Sasuke anything he wants.

"Sasuke--" he mutters thickly, so grateful suddenly, so grateful he feels like he's flying. So grateful his throat is burning.

This. This is what he'd always wanted. Finally. Finally. He's inside--everything.

Sasuke bucks and Naruto has never paid more attention to any series of moments in his life.

--Sasuke so real in his hand, so vulnerable that Naruto cradles him--strokes his unpracticed best, rough but full of every emotion he doesn't know how to describe--

--his other hand clutching desperately at the solid round of Sasuke's thigh, and the thrum of blood beneath, the way it trembles is so good, so right, so perfect--

--Sasuke--oh fuck Sasuke so close now, he's making sounds, helpless gasps and "nn"s and choked-off words like Naruto has never, ever heard before, like Sasuke has never let him hear before, and Naruto shudders and jerks faster and squeezes harder and something suddenly blooms inside him painful perfect Sasuke's going to--Sasuke's going to--

 Naruto comes in a cloud of smoke and for a moment, just one moment, doesn't understand what it is.

Then it fades, along with the echoes of Sasuke's voice on the bathroom tile and the ghost of Sasuke's bangs against his cheek and something. That Naruto can't describe.

Naruto unclenches his hand from familiar orange pants.

(It hadn't been more than a stupid idea to begin with.)

Slowly, stickily, pulls his other hand out of his fly.

(A practical joke. Nothing.)

And doesn't get up. For a long time.

(It was natural. Meaningless. Simple, to want to spend some time, just a little time, in. Inside. That.)

---

In the mirror, later, jerking the ends of his forehead protector tight--because today's the day! Today's the day he'll make the world acknowledge him!--Naruto's grin looks just like it always has.

On the second try.