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

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Don't own it. Wish I did. Le sigh.

 

Warnings: polyamory, male bisexuality

 

 

Them

 

They'd been sharing Sakura for a few months when it happened. It had been surprising and yet… not. They'd had all sorts of sexual experiences as a group, and after a while, the comfort level had increased, making it hard not to notice him.

 

Sure, you can ignore a naked body in a nonsexual situation easily, but seeing him aroused, watching him cum… it was just a little too personal. Too intimate.

 

It's hard to say exactly when he started to gradually take notice. It was easy to blame the arousal on Sakura after all, even though there was a tiny bit of doubt that it was always just her that did it to him.

 

He couldn't deny it, though, the day he'd seen him come from the shower with a towel hitched around his waist. Sakura was no where around, just the two of them and the tingling in his groin.

 

He'd quickly left to take a walk.

 

This couldn't happen. He wasn't gay. He wasn't gay. Things could get… weird.

 

The next few weeks had been stressful. When they were all together, he tried so very hard to not look too long at that muscular chest, tried not to notice when their legs brushed against each other or when their hands grasped her hips at the same time. It was so very hard.

 

Wait. Not hard. So not thinking about that hard… It was difficult. That's what it was.

 

And then one night it happened. He was kissing Sakura, while he was behind her, kissing her neck and moving down her jaw until somehow his lips ended up on theirs. They stiffened, but only for a moment before going with it.

 

Sakura pulled away first, but they quickly followed. To avoid the awkwardness that was bound to happen after something like that, he'd pushed her down and buried his face between her legs. Sure, it was a crude delay tactic, but it worked. Lust overtook everyone, and they could pretend that nothing strange had just happened.

 

No one talked about it. Ever. They were scared to, as if the mere mention of it would disrupt the delicate balance of their perverted little world.

 

The next time, though, it was him. Sakura was on top of him, and he was behind her. As he thrust, a set of hands were suddenly on his ass, pulling him into her and crushing the three of them together. It was unexpected but certainly not unpleasant. He didn't complain, and his hands didn't move.

 

He was beginning to feel a little more comfortable with the idea of it all, and a few days later, it was his hands running over his chest and stomach as Sakura went down on him.

 

Then he kissed him. Deliberately.

 

He didn't fight it.

 

The wheels began turning, but he still wasn't sure he should push the situation. Not just yet.

 

His dreams no longer consisted of just Sakura, with either them pleasing her or her with another woman. They were of them. Sometimes together, sometimes working together to please him. There had even been a few dreams of just him.

 

It was getting more confusing by the minute.

 

But then he realized that it wasn't as crazy as it seemed. For one, they wouldn't be sharing… sharing Sakura, sharing their most intimate moments, baring their souls if they weren't extremely okay with each other. Then they'd survived subtle touches and even a few kisses. Obviously he was okay with it, so why was he stressing out about going further?

 

Okay, tonight he was going to do it. Tonight, he was going all the way with his best friend. Tonight he would… chicken out.

 

But that's okay, because there was always tomorrow and the night after that and the week after. Except he never got the chance to make his move, because he beat him to it.

 

He'd said they needed to quit dicking around and just do it. Interesting choice of words, he'd joked.

 

They'd stood there staring, unsure of what to do next for all of two seconds before he'd pounced. They'd figure it out along the way.

 

He smiled at the memory. It was hard to believe he had ever doubted it. Smiling even wider, he watched them argue over whose turn it was to wash the dishes. He could never imagine a life without them in it. They were his, and he was theirs. Three pieces of a puzzle that just fit together.

 

“What are you smiling at?” an irritated voice suddenly demanded, not that it phased him any.

 

“Everything.”