in the new confined space, Naruto was on him. He pushed him back against the cool unyielding wall, his body following instantly to cage him in. One hand returned to cradle his face, the other slid down, palming him firmly through his trousers. The direct, possessive pressure wrenched another low, broken moan from Sasuke's throat, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thud.
He broke away, his chest heaving, eyes wild and dark.
"It's been like a sickness," he breathed, the words tumbling out in a desperate, graphic rush. "I'd be in a council meeting and instead of border disputes, I'd be picturing the exact shade of pink your mouth turns when it's kissed raw. I'd try to draft a missive and my hand would shake remembering how it felt to slide that comb into your hair. How fucking heavy and silky it was in my fists." His hands tightened on Sasuke's hips, fingers digging in possessively.
"I'd lie in my bed at night and my mind wouldn't shut up. It wasn't just thinking about you. It was… it was imagining. The sound you made when I bit your neck. The way your back arched off the floor. What you'd taste like everywhere."
Naruto's voice dropped to a filthy, intimate whisper directly against Sasuke's ear, each word a deliberate, devastating syllable.
"I'd get hard thinking about the way your trousers tightened across your thighs when you moved. Wondering how you'd look underneath me, completely bare with nothing between us but sweat and want. I'd wake up aching, my sheets tangled because I'd dreamt of your hands on me—not fighting, but this. Of you begging me not to stop."
He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with Sasuke, his gaze blazing with unvarnished hunger.
"It's not just under my skin, Sasuke. It's in my blood. It's in my bones. I've been walking around for days with a ghost of your hands on me and the memory of your taste on my tongue, and it's been driving me out of my fucking mind."
He kissed Sasuke's open mouth once more as if trying to consume the very obsession he was describing. When he spoke again, it was a rough vibration against Sasuke's lips.
"I don't want to think about anything else. I just want this. I want you. Until there's no room left for anything else."
Then Naruto's tongue pushed past his lips, he didn't ask, he just took.
The deep, carnal fuck of his mouth stole the last of Sasuke's breath and reason. A wild, reciprocal heat surged through Sasuke, burning away any residual hesitation. His own hand, which had been gripping Naruto's shoulders flew to his neck and back. His nails, usually so neat and controlled, raked down the taut skin of his spine and splayed across the flexing muscle of his trapezius.
He wanted the evidence to linger, a map of his hunger written in welts and scratches. In the gasping dark and with the taste of Naruto on his tongue, this was the only truth: Naruto was his. Solely. Completely.
A territory being remapped by touch, a body being claimed by bruise and breath. Let the world see the marks tomorrow. Let them all know who had laid hands on him, who had taken him apart and found the core of him. Mine, Sasuke's mind chanted, a primal wordless rhythm against the roar of his own pulse. Mine.
The frantic consuming kiss broke only when the need for air became a biological imperative. They parted with a wet, ragged gasp, foreheads still pressed together, lips slick with shared saliva, sharing the same stolen breath.
Naruto's hands, which had been cradling his face, slid down with a heated urgency. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Sasuke's trousers and underwear, and in one rough motion, he yanked them down to his thighs. The cool air of the changing room hit Sasuke's exposed skin and he let out a low hiss.
Sasuke's own hand fumbled at Naruto's waist. His coordination was compromised, his mind too fractured by sensation to manage the simple mechanics. He got his fingers tangled in fabric, a frustrated, needy sound escaping him. Understanding instantly, Naruto batted his hand away gently and shoved his own trousers and briefs down, freeing himself.
For a suspended second, they simply stared. Naruto's gaze sweeping down Sasuke's body with a reverence that was almost blasphemous in its intensity. His blue eyes, dark with pupils blown wide, fixed on Sasuke's erection. A slow, awed smile touched his kiss-swollen lips.
"Fuck," Naruto breathed, the word a prayer and an expletive. "Fuuuuck. You're so fucking gorgeous."
Sasuke's own attention was captured, his breath catching. He'd seen Naruto in every state. Broken, victorious, exhausted, but never this. Never this vulnerable, or showing his potent masculinity offered so freely. He was… big, thick and slightly ruddy in colour. The thought sent a fresh, sharp bolt of desire straight through Sasuke's core.
Naruto held his fingers before Sasuke's lips. A pause hung between them, the only sound in the locker room the ragged uneven symphony of their breathing. Then, Sasuke opened his mouth letting a slick pass of spit glide from his lips onto Naruto's waiting fingers.
The large, warm hand wrapped around them both, his grip firm and slightly rough. The contact was electric, a jolt of pure, undiluted pleasure that made Sasuke's knees threaten to buckle. A sharp, involuntary noise was torn from his throat—a whiny, desperate gasp he barely recognised as his own.
Naruto moaned in response, ducking his head to suck another bruising mark onto the junction of Sasuke's neck and shoulder. The sweet, biting pain was immediate, and as Naruto scraped his teeth over the tender, blossoming mark.
"You make such pretty noises," Naruto murmured against his damp skin, his voice thick with a smug, worshipful heat that made Sasuke burn. "Such fucking pretty noises, I wanna hear them again."
Before Sasuke could formulate any retort; not that his brain could currently assemble words. Naruto moved. He pushed Sasuke back firmly against the wall, the cool surface a stark against his feverish skin. Then, holding his gaze with an unwavering focus that only Naruto could hold he sank to his knees on the hard floor.
The sight was so profoundly shocking and so illicitly beautiful, that Sasuke's mind went utterly blank. Naruto, the Hokage in training, the war hero, was on his knees before him.
He seemed to blaze in the dim light. There was no hesitation. He leaned forward, his tongue tracing a bold, wet stripe from root to tip before closing his mouth around him.
The technique was not refined. It was eager, messy, and overwhelmingly enthusiastic. But the heat was sublime, the pressure perfect.
Naruto's movements were unpractised, a little too rushed, a little too desperate. But Sasuke didn't care.
In fact he cared about nothing. Only the devastating visual of Naruto's head bobbing between his thighs, the feel of his tongue, the obscene, wet sounds that filled the small room.
It was, without contest, the hottest thing Sasuke had ever witnessed. A wave of light-headed dizziness washed over him, his fingers scrabbling against the plaster behind him for purchase.
Naruto pulled off with a gasp, his lips slick and shining. He took a deep, steadying breath, his eyes blazing with determination.
"Want to try…" he panted, before swallowing him down again, deeper this time.
Naruto gagged.
And it was a rough, choked noise. He pulled back immediately, his eyes watering slightly. But instead of stopping, he steadied himself, one hand gripping Sasuke's hip almost painfully tight. He tried again, slower this time, pushing himself further. And this time, he took him deep, his throat working around him.
The sensation was beyond anything Sasuke could have imagined.
It was a tight, wet, impossible heat that felt like it was unspooling Sasuke's very soul.
A scream, raw and primal, built in his chest, clawing its way up his throat. But letting it out felt too dangerous, too final, too much like losing the last shred of his control. Instead, he balled his hand into a fist and drove his own fingernails deep into his palm, the sharp, clean pain a desperate purchase against the tidal wave of perfect pleasure that threatened to obliterate him completely.
His head thumped back against the wall, a silent, open-mouthed cry etched on his face as he watched, utterly enslaved by the sight and feel of Naruto's devoted mouth.
It went on, the noises, the smell, the sensation of a tight, wet heat that became a rhythmic, devastating perfect pressure. And Sasuke began to unravel. His hips stuttered, a helpless, involuntary movement.
"Naruto," he murmured, hair stuck to his forehead that was now tacky with sweat. His heart pattering inside his chest, "Naruto I'm gonna…". The only answer was a nod and a slight hum, he grabbed Naruto's hair and felt the groan from Naruto's mouth vibrate down his cock.
The coil of pleasure in his gut snapped. He came with a choked, ragged cry, his body seizing as the world dissolved into white-hot static. Naruto took him deep, a low, approving hum vibrating around him, trying to swallow every pulse. He wasn't entirely successful; Sasuke felt the warm spill escape the corner of his mouth, tracing a path down Naruto's chin.
In the hazy, boneless aftermath, Sasuke acted on pure instinct. He tugged Naruto up by his hair, not gently, and before Naruto could even properly straighten, Sasuke was licking the salty, slick evidence from his skin, his own breathing harsh. The taste of himself on Naruto's was satisfying in a way he couldn't articulate.
Still panting, his own need visibly urgent, Naruto pulled Sasuke tightly against him. He fumbled between them, his large hand working himself with rough, frantic strokes. Sasuke held him, his arm locked around Naruto's broad back, his mind a blank, humming void where thought had not yet dared to reassert itself. He felt the convulsion that racked through Naruto's frame, heard the deep, shuddering moan muffled against his shoulder, and then the warm, wet spill against his stomach.
For a long moment, they simply stood, clinging to each other, the only sounds their slowing, syncopated breaths. Naruto was pliant, loosened, his usual boundless energy softened into a sated, reverent tenderness. He nuzzled into Sasuke's hair, pressing soft, absent kisses to his temple, his brow, as if worshipping something sacred. The gesture was so unguarded it made Sasuke's chest ache.
Mechanically, Sasuke reached down and pulled his trousers and underwear back up, the fabric clinging unpleasantly. Naruto did the same, but his attention never truly left Sasuke.
He seemed incapable of allowing even an inch of separation. Instead of moving towards the door, he guided Sasuke, still seemingly dazed, to one of the low wooden benches lining the wall. He sat and pulled Sasuke down with him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and began to kiss him again. Not with the earlier desperate hunger, but with a lazy, lingering sweetness, as if he had all the time in the world and wished to spend it exactly here.
Sasuke, his defences melted like spring water, his nerves utterly spent, kissed him back. And the motion was soft, almost confused.
Naruto broke the kiss, his forehead resting against Sasuke's. His voice was a low, contemplative murmur, thick with sated pleasure and a dawning, quieter anxiety. "What am I gonna do without you in Suna?"
The words landed not as a question, but as a statement of impending loss. To Naruto, it was likely a prelude, the natural lead-in to asking, even begging Sasuke to come with him. But Sasuke's mind, treacherous and scarred, performed its familiar, brutal alchemy. It twisted the words. It refused (categorically in this case) to believe the affection lavished upon him could be genuine, could be primary. It had to be a diversion, or a catastrophic mistake.
A coldness seeped into his veins, cutting through the post-coital haze. He began to withdraw, subtly stiffening, turning his face a fraction.
Naruto felt it instantly. He pursued, his arm tightening, his lips seeking Sasuke's again. "Sasuke…"
The pursuit felt agonising. But it also ignited a torrent of guilt so profound it was nauseating.
He had done this.
He had allowed this… this fucking indulgence.
With his transformation, his provocations, his surrender, he had tangled Naruto up in something confusing and aberrant, pulling him from his true path.
He was a corruption.
A complication.
Getting caught up with him would lead nowhere but to misery, to scandal, to ruin. This was a mistake, and Sasuke, with his cursed life, was the mistake's architect.
The logic was a prison, and it slammed shut around him with finality.
He placed a hand on Naruto's chest and pushed, firmly, creating a space between them. Naruto looked down at the hand, then up at his face, his blue eyes clouded with confusion.
"You should go," Sasuke said, his voice flat, hollow, scraping raw from disuse and recent cries. "You should go ask Hinata to accompany you."
Naruto blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. "What? Sasuke, that's not—"
"Just go," Sasuke interrupted, the words sharper, rising. He stood up, putting the bench between them. "Ask her. That's what you're supposed to do. That's what this was all for."
"No, listen—!" Naruto stood, reaching for him, his face a mask of frantic, incomprehensible hurt.
"GO ASK HINATA!" Sasuke shouted, the words tearing from his throat, raw and furious, directed as much at himself as at Naruto.
He couldn't bear the look on his face—the wounded, bewildered devotion.
It was a lie. It had to be.
He turned on his heel and bolted for the door, yanking it open and fleeing into the corridor without a single backward glance. He couldn't look. Seeing that expression would shatter him completely.
He didn't stop running until he was out of the Hokage tower, the cool evening air hitting his feverish skin like a slap. His mind raced, a panicked animal in a trap.
He couldn't stay. He couldn't be here when Naruto, after clearing his head, inevitably went to do the right thing.
He needed to be gone.
An idea, a desperate escape route formed in his mind like jigsaw pieces falling into place. He changed direction, his feet pounding on the flagstones, heading not for his flat, but for the administrative wing. He didn't knock. He threw open the door to Kakashi's office with a force that made it slam against the wall.
Kakashi looked up from his desk, a single, visible eyebrow lifting above his mask. His gaze, always too perceptive, didn't linger on Sasuke's wild eyes or heaving chest. It slid calmly to the vivid, bruising marks on Sasuke's neck and the faint red scratches peeking from his collar. He saw everything and yet said nothing about them.
"Sasuke," Kakashi said, his voice deceptively mild. "You alright?"
Sasuke didn't answer. He couldn't. He strode to the desk, planting his hand on it. "I need a mission. Now. Something long-range. Outside of Fire Country."
Kakashi watched him for a long, silent moment.
The air in the room was heavy with everything unsaid—the shouting still echoing in Sasuke's ears, the marks on his skin, the frantic energy vibrating from him. Finally, without another word, Kakashi leaned over, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sealed scroll. He held it out.
Sasuke snatched it, turned, and left without a word of thanks or explanation.
He went directly to his flat. His movements were precise, economical, driven by an cold, absolute urgency that left no room for thought. He packed a light travel pack—essentials, weapons, the mission scroll. He did not look at the tatami mats where a jade comb had once lain. He did not pause.
Within twenty minutes of storming out of the training ground changing room, Uchiha Sasuke was a ghost once more, melting beyond Konoha's gates, leaving only the memory of heat and the echo of a shouted name behind in the silent, gathering dark.
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