Title: I can see the stars, all the way from here
Author: Timothy Wren
Series: love on top (baby it’s you)
Fandom: Naruto
Relationship: Sasuke/Naruto
Word Count: 3,192
Author’s Note: Just transferring this over from ao3, don’t mind me
Summary: Sasuke could care less about being trans– until he is betrayed utterly and completely by his own body.
He can’t get off. It’s a problem.
(Or:
“Who the fuck else am I going to ask?” Sasuke looks away, catches himself, and makes himself look back. He’s got a dojutsu, for fuck’s sake. He’s not afraid of eye contact.
“No one.” Naruto snaps, almost offended by the idea, and it’s Sasuke’s turn to be surprised. “Sakura, maybe.” He amends.
“Obviously it’s you.” Sasuke masks his surprise with haughty arrogance, but the words come out true– so true.
Obviously, it’s you.
They ring like a bell through the room and through Sasuke’s rib cage, reflecting in Naruto’s eyes.
“It’s always gonna be you.”)
Art used by Snow124, banner by me.
It goes like this: Naruto is sometimes Natsu, with her three-shades-paler blonde hair, there hasn’t been a device yet created that can measure how little Sai cares about gender–nor one to measure how little Sasuke cares to ask him for the time of day, much less advice– and Sakura is trans but in a way that manages to be functionally useless to him.
Kakashi is less a man and more twenty years of trauma in a trench coat, so he’s right out, and just like that Sasuke reaches the bottom of a very short list. Like fuck he’s going to go to someone else about this.
When he was younger it was a source of small frustration. He’d thrown a tantrum or two and then he was indulged, almost so long ago he doesn’t remember it. He vaguely remembers his parents used to call him by a different name, but the name itself is ashes on the wind well before their bodies are, and that happened when he was seven.
He has no memory of Itachi calling him anything other than Sasuke, which burned for years, insult to injury in his memories– Itachi really was perfect, wasn’t he, once upon a time? But then puberty happens and he nopes right the fuck out of that, going to first the hospital and then Orochimaru with an unamused and stubborn disposition, and now here he is ten years after that with only a few choices for someone he trusts to help him out with an annoying problem.
He can’t get off. It’s problematic.
Sakura will likely try to examine him as a medical professional and he wants precisely zero part of that, actually, no matter how routine and comforting it is for her to put his organs back into his body on a mission, so he goes to what is, if he’s being honest, his first and only true choice, and wakes Naruto up in the middle of the night.
“I can’t get off.” He says, clipped, and shoulders past Naruto into his apartment. It’s the same one they’d all lived in for their genin years and only recently moved out of, so it’s not like Sasuke’s a stranger. He’s lived three weeks on his own since he was twelve and the first time he stuck his hand down his pants he immediately became a frustrated mess.
“Get off what?” Naruto rubs his eyes, and then goes stock still as Sasuke throws himself onto the futon with a huff. “Wait, like–”
“Yes, like.” Sasuke says, throwing one hand over his face. He hasn’t been embarrassed like this around a teammate since the first time Kakashi abandoned them in the Forest of Death for training and they’d had to bathe together or risk being victim to some horrifically large megafauna.
Body shame doesn’t come naturally to a shinobi.
He’s not really shy now, just certain degrees of mortified having to ask for help with this. And Sage help him, he’s probably going to have to really ask, with words and everything, because his blonde teammate looks confused.
“Naruto.” Sasuke hisses, a familiar pissed off slip of a name, and Naruto huffs at him.
“Well, what do you want me to do about it, hire you a taikomochi? You’ve got more money than me.” Naruto’s voice rose with indignation. He lifted Sasuke’s legs and walked around between the couch and the table, dropping them down again with a little thump.
“No, idiot, I want you to help me.” Sasuke let his own irritation take over, because otherwise he might have to ask sincerely, and then he’d probably have to take a long-term B Rank to Snow Country just to escape the look Naruto would get.
He frowned as Naruto sat down next to him, kicking the blonde’s knee with his foot as an afterthought. “What the fuck would I even do with a taikomochi? I don’t have anything to fuck them with.”
And therein lie the heart of the problem.
Or, well. Sasuke didn’t dislike his cunt, per se, but it wouldn’t fucking give him one of these orgasms he’s heard so much about but until recently never bothered to try for. He was usually busy training. It’s not like he has ever felt the need to fuck someone, so why bother?
Except he’s been waking up lately so fucking frustrated, every sparring match devolving into a breathless ache between his legs, and if he wakes up drenched but unable to bring himself to completion one more time, he’s going to really leave the village and become a missing nin like they always thought he would as a kid.
“Well I don’t know how you think I can help,” Naruto huffs, brow furrowing as he considers the problem seriously. Sasuke bites his lip staring at Naruto’s mouth, catches himself, and considers very seriously wandering into a whorehouse so that he can have some fucking peace.
Surely the incessant urge would leave his system? But no, even the thought of someone else touching him, much less touching his bare skin, makes murder a reasonable and tempting option in comparison. Maybe he can snap and become a spree killer, starting with all those fuckers who called Naruto those bullshit names when they were younger.
“You–” Sasue looks to one of Naruto’s hands, dextrous and golden, and back up to his face, refusing to acknowledge the pink rising in his own. He changes tracks. “You’re Natsu, sometimes.”
“Yeah, and?” He smiles a little, puzzled.
“So, you know.” Sasuke gestures vaguely crotchward, toward Naruto’s lap.
“I mean. Not really? I always seem to jerk it when I’m a boy.” Naruto scratches his nose some. “Have you tried asking Sakura?”
“Sakura and what vagina?” Sasuke frowns.
“Ino’s, probably. I’m just saying. Ten to one odds, a kunoichi can get you there, one way or another.”
“I’m not asking Sakura to jerk me off.” Sasuke feels heat race over him just thinking about it. About either one of his teammates, all dawn pink and sunrise golden, capable hands taking him apart and putting him back together again spent and shaking.
“Why not?” Naruto sounds almost offended on her behalf, but mostly amused.
“Because I’m asking you, dumbass.” He bites out, half a snarl, and the satisfaction of watching Naruto take that like a hammer to the face does little to appease his frustration.
“Oh.” Naruto blinks fast, recalibrating. “Oh. Um. I mean. Um.”
His lashes flutter, cheeks tinting a darker brown just barely pink at the edges. It’s a little flattering that his eyes glaze over.
“Who the fuck else am I going to ask?” Sasuke looks away, catches himself, and makes himself look back. He’s got a dojutsu, for fuck’s sake. He’s not afraid of eye contact.
“No one.” Naruto snaps, almost offended by the idea, and it’s Sasuke’s turn to be surprised. “Sakura, maybe.” He amends.
“Obviously it’s you.” Sasuke masks his surprise with haughty arrogance, but the words come out true– so true.
Obviously, it’s you.
They ring like a bell through the room and through Sasuke’s rib cage, reflecting in Naruto’s eyes.
“It’s always gonna be you.” Sasuke says, and the blue fire in Naruto’s eyes darkens to something dangerous. His tongue wets his lip. Sasuke’s eyes track it like a snake to a mouse.
“Say it again.” Naruto says, raspy.
Sasuke is willing to say it again, say it as many times as it takes to sink in, but his mouth opens instead and says: “Make me.”
And then they’re kissing.
They’ve kissed before, of course. He’s kissed Sakura before. Sakura and Naruto sometimes spend hours kissing, when the three of them are in bed after a long mission and have nowhere better to be than curled around each other, bored and satisfied.
This is different.
It’s also not different, at all.
They stumble through the familiar steps until Sasuke is in Naruto’s lap, half climbed on top of him, and then Naruto swings him around and down until he’s caged between strong arms and the futon, and the hard line of his body fires raiton against Sasuke’s.
“Don’t stop.” Sasuke gasps, both hands in blonde hair, and Naruto bites down his neck with no regard for how hot the room is getting, for how Sasuke might just be melting into some Suigetsu-esque puddle of goo. Is there a lava version of that kekkai genkai?
They might find out, because Sasuke has no intention of stopping. He’s felt a little bothered before, of course, when Naruto kisses him lazy and sure in the darkness, when he wakes up with Sakura hard and rocking her hips against him, but it always passes. It has never seemed worth it or even particularly intriguing to pursue.
Then he’d woken up five nights in a row with soaked sheets and an ache he couldn’t quench no matter how long he rubbed himself or fucked his fingers, and spent another stubborn week after that so amped up he could explode.
Naruto’s hands on him feel like the chakra-laced fingers brushing against an explosive tag, primed and ready to go off.
Probably better that it happens like this and not with the spontaneous murder of the next person who annoys him. Probably better, he thinks around a gasp, to come apart under Naruto’s hands than to snap and hunt Kiba for sport.
He snags one of Naruto’s hands and drags it between his legs, impatient, and Naruto has the nerve to laugh at him, right after he sucks in air himself at the blatant intimacy of it.
“You’re so hot.” Naruto breathes and Sasuke flushes despite himself, aiming a glare. Naruto laughs again. “No, I mean– here. You’re hot here. Though–”
And so saying, eyes and voice dropping low, he begins to rub obediently through all Sasuke’s layers.
“– you’re hot in every other way, too.”
Sasuke lets his head thump back against the mattress so he doesn’t have to see this, ruined by the way his chest heaves and his breath shakes, and also by how Naruto immediately props himself up on his elbows to watch, unable to look away.
Naruto rubs along the line of his clit and Sasuke’s leg jerks, involuntarily. He feels it all the way up his spine, hot and shocky, and Naruto just keeps doing it, teasing him, touching him.
“Naru–” Sasuke’s voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, more air than sound, so he changes tracks without remorse. “Usuratonkachi.”
And even that has the nerve to break in the middle, which is bad enough that he wants to move to Suna, a little, except he’d rather die than leave this room.
“Sasuke.” Naruto rasps, more consonant than anything, and Sasuke wishes there was a pillow within reach to bury his face in. He can’t watch, but he can’t bear to look away.
Naruto strokes his palm against the dip between his legs and Sasuke curses, knees snapping inward involuntarily. They go nowhere, trapped on either side of Naruto’s hips, and that alone is unbearably hot.
The idiot shouldn’t be sexy. Sasuke has no idea how to live in a world where Naruto is sexy. He’s tried it for the last two weeks, ever since they were sparring by the river and Naruto had taken off his shirt, glistening in the sun, and somehow despite being teammates for most of a decade something shifted in him and it was like puberty caught up to him all at once.
Which, rude, he’s fucking twenty.
“Dobe.” Sasuke breathes, eyes dark and intense, mouth parted. He was damp when he came here, thighs and everything above slick with his own murderous frustration, and the touch of his own fatigues touching him almost too much on the way over, but now Naruto’s hot hand is somehow making it worse.
He hadn’t considered it could get worse, though of course he distantly knew that he wasn’t getting far enough on his own– that was the whole point of this, of Naruto’s eyes burning with want and watching Sasuke try to breathe steadily under him. Purely a matter of physical relief. The same as massaging a shoulder back into socket– desperately uncomfortable until it slipped over the edge into place and the tension left you like a cut ninja wire, all at once and sore from the experience.
Sasuke’s inability to bring himself to orgasm is like a wrenched shoulder; he needs a teammate to fix him and then he can be satisfied, set to rights, sore but grateful. Right?
Right!?
“Stop putting it off,” Sasuke jerks his leg, head thunking against the pillows, and Naruto makes an offended puff of sound.
“That’s probably how you got this way in the first place.” The blonde mutters, snorting. “Impatient, Sasuke?”
The sound of his name from that mouth– pink, rough– while his fingers drag perfectly against Sasuke’s clit–
Sasuke groans, wishing he had another pillow to smother himself with. Except Naruto has never made him wait and doesn’t start now, somehow knowing exactly what to do.
Naruto bites his lip and sucks in a little breath and moves down, rubbing lower– Sasuke’s vestibule practically fucking quivers in engraved invitation– and two fingers press into him slow and wet and perfect.
“Oh fuck.” Sasuke’s legs fan open on their own, back arching. He’s so wet for this, he’s been so wet for this–
It’s like the last two weeks have been one long bit of foreplay, one long bit of edging because he rocks his hips into it eagerly, like a man starved.
Naruto bites his lip, eyes so dark pupil threatens to swallow the blue.
“Damn,” He breathes, watching, and Sasuke would kick him or something if he wasn’t busy shaking.
Naruto’s fingers move then, a gentle rock forward pressing against the anterior wall, and right before his eyes roll up into the back of his head, Sasuke takes a moment to be bitter than his own fingers felt nothing like that. It must have been the angle.
“Yeah, yeah– there you go,” Naruto murmurs nonsense as he builds up a rhythm, shallow little thrusts that knock his palm right against Sasuke’s clit every other time. It feels like Sasuke’s whole body clenches around his hand, hips jerking and thrusting helplessly by turn– it feels so good he can’t even move with it, keeps falling out of the thrusts too fast or slow.
It would be insulting, to someone who makes a living with perfect control of their body, except Sasuke can’t give a flying fuck to be insulted right now. Instead he drinks it in greedily, riding pleasure– riding Naruto’s fingers— and it’s all he can do to choke back genuine sobs.
“Hn– fuck– please, I’m so close–” He abandons all pretense entirely, throwing all pride out the fucking window– Naruto and Sakura have seen him at his lowest, this can’t be anything worse—
And Naruto’s free hand snags Sasuke’s, squeezing tight, while his other hand doesn’t stop for a second, hot and strong and perfect– perfect to clench on, perfectly stroking, perfectly stoking the stubborn embers he’s been struggling with for a fortnight into an all-consuming fire.
Sasuke sweats, heat racing along his spine and down again, burning between his legs and everywhere Naruto is touching him.
“You’re so–fucking –hot!” Naruto punctuates each growl with a particularly hard thrust and Sasuke gasps, opening his eyes– when had they closed?– to see him looking undone, absolutely lost in this, beads of sweat licking at the blonde of his bangs.
Sasuke laughs, squeezing his eyes shut again and baring his throat. His hips arch up, meeting every thrust, getting more and more desperate. Naruto doesn’t leave him hanging.
Naruto would never– has never– oh fuck, his fingers— let him down.
“Nngh!” Sasuke spills over into climax with a harsh jerk, legs twisting– he’d have crushed Naruto’s hand if the other man didn’t let go of Sasuke’s hand to grab one knee and keep them apart. It’s intense; the pressure is so high, the build up of pleasure.
He both is and isn’t surprised when he comes, spurt after spurt of it as he shudders through orgasm. Surprised, because what the fuck, he had no idea that could happen– but also not, on account of how the lead up was so bullshit intense he ought to go off like a suiton jutsu, somehow.
Naruto strokes him through it, gentling his touch in time with Sasuke’s aftershocks until he’s pulling out completely just as it’s becoming more sensitive than fun. Sasuke’s pussy does not want to let him go, for the record; his walls are tight and insistent that Naruto’s fingers have no business leaving, ever again, because he’s just found their purpose in life and fuck making handsigns for jutsu.
He hears Naruto moving around but can’t be bothered to open his eyes. Frankly Sasuke is entirely convinced he can’t be bothered to move and won’t be for at least several hours. Or days; it’s possible he means ‘days.’
The sheets rustle. A warm wet cloth strokes up his thighs, cleaning ejaculate and natural lube from how wet he’d been, and chapped lips touch his hip in a kiss. Sasuke shivers weakly.
His clit still throbs, which is a little puzzling. With every second that passes he gets the urge to rub his thighs together again. That makes no sense, of course– he’d learned over the course of the last two weeks how that particular action brings only a parody of relief, and actually ratchets his frustration up higher. He brushes aside the bizarre impulse and focuses on his breathing, waiting for it to calm down.
Waiting for the aftershocks to turn into afterglow, which will then die down to nothing.
Naruto’s palm trails down his inner thigh and the muscles there tremor. Sasuke is horrified to find him clenching instinctively on nothing, heart still racing in his chest. It almost feels like…
Suddenly Sasuke remembers something he’d heard their other teammate– (not Sai, it’s never Sai, for Sasuke)– complain about, something that he hadn’t had the context for nor an ounce of interest in, at the time.
She’d elbowed Ino and muttered some dirty joke that left them both cackling, something about–
“Did you know you’re multiorgasmic?” Naruto prompts his cheek up on his palm, elbow in the futon. His eyes are dark and intense, expression filled with want.
“I’m moving to Suna.” Sasuke declares, voice utterly wrecked, but too horrified to care. His vagina throbs in protest, because right here he has Naruto, and Naruto is already drawing the fingers of his free hand over Sasuke’s damp folds like a caress– too much and not enough all at once.
“Hey, wait– can I eat you out?” He spasms hard, a clench so vicious it nearly whites out his vision from the brightness of it, and this time he really does stretch for the nearest pillow and slam it viciously upside Naruto’s head.
“So that’s a yes?”
The idiot has the gall to laugh.
“Yes.” Sasuke snarls, because it really, really is.
Sage help him.
He might not get out of this bed for weeks.