A Matched Set
folder
Naruto › Threesomes/Moresomes
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,690
Reviews:
67
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Naruto › Threesomes/Moresomes
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,690
Reviews:
67
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Clean Up
“Matched Set”
Chapter 2
“Shit.”
He dropped to his knees once again, ignoring the chill grey water that seeped into his slacks. The boy lay crumpled, pale face lined with pain. All traces of his former cynicism and wit were gone. He looked…young.
“Why do you care?” Gaara murmured, lips barely moving. He was just too tired for this shit. “Why do I matter to you?”
“Aw, jeez…” Naruto grumbled, running his hand once more through his hair, tousling it beyond repair. “Listen, either you let me take you home or I drag you there. If I leave you here someone’s seriously gonna run you over.”
Gaara considered pointing out that getting run over was the point, and instead contented himself with watching Naruto’s lips quirk up in a jaded smile, the movement never reaching his eyes.
“And I don’t really believe in assisted suicide.”
Gaara considered arguing, explaining his reasoning, yelling, even dragging himself farther away, but the steel that lurked behind those blue depths, made him sigh and give up all hope of escape.
“Fine.”
He blushed pink highlighting creamy skin. “But I don’t think I can walk. I know the left leg is badly sprained, and I think the other one might be hurt as well.”
The blonde blinked, scratched his head, than swooped down, one arm slipping securely under slim, jean covered legs, the other cradling bruised shoulders.
He stood easily, and Gaara recalculated his first judgment of the blonde’s strength, feeling almost delicate in his arms. He’d never felt delicate. Protected. It made him wriggle slightly, muscles protesting at the movement, uncomfortable, at being so instantly comfortable.
“What’s your name?” he whispered, jade eyes flicking up to golden curls, sky blue eyes and warm, cinnamon skin.
"Naruto." The man said smiling down at him warmly.
‘Angel’ he thought fuzzily, than slipped out of consciousness, feeling safe, warm and…happy.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Naruto laughed a little at the soft expression on the guy’s face, before hefting him higher in his arms and striding back towards his car. The boy-Naruto couldn’t stop calling him that, he looked so fragile, an almost elfin quality to his face-was smiling softly and wriggled a little closer, head nuzzling in his chest, the soft red hair tickling under Naruto’s chin.
He had to prop the boy between his body and the car to get the door open, but after almost dropping his charge, and a few decorative curses, he finally pried it open.
The boy’s head lolled against the headrest, hands folded neatly in his laps where Naruto had arranged them. His legs were splayed haphazardly on the floor space and Naru-chan took care to move them carefully, so as not to hurt him more.
As he walked back around to his door, he wondered briefly how this Gaara guy had gotten so injured. An ugly red and purple flush was beginning to form on one cheekbone, and the knuckles on his hands were raw and bleeding sluggishly. His arms had scratches, which Naruto recognized as defense wounds-he was a C.S.I. fanatic afterall, Horatio’s voice was too hot-and that was only the parts that were visible.
A quick drive through the quiet, rural community Naruto lived in (after a five minute search for keys and a few more choice swear words), he pulled smoothly into the drive way.
He’d bought the house a year ago, right after college, investing all his savings and even taking out a bank loan, just to make it his. To Naruto a house meant everything-safety, comfort, security and happiness. He’d been looking for months before he’d seen it, and then it was love at first sight.
It was a large, colonial style farmhouse, with warm brick walls and huge windows, window seats mounded with pillows in every room. The yard was filled with flowers-chrysanthemums, sunflowers and gladiolas- all in garishly radiant yellows and oranges. The huge southern wrap around porch had rocking chairs and a long wooden swing, big enough for four people, five if one was tiny. It was his safe haven., the only place he really felt at peace.
He brought the flame-haired boy inside quickly, moving softly so as not to jar any sore muscles or newly forming bruises.
He laid him gently on the couch-a huge overstuffed blue and green plaid monstrosity that looked like hell but felt like heaven-and trotted quickly down a hallway to grab his first aid kit.
When he finally got back to the living room, after a quick detour to grab some pyjamas for the guy, the boy had struggled to a sitting position, and looked flushed, eyes a little glassy from the pain in his left lleg.
“Hey, don’t move!” Naruto scolded, and moved forward to help ease him into a more comfortable position.
He started with his knuckles, first the hydrogen peroxide to cleanse, than antibiotic to heal, and finally band-aids with tiny dancing Spongebobs on them, purely for the aesthetic value. Next the scratches on the arms, carefully washing and binding with gauze as some were quite deep and beginning to bleed again as touched. Gaara sat stoically through it all, never hissing or crying out or even cursing (Naruto’s first choice), He just…breathed.
Silence, after all, was what he was good at. He loved silence, really good silence, as he loved nothing else. That moist, refreshing silence after a good rain, where the whole world felt clean and new. The waking silence of pre-dawn, cold air brushing in soft wisps over his face. Even the silence after his father left, leaving Gaara collapsed on the floor, another broken, bleeding doll, a toy to his father’s rages-even that was good silence. That silence was relief and relaxing. Noise- now that was the enemy.
Temari’s screams, the sound of his father’s fists, loud knocks on the door late at night-that was what he hated.
“Hey,” Naruto said softly, “I need to get your shoes off to look at your ankle.”
Gaara nodded, weary beyond anything he had ever felt. Everywhere ached, but mostly his spine, his father’s favorite place to pummel when drunk. It would be bruised for days and stiff for weeks.
Naruto untied the laces on the battered sneakers quickly, fingers moving steadily and surely. He didn’t want further injury from his own incompetence.
The flesh was swollen and bruised, the ankle already a hideous mingled shade of yellow, red and purple. He peeled the grey canvas away, wincing for Gaara. This was the worst sprain he’d ever seen and he’d seen a lot.
At the orphanage-Clark’s Home For Boys and Girls-he’d been the oldest in his dorm, and unconsciously respected as a mother figure. He’d been the one who tucked the little ones in, told them stories, held them as they cried and bandaged their bruises. He had loved them all.
He began working on the other shoe, removing it easily. This one would only bruise-not swell, then hurt like a bitch.
“I’m gonna run go get some ice. Don’t move. Don’t stand.” He smiled, “I’ll be right back.
So Gaara sat, wondering why he was alive, and why he felt so safe.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
“I can sleep on the couch.” Gaara growled. He was curled up in the big, squashy armchair that was the main feature of Naruto’s living room. He had showered (with help-translate: blushing, awkward touches and muttered apologies), eaten homemade spicy chicken soup with pudding for desert and was now snuggled into oversized green flannel pyjamas, curtesy of Naruto’s closet.
“Listen, I don’t mind the couch, and you’re the one injured. The beds way more comfortable and it’s much quieter in there.” Naruto repeated tersely. He hadn’t asked what had happened to the kid, and Gaara hadn’t volunteered any information, leaving them with a lot of awkward silence.
Naruto winced slightly. Except right after a particularly violent blush, Gaara had asked if he was gay, listened to his stuttered affirmative, than said he was as well, his voice the same monotone it had been for every sentence spoken. Naruto had hoped, but sexual attraction wasn’t the only reason he was blushing. Gaara was beautiful, god-like, his body slender but perfect, all pale skin and fiery red hair. ‘All that silence, and now he won’t shut up.” The blonde thought, vaguely pissed.
“Okay,” said Gaara, his voice muffled in his arm, “If it’s quiet.”
“Oh…okay.” Naruto murmured, deflating a little, scratching his head at the sudden change.
“Can you carry me again?” Gaara whispered, looking up. His sea-green eyes were huge and vulnerable; he looked lost in the darkness, his hair the only flame in the night. When in the bath, Naruto had seen the physical scars, the bruises-old and new-a veritable history of abuse. Now he saw the emotional scars, the fear and worry, reflected in those ghostly green eyes.
“Sure, “ Naruto smiled. “You can ride piggyback. I used to let the kids at the orphanage do it all the time.”
He knelt in front of the chair, easing the boy onto his back, pale hands locking under his neck. He could feel heat radiating through the thin cotton of his nightshirt and the soft stirring of Gaara’s chest as he breathed.
“You’re an orphan?” Gaara asked his voice husky with sleep.
“Yeah. My parents were killed when I was little.” Everyone was always shocked at how casually he said that, at how easy his sordid past slipped off his tongue.
“I wish I was an orphan.” Gaara muttered, than changed subjects completely. “Your hair smell good. ‘S like cherries.”
The blond stumbled minutely, tripping on baggy cotton pants, before cracking open his door and laying the redhead gently on his bed, elevating his feet with numerous pillows and pulling the blankets up to his chin.
“Goodnight, Gaara.”
And for a moment he was back at Clark’s, bent over Konohamaru, kissing his forehead. Then Konohamaru was gone and it was just Gaara, sleeping already, forehead cool in comparison to Naruto’s lips. With a last smile, the blonde clicked out the light and shut the door softly after himself.
No he just had to call that bastard/sex god of a boss, and tell him he wouldn’t be in for work tomorrow.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o
Author Note- Yes everyone, this is gonna be GaaraxNarutoxSasuke. It took me a while to post cause my plot bunny died in mid-leap and I had to go revive it. Hope you like it. Review!!
Chapter 2
“Shit.”
He dropped to his knees once again, ignoring the chill grey water that seeped into his slacks. The boy lay crumpled, pale face lined with pain. All traces of his former cynicism and wit were gone. He looked…young.
“Why do you care?” Gaara murmured, lips barely moving. He was just too tired for this shit. “Why do I matter to you?”
“Aw, jeez…” Naruto grumbled, running his hand once more through his hair, tousling it beyond repair. “Listen, either you let me take you home or I drag you there. If I leave you here someone’s seriously gonna run you over.”
Gaara considered pointing out that getting run over was the point, and instead contented himself with watching Naruto’s lips quirk up in a jaded smile, the movement never reaching his eyes.
“And I don’t really believe in assisted suicide.”
Gaara considered arguing, explaining his reasoning, yelling, even dragging himself farther away, but the steel that lurked behind those blue depths, made him sigh and give up all hope of escape.
“Fine.”
He blushed pink highlighting creamy skin. “But I don’t think I can walk. I know the left leg is badly sprained, and I think the other one might be hurt as well.”
The blonde blinked, scratched his head, than swooped down, one arm slipping securely under slim, jean covered legs, the other cradling bruised shoulders.
He stood easily, and Gaara recalculated his first judgment of the blonde’s strength, feeling almost delicate in his arms. He’d never felt delicate. Protected. It made him wriggle slightly, muscles protesting at the movement, uncomfortable, at being so instantly comfortable.
“What’s your name?” he whispered, jade eyes flicking up to golden curls, sky blue eyes and warm, cinnamon skin.
"Naruto." The man said smiling down at him warmly.
‘Angel’ he thought fuzzily, than slipped out of consciousness, feeling safe, warm and…happy.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Naruto laughed a little at the soft expression on the guy’s face, before hefting him higher in his arms and striding back towards his car. The boy-Naruto couldn’t stop calling him that, he looked so fragile, an almost elfin quality to his face-was smiling softly and wriggled a little closer, head nuzzling in his chest, the soft red hair tickling under Naruto’s chin.
He had to prop the boy between his body and the car to get the door open, but after almost dropping his charge, and a few decorative curses, he finally pried it open.
The boy’s head lolled against the headrest, hands folded neatly in his laps where Naruto had arranged them. His legs were splayed haphazardly on the floor space and Naru-chan took care to move them carefully, so as not to hurt him more.
As he walked back around to his door, he wondered briefly how this Gaara guy had gotten so injured. An ugly red and purple flush was beginning to form on one cheekbone, and the knuckles on his hands were raw and bleeding sluggishly. His arms had scratches, which Naruto recognized as defense wounds-he was a C.S.I. fanatic afterall, Horatio’s voice was too hot-and that was only the parts that were visible.
A quick drive through the quiet, rural community Naruto lived in (after a five minute search for keys and a few more choice swear words), he pulled smoothly into the drive way.
He’d bought the house a year ago, right after college, investing all his savings and even taking out a bank loan, just to make it his. To Naruto a house meant everything-safety, comfort, security and happiness. He’d been looking for months before he’d seen it, and then it was love at first sight.
It was a large, colonial style farmhouse, with warm brick walls and huge windows, window seats mounded with pillows in every room. The yard was filled with flowers-chrysanthemums, sunflowers and gladiolas- all in garishly radiant yellows and oranges. The huge southern wrap around porch had rocking chairs and a long wooden swing, big enough for four people, five if one was tiny. It was his safe haven., the only place he really felt at peace.
He brought the flame-haired boy inside quickly, moving softly so as not to jar any sore muscles or newly forming bruises.
He laid him gently on the couch-a huge overstuffed blue and green plaid monstrosity that looked like hell but felt like heaven-and trotted quickly down a hallway to grab his first aid kit.
When he finally got back to the living room, after a quick detour to grab some pyjamas for the guy, the boy had struggled to a sitting position, and looked flushed, eyes a little glassy from the pain in his left lleg.
“Hey, don’t move!” Naruto scolded, and moved forward to help ease him into a more comfortable position.
He started with his knuckles, first the hydrogen peroxide to cleanse, than antibiotic to heal, and finally band-aids with tiny dancing Spongebobs on them, purely for the aesthetic value. Next the scratches on the arms, carefully washing and binding with gauze as some were quite deep and beginning to bleed again as touched. Gaara sat stoically through it all, never hissing or crying out or even cursing (Naruto’s first choice), He just…breathed.
Silence, after all, was what he was good at. He loved silence, really good silence, as he loved nothing else. That moist, refreshing silence after a good rain, where the whole world felt clean and new. The waking silence of pre-dawn, cold air brushing in soft wisps over his face. Even the silence after his father left, leaving Gaara collapsed on the floor, another broken, bleeding doll, a toy to his father’s rages-even that was good silence. That silence was relief and relaxing. Noise- now that was the enemy.
Temari’s screams, the sound of his father’s fists, loud knocks on the door late at night-that was what he hated.
“Hey,” Naruto said softly, “I need to get your shoes off to look at your ankle.”
Gaara nodded, weary beyond anything he had ever felt. Everywhere ached, but mostly his spine, his father’s favorite place to pummel when drunk. It would be bruised for days and stiff for weeks.
Naruto untied the laces on the battered sneakers quickly, fingers moving steadily and surely. He didn’t want further injury from his own incompetence.
The flesh was swollen and bruised, the ankle already a hideous mingled shade of yellow, red and purple. He peeled the grey canvas away, wincing for Gaara. This was the worst sprain he’d ever seen and he’d seen a lot.
At the orphanage-Clark’s Home For Boys and Girls-he’d been the oldest in his dorm, and unconsciously respected as a mother figure. He’d been the one who tucked the little ones in, told them stories, held them as they cried and bandaged their bruises. He had loved them all.
He began working on the other shoe, removing it easily. This one would only bruise-not swell, then hurt like a bitch.
“I’m gonna run go get some ice. Don’t move. Don’t stand.” He smiled, “I’ll be right back.
So Gaara sat, wondering why he was alive, and why he felt so safe.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
“I can sleep on the couch.” Gaara growled. He was curled up in the big, squashy armchair that was the main feature of Naruto’s living room. He had showered (with help-translate: blushing, awkward touches and muttered apologies), eaten homemade spicy chicken soup with pudding for desert and was now snuggled into oversized green flannel pyjamas, curtesy of Naruto’s closet.
“Listen, I don’t mind the couch, and you’re the one injured. The beds way more comfortable and it’s much quieter in there.” Naruto repeated tersely. He hadn’t asked what had happened to the kid, and Gaara hadn’t volunteered any information, leaving them with a lot of awkward silence.
Naruto winced slightly. Except right after a particularly violent blush, Gaara had asked if he was gay, listened to his stuttered affirmative, than said he was as well, his voice the same monotone it had been for every sentence spoken. Naruto had hoped, but sexual attraction wasn’t the only reason he was blushing. Gaara was beautiful, god-like, his body slender but perfect, all pale skin and fiery red hair. ‘All that silence, and now he won’t shut up.” The blonde thought, vaguely pissed.
“Okay,” said Gaara, his voice muffled in his arm, “If it’s quiet.”
“Oh…okay.” Naruto murmured, deflating a little, scratching his head at the sudden change.
“Can you carry me again?” Gaara whispered, looking up. His sea-green eyes were huge and vulnerable; he looked lost in the darkness, his hair the only flame in the night. When in the bath, Naruto had seen the physical scars, the bruises-old and new-a veritable history of abuse. Now he saw the emotional scars, the fear and worry, reflected in those ghostly green eyes.
“Sure, “ Naruto smiled. “You can ride piggyback. I used to let the kids at the orphanage do it all the time.”
He knelt in front of the chair, easing the boy onto his back, pale hands locking under his neck. He could feel heat radiating through the thin cotton of his nightshirt and the soft stirring of Gaara’s chest as he breathed.
“You’re an orphan?” Gaara asked his voice husky with sleep.
“Yeah. My parents were killed when I was little.” Everyone was always shocked at how casually he said that, at how easy his sordid past slipped off his tongue.
“I wish I was an orphan.” Gaara muttered, than changed subjects completely. “Your hair smell good. ‘S like cherries.”
The blond stumbled minutely, tripping on baggy cotton pants, before cracking open his door and laying the redhead gently on his bed, elevating his feet with numerous pillows and pulling the blankets up to his chin.
“Goodnight, Gaara.”
And for a moment he was back at Clark’s, bent over Konohamaru, kissing his forehead. Then Konohamaru was gone and it was just Gaara, sleeping already, forehead cool in comparison to Naruto’s lips. With a last smile, the blonde clicked out the light and shut the door softly after himself.
No he just had to call that bastard/sex god of a boss, and tell him he wouldn’t be in for work tomorrow.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o
Author Note- Yes everyone, this is gonna be GaaraxNarutoxSasuke. It took me a while to post cause my plot bunny died in mid-leap and I had to go revive it. Hope you like it. Review!!