Pulse

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, or anything affiliated. I also do not own The Tea Party, they are solely responsible for the lovely lyrics that inspired this story (with a few modifications I made for gender‘s sake). If you are upset by the thought of homosexual relations, this story is certainly not a good read for you. Additionally, if the act of sex upsets you, do not read on. There also may be some spoilers, not many, though.


Author’s note (s): This story was originally inteded to be a oneshot, but after I wrote the end I could not just let it be. The boys are around 20 when this all takes place, and if this first chapter seems a bit dreamy/druggy, there is a good reason for that. Oh yes, and for those of you who love Itachi, he is not in this story. I am not quite certain what the Manga is going to do with him, and I would rather not write something that becomes obsolete.

UPDATE: As of July 25, 2007 I am updating the story. No new chapters or anything like that, I am merely fixing some mistakes that keep nagging at me.

Scene chages, or lapses of time are represented by this: ________

Changes in point of view are represented by this: ---------


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“I saw a face in the mirror
That made my blood run clear
I think I've waited too long

I went along for the ride
he complicated the slide
I went to take his hand
I couldn't feel a pulse

Senseless is pleasure
Nothing's forever
the sooner you see
You can't deny me

I had a dream that within
a celebration of sin
You do a dance with denial

I only wanted a friend
To see a beautiful end
he went to take his hand
he couldn't feel a pulse

Senseless is pleasure
Nothing's forever
the sooner you see
You can't deny me”


Music resonates, dreamlike, twisting down the street and reaching my ears where I stand. I am drawn to it, I know what waits for me behind the darkly lit doors of the club.

The mask on my face feels unnatural, but it must stay on. It is part of my disguise, like the Genjutsu that turns my light hair dark, and hides the seal on my abdomen.

I breathe deep, no turning back now, I urge my legs to move forward.

Bodies move in time to the beat of the music as I enter the room. Glittering lights play off the masked faces. Tonight I am free, free to be myself, not a clown or an object of revulsion. Hands grab at me randomly as I walk through the crowd of revelers, but I pay them no mind, they are not who I am looking for.

The music pulses electric as I spot a beautiful body, perfection in clinging black. His pants are slung low, enticing all who see with creamy alabaster skin. His mask and his dark hair have a sheen of red, like the lifeblood that is now roaring in my ears as I gaze hungrily at him. He moves, languid and sensual, black clad hips undulating, synthesizing sex with every step. He lets no one close enough to touch him, he is waiting for someone too, and I hope it is me.

I come closer, and I feel our gazes lock through the expressionless masks. He lets me approach him, and I light with anticipation.

We dance. The crowd swells and presses in on us. We dance closer. Our bodies entwine, my hands map a teasing path across his flawless skin, touching what I can see, craving what I can’t. He smells so good, like some sinful decadence. His hands flutter upon me, pulling me closer, making me want him more. The masked ones around us try and get our attention, but it is futile, our world is a narrow one, and they are not invited.

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The hotel rises in front of us like some gilded offering, an offering we gladly accept. Our room is nice enough, but that is not what my eyes are drawn to.

Clothes fall from us like the leaves of autumn, but our masks stay on. I press him to the bed, he is willing in my arms, I have never felt so lucky. Slick fingers push inside him, making him moan, making him quiver….for me.

When I bury myself in his achingly tight heat, I do it a bit too quickly. He cries out, his voice muffled by the mask, but he does not complain. I know it stung, but wanted it to, he will have a memory of this long after tonight. The moment passes and I move.

The rhythm and the heat is building. He is gasping beneath me, I can see the muscles in his thighs strain with the effort of meeting my thrusts. My hand moves to stroke him where he needs it most. My hips angle upwards, and I know I have found what I want.

He screams beautifully for me as I hit that spot over and over again. He is writhing, pulling me in. Deeper, harder, faster, I oblige his broken voiced request. We are both losing it fast. His body clamps around me, impossibly tight. His head is thrown back, and I know he is screaming. Hot liquid coats my still stroking hand as he spasms in his release. It is too much for me, my world explodes, and I fall atop him with a shuddering moan.

For a few moments we lay there, catching our breath. I close my eyes as he disappears into the bathroom. Who is he? I have no idea, but something tells me he has never done something quite like this before. For a few moments I ponder his identity, then he is back. He lays next to me, one hand idly traces at my abdomen, as though wishing something was there. He sighs and then like a shadow is dressed and gone. I did not expect him to stay, but I do wish he had stayed longer. I close my eyes again, gods I wish I knew who he was. Through it all my rather distracting fantasies about Sasuke had been silent. I want more of him, and I don’t want to wait. Even though tonight has been like a dream, nothing has ever felt more real.