And Something Like Human

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and I'm not making money off this. Ergo, fanfiction.

And Something Like Human

Neji can’t go home after a kill. It’s wrong somehow--like he still has blood on his hands, even after he’s washed them clean. Like he’s still a killer for the moment, and he can’t go somewhere as delicately domestic as his home until he remembers how to be something else.

He goes to Sasuke’s apartment instead, dragging the Uchiha into the hall as soon as the door opens and pushing him against the wall for a hungry kiss. Sasuke is stiff at first, shocked and likely fighting the reflex to put his fist through Neji’s chest. It’s never wise to surprise a ninja, and Sasuke even more than most. There’s a moment of panic, Sasuke’s breath fast against Neji’s face, Sasuke’s lips sealed shut as Neji runs his tongue along the tight line of his mouth. Tastes like salt. He hasn’t showered yet, and the sweat from the day is still on his lips.

Neji kisses more demandingly.

And slowly, Sasuke catches up with the situation. He takes perhaps two full seconds to assess what’s going on, and his lips soften slightly. His hands alight on Neji’s shoulder and give him an understanding caress before pushing him away with enough force to make Neji stumble back one step.

Neji stares for a moment, and Sasuke stares back. His expression might have been difficult to read, perhaps, even for someone who’d been trained to find and mark the minutiae of body language. Sasuke hides his thoughts well, but there are still hints. The cant of one dark eyebrow, angle of the narrow eye, slight turn of the face. There’s a faint curl in his lip as he scrubs the back of his hand over his mouth. Annoyance. Caution. Resignation.

Then Sasuke snorts and shakes his head, letting his gaze meet Neji’s briefly before he turns and walks back into his apartment. He’s through the door when he gives the quick jerk of his head that invites Neji to follow.

“Take off your shoes.”

“I’m not a savage,” Neji replies as he follows, watching Sasuke’s back with a fixed intensity. He toes off his sandals at the door and kicks them neatly into the corner without looking away.

Sasuke grunts noncommittally. He casts a glance back at Neji, eyebrow arching, mouth slightly pinched. Expectation. Impatience. Are we going to do this or not?

The reply is half a smirk, offered while Neji strips off his weapons pouch and tosses it down to join his sandals.

Sasuke leads the way into his bedroom. He’s not one for niceties and needless preamble, which suits Neji just fine. He’s not in the mood to give it; doesn’t really have it to give. He follows, catching Sasuke by the upper arm just inside the door, and this time when Neji kisses, Sasuke kisses back. Wet, accepting, and vaguely professional. He strokes Neji’s back, slipping his hands under his loose shirt. His skin is dry against Neji’s.

Neji noises into the kiss. Not enough. Not nearly enough. His fingers tighten in frustration on Sasuke’s arm and he nips at Sasuke’s lips. More.

There’s no attempt to slow him down or gentle him as Neji nips, presses closer, growls, “I need you in me,” against Sasuke’s lips.

Sasuke gives a sound, not even a full word to show he’s heard Neji’s demand, and his hands grow rougher, palming and pinching, grabbing him as they move toward the bed. After a moment, he decides to remove Neji’s shirt, and it’s gone so quickly it might not have been there at all. No teasing. Nothing so civilized as teasing.

Neji reaches for Sasuke’s fly. He doesn’t care about the clothes. He can feel Sasuke’s body through them. Neji wraps his hand around what he does want. Sasuke’s cock stirs in his grasp, and Neji smiles humorlessly.

Sasuke’s breathing hitches, the only outward sign he gives that he feels himself hardening in Neji’s hand. Neji’s smile turns more feral at that sound, and he presses his mouth against Sasuke’s hard. The kiss is rougher than before. Neji tugs Sasuke’s lower lip between his teeth, digs his fingers into his shoulder, and squeezes his cock, rubbing its length with long, dry strokes.

Then Sasuke pushes Neji’s pants down over his hips. They fall to the floor in a pile, noticed only so far as it takes to step out of them and Neji finally maneuvers Sasuke to the bed. Neji shoves, and Sasuke sits down on the edge of the mattress. Lays back. Looks up at him, then down at his cock. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? His neck arches as he looks up at Neji again, an elegant, masculine curve.

Neji licks his lips.

He sets one knee on the bed, then the other, and crawls up to lick from Sasuke’s collarbone up to his ear. Sasuke hisses softly through his teeth.

Neji doesn’t have to ask where to find the lube. It’s in the second drawer on the nightstand. He doesn’t wait for Sasuke to take it either. He knows what he can take, even what he’d welcome. Sasuke doesn’t interfere. He watches. He sighs when Neji slicks his erection, lifting his hips into Neji’s hand. He kicks up one brow when Neji tosses the tube to the side.

He sits up, bracing his legs, and steadies Neji’s hips when Neji sinks down on him.

Neji grits his teeth, digging blunt fingernails into the back of Sasuke’s neck as he accepts the spread, the burn, raw and real and thick inside of him. He meets Sasuke’s eyes for a moment as he adjusts. The look that passes between them is honest. Need. Need for something that isn’t blood and death. Need for something that isn’t gentle or loving. Need for a release. A way to exorcise the last of the killer until Neji has to call on him again. Need for something, anything, so long as it brings him down. Need, and agreement.

“I’ve got you,” Sasuke whispers tonelessly.

Neji closes his eyes and nods, letting his focus drift down. He thinks of the hands on him, the feeling of Sasuke in him as he rolls his hips. It’s more sensation than pleasure. Pleasure implies something more refined than this. Something that’s sweet, and can be separated from the other feelings--from the pain and the awkwardness and pressure--but they’re all the same. Just powerful, solid, gripping sensation.

The sound of Sasuke’s breathing as it thins, proving that he’s more strained than he lets on, mingles with Neji’s own panted breaths, punctuated by the occasional gasp. Both of them are quieter than the squeaking protest of the bedsprings.

Neji rides him. He rides him, and he feels him, and he digs his fingers into Sasuke’s shoulders, his neck; he presses his forehead against Sasuke’s jaw, body curled around his; he breathes faster, the steady, controlled rhythm of someone used to physical activity. Sasuke rocks under him. His position doesn’t give him much leverage to thrust, not with his hands solid and strong on Neji’s hips. Neji doesn’t care. It’s a non-issue. He can fuck himself just as well on Sasuke’s cock.

The hands, though, are important.

Sasuke lips his hair, murmuring something pointless. His voice offers reassurance. Not the words.

They don’t hold back. Neji feels when Sasuke tenses. When the pattern of his breathing changes, the catch coming into his throat, the sounds turn vaguely needy in Neji’s ear.

Neji growls softly. He needs this, and Sasuke is already closer.

And Sasuke’s fingers tighten. Hard palms pull Neji down.

Neji keeps riding him. He starts to feel the effort in his thighs, and starts to feel the pressure and the sensation coalescing into something in his gut. Closer. A warm tingle ghosts down his spine like a lit fuse.

Sasuke still comes first. A little grunt, as though his orgasm surprises him. His hips kick up. Warm, clinging damp. Then Sasuke sighs quietly in relief. He rubs Neji’s side in an impersonal, satisfied gesture, and Neji frowns.

“I told you, I’ve got you,” Sasuke says softly, tightening his grip briefly.

Suddenly, they’re changing positions. Sasuke rolls him over, lays him out on the bed, and looks down at him. His eyes are dark--serene and strangely unmoved. There’s a looseness. A certain peace that steals over his normally tense features. It’s the only sign his expression gives that he’s just come. He’s hardly even flushed. Neji wants that. He wants the thing inside him out, all the tension and the frustration and the tangled desires, all of them knotted in the palpable pressure in his gut and his balls, coiling at the base of his spine.

Sasuke leans over him. The muscles in his arms and shoulders shift under the skin as he lowers himself to mouth at Neji’s stomach once. Then he’s over Neji’s cock.

It barely takes more than Sasuke’s lips closing around his cock for Neji to regain his moment. He tenses, fisting his hands in the sheets. Sasuke moves one of his hands back to Neji’s hip, pushing him back to the bed and holding him there as he works. Sucking. Bobbing. It’s not fancy, but it’s what Neji needs.

He comes in a rush after a minute, two at the most, choking on air.

Warmth seeps up through him, accompanied by the shivers and twitches of aftershocks, and a moment of mindlessness that he welcomes. Despite the source, and the sweat on his body, the come and the spit, the sensation is almost clean.

Then the soreness manifests. The smell. The fact that Sasuke is looking down at him, reserved and curious. Tilt of his head. Touch of his hand, still resting on Neji’s hip. Did you get what you need?

Neji takes a deep breath and gives him half a nod. Human again.

Neji borrows Sasuke’s shower after that, and they both clean up the evidence. Sasuke strips the cover off his bed while Neji washes, wipes himself off while Neji dresses. Neji will go home with wet hair, and no one will know about his detour. At least, no one will have to acknowledge it.

The pair of them don’t talk again until Neji is ready to leave, and then it’s not much. A “Thanks,” tossed over Neji’s shoulder as he walks out the door.

“You’re welcome,” answered without looking up.

Fin