Something-more or less

We were best friends since we were four.

We were each other's fuck toy since we were fourteen.

Now this isn't to say that our relationship was demeaned by the time the two of us hit puberty. Actually, I use the term 'fuck toy' quite loosely. Therefore, the fact that we did just use each other for a stress release did not cheapen the fact that we were loyal and undoubtingly the closest thing the other had.
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We used each other-we needed each other.

I remember what day it was when it all started, but it's unclear to who started it. We were both studying, I complaining about about schoolwork bullshit and how teachers can be assholes and such. He smirkered with his cool eyes, a gesture that made me want to kiss that smug look off his face and tell him to fuck off. But I didn't say that and instead flicked him off, because I had a way with words. He shook his head wryly and made a comment about how slackers are the loudest complainers, and I made a comment about how my hand could grab his head and shove it up his ass. We were practically face to face, leering evily at each other. He made a hn sound and I eloquently flicked him off again.

Ah yes, I remember. HE started it. on my finger. Those sensuous lips that had just been in a tight frown a second ago were now wrapped around middle finger.

That was his undoing, and I pulled my finger out and replaced it with my own mouth, tongue-fucking his mercilessly. He pulled me on top of him as he sat back in the couch, haphazardly stripping and flinging clothes as I tried to divest him of his own clothes and claimed his mouth in a kiss. I realized that I was overstepping my boundaries as a 'best friend' but I couldn't care less.
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And so we ended up screwing each other silly like bunnies. Like hormonal bunnies on cocaine with years of pent up lust.

It was really fascinating. Our stamina. I fucked him over and over until he couldn't walk correctly or sit comfortably. Until our voices were hoarse and our throats raw from screaming. Until sweat and cum and saliva and lube were mixed together between our chests and stomachs and thighs and fingertips. The slide of tighness and the friction, the arch of the back as he called out my name.

I should have listened to the voice inside my head that cautioned me we'd be more than just fuck buddies. I knew I didn't want him just because he was a good screw. Hn. Fucking dobe.

Azure eyes, blonde hair, baby face, pouting lips. I wanted him because-
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I loved him for his perfection. I loved him for his imperfection. But then again, Uchiha Sasuke WAS perfect. I don't know if anything marred his beauty, except-

Except for the pain inside.

He would shiver and whimper with the nightmares that haunted him, and at times I felt helpless. With our limbs entangled and him on top of me, I could feel his body tremble. His lips moved silently against my neck.

I had comforted him so many times before this incident, but now it seemed different. Felt different with our bodies flush against each other. I held him in my arms, stroked his back with my open palm, slowly allowing him to relax against me and feel the comfortable warmth we shared.

We'd never exchanged any words of affection. We just willingly gave our bodies to each other.

Our bodies...our souls...our beings. The heat, the intensity we created. It hurt. It felt so good.

I forgot about everything but him.
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Maybe that's why I fucked him into senselessness.

To forget, because I wanted to forget. I wanted it to all go away, everything but him and me and this moment where I am pounding my cock deep within him and letting liquid fire flow through my veins and every pore, until it consumes me and I can't breathe. And that's fine, because things like breathing and air aren't exactly a necessity at that time.

Or sleep, because sometimes I liked to just lie awake with numb and pleasant exhaustion, feeling his warm, hard body so...alive beneath me. the rise and fall of his chest, our thudding heartbeats, the hot air that blew back onto my face as I breathed against his nape. These things lulled me to contentment.

Unless his half erect cock rubbed against my thigh. Then that lulled me to something else. And then it could be the middle of the night or early in the morning, and I'd get us both off-me wide awake and him waking up in degrees-by grinding our hips together, tracing his jawline with my tongue and raining his lips with gentle kisses.

It was like poetry, the way he would finally awake and bring one hands to fist my dark locks to crush our lips together in a bruising kiss. The way his other hand would make me shiver as it cupped my ass to bring our rasping erections harder together, friction mindblowing.

Yes, it was like poetry.