Them | By : mischiefmaker Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 913 -:- Recommendations : 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. |
Disclaimer: You
know the drill. Don’t own it. Wish I did. Le sigh.
Warnings: polyamory, male bisexuality
Them
They’d been sharing Sakura for a few months when it
happened. It had been surprising and yet… not. They’d had all sorts of sexual
experiences as a group, and after a while, the comfort level had increased,
making it hard not to notice him.
Sure, you can ignore a naked body in a nonsexual situation
easily, but seeing him
aroused, watching him cum… it was
just a little too personal. Too intimate.
It’s hard to say exactly when he started to gradually take
notice. It was easy to blame the arousal on Sakura after all, even though there
was a tiny bit of doubt that it was always
just her that did it to him.
He couldn’t deny it, though, the day he’d seen him come from the shower with a towel
hitched around his waist. Sakura was no where around, just the two of them and the
tingling in his groin.
He’d quickly left to take a walk.
This couldn’t happen. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t gay. Things could get… weird.
The next few weeks had been stressful. When they were all
together, he tried so very hard to not look too long at that muscular chest,
tried not to notice when their legs brushed against each other or when their
hands grasped her hips at the same time. It was so very hard.
Wait. Not hard. So
not thinking about that hard… It was difficult. That’s what it was.
And then one night it happened. He was kissing Sakura, while he was behind her, kissing her neck
and moving down her jaw until somehow his lips ended up on theirs. They
stiffened, but only for a moment before going with it.
Sakura pulled away first, but they quickly followed. To
avoid the awkwardness that was bound
to happen after something like that, he’d pushed her
down and buried his face between her legs. Sure, it was a crude delay tactic,
but it worked. Lust overtook everyone, and they could pretend that nothing strange
had just happened.
No one talked about it. Ever. They
were scared to, as if the mere mention of it would disrupt the delicate balance
of their perverted little world.
The next time, though, it was him. Sakura was on top of him,
and he was behind her. As he thrust, a set of hands were suddenly on his ass,
pulling him into her and crushing the three of them together. It was unexpected
but certainly not unpleasant. He didn’t complain, and his hands didn’t move.
He was beginning to feel a little more comfortable with the
idea of it all, and a few days later, it was his hands running over his chest and stomach as Sakura went
down on him.
Then he kissed him.
Deliberately.
He didn’t fight
it.
The wheels began turning, but he still wasn’t sure he should
push the situation. Not just yet.
His dreams no longer consisted of just Sakura, with either them pleasing her or her with another woman. They were of
them. Sometimes together, sometimes working together to
please him. There had even been a few dreams of just him.
It was getting more confusing by the minute.
But then he realized that it wasn’t as crazy as it seemed.
For one, they wouldn’t be sharing… sharing Sakura, sharing their most intimate
moments, baring their souls if they weren’t extremely okay with each other.
Then they’d survived subtle touches and even a few kisses. Obviously he was okay with it, so why was he
stressing out about going further?
Okay, tonight he was going to do it. Tonight, he was going
all the way with his best friend. Tonight he would… chicken out.
But that’s okay, because there was always tomorrow and the
night after that and the week after. Except he never got the
chance to make his move, because he
beat him to it.
He’d said they
needed to quit dicking around and just do it.
Interesting choice of words, he’d joked.
They’d stood there staring, unsure of what to do next for
all of two seconds before he’d pounced. They’d figure it out along the way.
He smiled at the memory. It was hard to believe he had ever
doubted it. Smiling even wider, he watched them argue over whose turn it was to
wash the dishes. He could never imagine a life without them in it. They were
his, and he was theirs. Three pieces of a puzzle that just
fit together.
“What are you smiling at?” an irritated voice suddenly
demanded, not that it phased him any.
“Everything.”
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