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Short Reckonings; a Penthouse Letter	By : Ljiljana Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Naruto/Sasuke Views: 1134 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Naruto series do not belong to me; I make no money writing this,

Chapter List
- 1-Short Reckonings; a Penthouse Letter
- 1
Title: Short Reckonings; a Penthouse Letter

Rating: R, I think. Maybe higher. It is rather graphic, even if it’s only a blowjob

Paring: …Still Naru/Sasu/Naru >.>

Summary: Naruto is not much of a thinker, he is more of a doer. That can be a good or a bad thing, depending on who is sitting at the table while he is hiding under it.

Dear penthouse,

Heh. This is really weird. Usually, I have a friend to share this stuff with, my best friend. It’s so ironic I’m writing to you now because it’s not very likely he would read it.

Yeah, you’re guessing it right. This is about him.

The two of us sometimes go to this small Italian restaurant. Together, I mean. It’s a really good place, with amazing food, which is why it’s so often overcrowded. They don’t have delivery service, so if you want to eat your food at home you have to come to get it yourself. I like it in there, though. The smells are strong; the lights dimmed just enough to give an illusion of privacy. Everyone always seems to be in a good mood, even if they are keeping their voices down to maintain a discrete atmosphere.

So anyway, it was Friday night – no work the next day. My friend is not a fan of strong, spicy food and he thinks that processed tomatoes are wasted tomatoes. But I did manage to talk him into going with me with some effort, as always. He indulges me a lot.

Or he did, anyway.

We took a table – fortunately, we succeeded in finding one, because a family of three was just leaving when we walked in - and ordered. He sat with his back to the wall - it’s a thing he has. He can never sit with his back open, like he’s expecting someone to attack him from behind. That results in him always noticing everything first, because I always end up facing away from the world.

Our food hadn’t arrived yet when he nodded toward the counter, giving me a subtle sign to pay attention. Not as subtly, I turned to look. This girl – a friend of ours, I guess – she was standing near the counter in the short line of people waiting for their order to be made and packed.

I panicked. “What should I do? She’ll see me!”

He glared at me like he usually glares at the world at large. “You can’t avoid her forever. ”

Sensible as that statement was, it meant nothing to me right then. Of course I could avoid her. She is sweet and nice and I really like her, but what the hell came over her to approach me and announce that she was in love with me since she could remember and ask me out? I mean, what the hell? It was so sudden. It shocked my mind into blankness. I never even considered the possibility.

But it’s not her fault I reacted so badly. I’m afraid I kinda …. ignored her. Then, and ever since.

Yes, I’m a stupid, horrible person. The bad part? I was only about to make the biggest mistake of my life.

I tried shrinking myself into invisibility so she wouldn’t notice me, but I am rather tall and have broad shoulders and all this bright, unruly hair. It wasn’t really working all that well. And my friend obviously disapproved of my behavior, if his annoyed huff was anything to go by.

“What?” I snapped in a whisper. “It’s awkward. She’s been my friend since forever.”

“She is not likely to stay your friend if you keep av…”

I’m pretty sure that was going to end with ‘avoiding her’ but as I glanced back, she was scanning the restaurant, probably looking for something to distract her while waiting, so I panicked again… and slipped under the table. So I didn’t really hear that lecture to the end.

It wasn’t a big table. Two people could eat at it without bumping their knees constantly, but that was about it. And I – as I mentioned – am not exactly tiny. I had to bend my head and my spine drastically. It was quite uncomfortable, so I grabbed my friend’s knee and leaned over his lap to whisper, “Tell me when she’s gone, okay?”

He didn’t acknowledge me at all. That was alright, though, it’s what he does when he’s angry with me. It would wear off after while.

Minutes were passing, but I didn’t dare to try to get out. The very thought of having a horribly awkward conversation with that girl was giving me the strength to stay huddled. It was rather noisy. The clatter of utensils and conversation seemed louder than ever with nothing else to focus on, but I heard a voice clearly speaking up over all the others, obviously close.

“Excuse me, are these seats taken? Everything else is full.”

Well, if everything is full, I thought, go to the park or take your food home…

“No,” my friend answered, not even pausing to think about it. “You can sit here.”

I gaped in shock. Two people sat down at the table, one male that had asked the question and one female with ugly shoes. Instinctively, I draw as much as possible back toward my friend. After a second of firm resistance, he opened his legs and let me retreat all the way. Once the instant pleasure of not being caught faded, I got annoyed. That bastard! How could he do that to me? It would look ridiculous if I stood up now. Not to mention, I wasn’t even sure if that girl was still there. Sometimes, it takes forever to get your order when the restaurant is as full as it was that night. What else was I supposed to do if not man it up and stay down?

It would be easier if I didn’t have to listen to my friend chatting with the people at the table. I mean, since when does he make small talk with strangers? Usually, he either stares levelly at people until they become uncomfortable and leave or he says something that intimidates and insults them and they run away. It took me years to get him to tell me his favorite food and now he was sharing it with these people like it was nothing! He was hurting my feelings, really.

So I pinched his thigh.

It was right there, next to my shoulder; an easy target. He froze – I could feel his legs tense on both sides of me. But he didn’t stop talking. Obviously, I had to pinch harder… Or find a more sensitive place.

Or, heh, both.

The inner side of the thigh is sensitive, I figured. So I found a good angle – which required me to somewhat turn toward him – and pinched again, harder.

Of course he winced. I like to think that, if he was still talking, he would have stuttered. It was a good pinch. I snickered quietly to myself. Ignore me now, bastard!

He did exactly the opposite, actually. He slipped his hand under the table. I expected him to try and smack me or pinch back, so I tried to back off without actually moving back. It’s hard to execute such a complex maneuver under a small table, so he found me blindly after not more than two seconds. Well, I was practically sitting between his legs, so I guess he had a pretty good idea how to go about it.

Anyway, he touched my shoulder. I braced myself, unable to actually avoid what was coming without exposing my presence to those other people at the table. His fingers brushed my neck and stopped at my cheek. They were light as feathers and I opened my eyes, realizing that things were not going nearly as I expected them to and that I had stopped breathing. What was he doing?

His thumb brushed a little more firmly over some old scars I have on my face. It felt a bit like… petting. Utterly confused, I turned a bit more to stare at the tablecloth and his white, button-down shirt, both with hams resting in his lap. With the movement, his hand slipped across my face and ended in my hair. Like he was just waiting for that to happen, he tangled his fingers into it and pulled.

And when I say ‘pulled’, I mean he pulled it so harshly, my eyes filled with tears. He almost yanked my hair out!

His hand disappeared from under the table the way it had come. I could finally focus again, but it didn’t seem like there was any disturbance in the flow of the conversation above. It annoyed me, but the ‘what the hell’ my brain was screaming was more important at the moment. What was he doing, stroking my cheek? Friends don’t do things like that!

…Or maybe, friends don’t react to it as strongly as I did. It was nothing, right? He was just feeling around for my hair, the most efficient way of retribution in that position.

I took a deep breath, ready to start calming down… And that was when I saw it. How could I not? I mean, it was right there, in front of my eyes, just inches from my nose.

He was hard. My brain stopped screeching – it stopped working completely for the time being, as far as I could gather. I stared, fascinated, at the tent his erection was making of his pants. I mean, wow. It looked huge. I caught myself unconsciously edging closer.

I was consciously not backing off, though. I mean, wow. I should have been repulsed or something, right? It’s my best friend’s cock. You just don’t go to some places. And you certainly don’t expect that, if you do find yourself at one of those places, you would enjoy the smell quite a lot.

No offense to anyone, but the girls kinda … stink. Guys … well this guy, anyway, he doesn’t. At all.

His voice cut through my haze. He was answering a question of some sort. I was having an epiphany here – and it was his fault, he apparently found me sitting between his legs arousing – and he was chitchatting! Chitchatting, and ignoring me again.

Well, I couldn’t have that, could I?

I found the most comfortable position possible so I could have the hand I was propping myself up with free. I never really decided to do anything like that… But there I was, putting my palm against his thigh. He stilled even more. The muscles straining under my hands left me needing extra oxygen, so I inhaled audibly though my dry mouth. He didn’t react otherwise in any way, so that encouraged me to continue.

Not quite gently, I moved my hand higher toward his crotch. Under my palm I could feel his legs starting to shake, likely from the strain of trying not to move. He was silent, though I have no idea if the conversation simply stopped or he couldn’t talk. I liked it, whatever the case. I loved his attention all on me.

So I moved my hands again, higher still, until my fingers brushed where I was pretty sure the head of his cock was struggling with the lack of space.

Hehe, I thought hazily, insanely, I should help the poor fellow out.

So, after stroking it over the thick fabric a couple of times, I proceeded to do just that. I found the zipper. In a moment, I would see it, in the flesh!

But there was a hand under the table again, my friend’s hand. He pushed my hands off his lap. I wasn’t about to give up my new, fascinating discovery, so I placed them right back up. He pushed them off again. It was kinda silly, considering the situation.

I was stubborn, so in the end, instead of pushing me off he simply covered himself, blocking my access with his forearm.

“Guys?” I heard him say. The bastard, he sounded completely normal! A bit hoarse, but normal. “There is a free table over there. The person I was waiting for should be back any second now.”

As the people at the table accepted the ‘fuck off’ with an astounding grace I could only envy and be grateful for, I wrestled his arm aside with some effort. Like that would keep me away, tough chance. I pulled down his zipper without hesitation this time, almost there…

…When he pulled my hair again. It wasn’t as harsh as the first time, but it was still painful.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” my friend hissed down at me. He pulled me so I’d have to tilt my head and look up at him in turn. If he'd thought that would help, scare me or something, he was dead wrong. I mean, I had heard people saying that he was hot. I agreed, of course; I’m hardly blind. But it never really hit me until I saw his eyes then. He was so angry; it was like there was a thunderstorm raging in them. I don’t think I was ever faced with such an intense, hot glare before.

The waves and knots curling down my spine and twisting into a tight knot low in my stomach made me abruptly aware of how much I, too, was affected by what was going on.

With intent, I continued to open his pants, still looking up, “Guess. ”

“You stupid, brainless…” Oh, his cock was quite a bit thicker than I was expecting. And holding it in my hand seemed to have done a wonderful job of shutting him up, so that was a plus. His hand was still in my hair, tightening. But he made no further effort to protest.

Which was good, I could focus at the task in hand. Literally.

The foreskin was still covering the lower half of his head. Carefully, I pushed it off, out of the way, like I would do it to myself. It seemed to have been the right thing to do as he reacted by lowering a little in his chair. It gave me far better access.

I repeated the careful up-and-down movement several times. Moisture appeared at the tip of the head, clear and sparkly. I licked my lips, savoring the temptation. Ignoring how the movement made him grasp the edge of his chair tightly, I leaned in and licked the pre-cum off with the tip of my tongue. That met with his approval – or so I figured from the fact my hair was still attached to my head - so I dared to make it longer and wetter next time.

Licking it like a lollipop wasn’t quite enough to make magic, I knew that from personal experience. But playing was fun. Pushing my tongue around the edge of the head, pumping his cock very slowly, lightly up and down, and then licking off the pre-cum that would come out as reward was turning me on almost as much as it would having someone do all that to me. It was an illuminating experience, to wait and welcome every little sound and reaction, to read the pain at the back of my head as approval or disapproval.

I wanted to do it right. I wanted to be good, because this wasn’t just giving head. It was giving head to the one person I had always liked and admired. I needed to be brilliant.

I tried using the flat of my tongue, giving a long, strong lick to the underside of his cock. That caused his thighs to tremble. Slipping the tip of my tongue between the stubborn portion of foreskin that was still hugging the lowest part of his head and the extremely sensitive tissue underneath it caused him to tighten his grip on my head and pull me off to lighten the pressure. A sensitive place, then. His reaction was completely opposite when I pressed against the slit a moment later. He pulled me closer.

Finally, I took his head in my mouth and sucked lightly. By then, it was easy to read his reactions even before I could feel him pulling my hair. I sucked a bit harder and then leaned in so I could take in as much as possible, until it felt like I’d choke if I moved at all. When I eased off, I was afraid my teeth would get in the way so I pressed my tongue against the underside again, keeping the sucking as strong as possible.

I was just getting the hand of it, I thought, when the pain in my scalp reached a peak. And he tugged me away.

“I can’t do this here,” he whispered. It was a pained, frantic whisper, just barely familiar to my ears due to the extreme rasping in his voice. The part of me that was always a bit possessive of him and greedy for his friendship and attention soared in joy at the sound of it.

I angled my head to look up at him. He was pleading for something, for me to stop or maybe to ignore the protest. I don’t know. I could only offer my best.

“Toilet?” I suggested and my voice was just as throaty. He closed his eyes for a moment and then nodded. “Go, I’ll be right there.”

The pressure finally vanished from the back of my head as he took his hand off to zip himself up. I watched it with regret, suddenly scared a little. There was no way I’d be happy with this thing happening just once. But there was also no way to turn back right now…

He moved out of the chair. I followed after only several seconds – who cared what people at the tables around us thought, if they were even paying attention? I couldn’t wait. I’d have freaked out if I waited. I would have started thinking just how dangerous what we were doing was for our friendship …

In the toilet, there was someone at the sink washing their hands. They were luckily finishing up, so I didn’t have to stop for long and pretend I was doing anything else. My friend was holding the last stall door open by leaning on it, arms crossed over his chest. I walked over there as soon as the third person moved toward the exit.

He was looking at my face carefully as the door clicked closed behind me. “You can back out now if you want.”

The artificial light was awful, very yellow. My friend was watching me from directly underneath it, expressionless. His neck was flushed, but that was all I could notice out of the ordinary. He's got a great poker face; it was so much simpler just reading the signs of his body.

I glanced down. I could see that he was still hard, even though he did a good job of packing his cock so it wouldn’t be too obvious. I reached out to brush over it without a thought; it was like I couldn’t keep myself away for a moment longer.

I glanced up, to find him staring down at my hand, mouth half-opened. Huh. Not such a great poker face after all.

I waited until he noticed and looked up at me to answer, “No way in hell.”

He kissed me. I wasn’t expecting that. I was too focused on his cock to think properly, I guess. I wasn’t expecting it but I opened my mouth almost instantly anyway and the results blew me away. If his mouth had a flavor, it got drowned in the aftertaste of his cock, I couldn’t distinguish it. It didn’t matter because he was holding my head in place firmly, forcing me to feel every nib and press of the tongue to its fullest.

Slowly I regained my wits and remembered that I could participate much more actively than I had been. I pulled him closer; we fit together well. I kissed back more forcefully and when he gave a reaction in the form of a long, low groan, I maneuvered us both inside the stall, pressing him against the wall. The door closed on its own behind us.

After another long second of kissing, I backed off a bit. He let his head fall back until it hit the fake brick and looked back at me through half closed eyes and with his mouth red and open. Yeah, against the wall was exactly where I wanted him; he looked so good like that.

“Right, then,” I said. He frowned in a way that made me suspect he had completely forgotten why we were there. I hadn’t though, so I went down on my knees, eager to continue.

He undid his pants for me this time. They opened easily under his fingers and that lovely cock peeked out again. I watched, enthralled, as he pulled the foreskin off the head again. As soon as he stopped, as if frozen, with his hand gripping at the root of his cock, I burst into movement. Fascinating as it was to see him working himself like that, I wanted to do it myself.

He let me. I had no patience to go through the teasing and games again. I wanted him back in my mouth immediately, so I took him. Things went a bit fuzzy then. Between focusing on what I was doing so I wouldn’t hurt him and watching for his reactions, I lost track of time. I lost myself trying to coordinate the movement of my hand with what I was doing with my mouth. It couldn’t have been that long, though, before I felt his hand tugging at my hair again. That was meant to be a warning for me, I guessed, but it didn’t matter because I welcomed it when he came into my mouth with a jerk of his hips and a grunt.

Blissfully happy, I kept his sperm in my mouth for a bit, relishing the taste. It was rather shitty, not really sharp but bitter anyway. I didn’t mind it.

I got up on my feet… And that was where the problems started. I was horny as hell still, of course. But when I looked at him, he was still panting slightly. And he had this awful, vulnerable expression on his face. He seemed… uncertain. That wasn’t something I had ever seen on him before. It surprised me. Hell, it scared me.

So I stepped back. “Er.”

His head snapped up, his eyes finding mine. There was nothing of that weakness left in them, but it was already too late. Before he could move or say anything, I grabbed for the handle and backed out of the stall.

He called my name, but the anger in his voice didn’t help things. I ran away - right through the restaurant and out of the door, without slowing down for a second. I wish I hadn’t done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I had been through numerous deaths in both our families with this guy, unspeakable public and private embarrassments, even some stunts that are far from legal and on the verge of immoral. This was nothing. It was just a… a…

It’s been almost a week since that happened. As you can imagine, I haven’t talked to him yet. It’s not the same thing as it was with that girl I mentioned before, though, not at all. I was feeling guilty about her because I didn’t want her. This, though… I mean, what if he says it was all one big mistake? What am I supposed to do if he tries to tell me it meant nothing and we should forget about it? What if he doesn’t really want me, not like that? Have I ruined our friendship?

I miss him too much to leave things this way, though. I asked a mutual friend and she agreed to help – after laughing her ass off at my expense. She is going to organize for me to see him tonight, at the same restaurant. He doesn’t know, so without the preparation, I’m hoping to catch his honest reaction. It should be easier to read him now, right? I’ll try not to rely too much on his face and see how he’ll react with me touching his hand, or knee…

Anyway, I have to go and be brave now. If I’m lucky, I’ll have my best friend back. If I’m really, really lucky, I’ll have something else to write to you about.

Sincerely,

N.

P.S. Wish me luck!
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Short Reckonings; a Penthouse Letter