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i. DAWN.
Gaara was never well-versed in matters of body autonomy.
On conception, the first violation came. Shukaku, implanted into his own body as a suitable vessel - Gaara himself the supple skin and tender flesh ill-suited for anything but a jinchuriki. A weaponized boy, barely cognizant of his own surroundings, with a future written in the blood of Konohagakure shinobi and his own.
It was by his ascension into Kazekage that his body was breached again. His own death, sure, but the moniker of One-Tails dying alongside him. Perhaps that was worse. After all, Gaara had never quite expected himself to live past twelve, but at the very least he would be accompanied by Shukaku as he went.
Ultimately, Gaara took both on the chin, and continued forward. So it goes, he could say, but it boiled down to what’s next for Sunagakure?
Regardless, Gaara had never been granted an opportunity to say no. Even if he had, it wouldn’t be listened to — as there were purposes to fulfill, and Gaara was nothing more than a forcibly eager participant. In all his youth, it wasn’t that he lacked the capacity to understand the meaning behind his ‘choices’, but he rather never gave himself the privilege of a say in anything.
“I mean…” Ah. Someone was talking to him. “You’re just not all that into women, right? That’s fine!”
Gaara responds in a curt nod, idly tapping his pen against the notebook he had brought from home. Konohagakure was a beautiful village, more than it had ever been given the hard work relentlessly carved into it by the hands of his old friend, and it was the greatest comparison to a second home Gaara could get. Though his heart remained in the sand, and thus he could never truly commit to something ‘long-term’ with his visitations to it, he enjoyed the travels.
(Really, Gaara had found himself particularly fond of the train. Nothing quite beat a nice walk through the desert, but there was something nicely fascinating about them. He had always found the air conditioning bone chilling, in-part due to his own premature birth, and insisted it remain shut off if he were to take it… much to the chagrin of the eventual headache that would come from the lack of airflow.)
“But whaddaya mean, the Council wants you to get married?”
Oh, right. It was Naruto who was speaking to him.
Gaara rouses from his pondering, raccoon-eyes blinking away the mild disorientation from being caught in his own thoughts. Where were they again? The other Kage had departed for their assigned lunch break, catered outside, and Gaara had always fancied himself a light eater and taken to eating the finger foods by the work table. It was poor manners, but Naruto had always provided a sense of normalcy to Gaara that made even something as simple as this feel exciting.
“My fathers bloodline is very prestigious. There is the expectation that I will deliver it to a successor…” Gaara takes a pause. Of course he didn’t want to wed and have children in the way the Council had desired him to. Who did? But he had zero say in what happened to his own body — the best Gaara could do is push it off as long as he possibly could. “They said twenty was a good age.”
“Uh… but aren’t Shikamaru and Temari, like…” Naruto makes a hand gesture best described as endearing, crossing his fingers together. A cut through the professionalism he had just presented for the past four hours in the Summit. “This?”
“While this may be true,” Gaara says. Gaara doesn’t want to say anything more. The Sunagakure Council had grave concerns on matters of Temari having a child with someone from Konohagakure — a fear of diluting the blood. So much as thinking that made Gaara’s mouth awash with disgust, and yet, airing out the business of their chambers was strictly prohibited. His objections to their workings aside, Gaara was Kazekage, and outing Sunagakure’s political backbone disgraced would serve him no benefit. “Temari is not Kazekage.”
“Aaah…” That gets through to Naruto. “I get it. You tried tellin’ them you just don’t swing that way?”
Gaara doesn’t give him a response. That’s an answer in of itself.
“…Why not?” Naruto murmurs. He eyes the door, and there’s nobody coming.
Gaara has always felt steadied by his presence, and thus he knows not to double check. In all their meandering around the topic of procreation, it had always been Naruto that steered him to comfort himself. That, when they spoke of how Gaara’s friends deeply desired his own happiness in that of a marriage and (preferably male) child, it was nothing more than honeyed whispers to encourage him to… well, impregnate someone.
Asking became requesting, and requesting became demanding. To refuse was the equivalent of treason, enabling such a prestigious bloodline to die by the hands of Konohagakure.
“They wouldn’t believe me,” comes Gaara’s curt response. “They would take it as my avoidance, again.”
A stiff silence befalls them both. Gaara can tell what Naruto’s going to say — that it shouldn’t be like this. Truth be told, he was right, it should not have been such a way. In simpler days, it is likely that Naruto would have voiced this stark opposition. Be armed with a not-so-modest belief that all can be changed with enough talking. Yet, the throes of politics had bound their arms behind their backs.
They are no longer just speaking as Naruto, nor Gaara. They spoke for the Leaf and the Sand. Naruto risked a devastation to such hard-wrought bonds if he faced up with Sunagakure’s council members. If they didn’t listen to Gaara, they sure as Hell wouldn’t listen to him.
“Then, let’s prove it!” Hands slam on the table, and Naruto lifts himself from his seat. There’s the graceful curve of his muscles, the smooth edge of his prosthetic, and Gaara cannot help but find the warmth of his cheeks growing ever the more prominent as he calmly looks up to meet his gaze.
“…What do you mean? They’d take any ‘coming out’ as a sudden avoidance to getting married.” Gaara says. “Lying to the council isn’t an option, either.”
“I mean… do we have to lie? We’re friends, yeah?”
“…You’ve lost me.”
Naruto clicks his tongue, before shuffling to Gaara’s side, lowering himself to speak quietly. Gaara was monumentally shorter than him, his lithe body a welcomed contrast to Naruto’s own muscular anatomy. Were he on his lonesome, Gaara would have dwelled far more on what it meant when Naruto proceeded to cup his hands by his ear and whisper.
“Friends help friends. I… I don’t mind lendin’ a hand to ya. I mean, they’d probably want to keep it a secret if we…”
Gaara isn’t an idiot, but in this very moment, it was as if Naruto had resorted to speaking in tongues. It must have taken him a full minute to respond, the dryness of his mouth restricting him of any coherent speech as he fumbles through each crevice of his mind to formulate something in response.
What a fool he would look if he guessed what he was thinking. If Gaara outright asked if Naruto intended to have sex, when Naruto had meant something far lesser, then Gaara ran the risk of such eternal humiliation he would never recover from. He clears his throat, and after droning of hums and hers, he manages.
“A date? That would be… incredibly public, even if done in the privacy of our homes,” Gaara says. “Somebody would see.”
“Well, if you don’t want to lie, I sort of meant it a step up from that,” Naruto’s breath is hot against his ear. Gaara freezes. “A one and done kinda thing. Before you leave Konoha.”
Gaara ought to laugh, that he had been granted the option of choice. Uncertainty blossoms deep in his stomach and nestles itself into pronounced ribs. For so long had he simply been pointed like a dog on a short leash, that he hadn’t any idea on how to respond now that Naruto had effectively set him into an open field. His breath hitches in his throat.
It wasn’t that he disliked Naruto. No, long had Gaara spared himself the dream of confessing — yearning was a job he did almost as well as politics. The simple matter of fact was that Sunagakure came first, and it was almost painful to run the risk of ruining the first established friendship he ever had.
“Are you asking…” Gaara slowly turns to him, and their foreheads practically touch. “If I would like to have sex with you?”
Naruto laughs, airy and free, yet leveraged with his own anxiety. “I… I mean, yeah! Could be fun, sure, but it’s definitely one way to really stick it to them. Like I said, you don’t have to, but…”
“Naruto.”
“…Yeah?”
“I would like to think on it.”
Gaara had three days left before he departed, back to that beloved train with all its stagnant air. Those were three days in which he earnestly desired to spend by Naruto’s side, whether exploring the pleasures of flesh or simply his company.
Truth be told, the answer should have been a clear and apparent yes. But something felt wrong about having a say in his own body, as awful as that sounded. A foreign concept he hadn’t quite grasped.
And with that, the other Kage returned, and the topic was set aside for now.
For… now.
ii. MORNING.
Gaara was great at being a weapon, but never quite comfortable at being a daughter.
In a time of poverty, the men would marry and expand their family. Archaic as it was, Sunagakure’s line of succession had always been that of a patriarchy. Maybe the Third had a girl the history books had never heard of, just like his name, or perhaps Shamon never fancied himself a wife in the instance she couldn’t give him what the Council wanted.
Truth be told, it was only Rasa’s blood where familial ties grew important, but still. Temari was as strong as a shinobi as Gaara was, and yet it was a basic expectation that Kankuro would ascend the line. When it clearly was not going to be him, it became Gaara — who, in part, had taken it due to his strength and perseverance to better himself and remain strong.
Rasa had done many things wrong in his life. Gaara held no grudge against him. Rasa’s greatest penance would be the restlessness he felt in death, and to even that, Gaara would never desire him that eternal suffering. It was not that he loved his father, not by any inch, but there was a modicum of gratitude that he respected Yashamaru’s desire to let him be a boy.
Yashamaru himself knew all too well on the experience. Rasa never so much as blinked an eye, standing off to the side as he had given to him his ‘hand-me-downs’ and ‘doesn’t-fit-quite-right’. It had vexed Gaara all too long as to why someone who hated him would grant him some form of relief from his dysphoria, but just as it was with his mother, he had been mistaken on the reality of things.
He wondered if this is what Karura would’ve done, had she known. If she were there. Would she sew him clothes to make up for the fact even the Kazekage family was dirt poor? Would she have bought clothes far smaller than Kankuro’s size and age, in the guise of it being for him, when actuality, it was for Gaara? Yashamaru surely did some of those things of his own accord, rather than her legacy, but Gaara won’t quite know the exact ratio of ‘for him’ and ‘for her’ until he dies for real (in contrast to his other 'close scrapes' or 'do overs'). Then again, that likely wouldn’t even be the first thing he asks.
He’s older now, and he stares at the roof. Temari’s home was warm. It beat staying at a hotel. Kankuro had fallen asleep beside him, softly snoring, and Gaara was still restless whenever he went to bed.
Rasa likely didn’t care what Gaara did. Some tether of identity and choice gave Gaara less of a chance to lose himself to Shukaku, and level Sunagakure to the ground before he could even reach the Leaf.
Clearly, he had neglected to tell the Council before he was killed. Two sons were better than one. He guesses, even a man so adored by the Council that reveres his name, still had his own political plays entirely personal to him.
Well, Gaara was always a card in his pocket, long before he was a son. Or a daughter. Or a human.
iii. AFTERNOON.
In Naruto’s absence, Gaara had committed himself to several tasks of keeping himself busy. Initially it began with spending time with others, in which his eyes could not help but catch sight of Naruto in several papers as they walked by. Even between Sakura’s enthusiastic detailing of Ino’s recent stock of her shop, likely a subtle advertisement to encourage Gaara to expand beyond merely tending to cacti in his limited free time, his mind was undeniably out of it.
How rude. Sakura’s time was as sparse as his own, and he had cast it aside for his own personal affairs. As much as he would love to say that he had been raised better than that, it was unfortunately not the case. At the least, he had grown to be better than someone who mentally checks-out of a conversation midway through.
“Gaara?” Sakura’s words trail off, replaced with her own concern. “Everything okay?”
“I am just tired,” Gaara is quick to respond, humiliating so. Yet, truthfully, he had operated on far less sleep than he had pocketed now. Sakura knew that. Maybe, were she feeling merciful, she could put it down to Gaara feeling his… age. The ripe old age of twenty. “Forgive me.”
Yes, tired.
“Take a seat, then,” she smiles, courteous as ever. There’s a look of suspicion to her gaze, barely masked, before she takes a few paces back. “I’ll go order us some tea. It’ll spruce you right up.”
And before Gaara could insist he ought to be the one to do it, Sakura had set her bag down across from him and walked off. Ah, right. Nowadays, people are able to pay even with a plastic card… the future really was marching onwards. Gaara ought not to be left behind. Eventually, many of his companions will have children of their own — just like the Council had cautioned him.
Could Gaara afford to go without? Wouldn’t it be wrong to bring a child into a loveless marriage? It would certainly be a disservice to his spouse. There loomed the fear of perpetuating a vicious cycle Rasa had begun against his own flesh and blood, and though Gaara had long since sworn to better himself from the throes of violence, that trauma never really left anybody.
What—
His phone buzzed. Ah, right. The future marches onwards.
>> NARUTO U.: hey, gaara!
…Gaara scarcely texted anyone. He preferred phone calls above all else. There was something pleasant about hearing the voice of a friend (a ‘friend’?) rather than words on a screen. On that note, he had always kept his naming system in his message bank rather formal, beyond a family group chat with a heart emoji Temari had added.
…Also, wasn’t it working hours for Naruto right now? His gaze shifts to the Hokage office from where he sat.
>> NARUTO U.: i gotta be quick before shikamaru catches me and chews my ear off for messing around on my phone…
Yep. That explains it.
>> NARUTO U.: uh, i just wanted to apologize. i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable or anything when we were at the summit the other day. i’ve been thinking about it and i kinda put you on the spot there, huh? was gonna say this to you in person, but the paperwork keeps piling up so i’ve been busy all day.
>> NARUTO U.: so… yeah. my bad.
Ah, shoot. He must’ve been really simmering on it.
>> GAARA: Hello, Naruto. No, there were no hard feelings. I appreciated your offer in trying to help. Unfortunately, the Council could easily dismiss my claims as avoidance, as I said.
>> NARUTO U.: yeah, but, you’ve never lied to them. you’re not gonna either, right? that’s just not who you are. that was my approach to it, but i think… maybe, let’s pretend it didn’t happen, huh?
>> GAARA: …?
>> NARUTO U.: i don’t
>> NARUTO U.: want to make things awkward between us… you’re one of my closest friends, y’know?
>> GAARA: Do you believe things would become awkward between us if we did?
The message is viewed. Naruto takes a few minutes to respond. Gaara’s chest constricts slightly as he sets his phone on the table, occasionally tapping on the screen to brighten it in the chance he had missed a notification from him. Sakura… where is she?
>> NARUTO U.: not on my part.
Oh. Gaara responds. Again, a little too quickly.
>> GAARA: The sentiment is mutual.
>> NARUTO U.: cool! cool.
Gaara was by no means a conversationalist… he usually relied on Naruto to carry things forward for him. But it seems the onus fell to him for once.
>> GAARA: Will you be available tonight?
Another lull in conversation.
>> NARUTO U.: to
>> GAARA: Yes.
His hands are somewhat clammy now, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. Naruto had every right to revoke his words, refuse him of this. They were effectively gaming the system, weren’t they? Spitting in the face of…
>> NARUTO U.: yeah! 9:00 pm?
Well, there was no going back now. (There definitely was.)
>> GAARA: 9:00 pm.
And whilst Naruto was endearing in the fox-shaped sticker he sends in response, Gaara simply responds with a thumbs up reaction. Kankuro had alerted him once that some may take it as rude, which, honestly really confused him. What was friendlier than a thumbs up?
…He adjusts it to a smiling emoticon. Well, that seems a little too casual, doesn’t it?
He goes to change it to something else. A sun, a waving hand, a— ah. The ‘READ.’ bubble pops up and a smiling face it remains. Consequently, Naruto ‘reacts to his reaction’ with his own smiling emoticon, and Gaara is rather vexed by how to respond to that until—
“Sorry! The line was crazy,” Sakura chimes in, setting down a wooden tray. Two teacups, a kettle and some tea sweets Gaara will likely neglect on the merit he has never quite liked sweets… before giving in and eating them out of the aftereffects of what economic poverty does to a guy. “Did I miss anything?”
“No,” Gaara goes to continue, only to notice the slight bump of Sakura’s stomach. Was she…? “I just enjoyed the scenery.”
It was round, and firm, concealed behind a sash adorning her waist. It reminds him of his late mother, in how she proudly placed her hands on her stomach in all forms of official photographs. The bump, where Gaara was grown, and nurtured, and extracted far too early for his own sake.
Maybe the Council was right. Everyone was getting on in their lives, and… did Sakura want the best for him, in the same way they did?
It’s rude to stare. There’s a note of discomfort in Gaara’s gaze, and Sakura picks up on it.
“Well… let’s not dwell too much on that,” she says, dismissively gesturing before picking up the cup. “Cheers!”
“Yes,” Gaara nods. “Cheers.”
iv. NIGHT.
It’s an honest mistake.
It’s not that Naruto had meant to be late. Truth be told, Gaara had heard rumors of his tendency to delegate tasks to his shadow clones. From the way the joints of his body blushed with life to the gentle thumping of his pulse (in which Gaara was relieved to feel as he slid his hands down his wrist), it was almost a certainty that Naruto had brought only himself to this.
That was the limit of their touch, however. The television was playing whatever rerun of a local comedy Gaara hadn’t quite seen before, and Naruto was evidently fighting his hardest battle yet to remain awake. Maybe this was his way of easing Gaara into it. Or maybe Naruto was as nervous as he was.
“Gaara,” Naruto speaks, and Gaara is pulled from his thoughts. He had always been riddled with insomnia, so in spite of his lack of sleep for the past few days, there was nothing weighing his eyelids down. “You seen this one?”
Gaara lingers his hand atop of Naruto’s — there’s a distinct difference in their body temperatures. Whereas Naruto had always ran hot, perhaps given Kurama still boiled through his body vigorously, Gaara had lacked the necessary circulation to be warm. It came with benefits during Sunagakure’s hotter months (which is to say, every month), but his mind restrains itself when it dances with the thoughts of Naruto making him hotter elsewhere.
He appreciates Naruto’s efforts to keep himself awake, honestly truly. It must take a certain degree of decorum to not loll his head to the side and collapse. Gaara had found the beginning few years of being Kage to be particularly arduous, having written until his fingers bled. It’s one of the few times his insomnia was not to his chagrin.
That being said, Gaara folds his fingers over Naruto’s own.
“No,” he responds, eyes turning back to the television. “I tend to prefer reading.”
Gaara was unabashed about his own sexual urges, but he kept them to himself on his own reserved nature. Even still, he would not shy away from being with Naruto, granted he had made his mind up about it. On the contrary to his quieter nature, perhaps Naruto would take him as the nervous type when engaging in sex? Really, the only thing to make him nervous was the thought of the Council’s reaction to it.
“Reading’s…” There’s a prolonged pause between Naruto’s words. Gaara can practically hear himself catching his yawn and stirring himself awake. “Pretty good…”
It was a half-hearted answer, not from any form of disinterested, but how the drool was practically pooling on the edge of his mouth from exhaustion.
“Naruto, I think we should put you to bed,” Gaara glances to the time, and it’s already been an hour. There was no doubt Temari had fallen asleep by now, and given her difficulties in sleeping with her own budding pregnancy, it would be rude to awaken her by coming home late. What an intrusion that would be. “Would you mind if I remained here for tonight? I will happily take the couch.”
Sure, Kankuro would likely be awake, but it would be a bit hectic to have them both face their elder sisters wrath.
“The couch? No way! This old thing’s bein’ thrown out at the end of the month because the springs jut into you really bad,” ah. That was enough to wake Naruto. Gaara rubs his thumb over his knuckles out of sheer humor for the shake-up. “We’re friends, right? S’ not like we haven’t slept in the same quarters before.”
This was true. Gaara shifts a little in his seat, the metal edges digging into his ass. It was flat, and thin, and that wasn’t about the cushions. Gaara ought to take the deal proffered.
“I would like that,” Gaara nods, edging himself away from the metal. He hadn’t become aware of it until Naruto had pointed it out. His nails trace down Naruto’s veins, bumping over aged scars from hard-fought battles. “You like having your back to the wall, right?”
It was the little things they remembered about each other.
“Yup. And you probably haven’t slept in about a week, huh?”
“…Only four days.”
“Hey, that’s less than last time!”
v. DUSK.
Naruto’s bed is comfortable. Gaara still desires his touch come morning.
At some point in time, Gaara had fallen asleep. That in of itself was a rarity, and the sluggishness ebbing from his body was a surefire sign that he still had some ways to go to recover from his sleepless nights.
There’s a distinct warmth to his chest, and his abdomen, and his— face?
Blearily does Gaara open his eyes, faced with darkness until he unsticks his cheek from Naruto’s pecs. He’s half a mind to detach himself, roll over and face the wall, as any good companion ought to do. The intoxicating aroma of his natural scent bordered on addictive, and it’s not long after that where Gaara cedes in his conflicting thoughts. He closes his eyes, heavy with fatigue, and relents.
There is something jarring, in knowing that for once, he desired the skinship of another. Rather than it be forced, here he was, presented with the sincere option of choice and carrying down the path he was set upon anyway. Gaara sighs, soft and gentle, and drifts back to his slumber.
Peaceful as it may be, there’s a budding pressure against him. Gaara shifts slightly in his discomfort, unknowingly hooking a leg over Naruto’s waist as he does so. It seems to alleviate it to some extent, the poking into his thigh, and it’s no surprise that Naruto himself stirs. Maybe he woke him. In his sleepiness, Gaara runs a hand down his face - fingertips grazing his scruff. Naruto groans a little in his sleep.
The noise makes Gaara feel funny. It’s enough to wake him up a little more, too.
Thus, the realisation dawns on him that the pressure had returned — and it felt quite good. Naruto had taken to gently grinding himself against his crotch, panting slightly into Gaara’s hair in hot puffs of breath.
For once, Gaara is speechless. The man who had lead an army into uncertainty and still came victorious hadn’t heads nor tails on what to do in this very moment.
“…Gaara,” Naruto breathed, low and gentle. It’s full of need, dripping with it, elevated by the quiver of his voice accentuating the ending. “G…Gaara…”
Gaara can feel his own wetness, dampening his own underwear slightly. It’s slick, and uncomfortable, and there’s a harrowing sense of guilt he feels to be getting aroused so quickly by it all.
“Naruto?” he says. Naruto makes a half-hearted mmmm and uhh, the same way he did as they bunked together during the Fourth Shinobi War. When he slept, he really did sleep - admirable as it was, it was not ideal for the situation at hand. “Naruto.”
There’s desperation in his pleasure-seeking, and Gaara can feel the jolt of pleasure radiate from his pussy as Naruto buries his aching bulge against the soft linen of Gaara’s pajama pants. Slowly, he begins to rock his hips, earnestly seeking any semblance of friction to match the aching hardness of his cock. Spit-slicked lips linger in the sensitive area of Gaara’s scalp, and he can feel the drool.
It makes him shiver in delight, a soft groan escaping his lips as he cannot help but buck himself into Naruto’s cock. Gaara hadn’t realized just how badly he needed release, until he had it. Wonderful as his fingers may be, the flesh and blood of another almost dizzied him with lust.
His leg twitches against Naruto’s body, and it takes every inch of his facilities to not groan as he sucks in a breath to speak again. “Naruto,” there’s firmness in his voice this time. Stronger, louder, though not quite a yell. He had heard Rasa yell far too much as a boy to ever come to emulate it — any yelling Gaara had done was long since in the past now. “Wake up.”
And he does. Thankfully.
Quickly does Naruto withdraw his hips, the stickiness of Gaara’s discharge mixed with his oozing precum connecting them in a way that felt unbearably erotic. Gaara severs it by closing his thighs with a soft squelch, in-part from his own sweat slinking down his thighs.
“G…Gaara!” Naruto slams his own back against the wall, abject horror on his face. “I thought— I thought I was dreaming!”
“It’s okay,” Gaara says, and his chest heaves with need. The pert nipples grazing against his shirt alone was enough to drive him mad. “I—“
“And then I fell asleep on you, after being late…” Naruto flusters with embarrassment, hand coming down to cover his erection. God, he was thick. Long, too. “It’ll… go down in a few minutes. Probably.”
“I didn’t—“
“Maybe not. I dunno. It… doesn’t really, if I play with it.”
“I did not—“
“I mean, worst comes to worst, I can—“
“Naruto. I didn’t mind it.”
Naruto stares.
Gaara had always had a stronger-than-most libido. Buying toys at his position ran the risk of the rumor mill beginning, and granted he practically slept in his office (if any sleep at all), it just wasn’t probable to have any. His physique, once sickly but since retaining its skinny appearance, had given some the interpretation that he was more fragile than other Kage. Such wasn’t the case. Even when using all his fingers to the second knuckle, Gaara could never quite satisfy himself in the way that he craved.
Shimmying out of the blanket, which had since largely been discarded, Gaara hikes down his pants and his underwear. They were nothing more than plain brief shorts — Gaara was never the fanciful type. He shivers slightly as they unstick from him, visibly soiled from his wetness as a dark patch formed at the crotch area.
And he goes back to settling his leg on Naruto’s hip, fingers dipping into the hood of his pussy — stretching it slightly in display. Evidently, Naruto simply needed a push forward.
“I also don’t mind lending you a hand.”
“For… the Council, right?”
“Sure.”
Not really.
There’s a trace of reluctance in Naruto’s face. As if he feared this would create some form of international incident, were Gaara to become pregnant with his child. There would undeniably be some form of mass hysteria by the older generations, that’s for sure.
“…I am infertile,” Gaara adds. A byproduct of his premature birth. “If that worries you.”
In saying that, he eases himself by Naruto’s bulge. He can feel the heat radiating off of it, as Naruto slowly dips his waistband beneath his balls. “Somethin’ tells me… this isn’t just for the Council,” he says. It’s lower than a whisper. “Gaara.”
“It might not be. Were I to confirm that to you, I would risk violating the trust they have in me.”
Gaara would really… rather not think about their faces before he gets fucked, anyways.
After a moments hesitation, Naruto slowly slides his cock between Gaara’s folds. There’s a wet slap as he pulls out, before sinking back in lengthwise. Gaara moves his hand, closing his legs around Naruto’s heaving cock and squeezing his thighs. It’s a little bit awkward for a moment as Naruto gets into a rhythm.
“Shit…” Naruto breathes, sliding his cock between his pussy, grazing his entrance as he goes. “Shit, fuck…”
Gaara knew he was doing something right, from the way Naruto’s face contorted in raw pleasure. It was addictive. He wanted to drink his expressions - ensuring his own eyes remain open to take in every subtle shift. The crease of his brow, the bite of his lip, the…
The moan Gaara makes, unbridled and needy, when Naruto hits his clit is obscene.
Immediately does he try to cover his mouth, only for Naruto to take his hand and pin it upwards above his head. It plunges against his clit again, rubbing hard against the bundle of nerves as Gaara’s body quivers in pleasure.
“N—“ He’s practically wheezing, from the way his breath hitches in his throat and dies in his lungs. “Naruto, please…”
He’s not sure what he’s begging for. To not stop? To go harder? Faster? Their sweat had melded into each other, Gaara staring at Naruto, mouth agape and panting feverishly. So long had he been without this kind of touch that he feared he was going to cum pathetically fast.
“Feel good?” Naruto grunts, sucking Gaara’s lower lip into an open mouthed kiss. “You like it when I do that?”
“Yes,” Gaara keens. “Don’t stop.”
He flexes his thighs, and feels a hot stream of precum collect in his hood. He’s heady with desire, and something feels unbelievably good in how Naruto won’t let him go even when he struggles against his grip. It was a safe removal of his autonomy. In spite of how Naruto held him, Gaara knew he still had control over it all.
“What next, Gaara?” Naruto presses his lips against Gaara’s, pulling and sucking his tongue into his mouth in an open kiss. Saliva slicks down their mouths, and it’s almost primal in how badly Gaara needs his old friend to hold him down and fuck him. Naruto unlatches with a wet pop, slurping his spit into his mouth and sliding it against his sharpened canines. Kurama’s effect, in contrast to the dark circles around Gaara’s eyes from Shukaku. “C’mon.”
“Please,” it’s a prayer at this point. “I need it. I need you.”
“Need what?” Ah. He’s playing dumb. Usually, Gaara would find it cute, but there’s an ebbing sexual frustration permeating from him. He doesn’t just want to feel full, he needs to be filled. It’s not a desire, but a deep necessity to be fucked senseless.
“Cum inside me,” Gaara muses. “Naruto.”
Even if the mere thought of pregnancy was enough to horrify him, his brain itched deeply to be filled and spurting with his hot cum.
“Got it,” Naruto pants. “You’re doing so well…”
With that, he slips inside, slowly. Gaara shudders at the intrusion, weakening the grip on his own pussy as he reminds himself not to clench. Inch by inch does Naruto sink in deeper, and moment by moment does Gaara savor how damn good it feels to be filled like this. With every writhe, involuntarily or not, the stretch of his walls to match Naruto’s intrusion sent shockwaves of pleasure up his torso — riddled red on the merit Gaara was a full-body blusher.
“…Yeah, that’s it,” Naruto grunts as he hilts himself down the rest of his shaft. “I’m in. God, you’re tight…”
“Keep going,” Gaara says, his wrist released as he meets Naruto’s back with his blunt nails. “Don’t stop here.”
Slowly, Naruto pulls out, before thrusting in deeply - his balls slapping against Gaara as he does so. Gaara fears he’ll break, in how his stomach moves with the portrusion of his thick cock. It definitely wasn’t meant to look like that, the distortion of himself sending his mind haywire. He settles his hand against the stomach bulge, pressing down as if to give Naruto a handjob from his own viscera.
He rocks into his pussy again. And again. And again. And Gaara has instinctively raked lines down Naruto’s muscled and chiseled back with his free hand, yet little redness to show — he hadn’t the claws Shukaku had. Still, the desire to pull himself into Naruto and fix their bodies together, was unyielding.
Gaara’s soft moans had turned to louder gasps, intermittent with cries of Naruto’s name in the scarce moment he could catch his breath. Fuck, he really was going to break. Gaara might want to break. The way his skin went a pitch white as Naruto’s cock razed through his insides and protruded through his abdomen, rather than sand splitting apart in his protection, was a reminder that he was alive.
Gaara knew he was alive. For some years now, at least. But chasing the sensation of pain, of love, and pleasure, was a liberty he lavished yet scarcely gave himself the chance to indulge in. Naruto knows all the right angles, the right ridges, the perfect way to slide into Gaara that makes him suspect he has always fantasized about fucking him senseless.
There’s a knot forming in Gaara’s stomach, and it’s greatly aided by the sloppy sounds of Naruto’s pre slurrying out of him with every thrust.
“Right there—!” Gaara forces it through gritted teeth. Naruto’s cock throbs, and it’s as if his insides are being rearranged. Little begins to make sense as he fixates on his impeding climax, every neuron bouncing around in his brain erratically slowing themselves as the room blurred.
He tenses in Naruto’s arm, and there’s enough pressure this time against himself to slice budding lines of red against himself. It rolls in slowly, before mounting into a pressure that sends his shaking voice silent. It’s a guttural type of vocalisation, a choked sob as the tightness in his abdomen unwinds and releases, toes curling as he’s pushed over the edge and onto the peak.
Naruto is fast to follow in his burst of release, heavy and thick streams of cum unloading themselves into Gaara’s thoroughly fucked hole. He jolts as he hilts himself again, the slit of his cock oozing needily into Gaara as the wetness suctions him against him. The release is almost copious, a surefire sign Naruto hadn’t quite been tending to his own needs for the sake of his village — something Gaara understood all too well. If anything, it was endearing to know that his companion had walked such similar steps.
There’s no words passed between them, only breathing as they both rode out the passes of their orgasm.
Reluctantly, Gaara releases the vice grip he had on Naruto, as an indicator for him to slide out. His back could feel the strain of laying in one position for far too long, granted he bore far too many similarities to an old man even in his twenties.
He presses a (sweaty) hand against his back, and cracks the vertebrae. It’s loud.
“Yeesh,” Naruto laughs, albeit the shocked kind of chuckle. “Was it that bad you’re trying to end yourself over it?”
“…Quite contrary,” Gaara responds, inching himself to sit upright and roll his head back and forth. “I find that laying in one position for a long time… makes me sore.”
Sure, the fact Naruto had just pounded his vagina within an inch of its life is probably also another key factor here, but the elderly mannerisms he maintained at the ripe old age of 20 definitely played a role.
“No way… are we getting old already?”
“We might be.”
There’s a shared humor between the two of them. Naruto’s silliness had always paired well with Gaara’s occasional dryness. They had always worked well together, and that’s precisely why they could never be together.
They were nations apart. And just like Naruto had neglected his own needs for the sake of Konohagakure’s prosperity, Gaara would do the same for his own. Still, the thought of their shared kiss lingered on both his mind and tongue,
>> KANKURO: don’t forget, we gotta be out of here in an hour.
>> KANKURO: suna’s apparently been having crazy sandstorms lately. baki told me it’s not the usual kind though.
>> GAARA: Oh?
Gaara could do what he usually did to still the ferocity of the gales uproar in bombarding their home with torrential sand, but this was new.
>> KANKURO: yeah. iron sand, apparently.
Yes. That was certainly a cause to go home quickly.
>> GAARA: I see. I’ll say goodbye to Naruto and Temari, and be on my way.
>> GAARA: And our new brother, Shikamaru. We should remind him that he, too, is part of the Kazekage family.
>> KANKURO: you got it, boss. :P
Obviously, Kankuro didn’t need to know the details of his night with Naruto. He said it was nothing more than catching up. Thankfully, he hadn’t a hicky nor mark to cast suspicion — and none were privvy to his own affections beyond that of Gaara himself.
“Guess you’re heading out early, huh?” Naruto sounds disappointed. He doesn’t try to hide it. Even still, he takes it on the chin, and casts a reassuring smile. “I can tell that look you get.”
“…Ah…” Gaara sets his phone down. It was rude to text when in the presence of a loved one. “I’m afraid so.”
“The shower’s that way. You— no, you don’t need help, but…”
Gaara doesn’t need help, that’s correct. But he would still like to feel Naruto’s hands on his body again.
Unfortunately, that would only make him yearn harder, and that is not what he needed when bracing himself for the abnormality that was the late Third Kazekage’s ability appearing for the first time since Sasori’s demise.
“Thank you.”
Still, he doesn’t move. Naruto doesn’t either.
It happens quickly.
The kiss is chaste, in contrast to the open-mouthed make out from before. The way Naruto mashes his lips against his is rushed, and it’s messy, and their teeth click even with their closed lips. It’s a small bust of his upper lip, a tiny price to pay, but it doesn’t quite dawn on Gaara what had happened until Naruto sheepishly pulls away with a comedic mwah.
“Be safe out there, alright?” Naruto lifts his hand for a fistbump. “I gotta run to the office, but… let’s— do this again, sometime. The hanging out, I mean!”
“…Yes, let’s.” Gaara gently knocks his fist against his.
Something tells him the next time, hopefully, will have such a cutesy albeit messy kiss again. His heart blossoms with a fragile kind of hope.
And Gaara slowly removes himself from Naruto’s bedsheets, clenching himself to not messy the carpet with a mixture of his own discharge and Naruto’s cum.
It was going to be a long trip to the bathroom, as he takes small steps — Naruto’s faint snickering evident behind him.
>> NARUTO set a calendar date ONE MONTH FROM NOW: “sleepover at my place!!!!”
>> GAARA responded to the invite: ATTENDING.
It’d be a long wait, too.