We lived in the dirty city. Smoke was thick, grime was thicker, and the whole damn place seemed infested with rats. Of course, there were people there, far too many if you ask me. In my opinion they were barely above the rats. High school in the city is hard for everybody. Luckily, I found someone to stick to. You really had to stick to someone to survive, and I picked well.

Gaara was a guy that could bend people in half with his glare. People would scatter away like the vermin they were if they saw him form his hand into a fist. If they were really dumb enough to stay after that, they would receive a beating they would never forget. Blood seemed to only spur him on, and when you stand up to Gaara, there is sure to be plenty of it. That's why most people just stayed clear of him. They stayed clear of me just for being his friend. That's right, Uzumaki Naruto, was Gaara's best friend.

Didn't I tell you I knew how to pick 'em?

Well, my little tough guy really wasn't all that scary-looking if you didn't catch him tearing someone to shreds or if you didn't meet his icy eyes dead on. He was only medium height, I was easily taller than him by at least half a foot. Even though his eyes were cold, if you looked closely you could see the heavy pain in them. His eyes were like those of a lost child who was afraid of never being found. His frame was incredibly thin. He was definitely no big bad heavy weight macho man that looked like he could snap your back with his pinky. He was more like a sleek alley cat that had missed a few meals. He had pale sickly skin. You could almost call it white as snow, but his paleness was touched with a heavy dose of cruelty. It was almost like he was someone that had been kept locked in a closet and fed table scraps from under the door. With what he's told me about his oh-so-loving family, I wouldn't find that scenario so farfetched.

Yeah, his life was never full of sunshine and laughs, but neither was mine. If it wasn't for the fact that I had him as a friend my motto might still be "Life sucks". I never knew my parents, and living on your own and having to go to high school is about as close to Hell as I can think it can get, especially considering that pretty much everyone I'd ever known at school seemed to just naturally find me to be a target for their hatred. That's why I stuck to Gaara. We were the same. In all that mess we somehow found an understanding and formed an unspoken bond. It was a bond as strong as his fist and as strong as my will to persevere.

Our relationship was awkward to begin with. Neither of us were used to having a friend. Eventually, tough, after a few years together, it grew unexpectedly. At first it was an accidental touch, followed by strange looks. Then it was a messy and stiff kiss, followed by many more kisses. With touch after touch and kiss after kiss, he finally ended up in my bed. He visited me often at night after that.

He'd always come in silently and stride up to me like a midnight panther. He'd plead just as silently with his big dark-rimmed eyes and with soft tender kisses that you would never expect from someone so dangerous and strong. He'd practically mew in my ear and coax me to bed. I know I definitely did not need to be coaxed when it came to him. All the same, he'd lick me, rub up next to me, and purr my name until we were both panting and naked. He really had no right to be so seductive.

I'd smile blissfully as I ran my hand along his snow white skin, sending shivers along his body. I knew I was the only one who would ever touch him this way. That alone gave me an unbelievable amount of satisfaction. I wanted to show my appreciation with my loving strokes and kisses. I gave attention to every part of him. I licked and kissed his neck gently as he twirled my hair between his long thin fingers. I touched every part of him until I felt he was totally mine.

I loved the way he was so sensitive and reacted beautifully to every one of my delicate caresses. Every night I had him pinned under me, he would act like a sweet little virgin begging to be treated gently and begging to be touched in exciting new ways. All of his touches and kisses were somewhere on the border between being shy and innocently tempting. Overall, He was pretty satisfied with letting me do most of the touching. He would bend into my touches and literally melt into my kisses. His sensual tossing, delectable gasps, and beautiful blushes were almost too much for me.

I would penetrate carefully. He'd gasp and silently plead for more and more. Harder and faster, he'd beg, over and over. As our bodies moved into that rhythm that was all our own, I could see his face change to one of total ecstasy. He panted with his eyes half-lidded and clung to me, digging his nails in deep. His movements spurred me to move deeper and harder into him, until I was pounding as hard as I could. I could hear my own fierce panting as I watched his lips tremble, his blush deepen, and his body get hot and dripping with sweat. He bit his lip trying to suppress his own moans. Finally, he couldn't hold them back anymore and his moans were like music to my ears. Hearing those soft moans of absolute pleasure always threw me over the edge.

I collapsed on top of him, shaking with my passion. We still panted heavily and blushed furiously. I held him in the night, and we both shivered despite the heat of our bodies. He fingered my cheek lightly and I embraced him tighter, kissing that tatoo on his forehead. I moved away from his warmth to capture his lips one last time. I fell down on the bed and slept with him curled up to me like a cat. We belonged completely to each other. The dirt, noise, and rats of the city went completely unnoticed.