Warnings. Boy love with detailed self-love. Don't like it, don't read it.
Disclaimer. Naruto isn't mine, it belongs to its' talented and rightful owner. Also, "See only me... touch only me... think only of me" is borrowed from Dream Crime, part of the Hiyaku arc, done by the very talented Toshimi Arina.
At age 12, I stood only 4'9" tall, weighing little more then a girl at 88 pounds. The fact that I was the most despised person to ever grace Konoha didn't help matters much; all the dark looks, the whispers that were a bit too loud, mothers shooing their children into their homes, telling them awful stories about the monster that I held inside.
Yes, I was the Kyuubi's vessel, a blessing in disguise really. Her powers would come in handy later in life, but from my birth until that battle on the bridge with Haku, I was feared, hated, an outcast in my own village.
There was a boy, one Uchiha Sasuke who was just as much of a loner as I was – except he chose that life, whereas mine was forced upon me. I thought he'd understand, and perhaps he did. As time passed after graduating from the academy as genins and we were forced to work side by side as members of Team 7, my secret hope began to blossom.
It was an uneasy friendship, though we had more in common then Konoha would even admit; after all, he was their genius ninja, sole heir to the Uchiha legacy. He had also suffered from those piteous looks, murmured comments and the general tension that filled the air when he entered a room – one his little fan club conveniently dismissed. The fact that he was dangerous didn't matter to those foolish girls, he was gorgeous and top in the class; they worshipped the very ground he walked on.
Soon, our bond grew stronger as the missions increased and became more difficult. Time and time again, we fought for our lives and for each other. Sakura was just a damn distraction; she always seemed to get in the way, Kakashi-sensei always having to run in last minute and save her sorry ass.
And before I knew it, the Chuunin exam was over, and Sasuke was long gone. Our days had been spent training or running through missions, our nights spent in quiet peace in each other's arms, at his apartment or mine.
Yes, we were lovers, I'm not afraid to admit it. I saw the great Uchiha prodigy in his weakest moments, when his mask of stoicism would crumble, revealing a boy who never got to enjoy his youth, having been forced to grow up all too soon thanks to Itachi's massacre.
Around that time, he resurfaced in my life. I first met that crimson-haired youth on the streets while playing with some of the children, the kanji for love tattooed to his forehead above turquoise eyes rimmed heavily in black, almost like a raccoon. But now that my only friend had run off in search for greater power, the one he thought he needed to finally defeat his older brother, I was vulnerable once more.
I tried not to let it show, that cheery grin always plastered on my tanned face, but it was inevitable. Someone was bound to notice that I was suffering; I never thought it would be Gaara though.
He cornered me in the forest one afternoon, pinning me to a tree in the span of a heartbeat. My summer blue eyes had widened as his face leaned in close, his breath mingling with mine like an old friend.
"Naruto…" he murmured, "Why do you bother waiting for that bastard anyway? I can help you forget about him. Isn't that what you want, Naruto? To erase the pain, pretend that Uchiha Sasuke was never a part of your life? Wouldn't you rather be mine?" the redhead continued, his eyes piercing into my own.
Unable to speak, I stared at him, numbly nodding. He was right, I wanted to forget about the raven-haired shinobi, it would be heaven if I could. Did Gaara really have that kind of power? Could he honestly remove those memories and help me start over? I asked him this in a tiny voice, sounding like a scared child.
"Yes, I can. But you have to promise me something, Naruto. Once you're mine, there's no going back. You shall be mine forever. See only me… touch only me… think only of me…" His breath was hot on my ear, a shiver running down my spine when his tongue flicked out, tracing the delicate curve lightly.
Part of my mind was screaming at me that this was the enemy, that Gaara couldn't be trusted.
'What do you know?' I snapped back, 'haven't I suffered enough? Can't I be happy for once, damn it!'
Ignoring the voice inside my head, I looked into those aqua eyes and gave my consent. Ever since that day, I have been Gaara's, whether he's around or not.
Now I'm 20 years old, still living in the same apartment that I grew up in. I've changed over the years. My once spiky hair is now long, worn in a high ponytail that has a mind of its' own. When unbound, it falls in silky golden waves, the tips tickling the swell of my ass in time with the sway of my hips.
Eyes as bright as the sky that used to be full of childish innocence have hardened as I've grown. I'm no longer the pint-sized loudmouth that I used to be; my body is tall, lean and tan, kept in excellent condition with daily training, either out in the field or in the bedroom whenever Gaara is in town.
I'm leaning heavily against the wall, my legs spread out in front of me. My lover is away on a mission for his own village, leaving me in a state of sexual frustration and loneliness. I'm aching for his touch, my mind telling me that it's his calloused hand caressing my erection instead of my own. I usually take it slow, but my body is already on fire, burning and searching desperately for release.
So, I give in, just like I would if Gaara was here, pinning me down. Roughly, I grip myself, pumping hard, my hips arching high off the floor. My headband lies forgotten on the floor, the symbol for the Leaf Village turned away as if embarrassed to see the once-future Hokage getting himself off to thoughts of his desert lover.
That's right, I'm a traitor. I'm sleeping with the enemy. But oh god, you have no idea how amazing it is to be tiptoeing on the wrong side of the line, knowing that you're doing something dangerous. It makes it all the more appealing, don't you think? Kind of like a cheating wife, she almost wants to get caught, so the world can know her dirty secret. Ah, but in this case, I'm the dirty little secret. Gaara's or not, I am the child that Konoha never wanted.
I dismiss these thoughts as the blood in my veins turns to molten lava, a delicious fire settling in my stomach as I continue to jerk off. Incoherent noises escape my parted lips, air forcing itself harshly in and out of my lungs. I'm on the edge, sweet oblivion is just seconds away. Two more not-so-gentle jerks, and its all over.
I'm falling, hard, and I don't even bother to swallow my scream of pleasure, my back arching at an impossible angle. His name rips its' way out of my throat, surrounded by soft whimpers that remind me of the fox inside. As my hot seed splashes against my chest, dripping down in a lazy sticky river to pool around my sun-tattooed navel, his words come back to me.
See only me…touch only me…think only of me.