With love, to my readers.

I watch him.

He doesn't know it, but I do.

His window is open, as ever. The idiot, anyone could come in through those wide windows.

But he doesn't seem to care. He's all laid out on his bed, lithe limbs tangled in the bed sheets. His pretty blonde head is tossed out onto the pillow, exposing his beautiful, untainted and innocent neck to whoever wished to enter that window and slice it.

The white bed sheets would make a perfect canvas for crimson blood.

He gets up late, as I expected.

When he eats, I notice the fleeting looks of disgust. His food looks gone off, soggy and lumpy, but he eats anyway.

I guess he had no choice.

When he changes, he still doesn't close his window. It's for the world to see.

His body stretching as he tugs his night shirt off. His night cap falls cutely onto the ground, as he bends down to pick up his trousers. I'm surprised he doesn't wear underwear, but somewhat pleased by this fact.

He stumbles around the mess of his room, searching for his hitai-ate.

Curses, without the use of foul words.

He leaves...

... and I wait.

It's nightfall.

I see him running up the street, back to his apartment.

This is when I spread my legs, as I sit on the tree branch outside his window, concealed masterfully.

This is when I unzip my pants slowly, my cold fingers touching eagerly.

I watch him.

He doesn't know it, but I do.

He stumbles to his bed, tossing his hitai-ate across the room for him to search next morning.

His body stretches wearily, as he slips his jacket off, shoves his pants down. The only thing he wears now is his night shirt, barely concealing his lower body.

He doesn't bother to eat, perhaps Iruka had fed him ramen earlier on. I wish I could've seen, his eager face, that happy glint in his eyes, lips slippery from ramen soup.

Slippery from come. I don't bother looking down at my fingers, I can't keep my eyes off him.

There he is, walking across to his bed.

It's curious how he starts…

I can't resist smiling as he wraps a hand around himself automatically, because he does this every night.

He likes to kneel on his bed, then reach for his pillow. His erection is visible, poking out from under his childish shirt. The pillow slides between his legs and he settles himself against it, neck tilting backwards as he begins to rock back and forth.

The pillow is already stained with come.

I've resisted stealing it during the day, just so I can inhale it. Rub my face against it. Slide my own erection against the soft cover…

The blonde closes his blue eyes, grinding so hard down against the pillow that it's squashed between his legs. He shoves the blanket underneath to raise it higher, he folds the pillow in half. There, yes, gods there… rubbing his ass against the tip of the pillow jutting out behind him.

He moans, and the moonlight is out now, his sweat shining over his body.

I spread my legs wider, one hand gripping onto the bark of the tree, panting heavily.

He turns over, spreading himself out on the bed. He likes to experiment.

He grabs the pillow and shoves it against his crotch, wrapping his slender legs over it and humping it. He gets bored with this quickly, it's not the same as a human on top of him.

I smirk.

He's on the floor now, trying to find a way to sate his desires. He grips his hands into the bed sheets, his crotch grinding hard against the corner of the bed. This seems to get more moans out of him. I anticipated his next move. He turns on his knee's.

His ass raised up and rubbing against the corner side of the bed.

From here, I can see his ass perfectly, flushed pink, cheeks spread, the tip of the bed easing his legs apart more.

It must feel good.

That position is always good, he can never hold back. He moans louder, and louder. His moans are sexual, sensual, everything that sends me nearer to the gushing edge.

I shift and move so that I'm crouching on the branch.

This feels good too, like it must for him.

My balls hanging vulnerably in the air, my fingers wrapped around me harder, stroking faster. My hips grind downwards against the air, and the emptiness makes it all the more desperate, god, it feels good. It must feel good for him too.

The blonde is coming.

So am I.

He cries out, ass clenching, back straining. His blonde head is pressed against the floor as his body trembles.

I, myself, am unable to hold back my own illicit moan, as I imagine myself spilling into that tight hole of his.

He's back on his bed again, exhausted from holding out so long. His lithe limbs are tangled in the bed sheets, the crumpled pillow under his blonde head. He's still breathing heavily, satisfied. Eyes closed. Sleeping.


It doesn't end for me.

I can't move, or breathe.

I wonder if Naruto dreams of me.


two days, exams over, i update stories

lots of love, xxx