Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or its characters.

Warnings: Yaoi, SasuNaru. A lot of sex (mostly limes, but lemons will come). Bad language, eating disorders. The first chapters are going to be in different characters' POVs, but it will change when we get to the actual story. The first eight (short) chapters are prelude on what's to come.

Summary: Naruto couldn't speak. Sasuke could, yet he chose to stay silent. So much more...

A/N: The first eight chapters are done, and I'm working on the ninth. I would appreciate if you told me what you think. Raise your voice and press the review button, thank you! I can update tomorrow, if I feel like it (hint: send me some encouraging lines?).

State of Shock


About a boy

His hands travelled over my body. They were warm, slowly caressing over my skin. Oh, it felt so nice. Yet, not a sound left my mouth.

He gently pinned me to the soft bed. I would have protested, but the bed was comfortable and the way he pinned me – our hands linked together above my head – made me speechless.

He kissed me. His thin lips against mine felt wonderful. Was that his tongue? Oh my God, his tongue was inside my mouth. I couldn't speak.

He unbuttoned my pants. Our shirts were removed long ago. I really should say no, I really should stop this. But his lips were still moving over mine.

I bucked my hips up when he pulled my pants and boxers down. I flushed upon seeing how intently he was staring at my naked body. Oh, Sasuke, I wanted to whisper. Oh, my Sasuke.

He unbuttoned his own pants, sliding out of them with the grace of a snake sliding out of its skin. My eyes widened at the sight of his huge dick. If I could have, I would have commented the size.

We were both naked. And I found myself wanting more. I raised my hands and put them on his pale, muscular arms. My hands caressed the porcelain skin up to his shoulders. I was surprised on what a contrast our skin colours were.

Bronze and white.

He grasped my hands, silently telling me to keep them there on his shoulders. He uncapped the tube in his hands, which he had gotten while I mused on our skin colours.


His finger was in my ass. I spread my legs further, feeling like a slut. I wanted to tell him to stop this. Maybe we weren't ready. Maybe we shouldn't do this.

He put in two more fingers, moving them inside of me. I wanted – needed – to make a sound. I needed to whine, tell him that it hurts and yell at him to stop. But something stopped me – again.

Maybe it was his presence that made it impossible for me to speak. Maybe it was the way he touched me that made me mute. Maybe I just lost my voice.

The need of being vocal and make sounds disappeared when he entered me. I could really feel how big he was, with what the way it felt like my insides were being destroyed.

Maybe he felt this too. That he couldn't speak. He had yet to utter a word, to make a sound. I wanted him to speak; I wanted him to make sounds.

I wanted to hear him.

The grip on his shoulders tightened and I clawed on his back for more. My legs were soon wrapped around his waist.

I silently cried for more. I needed more. I wanted more. God, why couldn't he just say something?

But the moment he opened his mouth to speak with that wonderfully dark voice of his, I found that I wished he hadn't.

"I want you."

To Be Continued