Maybe it would have been better if they could have fallen in love, these fleeting moments that could stall blades, still blows, and give them something akin to normalcy, to dreams. How would their lives change if they weren't on opposing sides of a long, bloody war? How would it feel to smile, to kiss, to be simple and not worried when the next jutsu would show itself?
Little dreams, they were foolish little dreams that he wouldn't entertain. Love had no place on a battlefield, and the only thing that his heart could harbor for the Senju was hate. They had taken his brothers. He couldn't--couldn't--
"S--shhut up, Sssenju," he hissed and that mouth was against his own, tasting, kissing, devouring the moans that spilled forth from Izuna's throat at the feel of that hand at him, at them, working both in rhythm. The thumb surprised him, dragging forth another sound, some gaspwhimper that made his body tense, tighten. He wanted the albino to do it again, slipping that wetness over the both of their tips.
Izuna fought the urge to close his eyes, opening them slightly, watching the man across from him. Tobirama had apparently given in, and he found himself growling slightly. How dare he retreat into the darkness when Izuna was right here, right in front of him! Leaning in once more, he bit at the other's lower lip, hard enough to gain attention, his tongue quick to swipe after it after, soothing, soft.
"L-look at me, Tobirama," he hissed, breathing hard and face flushed. The hand still on the other's shoulder squeezed, holding on for dear life as he tightened his hand and worked faster. It felt so good, and the fact that Tobirama was the one doing it--
"I want...want to s-see you." Which wasn't true, not really; he wanted to be seen. He wanted Tobirama to see him, to notice him, to acknowledge him.
To maybe carry an image when there were only cruel memories and betrayals filling the empty spaces in the afterwards.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-08-31 04:09 pm (UTC)Little dreams, they were foolish little dreams that he wouldn't entertain. Love had no place on a battlefield, and the only thing that his heart could harbor for the Senju was hate. They had taken his brothers. He couldn't--couldn't--
"S--shhut up, Sssenju," he hissed and that mouth was against his own, tasting, kissing, devouring the moans that spilled forth from Izuna's throat at the feel of that hand at him, at them, working both in rhythm. The thumb surprised him, dragging forth another sound, some gaspwhimper that made his body tense, tighten. He wanted the albino to do it again, slipping that wetness over the both of their tips.
Izuna fought the urge to close his eyes, opening them slightly, watching the man across from him. Tobirama had apparently given in, and he found himself growling slightly. How dare he retreat into the darkness when Izuna was right here, right in front of him! Leaning in once more, he bit at the other's lower lip, hard enough to gain attention, his tongue quick to swipe after it after, soothing, soft.
"L-look at me, Tobirama," he hissed, breathing hard and face flushed. The hand still on the other's shoulder squeezed, holding on for dear life as he tightened his hand and worked faster. It felt so good, and the fact that Tobirama was the one doing it--
"I want...want to s-see you." Which wasn't true, not really; he wanted to be seen. He wanted Tobirama to see him, to notice him, to acknowledge him.
To maybe carry an image when there were only cruel memories and betrayals filling the empty spaces in the afterwards.