Pairing: Wishful Sasu/Naru
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Mention of Self-Gratification
n. voy.eur (voi-yûr )
1. A person who derives sexual gratification from observing the naked bodies or sexual acts of others, especially from a secret vantage point.
2. An obsessive observer of sordid or sensational subjects.
It had all started out innocently enough. I was supposed to wake him up one morning for a mission and somehow…somehow things just got out of hand after that. How was I supposed to know that he slept in the nude? How was I supposed to know that he didn’t keep his door locked at night and anyone and everyone could have access to that place he calls a home? How was I to know that I would end up staring at him for minutes on end unable to tear my gaze away from that peaceful repose that never ceased to make my heart seem to flip a million times over?
I have to blame this all on someone and who better than a certain teacher who thinks he knows it all.
If it weren’t for Kakashi-sensei, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.
If it weren’t for Kakashi-sensei, I wouldn’t find myself ‘sneaking’ towards his home every morning trying to catch a glimpse of what he looks like while asleep.
If it weren’t for Kakashi-sensei, I wouldn’t have these strange stirrings within my stomach – this nervousness, this worry, and this concern that he would discover my dirty little secret.
Yes, I had to blame this all on someone and my wonderful teacher was just the perfect bait for my confused and inner turmoil.
Like a man perhaps pumped full of some illegal substance, I open up groggy eyelids to stare at the clock beside my bed.
Shit! It’s almost time for him to wake up! I must catch him before he’s completely ready for the day.
I try ignoring the dull flush of color on my cheeks, the wild pounding in my fickle heart as I shrug into my clothes quickly. I ignore the trembling in my hands, the dryness of my mouth, my tongue parched like a desert during the hottest of summers as I try not to think too much about what I am about to do…again.
It’s not wrong. This thing I do, is it? I am only fulfilling an empty desire that will never come to fruition… at least in my lifetime. A boy can only dream for so long and I know now without a doubt that this was going to be one of those dreams that would remain just that…purely a dream.
He doesn’t live too far away. I get there in less then five minutes and suddenly feel my mind begins its debate on why I am here.
It’s wrong, one says. To spy on a fellow comrade like this. Think of what he would say when he wakes up to find you there. How will you react? What possible excuse could you whip up this time around? Would you say that someone had sent for him again? Would you make up some story just to cover your sick fantasies?
It’s hardly a sick fantasy, the other one says. You are just watching him, aren’t you? There’s no sin in watching someone sleeping is there? Perhaps you could make up a story saying you were just protecting him, but then again, you do know that he will never buy that.
It’s just for a few minutes, I tell myself with a firm nod. A few minutes and then I’ll be gone like always. He’ll never even know I had been there at all.
His window is open as usual and from my vantage point, I can only make out the top of that ridiculous hat that he still insists on wearing at this age. But staring through a window is not good enough. I have to get closer to him - as close as I can get.
Like a thief, I make my way to his front door and place my cold albeit trembling hand upon the doorknob. I swallow tightly, my breath coming out in slow shallow gasps as I try to convince myself again that it’s only going to be for a little while. Perhaps I inwardly wish that he had locked the door this time around. Perhaps that would have made me think twice about being here and I could go back to my home to work away my frustrations. But the gods are either with me or have decided to abandon me as the door willingly gives way beneath the light pressure applied to it.
Does he do this on purpose? Does he know that I come to see him? Is that why it’s always left open - a silent invitation for my warring heart to accept? And fool that I am, how I can bear to deny myself the opportunity.
I step inside quickly and close it shut behind me, my lashes fluttering closed as a mixture of smells assail my senses. The first to hit me is the undeniable presence of ramen – probably one he must have eaten last night. There is something so oddly comforting about that food or whenever I think about it. I have never really been a ramen fanatic and will probably never be. But to my inward shame, I find myself sometimes staring at a bowl of the simple meal with thoughts of a certain loud-mouthed shinobi firmly fixed in mind. I would find myself standing before that familiar ramen shop, hoping that there would come a time when I can take him in there myself and give him a treat he definitely deserves. It’s a homely, comfortable smell for me. It tells me that I am finally at a place where I wouldn’t be judged irrationally. It tells me that I am welcome here. It tells me that for once I have come into a place where I could call its owner…friend.
Beneath the smell of food, is the undeniable scent that is uniquely his. It’s a faint orchid-like scent that permeates my senses and literally sends my knees quivering in anticipation. I remember Sakura giving him the small bottle of perfume for his birthday a few months back. The way he had gushed over it like a kid receiving the greatest gift in the world had me completely green with envy. I hadn’t gotten him anything. I didn’t know what to get for him. All I had done was to mumble a hurried ‘Happy Birthday’ and then like a coward, had remained in the forest ‘training’ for some mission that was not soon coming. I sigh softly at the memory, knowing that he must have felt disappointed at my behavior. He calls me his friend and yet I act like the worst being in the world to him. I ignore his smiles, his chatter and banter. I pretend I don’t notice him, deny his existence and do not need him. He does not realize that I have seen the pain in his eyes once or twice and have been tempted on more than one occasion to run into those arms and to reassure him that all was well with him…with me…with us.
What a concept. He would probably think I was crazy for even touching him that intimately. There seems to be no hope for me, is there? Somehow I doubt it and so here I am, ready to indulge in a moment that I always hold near and dear to my heart.
It’s still relatively dark outside. The rooster is yet to crow its morning call to the village. There is a peace and serenity in the air that seems to soothe the wild, soaring emotions that grow within my heart. My feet lead me towards that bed – that simple bed that I have had many an illicit dream about. I feel my cheeks grow hot as I stop before it in humble homage.
He is sprawled across the narrow bed again, his lean and lanky frame draped rather gracelessly upon it. But to me, it was nothing more than a simple motion of poise and ease that never ceased to amaze me. He has grown a bit taller over the years, although still an inch or so shorter than I. His shoulders have become more defined although slender almost making it a contradiction in itself. His bare chest seems to glow in the dawn’s early light, with its smooth paleness that longed to be touched. There is hardly a scar on him…in fact there is none at all and by now, I am fully aware of the reason why. Despite all the battles we have gone through, he will never have a scar to reminisce over. I wonder if he hates knowing that. I wonder if he despises the notion that he will never have physical wounds to brag about. But only I can know the emotional and mental scars he has had to live with all these years.
My fingers literally itch and burn to touch that supple but no doubt hard flesh. They long to caress those dark pink sensitive nubs that seem so sharply defined in the pale gloom of the room. I lick my lips and groan weakly, feeling a familiar heat rush to my groin as I struggle not to give in to my erratic thoughts. I cannot afford to give myself away. If he finds out, I will never live it down!
The dark blue blanket covers his lower torso and I curse my ill luck at not having access to something I want to see. But there is no denying the slight bulge underneath the cloth; it’s something I usually…if not always…experience every morning. It is a mere inconvenience that is almost always taken care of in the bathroom with tissues and an image firmly in place in my mind. I wonder how he gets rid of his each morning. Does he do it to some girl’s face? Does he imagine perhaps an older woman? Does he dare to imagine a boy or man in mind – dare I say…me perhaps? No, I doubt he gives me the time of day around this time. I sigh heavily at the thought as I move a bit closer. He stirs a little and frowns and I hold my breath in growing worry. He’s a heavy sleeper; at least I try to convince myself of that. For the entire duration of my ‘watches’, he hasn’t once stirred or caught me, why should today be any different?
My gaze falls upon his sleeping countenance and I literally shiver with the force of the ache that sears through my breastbone and right into my chest. He looks like a little child all over again - sweet, peaceful and simply breathtaking. Three distinctive scars on cheek that don’t seem to fade with the years are prominent on features that are faintly rosy in color. My fingers reach out tentatively, and I draw them back again with a soft curse, warning myself not to do anything. I fist my hands and stick them down my pockets in frustration, forcing myself to step back a little to gain some kind of control over myself. Behind those closed lids are eyes that are as blue as a hot summer’s day or perhaps an ocean (of which I am yet to see, but thanks to books and television, I do know about it). To have those eyes pinned on me, watching my every move, appraising and regarding me with faint respect and yet malice continues to make me feel weak and slightly inadequate before him. I sometimes feel that I have no right to have him feel any sense of admiration for me. What is there to admire about a boy who masks his insecurity and fear with indifference to the world around him? What right does he have to consider me a rival, when all I do is burn with petty jealousy at how strong he has become. All that ever mattered to me was becoming better and stronger than he was. To see him beneath me on the floor writhing in defeat, acknowledging that I was the better fighter and shinobi was all that filled my naïve heart at that time. It’s a shame really, more to myself than anything, to know that he’s the one to teach me all about being a true shinobi. I thought I had known it all, but with those blue eyes brimming with determination and an inward strength that I knew I would never achieve, I could only sit back and lick my wounded pride.
My eyes burn and I turn my face away, unable to continue any longer. To watch Naruto is to watch the sun in all its glory. He burns you from the outside, seeking his way relentlessly into your very being until you are stripped away of any pretense and left naked to his gaze. He brings out the best and worst of me, making me hate him to the point of never being able to get enough of him. I admit that I am weak, but not physically no, but mentally and emotionally. He has always been the real pillar in our eclectic trio. Despite his seemingly childish attitude towards most things, he has been the smartest of us all and for that…I am very grateful and relieved. My heart can be comforted with that knowledge and will continue to hold that thought true.
I take a step backwards as the first rays of sunlight begin to streak its way through the clouds. They fall upon his skin and I gasp softly in reluctant awe. The ache in my heart swells to bursting point and I place a trembling hand against it, knowing that its only right the sun welcomes its very own to another new day. I do not belong here, I realize with a growing sadness. Within this light that seems to emanate from within him almost burning my eyes with its intensity…I have no real place here. Into the shadows, I will continue to creep, until he finds a way to guide me closer to him.
I turn around to leave only to stop dead in my tracks as a softly whispered word reaches my ears. I cannot believe it and refuse to believe it, but he says it again and I feel a reluctant smile come upon my lips. My heart is beating faster, leaping for joy at this new discovery, but I will not celebrate yet, until I hear him tell it to me face-to-face. I doubt he will ever tell me in person, neither am I sure I’ll be able to get myself to someday. But until then, I will continue to revel in the thought that he perhaps wishes to acknowledge me on a personal level.
Later that morning, armed with a confused look on his features as he joins Sakura and I for a mid-morning snack, I have to bite my tongue as he begins the conversation with this:
“Hey, guys…have you ever thought you were being watched when you’re asleep? I swear, it’s the weirdest thing…”
I hide my face behind my sandwich and smile softly to myself as Sakura begins to argue with him over his obvious loony ideas.
No, Naruto, my friend. You aren’t going crazy. I just hope you’ll allow me, a boy not worthy of your affections, the simple pleasure of being by your side each morning for a long time to come.
~Owari~
Naruto Fiction
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