It starts like this:
Naruto’s in a bar when Sasuke walks in, five o’clock shadow plain as day and the bags beneath his eyes deeper still. He slides into the barstool beside the primary Seventh Hokage candidate, cool as you please despite having three nations after his head, and orders the most expensive bottle of sake. For a moment, Naruto stares, but then Sasuke’s pouring him a glass, and—it’s good stuff. Who’s he to turn his nose up at fare he usually doesn’t splurge on?
They clink their cups solemnly and toss it back in tandem, neither voicing what they’re toasting but not caring either way. Somewhere between the third and fourth cup, Naruto starts talking—rambling, more like—about the training Kakashi and Tsunade have seen fit to give him. It’s necessary becomes paperwork is the second coming of Kaguya and takes a sharp left into I wish I could talk them allto death and Sasuke nods along, a hn here and an amen there. Three more cups and Sasuke joins in too, starting with nothing’s changed and meandering into they don’t make criminals like they used to while Naruto bangs his cup and hiccups, the very picture of unwavering solidarity.
To our fucked up future, they toast aloud at the eleventy-first, and by then they’re the only customers with anywhere between three and sixty sake bottles scattered around them. The proprietor, a retired shinobi far too amused by the current proceedings, gently but firmly ushers them out.
Then one thing leads to another and Sasuke’s cock is introduced to Naruto’s asshole, repeatedly. The sink is cool beneath Naruto’s hands as he hangs on for dear life, pushing back with sloppy movements that only make Sasuke moan and clutch his hips that much harder. Even without the light overhead, there’s something sharp and ethereal about the slant of Sasuke’s jaw and the flutter of his lashes, but it’s hard to concentrate when all his thoughts are a sea of more, more you bastard put your back into it!
Shut up, Sasuke hisses back, half-entranced by the play of moonlight against miles of tanned skin, and fucks into Naruto so hard that his moans grow twice as loud. It should be weird, having his rival-turned-enemy-turned-acquaintance pulling at his dick with clumsy fingers, but then there’s an electric shock racing down Naruto’s spine and all is white.
Five hours after their first cup of sake, Naruto tucks his dick back into his pants and bitches about the cum leaking out of his hole. Five seconds after that, Sasuke stops zipping up his fly to whack him across the head and bitch back about his cum-stained hand.
Seven hours later, Naruto goes on his first date with Hinata and Sasuke hares off to Suna. There is no farewell, no see you again—because it means nothing, it should mean nothing, and they can blame it on their crazy bar tab.
And that is the end of that.
Except it isn’t, and it continues like this:
Hurried rendezvous in seedy hotel rooms and back alleys, rarely in Konoha proper and never in the same place twice. Blowjobs after too many insults, fucking after too much sake and spit swapped in the throes of passion. Before Hinata, at first, and then it becomes after her until Sakura enters the equation and the two girls are factored in.
Naruto tops when he manages to drink Sasuke under the table and it’s a disaster, as one can imagine when one’s dick is too full of alcohol to stand upright. He tries again when he’s opened up Sasuke with teeth and tongue, ass leaking so much saliva that he almost mistakes it for a pussy, but he slides his dick in and it’s tight, too tight.
Harder, Sasuke demands, and Naruto realizes what it’s like to have orders yelled at him in this context. You shut up, he takes great pleasure in saying, but takes greater pleasure still in the way Sasuke cums as soon as Naruto finds his prostate and grinds against it for a solid minute.
It’s like comparing dick sizes, but comparatively more rewarding—when one finds something the other likes, it’s a guarantee that the other will improve it until it’s a fucking art. They share sweet nothings and chaste little kisses with their girlfriends-turned-fiancées-turned-wives and alternate between cursing and near-literally chewing each other out, simply because they can.
Sasuke’s almost late to his own wedding because Naruto’s just fucked his face and his lips, red and swollen, would be too conspicuous. Naruto turns up to his own with his tie crooked but nobody makes the connection to Sasuke, ruffled hair and satisfied smirk and all.
It’s slow and gentle on their wedding nights, Hinata and Sakura treated like the princesses they are. It’s fast and hard the hours later, hand-shaped bruises everywhere that prevent them from sleeping with their wives for the next week and holes so thoroughly abused that they can’t quite move right for the next two days.
Then their wives conceive within months of each other and Naruto tells Sasuke, enough. Says, I have a duty to my village and my child—and you do too.
Okay, Sasuke replies, and lifts his cup to his lips.
And that is the end of that.
“Mom, where is Dad going?”
“Oh, you know how it is—he’s got to take care of things so you grow up and happy and safe.”
“I know, but…”
“But?”
“…Nah, it’s nothing.”
“…Okay, sweetie, if you say so.”
“Do you think—”
“No. Don’t think.”
“But—”
“Moron, for once in your life—shut up and fuck me already.”
“So help me bastard, I’m gonna leave that cock ring on when I fuck you…!”
“Hn. I’d like to see you try.”
“Oh, it’s on.”