Title:Journeys At An End
Rated: PG-15 (yes, 15 :D)
Characters/Pairings: SasuNaru
Comments: For Myrafur. Exactly 998 words. Should have just stuck 2 more in and made it an even 1000! Haha. UNBETA’D and written rather hastily so read at your own risk, lol.

I deviated a bit from my normal writing style. I’m not typically so verbose or flowery…I don’t think (or at least I try not to be…lol)? XD Anyway, I was aiming for a certain mood and I hope it’s apparent.

Summary: The snow burns bright, at journey’s end.

—

The snow continued to fall in moderate waves, painting the trees in shades of white and fallacious clarity. Naruto stood at the base of a small clearing, the short stretch of earth stark and gleaming like old bones bleached by the sun. His cognitive functions registered the figure standing across from him—a white cloak, hood pulled up to conceal a splash of ink against the unbroken wash of ice.

It took precisely five seconds for the rest of Naruto’s body to react. His breath caught, his need to breathe suddenly a trivial detail next to the burning emotion that suffused his cheeks. He lifted his hand, gloved palm outstretched, guided by the puerile notion that maybe this time, Sasuke would meet him half way.

Sasuke drew his arm from beneath his cloak—white gloves, battered metal bracers, the sharp point of an elbow—and pushed back his hood. His hair had grown and it pooled in messy waves in the folds of his cloak. Naruto’s fingers curled into a fist and his initial impulse melted away, evaporating under the austere glare of the snow and the cool planes of Sasuke’s face.

The silence settled heavily between them, everything left unspoken gradually masked in layers of white that glittered coy and cruel, bright shifting facets in the stillness.

Eventually, Naruto stepped forward. His boots sank in the snow and he blinked the icy dew of melted snowflakes from his eyelashes. He didn’t stop his careful path across the clearing until they were sharing the same thin span of air and he could feel the warmth of Sasuke’s breath against his lips.

“Kiss me,” he said. Naruto’s soft demand hung between them in wisps of white before being carried away with the shift of the wind and scattering in the crisp air. The corner of Sasuke’s lip quirked.

Sasuke’s hand reached up to flick back the hood of Naruto’s cloak before pushing his hands through the messy blond hair. Naruto groaned softly just as Sasuke surged forward, lips parted in a visceral need that made Naruto’s chest clench. Sasuke’s mouth was warm, sweetly damp; he smelled like smoke and snow and Naruto’s fingers dug harshly into Sasuke’s shoulders.

He whispered something incoherent as Sasuke’s tongue swept across his dry lips. The damp trail immediately cooled and he shivered lightly before Sasuke’s mouth settled again over his to chase away the chill. Sasuke’s warmth burned through the layers of clothing, left scorch marks on his skin, dense scars across his heart. He pressed closer, his hands sliding up to fist in the dark hair. His gloves dulled sensation so he jerked them off and threw them blindly to the side.

Sasuke’s hair was coarse, the longer strands both familiar and new, cold against his palm. He felt Sasuke guide him backward and he complied, his feet stumbling briefly in the thick snow. His back hit the sturdy trunk of a tree and he shuddered as snow dropped from the branches overhead and landed with a solid plop on his shoulder before sliding into the crevice of his neck. Sasuke’s mouth slid away and he dipped his head. Naruto made a small sound of protest at the loss before his breath was jarred from his lungs and he moaned, long and low. Sasuke’s tongue scraped up his neck, lapping at the cold trail and sucking lightly on the flushed skin. He bit down and tugged gently with his teeth before pulling away. Naruto sagged against the tree, his fingers curling possessively around the back of Sasuke’s head.

“What do you want, Naruto?” Sasuke whispered, his lips pressed against the sharp line of Naruto’s jaw. Sasuke’s hands—bare, he’d discarded his gloves at some point—pushed past Naruto’s cloak and shoved layers of material aside. Naruto sucked in his breath as cool fingers slid up the warm plane of his stomach.

“Just you,” he breathed. He shivered as Sasuke’s hands pushed higher and a blunt fingernail brushed lightly over his nipple. Sasuke’s mouth found his again and he kissed him with a hunger usually reserved for the starving, a brutal collision of lips and wanton moans.

Naruto clutched at the body pressed against him—for warmth, for necessity, for validation of a brief moment stolen among the ancient cedar forests of Snow Country. The snow continued to fall in steady sheets; it slipped into the brittle creases of bark and settled in a fine silvery crust at the crown of Sasuke’s head. Clouds of white lifted around them as they moved in frenzied thrusts; threads of frosted beads danced spirals around their legs, brushed icy trails down flushed cheeks and dry, stiff fingers.

The low whistle of the wind through the parched branches were drowned out by Naruto’s sudden cry that echoed briefly against the cedars before it too was swept away by the wind. Sasuke’s mouth was still crushed against his, breathing heavily through his nose but unwilling to separate just yet for a sufficient breath of air. Naruto fisted his hands at the nape of Sasuke’s neck, within the protective folds of his hood, and pressed them impossibly closer, willing Sasuke to understand that the moment didn’t have to end.

The silence stretched on but Sasuke had yet to move except to rest his forehead against Naruto’s and draw in a ragged breath.

“Where will you go now?” Naruto asked. He closed his eyes and listened to the gradually steadying rhythm of Sasuke’s breathing, to the whine of the wind and the falling snow that clung like ghosts to the towering cedars around them.

“I don’t know. East, maybe.”

Naruto’s eyes opened, just wide enough to watch a snowflake melt against the curve of Sasuke’s bottom lip. “Would you… would you want company?”

There was a pause, a shift of space or thought or direction… “It wouldn’t be unwelcome.”

They departed in silence, shoulders aligned against the bite of the wind, and left their uncertainties behind, buried beneath the snow.

The End