[Fic] Excerpt from a teacher/student AU
Title: Untitled excerpt from untitled sequel to an unwritten fic
Author: TJ Dragonblade
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: YamaSai
Rated: 17+
Word Count: ~2600
Warnings: M/M. AU. Relationship evolved from prior Teacher-Student attraction.
Notes: So there's this ficverse I will probably never get fully written wherein shop teacher Yamato and high school student Sai spend three semesters dealing with the attraction and emotions between them before finally giving in shortly after 18-year-old Sai has graduated. Sai then leaves for the military academy and Yamato spends the next year or so trying to tell himself it's better this way. Then Sai shows up on his doorstep one evening, having left the academy against Grandpa Danzou's wishes and been cut loose financially as a result. This is an excerpt from that evening, after Sai has had a shower and something to eat and explained his situation to Yamato.
Happy YamaSai Day!
If you're interested in more of this 'verse, you can find a couple excerpts from the high school portion on my Tumblr - one worksafe and one NSFW
~~~***~~~
Yamato excuses himself to the laundry room to put Sai's clothes in the dryer; Sai follows, and it's obvious that he doesn't want to let Yamato out of his sight. He hops up to sit on the dryer, bare feet crossed at the ankles beneath the rolled-up cuffs of his borrowed khakis. Yamato's sweater is dangerously close to sliding off Sai's left shoulder; again that little thrill of possessive satisfaction curls through him and Yamato distracts himself by sorting through the basket of clean laundry that had still been in the dryer, looking for something suitable for Sai to sleep in that's not too big.
"This is the sweater you were wearing on my last day of school."
Sai's comment catches Yamato off-guard and completely torpedoes his effort to distract himself. He hadn't realized it was the same sweater when he grabbed it but Sai is right, and he can't help thinking that maybe the universe is conspiring against him. His eyes fixate on the bare (exposed) curve of skin where Sai's neck and shoulder flow together and he's assailed by vivid flashes of memory that he's tried for so long to keep buried--the way Sai responded when he finally kissed the boy, the taste of Sai's mouth, the warm press of his skin; the look in Sai's eyes when Yamato laid him back on the desk, the tight heat when he'd gently pushed inside, the way Sai tensed and clutched and trembled underneath him--
His cock stirs in his jeans and he shifts, tries to will himself back to placid strength; he can't deny that he still wants Sai very badly but this is so not the time.
Seemingly unaware of the turmoil he's wrought in Yamato, Sai touches the sleeve of the borrowed sweater, runs his fingertips over the cabled texture; he makes a small shrugging motion so that it moves against his skin in a way that obviously gives him pleasure, then curls his fingers in the low-hanging cuffs and brings them to his face, inhales softly, lets his eyes close.
"It smells like you."
Yamato looks away and clenches his hands tight in the jumble of socks and shirts before him, forcing himself to take measured normal breaths while he gets a handle on his emotions, his libido. He can't let himself be so affected by something so simple; he has to be the damned adult, has to keep things above-board and proper.
Just like the old days.
He looks back up and offers Sai a warm, quick smile meant to reassure. "I don't have a whole lot to offer, but like I said--I've got the spare room at least, and you can stay as long as you need. We'll see what we can do about everything else, too."
"You're very generous, Yamato. I'll repay your kindness--"
Yamato interrupts, not giving Sai the chance to offer money he doesn't have or worse, something indecent that Yamato will be far too tempted to accept. "No, Sai, please--I'm glad to help, it's no hardship, really. And you've got enough to worry about without...you don't owe me anything--anything. Okay?"
Sai is still, staring intently at Yamato until at last he blinks, and his mouth curves in the barest hint of a grateful smile. "Thank you."
Yamato cracks a much broader smile, relief in him somewhere, and shrugs it off. "It's no big deal--it's what decent people do for the people they care about."
"Then I'm very fortunate that you're a decent person and that you care about me."
"I've always cared about you, Sai--so much more than I ever should have." Yamato realizes it's opening up subjects he should let lie, but he's really out of practice at compartmentalizing and he can't stop himself from saying it.
Sai gives him a tired, soul-searching look that halts Yamato's breath. "Is it so wrong, even now?"
Yamato shakes his head, again unable to keep the words back. "It's well into ethical grey area yet, but..." He manages to stop there, mostly because he doesn't know how he ought to finish that sentence.
Sai shifts, slightly, uncrossing his ankles and spreading his legs a little, hands braced on the dryer's edge to either side of his parted knees. His gaze is steady, holding Yamato's.
The air around them goes very still, and the hum of the dryer is muted beneath the rushing of Yamato's pulse in his ears.
He swallows past the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Sai..."
"Yamato." Sai's voice is soft, wanting, seeking, and Yamato closes his eyes briefly, tries to ignore the way his heart is beating harder.
"Sai. This...you...don't. It's...it feels like mis-placed gratitude, and I--"
"I know." Sai shifts his gaze down and to the side, as if he's looking for the words he wants to say somewhere on Yamato's laundry room floor. "I realize that...circumstances are...coloring the situation unfavorably. But I have thought a lot about you in the last year, about your kindness, your advice, the way you treated me, your feelings. I can't stop thinking about you sometimes."
His eyes come back up, catch Yamato's, hold them. "I've missed you so much," Sai says, softly, and Yamato finds that once again he's forgotten how to breathe.
"I miss your advice. I miss the way you listen, long enough for me to figure out what I'm trying to say. I miss your kindness. I miss your warmth. I miss your 'corny humor' that no one laughs at. I miss the way you smile at me. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss the bond that we had for those three semesters. I feel--I feel--so much about you, because of you, when I still feel so little in the rest of my life."
Yamato moves away from the laundry table without really thinking about it, drawn in by Sai's fervid honesty despite himself until he's in front of the space between Sai's knees; Sai is looking up at him, eyes earnest and beautiful and smudged with fatigue underneath.
"I am grateful. I am very grateful. But if you had no means to help me, or if I didn't need help, I would still feel this way. I would still miss you, and I would still...want this."
Yamato can feel himself slipping, knows his control was never more than tenuous at best; it's still a bad idea but he lets his fingertips touch the back of Sai's hand beneath the too-long cuff of his borrowed sweater all the same. His other hand lifts on its own to curve lightly along Sai's cheek, Sai's jaw; his thumb brushes over the corner of Sai's mouth as his fingers curl to press with the barest hint of pressure along the side of Sai's neck, urging the boy to tilt his face up.
The way Sai's lashes flutter down at his touch is just...overwhelming, and Yamato's capacity to resist is simply not strong enough.
He lowers his head, and it's hardly a kiss--his lips barely brushing Sai's slightly-open mouth--but it strikes him to the core and steals his breath all the same. Sai is still, his pulse quick and pleading beneath Yamato's fingertips; Yamato brushes his lips across Sai's again, dips closer and tilts until he can join the kiss properly, softly, with trembling hesitation but so much pent-up longing that he thinks he might burst.
Sai responds with the same kind of leashed restraint, and it's both beautiful and unbearable and Yamato can't tear himself away for a very long moment.
When he finally does manage to end the kiss, he discovers that both his hands are cupped around the back of Sai's neck and both of Sai's hands have curled lightly around his forearms in a semi-conscious bid to keep him from drawing back.
"Yamato," Sai breathes, and Yamato is subjected to a crash-course refresher in what Sai's voice can do to his name and how profoundly it affects him.
The pragmatic part of him knows it's no excuse, though, and he breathes deep, trying to stay level-headed.
The faint mingled scent of his soap on Sai's skin doesn't help.
"We can't do this," he manages, but it doesn't sound convincing to his own ears and the hint of desperation that quirks Sai's eyebrows makes him loathe the need to say it.
"Why?"
There's an almost plaintive note underneath Sai's softly-level tone and Yamato aches, has kissed Sai again before he even realizes he's doing it and pulls away, frustrated. He's got to do the right thing, he's got to be strong, but he's always been weak where Sai is concerned--
"I'm not your student anymore. I'm not anybody's student anymore. I'm over the age of consent."
--and Sai is not helping.
"It's not that simple," Yamato laments, and his lips brush against Sai's with the words because he's dying to kiss the boy again. He knows he needs to stop the touching, the closeness, to back the hell off but he just can't seem to make himself follow through.
And Sai is still talking, the closest to babbling that Yamato has ever heard him.
"But Yamato, I want this, with you--I want you; I want you so much. I know the timing is not ideal. I know it looks like I'm exercising bad judgment at a stressful point in my life. I know it looks like I'm recklessly attaching myself to you because you're stable and familiar, because my future is very uncertain. I know I'm just a kid. I know it's rooted in my regard for you as an authority figure I could relate to--as my teacher. I know conventional wisdom deems it normal and something that I will outgrow. I know that you as the adult have the responsibility to recognize that I don't fully grasp the psychology of the situation and to dissuade me from acting on my immature feelings." He catches Yamato's gaze again, and the look on his face is almost distressed. "But...Yamato...I do grasp it. I felt this way long before Grandfather disowned me. It's been over a year since I've seen you. It's been longer than that since I identified what I felt. I don't feel it any less. I think I want you more--"
Yamato kisses him to silence him, because hearing Sai lay out all the counter-argument and immediately sweep it aside is not conducive to thinking it through rationally himself. Sai saying 'I want you' doesn't help anything either. He knows Sai is astute and unusually mature for someone his age, but that doesn't mean--it doesn't mean...
He can't think of what it doesn't mean, because Sai is kissing him back, desperately now, and he's obviously gotten more experience since the first time they did this.
Sai is panting when he pulls back from the kiss at last, and his hands are curled around the crook of Yamato's elbows. "Yamato," he breathes, like just saying the name warms him on the inside. His eyes open, and they're dark enough to drown in, and Yamato is not at all prepared for what he says then.
"I've masturbated, thinking about you, about the way you touched me and how it felt when we had sex."
Yamato groans, desire lancing sharp through the pit of his belly at that forthright statement. "God, Sai--" He leans his forehead against Sai's, hands still cupping the back of Sai's neck. "Don't say things like that--"
Sai blinks at him, peering intently, and Yamato realizes he's made a tactical error. Sai is smart enough to recognize ammunition when it's handed to him--
"I think about your hands on my body and how warm your skin was against mine. I remember what it felt like when you pushed me up against the whiteboard and finally kissed me. It makes me so hard it's unbearable. I used to sneak into the bathroom at the academy to masturbate. I'd think about your penis inside of me, how it made me feel, and I wanted to feel it again so much that sometimes I used my own fingers--"
--and clearly he's not above using it to further his argument.
Yamato shudders at Sai's words, and he's so damn hard, it's going to make him crazy. He sucks in a huge breath, fighting to keep what minimal control remains to him, and pulls back, just a little, just enough to calm his racing heart the slightest bit. He does his best to make his voice firm. "Sai. You...I'm sure you realize what you do to me. But this is really not a good idea."
"I know." Sai breathes in softly, eyes fixed on Yamato's again. "But I don't care. I can't. I...Yamato, I need you."
There's nothing Yamato can say to adequately counter that.
He feels himself crumbling, and lets it happen.
His hands find their way up to cradle Sai's head, fingertips moving softly against his scalp through the prickly-velvet texture of his shorn hair. Sai's head tips back, just a little; his eyelids droop and his lips part moistly on a soft exhale that sounds like startled pleasure and Yamato can't help himself. He touches his mouth to Sai's again, tenderly at first, swiftly growing more urgent as Sai responds. Sai's too-short hair beneath his fingers is cool, slightly damp; it smells of Yamato's shampoo, and that final little detail is just too much.
Yamato makes a sharp, soft sound of surrender and kisses the boy for all he's worth, moving his hands down Sai's body over the thick warmth of the green sweater to settle on Sai's slender hips and pull him forward. Sai's legs wrap around him while he devours Sai's mouth with rising urgency and then Yamato slides his grip down to Sai's bottom and lifts, picking him up off the dryer. He curls an arm underneath Sai for support and Sai winds his arms tight around Yamato's neck and shoulders, surging into the kiss.
Yamato stumbles backwards and steadies himself against the doorjamb, snakes his free hand up the skin of Sai's back beneath the baggy sweater, fingertips sweeping along the dip of his spine and pressing him close. His heart is pounding in his chest and he can't breathe past the sheer force of it all; Sai clings to him, gets a hand threaded into the back of his hair, kisses like his life depends on it.
Yamato can barely keep up with his intensity. Everything that was ever held in check between them has finally come crashing to the fore; the floodgates are open and closing them again would be all but impossible.
Finally Sai breaks away and buries his face against Yamato's neck, panting. His body heaves slightly against Yamato with each quick-heavy breath, warm and alive, and his hand in Yamato's hair is clutching tight. "Please," he says, muffled, the word warm on Yamato's skin, and his legs shift closer around Yamato's hips.
Dizzy and aching with need, with want, Yamato pushes off the doorframe and carries Sai directly to the bedroom.
===
Started: 1/31/12
Drafted (this excerpt): 1/16/14
Posted (this excerpt): 10/2/14
Posted for YamaSai day, on LJ only as it's not a 'real' fic. Linked on Tumblr as well.
Author: TJ Dragonblade
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: YamaSai
Rated: 17+
Word Count: ~2600
Warnings: M/M. AU. Relationship evolved from prior Teacher-Student attraction.
Notes: So there's this ficverse I will probably never get fully written wherein shop teacher Yamato and high school student Sai spend three semesters dealing with the attraction and emotions between them before finally giving in shortly after 18-year-old Sai has graduated. Sai then leaves for the military academy and Yamato spends the next year or so trying to tell himself it's better this way. Then Sai shows up on his doorstep one evening, having left the academy against Grandpa Danzou's wishes and been cut loose financially as a result. This is an excerpt from that evening, after Sai has had a shower and something to eat and explained his situation to Yamato.
Happy YamaSai Day!
If you're interested in more of this 'verse, you can find a couple excerpts from the high school portion on my Tumblr - one worksafe and one NSFW
~~~***~~~
Yamato excuses himself to the laundry room to put Sai's clothes in the dryer; Sai follows, and it's obvious that he doesn't want to let Yamato out of his sight. He hops up to sit on the dryer, bare feet crossed at the ankles beneath the rolled-up cuffs of his borrowed khakis. Yamato's sweater is dangerously close to sliding off Sai's left shoulder; again that little thrill of possessive satisfaction curls through him and Yamato distracts himself by sorting through the basket of clean laundry that had still been in the dryer, looking for something suitable for Sai to sleep in that's not too big.
"This is the sweater you were wearing on my last day of school."
Sai's comment catches Yamato off-guard and completely torpedoes his effort to distract himself. He hadn't realized it was the same sweater when he grabbed it but Sai is right, and he can't help thinking that maybe the universe is conspiring against him. His eyes fixate on the bare (exposed) curve of skin where Sai's neck and shoulder flow together and he's assailed by vivid flashes of memory that he's tried for so long to keep buried--the way Sai responded when he finally kissed the boy, the taste of Sai's mouth, the warm press of his skin; the look in Sai's eyes when Yamato laid him back on the desk, the tight heat when he'd gently pushed inside, the way Sai tensed and clutched and trembled underneath him--
His cock stirs in his jeans and he shifts, tries to will himself back to placid strength; he can't deny that he still wants Sai very badly but this is so not the time.
Seemingly unaware of the turmoil he's wrought in Yamato, Sai touches the sleeve of the borrowed sweater, runs his fingertips over the cabled texture; he makes a small shrugging motion so that it moves against his skin in a way that obviously gives him pleasure, then curls his fingers in the low-hanging cuffs and brings them to his face, inhales softly, lets his eyes close.
"It smells like you."
Yamato looks away and clenches his hands tight in the jumble of socks and shirts before him, forcing himself to take measured normal breaths while he gets a handle on his emotions, his libido. He can't let himself be so affected by something so simple; he has to be the damned adult, has to keep things above-board and proper.
Just like the old days.
He looks back up and offers Sai a warm, quick smile meant to reassure. "I don't have a whole lot to offer, but like I said--I've got the spare room at least, and you can stay as long as you need. We'll see what we can do about everything else, too."
"You're very generous, Yamato. I'll repay your kindness--"
Yamato interrupts, not giving Sai the chance to offer money he doesn't have or worse, something indecent that Yamato will be far too tempted to accept. "No, Sai, please--I'm glad to help, it's no hardship, really. And you've got enough to worry about without...you don't owe me anything--anything. Okay?"
Sai is still, staring intently at Yamato until at last he blinks, and his mouth curves in the barest hint of a grateful smile. "Thank you."
Yamato cracks a much broader smile, relief in him somewhere, and shrugs it off. "It's no big deal--it's what decent people do for the people they care about."
"Then I'm very fortunate that you're a decent person and that you care about me."
"I've always cared about you, Sai--so much more than I ever should have." Yamato realizes it's opening up subjects he should let lie, but he's really out of practice at compartmentalizing and he can't stop himself from saying it.
Sai gives him a tired, soul-searching look that halts Yamato's breath. "Is it so wrong, even now?"
Yamato shakes his head, again unable to keep the words back. "It's well into ethical grey area yet, but..." He manages to stop there, mostly because he doesn't know how he ought to finish that sentence.
Sai shifts, slightly, uncrossing his ankles and spreading his legs a little, hands braced on the dryer's edge to either side of his parted knees. His gaze is steady, holding Yamato's.
The air around them goes very still, and the hum of the dryer is muted beneath the rushing of Yamato's pulse in his ears.
He swallows past the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Sai..."
"Yamato." Sai's voice is soft, wanting, seeking, and Yamato closes his eyes briefly, tries to ignore the way his heart is beating harder.
"Sai. This...you...don't. It's...it feels like mis-placed gratitude, and I--"
"I know." Sai shifts his gaze down and to the side, as if he's looking for the words he wants to say somewhere on Yamato's laundry room floor. "I realize that...circumstances are...coloring the situation unfavorably. But I have thought a lot about you in the last year, about your kindness, your advice, the way you treated me, your feelings. I can't stop thinking about you sometimes."
His eyes come back up, catch Yamato's, hold them. "I've missed you so much," Sai says, softly, and Yamato finds that once again he's forgotten how to breathe.
"I miss your advice. I miss the way you listen, long enough for me to figure out what I'm trying to say. I miss your kindness. I miss your warmth. I miss your 'corny humor' that no one laughs at. I miss the way you smile at me. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss the bond that we had for those three semesters. I feel--I feel--so much about you, because of you, when I still feel so little in the rest of my life."
Yamato moves away from the laundry table without really thinking about it, drawn in by Sai's fervid honesty despite himself until he's in front of the space between Sai's knees; Sai is looking up at him, eyes earnest and beautiful and smudged with fatigue underneath.
"I am grateful. I am very grateful. But if you had no means to help me, or if I didn't need help, I would still feel this way. I would still miss you, and I would still...want this."
Yamato can feel himself slipping, knows his control was never more than tenuous at best; it's still a bad idea but he lets his fingertips touch the back of Sai's hand beneath the too-long cuff of his borrowed sweater all the same. His other hand lifts on its own to curve lightly along Sai's cheek, Sai's jaw; his thumb brushes over the corner of Sai's mouth as his fingers curl to press with the barest hint of pressure along the side of Sai's neck, urging the boy to tilt his face up.
The way Sai's lashes flutter down at his touch is just...overwhelming, and Yamato's capacity to resist is simply not strong enough.
He lowers his head, and it's hardly a kiss--his lips barely brushing Sai's slightly-open mouth--but it strikes him to the core and steals his breath all the same. Sai is still, his pulse quick and pleading beneath Yamato's fingertips; Yamato brushes his lips across Sai's again, dips closer and tilts until he can join the kiss properly, softly, with trembling hesitation but so much pent-up longing that he thinks he might burst.
Sai responds with the same kind of leashed restraint, and it's both beautiful and unbearable and Yamato can't tear himself away for a very long moment.
When he finally does manage to end the kiss, he discovers that both his hands are cupped around the back of Sai's neck and both of Sai's hands have curled lightly around his forearms in a semi-conscious bid to keep him from drawing back.
"Yamato," Sai breathes, and Yamato is subjected to a crash-course refresher in what Sai's voice can do to his name and how profoundly it affects him.
The pragmatic part of him knows it's no excuse, though, and he breathes deep, trying to stay level-headed.
The faint mingled scent of his soap on Sai's skin doesn't help.
"We can't do this," he manages, but it doesn't sound convincing to his own ears and the hint of desperation that quirks Sai's eyebrows makes him loathe the need to say it.
"Why?"
There's an almost plaintive note underneath Sai's softly-level tone and Yamato aches, has kissed Sai again before he even realizes he's doing it and pulls away, frustrated. He's got to do the right thing, he's got to be strong, but he's always been weak where Sai is concerned--
"I'm not your student anymore. I'm not anybody's student anymore. I'm over the age of consent."
--and Sai is not helping.
"It's not that simple," Yamato laments, and his lips brush against Sai's with the words because he's dying to kiss the boy again. He knows he needs to stop the touching, the closeness, to back the hell off but he just can't seem to make himself follow through.
And Sai is still talking, the closest to babbling that Yamato has ever heard him.
"But Yamato, I want this, with you--I want you; I want you so much. I know the timing is not ideal. I know it looks like I'm exercising bad judgment at a stressful point in my life. I know it looks like I'm recklessly attaching myself to you because you're stable and familiar, because my future is very uncertain. I know I'm just a kid. I know it's rooted in my regard for you as an authority figure I could relate to--as my teacher. I know conventional wisdom deems it normal and something that I will outgrow. I know that you as the adult have the responsibility to recognize that I don't fully grasp the psychology of the situation and to dissuade me from acting on my immature feelings." He catches Yamato's gaze again, and the look on his face is almost distressed. "But...Yamato...I do grasp it. I felt this way long before Grandfather disowned me. It's been over a year since I've seen you. It's been longer than that since I identified what I felt. I don't feel it any less. I think I want you more--"
Yamato kisses him to silence him, because hearing Sai lay out all the counter-argument and immediately sweep it aside is not conducive to thinking it through rationally himself. Sai saying 'I want you' doesn't help anything either. He knows Sai is astute and unusually mature for someone his age, but that doesn't mean--it doesn't mean...
He can't think of what it doesn't mean, because Sai is kissing him back, desperately now, and he's obviously gotten more experience since the first time they did this.
Sai is panting when he pulls back from the kiss at last, and his hands are curled around the crook of Yamato's elbows. "Yamato," he breathes, like just saying the name warms him on the inside. His eyes open, and they're dark enough to drown in, and Yamato is not at all prepared for what he says then.
"I've masturbated, thinking about you, about the way you touched me and how it felt when we had sex."
Yamato groans, desire lancing sharp through the pit of his belly at that forthright statement. "God, Sai--" He leans his forehead against Sai's, hands still cupping the back of Sai's neck. "Don't say things like that--"
Sai blinks at him, peering intently, and Yamato realizes he's made a tactical error. Sai is smart enough to recognize ammunition when it's handed to him--
"I think about your hands on my body and how warm your skin was against mine. I remember what it felt like when you pushed me up against the whiteboard and finally kissed me. It makes me so hard it's unbearable. I used to sneak into the bathroom at the academy to masturbate. I'd think about your penis inside of me, how it made me feel, and I wanted to feel it again so much that sometimes I used my own fingers--"
--and clearly he's not above using it to further his argument.
Yamato shudders at Sai's words, and he's so damn hard, it's going to make him crazy. He sucks in a huge breath, fighting to keep what minimal control remains to him, and pulls back, just a little, just enough to calm his racing heart the slightest bit. He does his best to make his voice firm. "Sai. You...I'm sure you realize what you do to me. But this is really not a good idea."
"I know." Sai breathes in softly, eyes fixed on Yamato's again. "But I don't care. I can't. I...Yamato, I need you."
There's nothing Yamato can say to adequately counter that.
He feels himself crumbling, and lets it happen.
His hands find their way up to cradle Sai's head, fingertips moving softly against his scalp through the prickly-velvet texture of his shorn hair. Sai's head tips back, just a little; his eyelids droop and his lips part moistly on a soft exhale that sounds like startled pleasure and Yamato can't help himself. He touches his mouth to Sai's again, tenderly at first, swiftly growing more urgent as Sai responds. Sai's too-short hair beneath his fingers is cool, slightly damp; it smells of Yamato's shampoo, and that final little detail is just too much.
Yamato makes a sharp, soft sound of surrender and kisses the boy for all he's worth, moving his hands down Sai's body over the thick warmth of the green sweater to settle on Sai's slender hips and pull him forward. Sai's legs wrap around him while he devours Sai's mouth with rising urgency and then Yamato slides his grip down to Sai's bottom and lifts, picking him up off the dryer. He curls an arm underneath Sai for support and Sai winds his arms tight around Yamato's neck and shoulders, surging into the kiss.
Yamato stumbles backwards and steadies himself against the doorjamb, snakes his free hand up the skin of Sai's back beneath the baggy sweater, fingertips sweeping along the dip of his spine and pressing him close. His heart is pounding in his chest and he can't breathe past the sheer force of it all; Sai clings to him, gets a hand threaded into the back of his hair, kisses like his life depends on it.
Yamato can barely keep up with his intensity. Everything that was ever held in check between them has finally come crashing to the fore; the floodgates are open and closing them again would be all but impossible.
Finally Sai breaks away and buries his face against Yamato's neck, panting. His body heaves slightly against Yamato with each quick-heavy breath, warm and alive, and his hand in Yamato's hair is clutching tight. "Please," he says, muffled, the word warm on Yamato's skin, and his legs shift closer around Yamato's hips.
Dizzy and aching with need, with want, Yamato pushes off the doorframe and carries Sai directly to the bedroom.
===
Started: 1/31/12
Drafted (this excerpt): 1/16/14
Posted (this excerpt): 10/2/14
Posted for YamaSai day, on LJ only as it's not a 'real' fic. Linked on Tumblr as well.