Whereof One Cannot Speak, One Must Remain Silent Lykomancer ============================|+|============================ There were moments when the only noises in the room were the jags of Sasuke’s unsteady gasps, the barest hint of a deep velvety groan lingering in the echoes of the breath that trembled on his lips, warm and eager against the pale curve of an ear, the spray of crimson hair; the soft serpentine hiss of sand slithering in waves like tremor-shock across the bare floor, concentric ripples that undulated around them like a desert tide, waxing in inevitable response to a pull stronger than gravity; the slap and smack of flesh meeting flesh, the sound damped by sweat and saliva and muffled between them as they moved together, legs intertwined, bodies overlapping, their carelessly hungry lips and tongues put to better use than speaking, lapping salt-soaked skin and tracing demands and compromises more intricate than could ever be spelled out with brush and ink. Words would have run interference between them, been an obstacle to their understanding of each other. Neither of them were skilled with language, despite their positions in their governments. Neither was skilled with intimacy, either; their respective childhood scars ran deep and twisted through them both still, tangible under their fingers in the way that skin had shivered and muscle had flinched away from touch at first, their lingering pain and fear evident in the way that both had nearly broken and lashed out defensively on instinct. They didn’t trust each other entirely, the ex-demon-ridden psychotic and the cold one-time traitor, but they trusted each other more with the familiar, well-used and accustomed weapons of their bodies than with the weapons of their words— they understood the physical more than the cerebral; the shift and shudder of flesh spoke more honestly and eloquently than what they wouldn’t even think to say about things they didn’t even understand about themselves. They sought in the other something else they both wanted. One tried to reach through moonlight and somehow pull out the sun, tried to understand the shadow that accompanied and which was bound, in this life and the next, endlessly, now and forever, to the brilliance of light, the darkness that wordlessly claimed the heat and dazzle of day as his own other half— Sasuke-yin-tiger and Naruto-yang-dragon, eternally locked together in competition and completion. The other breathed in the desert heat and embraced their shared similarities, understanding running through his blood, throbbing under his flushed skin with the pulse of his heartbeat, and he stretched to meet the differences between them, seeing flickers of something familiar in the depths of the pale eyes staring down at him, something that reminded him of the glimmer of early morning, blood-hued sunlight sweeping back the dark—Gaara the phoenix rising up from the fires of dawn, the border between worlds, between death and life, nightmares and righteousness. The slide and friction between them; the way they paralleled each other, their lives like a complex melodies that complimented each other as they wove together, complimented and off-set with the barest touch of disjointed dissonance; an unexpected spike of pain making the wave of pleasure much more intense; intense washed-out green eyes meeting whirling scarlet ones… Words were a barrier to true communication. A swallowed gasp and stifled moan marked emotional catharsis mediated through orgasm, and the only noises in the room were the slowing pound of their hearts and breathing. Starlight glittered on the still sand sweeping across the floor around them. fin ============================|+|============================