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Konoha summers get fucking hot. Right now, Sasuke’s sprawled in a rolling chair in the Hokage Tower’s newly built meeting room, feet kicked up on the long heavy wooden table.
Sasuke uses his Sharingan to speedread another terrible proposal for a civilian shuriken-throwing contest and tosses it on the mountain of rejects. Why did they open the suggestion box for the summer festival again? Oh, right, because Naruto is the Hokage and he wants everyone in the village to have a say (even if their suggestions are more idiotic than their blond leader).
Sasuke sinks further into the chair, letting the newly-installed air-conditioning wisp across his upper arms, bare above the black fingerless Anbu gloves that stretch up to his mid-bicep.
Well, at least the meeting room is nice? It’s austere and luxurious, but that’s only because Sasuke and Shikamaru got a say in the design and Naruto didn’t, with its dark wood walls adorned with elegant carvings of leaves and scrolls of traditional paintings. And it really is a damn fine table—one of those that looks like it’s a single giant piece of wood when, really, it's just Yamato’s Mokuton—flanked by deep green rolling chairs and a bigger, comfier seat for the Hokage at the head.
A smirk crosses his face. Some more convenient features of the new meeting room are the soundproof seals in the walls, and the door, set with a lock that can only be opened by the Hokage himself. The official reason for their existence is big strategic meetings, safety of leadership, blah, blah, but all that is secondary to Sasuke. Ever since this room was built, he and Naruto have opted to do their tasks here because it’s air-conditioned. However, whenever the tasks get particularly agonising (like fucking genin assignments—a task that should really go to Shikamaru and not the fucking Hokage and his shadow), they can always break up the monotony with a quick hard fuck.
Sasuke really likes fucking on this table.
His mismatched eyes flick away from the paperwork and over to Naruto, sitting to Sasuke’s right, at the head of the table. Instead of the heavy Hokage robes, he’s wearing a lighter cape—short and white with red flames along the edge—over a plain orange t-shirt, loose and baggy, and black capris. He’s wearing the hat too, its veil fluttering in the air-conditioning, but askew, tipped to the side of his head in a way that looks both lazy and sexy.
God, Sasuke can't believe he finds the Hokage hat attractive but since his sexuality begins and ends with Naruto, he guesses it’s not that surprising.
Sasuke brings the end of his pen to his lips as he remembers railing Naruto over this very table to christen the room, the hat teetering on his messy blond hair with every thrust. He sucks the pen between his teeth remembering blowing Naruto under the table, the edges of that cape just brushing his shoulders.
Yeah. They’re hot. They do hot shit.
Sasuke’s got his own cape now—long and black with silky periwinkle lining. It’s too hot to wear properly in summer so he just drapes it over his shoulders on top of his uniform, really just the ANBU outfit without the armour—black turtleneck tank, black sweats, long black fingerless gloves. He likes the gloves too.
Staying with Orochimaru for years really gave him a passion for fashion.
Suddenly, Naruto groans and slumps face down on the table, right on top of the latest draft of the speech he has to read to the council tomorrow presenting the benefits of the festival, the veil on his hat floofing and falling like a sad balloon.
“Sasukeeeeee,” he whines. “I can’t work like this!”
Sasuke gives him a Sharingan-enhanced glare and looks back at his nails. Damn, he needs to repaint them.
Naruto waves the speech around, the paper flapping. “I’m going to be presenting these points so I need to practise saying them—I can’t just read them off the paper in silence like this!”
“Then read them aloud,” Sasuke deadpans, entirely unsympathetic. It was the idiot’s own damn idea to have a formal meeting to present his ideas anyway. Sasuke told him to send them out in a newsletter and be done with it but Naruto claimed it needed his personal touch and wasn’t having any of it.
The dumbass continues rambling, holding the summer festival speech aloft like it’s the key to world peace. “I need to like, project the ideas into their heads, like images—make a powerful point, ya know?”
“That sounds terrible.”
“No, Sas, c’mon, you could so make a weak genjutsu to do this!” Naruto’s blue eyes glitter beneath his hat as he turns to Sasuke. “We could call it PowerPoint Jutsu!”
All this talk of new made-up jutsus gives Sasuke an idea and he snatches the speech from his mess of a boyfriend, flipping it face down. “Don’t worry about a stupid speech, usuratonkachi. Just do your—” He waves a hand in a vague gesture. “—talk-no-jutsu thing and say it to me. Imagine I’m the council.”
“No, Sas, I need to hear how they’ll respond, ya know?” He taps his chin with his finger. “Oh, I know! Team meeting time!”
With a quick handsign and a burst of smoke, there are suddenly four Shadow Clone Narutos in the room, sitting in other rolling chairs at the long wooden table, all wearing Naruto's simple t-shirt and capris.
Sasuke feels his skin heat.
Ah.
You see, now might be a good time to note that Sasuke is horny as fuck.
Maybe it’s the hotter weather. Maybe he just feels sexy as hell in his stylish new cape and gloves. Maybe Naruto is just hot and, when confronted with multiple Narutos—whether that’s in a fight or in the bedroom—Sasuke is always up for a challenge .
As Sasuke flicks his tongue on the end of his pen, feeling that delicious coil of heat start to pool low inside him, Naruto is mid-argument with three of his clones. Not on the presentation itself, mind you, just their assigned characters for the team meeting roleplay.
“Okay, so you pretend to be Shikamaru—”
“Why do I gotta be Shikamaru? He’s so booooring.”
“Okay, d’ya wanna be Ino then?”
“I can’t do a good Ino voice! Can I be Hinata?”
Naruto really is an idiot. An idiot Sasuke is quite unbearably attracted to.
Fuck it. Legs still kicked up on the table, Sasuke turns to the clone—the Naruto—next to him and drags a painted nail up the whisker lines on his cheek, down his jaw, his neck, to hook into the collar of his baggy orange t-shirt. With a tug, Naruto (and his rolling chair) are dragged towards Sasuke and he can see the definition of his tanned chest beneath the orange fabric.
He licks his lips. “Hey, Naruto,” he croons, reaching across with the other hand to grip the clone’s chin. “Kiss me.”
Something flashes through those blue eyes (that Sasuke is so fucking in love with) and Naruto leans in obediently, sealing his lips to Sasuke’s and licking across the seam, sucking the lower one through his teeth in a way that makes Sasuke want to purr.
Yes, the Shadow Clone Jutsu was a fine invention indeed.
“Oi! Sasuke!” Naruto yells from the head of the table. Sasuke can tell it’s the real one from the slightly warmer timbre of his voice, imperceptible to most but clear as day to Sasuke. “Stop kissing my clone! Kiss me!”
Sasuke tears his lips from the clone’s with one last playful bite and rolls his head to look at his real boyfriend. “They’re all you. You told me that.”
“Well, yeah! But you’re . . .” Naruto trails off, reaching beneath the veil of the Hokage hat to scratch the back of his neck. There’s a faint flush on his cheeks beneath the whiskers.
Oh ho, Sasuke thinks, a smirk slipping across his face. So that’s how it is.
With dramatic flair, Sasuke throws the cape off his shoulders and reaches back over to the clone with both hands, fisting one in the back of his messy blond hair, the other in the front of his shirt, and guides their lips back together. He tugs on Naruto’s hair just right and the clone lets out a soft moan, muffled between their lips.
C’mon, Naruto, he thinks, dragging one hand up to curl lightly around the clone’s throat. Let’s put on a show.
While he makes out with the clone, relishes in the delicious feel of Naruto’s lips on his, the hands on his tight waist, Sasuke remains aware of the other three clones watching them, and, of course, the real Naruto.
The chatter of the clones, with their lowered inhibitions, starts to filter in.
“We’re hot.”
“Oh damn, he’s really going for it.”
“Mmm, it’s so good when he pulls our hair like that.”
“Sasuke . . .”
There’s the voice he’s been waiting for—it’s almost a growl, low and warm. He drags his lips away to run his tongue down the clone’s neck, looking at Naruto with his Sharingan spinning lazily.
“Stop messing around,” the real Naruto says, gripping the edges of the heavy table.
With a flash of his Rinnegan and a flutter of forgotten paperwork, the clone is flat on his back lengthways on the long table where the rejected proposals once were and Sasuke is straddling him, mismatched gaze fixed on Naruto at the head of the table. Sasuke lowers his body over the clone while its hands slide up Sasuke’s ribs and back.
Naruto’s gaze is weighted, heavy blue, and Sasuke holds it. “Do I look like I’m messing around, usuratonkachi?”
Naruto’s eyes darken beneath the brim of the hat, his long blond lashes flickering down as they trace the picture Sasuke makes with his clone. “Fuck. Sasuke,” he whines.
God, Naruto’s so pretty when he’s turned on.
Sasuke takes pity on him and crawls forward, past the clone, to the head of the table, pushing the veil back slightly to cradle that whiskered cheek and kiss Naruto— his Naruto—on the lips. It’s not a bruising kiss like it was with the clone, nor is it performative in any way.
It’s a promise.
And when Naruto’s blue eyes flick open with just a flicker of Kyuubi red around the edge of his iris, when he nods in that authoritative way he learned after officially becoming Hokage . . . it makes Sasuke’s body flood with heat.
Settling back to straddle the clone again, Sasuke beckons the other three clones closer.
Watch me, he tells Naruto with his eyes.
So Naruto settles back in his comfy-ass Hokage chair and watches.
At the first swivel of Sasuke’s hips, he can feel his hardness rub deliciously against Naruto’s very familiar thick cock beneath him, through their clothes, and Sasuke feels pleasure ricochet through him and settle in the hinge of his jaw.
Yeah. Sasuke’s horny as fuck and now he’s going to get fucked by four of Naruto’s clones.
This is a very productive meeting indeed.
With nothing more than a sultry look, the clone on his right is making out with Sasuke—wet lips and wicked tongue—and the clone on his left is kissing down his ear, sizzling along the curve of his neck, another clone reaching for the hem of his black tank and the one below him grabbing at the waistband of his sweatpants.
There are so many hands, Sasuke’s being touched everywhere—his hair, his neck, his nipples, his waist, his hips, his ass—and all the while, he’s grinding on Naruto’s cock through his sweatpants and he’s dreaming about having it inside him, four times over—mouth, ass, hands— fuck . . .
The clones chorus in their praise:
“God, you’re gorgeous, Sasuke.”
“Fucking hell, Sasuke.”
“Holy shit, Sasuke.”
“Fuck, Sasuke.”
He hears his name from all sides, breathed into his neck, his ear, against his lips, all in Naruto’s breathless rasp, punctuated by light bites and a firm grip and a sexy chuckle. Sasuke is utterly surrounded by Naruto and this is exactly where he wants to be—showered in praise, in Naruto, and soon, in cocks.
The assault of stimuli has a loud breathless moan escaping Sasuke’s lips and he cuts his gaze over to Naruto. Sasuke sees him lick his lips beneath the brim of the hat, tongue tracing sharp canines that Sasuke knows none of the clones have. That makes him gasp, right as the clone below him places a hand right over his dick, pumping it lightly through the fabric.
“Can’t wait to feel this in my mouth,” he murmurs and Sasuke drinks down the praise like a shot.
The Naruto he’s kissing tugs on his lower lip with his blunt teeth, the Narutos behind him wrestle him out of his tank top, and the one beneath him pulls his hips into a steady roll, grinding their cocks together in steady rhythm.
It’s hedonistic, it’s glorious, and Sasuke feels so fucking powerful—even more powerful than when he’s subduing an enemy with his Sharingan alone. Nothing on this earth can compare to the feeling of being under the focused attention of multiple Narutos.
“Leave the gloves on,” he tells the clones stripping him, voice surprisingly steady despite the onslaught of sensation.
And then four pairs of hands, calloused from years of handling kunai, are on Sasuke’s pale skin, brushing over the tips of his nipples, tracing the bones of his spine, the curve of his waist . . . Sasuke moans loudly—gasps freely—once again grateful for the soundproofing seals on this meeting room.
When he takes another peek at the original Naruto, he catches a bright red flush beneath the hat, red as the flames on his cape. Sasuke bites his lip around a grin—the crazy, lust-riddled kind that only Naruto can draw out from him.
Sasuke will put on a show and make him drool and he’ll make Naruto cum. Hard. It’s one of their many routines, as regular as their spars and their late nights at the office.
“Let’s get your pants off,” a clone murmurs in his ear. Sasuke lets them manoeuvre him to sit facing the right wall, leaning back in the cradle of a clone’s chest while his legs dangle off the table. Another clone kneels before him and slides his sweatpants and underwear down, his cock springing free into the cool, air-conditioned room.
Right now, Sasuke’s naked but for his long, black fingerless gloves. All four clones and Naruto himself are still clothed.
There’s something hot about that, something that makes Sasuke’s ass clench and his cock drip as he leans back against Naruto’s broad chest, feels the friction of Naruto’s t-shirt against his bare skin.
Before he has a chance to fully process that though, the clones are shuffling into position. The one behind him wraps his arms around Sasuke’s waist and runs those calloused fingers back up his body to play with his nipples. Fuck, they’re sensitive, and oh, the clone’s licking his fingers and— shit, the saliva mixed with the air-conditioning makes him buck his hips, only for the head of his cock to slide between the lips of a waiting clone. Saliva drips down his shaft and Sasuke can’t help but moan at the fact that Naruto—four Narutos—all hungered, salivated, for his cock. The clone who’d stripped off Sasuke’s pants starts caressing up his calves and thighs, even reaching around the clone giving him a blowjob to fondle his balls. Finally, the last clone sits on the table beside him and cradles Sasuke’s face as they make out, languid and wet and liquid, in synergy with the gentle brush of cold air on his nipples and the wet suction on his cock and the sensual touches on his legs.
It’s slow, it’s spiralling, and it’s because Naruto, even in clone form, knows just how to work Sasuke up, how to deny him just enough of that roughness to make him crave it, make his jaw ache and his ass quiver in anticipation of the power and force leashed beneath Naruto’s skin.
Sasuke feels his hands start to shake where they clench the clothed thighs he’s cradled between, where they tug and yank at orange fabric trying to touch tanned skin.
He wants to laugh at how absurd it is, that he regularly lets Naruto sexually wreck him with clones, right as he feels a dextrous flick at his slit and a hickey being sucked into his neck and his mind goes blank.
It’s damn near delirium—being showered with this much Naruto— and Sasuke wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.
Through the sounds of sucking and groaning and panting, he hears the scrape of metal in wood. No, not metal. Claws.
Sasuke peeks through a tuft of blond hair to see real Naruto gripping the edge of the table, his Kyuubi claws, unique to Naruto himself and not any of his clones, extending and gouging dark lines into the glazed wood.
While Sasuke always loved to show off, Naruto didn’t always like to watch.
In his Naruto-drunk delirium, Sasuke recalls the time they discovered that kink—about six years ago, when Naruto walked in on him masturbating and, instead of joining in, simply sat at the edge of the bed and watched, not breaking until his cock was angry and red and heavy and hard.
That was also the day that they both learned that Naruto, if denied and teased for long enough, takes on some of the animalistic features of the Kyuubi. Features that Sasuke is not at all opposed to.
A shaky gasp from Naruto makes his Hokage veil flutter and then the clones are shifting again, stripping their clothes in a flurry of orange and black and— oh fuck yes, this is where Sasuke’s endurance really gets tested, this is where the show really begins, because now he’s faced with Naruto’s gorgeous naked body and stomach seal and thick heavy cock—four times over—and it takes all the scraps of Uchiha pride he has left not to use his lifetime of ninja skills to pounce on every single clone and take their cocks straight down his throat in a lust-induced lack of self-preservation.
When Sasuke’s horny, he’s real fucking horny.
Now, he’s laying on his back, still sideways on the table, but this time the clones guide him so his head hangs backwards off the edge, neck supported by one of the clone’s hands.
Sasuke is so fucking ready for something to be in his ass—tongue, fingers, cock—but he knows he won’t get it yet and that’s part of the fun, the desperate aching, wanting, craving.
And still, the feel of a clone lowering his body, Naruto’s body, over Sasuke’s—warm and smoking and familiar—and lining up their cocks to frot into his loose fist makes Sasuke pant as he feels the pulse of Naruto’s dick against his. Sasuke’s mouth falls open, his tongue lolling out slightly and then, as if summoned, the head of another clone’s cock glides across his lips, dosing him with slick precum. Sasuke swirls it over his lips with his tongue, tasting Naruto, arching his neck in the clone’s hands, before that rounded head finally stretches his lips and fills the cavern of his mouth, sliding in while Sasuke hangs upside down.
Sasuke’s pornographic moan is gagged by cock—heavy and thick and god, Sasuke could fucking drink Naruto’s precum, it tastes so good, slippery and stringy between his lips. He relaxes his jaw as the clone starts to thrust shallowly in Sasuke’s mouth, giving him friction on his lips while still allowing Sasuke to suckle to his own pleasure, saliva starting to sloppily spread across his cheeks. Down between his legs, Naruto hasn’t even touched his ass yet but every incredible wet slide of Naruto’s cock frotting against his own leaves him dizzy with pleasure.
If that wasn’t enough stimuli, Sasuke soon finds both his hands hefty with the two remaining clones’ cocks and almost instinctively, he pulls off the blowjob just long enough to spit in his gloved palms and begin to stroke. When he latches his lips back onto the other cock and twists his wrists as he strokes down the two identical shafts—slightly thicker and veinier in the middle—it spills dirty talk from the clones.
“You’re hungry for this, aren’t you, Sasuke?”
Yes.
“God, you really love my cock, don’t you?”
Yes.
“You’re so fucking hot and you know it.”
Yes.
“Such a cockslut, aren’t you, Sasuke?”
Fucking hell, yes.
He hears a growl, another scrape of claws into wood and tightens his lips on the cock in his mouth, forms his tongue to the next bead of fresh precum.
Sasuke wants to live here, sandwiched between clones, and cum over and over and over, but it’s part of the routine that he holds off his orgasm. He’s pretty good at it—they’ve done this enough times that he’s perfected it—but getting this close this fast makes him feel like there’s a kunai to his throat and there’s a part of him that likes it. Likes the danger of being close, the viciousness of the pleasure.
Another rush of movement and they’re switching positions again. Now Sasuke’s kneeling on all fours facing the wall and there’s a clone sliding beneath him upside down, aligning his mouth with Sasuke’s cock before guiding it into his mouth. Sasuke is facing the clone’s legs and his mouth is at the perfect height to close around the clone’s cock, completing the 69.
Before he can process how damn hot this must look to Naruto at the head of the table, he feels warm hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks followed by a wet tongue gliding up his crack.
Shit, Naruto’s rimming him, fuck—
His hips stutter, as if trying to escape the wet touch on his sensitive hole but that only pushes his dick further into the warm wetness of the clone’s mouth below, drawing a muffled moan from Naruto. Shit—
Suddenly, there’s a hand fisted in his hair dragging him off the cock below him and he’s blinking—Sharingan and Rinnegan—up at two of Naruto’s clones, their erections nudging against his cheeks. He sees Naruto’s dazzling grin shining down at him twofold and he grins back before pressing forward to rub his face against the three cocks in his face, relishing in how they slap and twitch against his cheeks, his nose, his closed eyes, all the while his own cock is balls deep in Naruto’s mouth and Naruto’s tongue is lapping at his hole.
Sasuke feels like a fucking slut and he loves it.
“Sasuke, fuck, you’re already so ready for me,” the clone behind him mumbles into his ass cheek and Sasuke would smirk, but his lips are currently occupied between three different cocks so he’s a little busy slobbering all over them.
He may or may not have fucked himself on his dildo in the shower this morning after Naruto left for his morning meeting but hey—that’s the perks of being the criminal boyfriend of the Hokage.
Sasuke rocks back onto the clone’s face, earning him a hissed growl from the head of the table.
Tearing his face away from the three fat cocks in his face, he turns to look over his shoulder, locking eyes with the clone’s blue eyes.
“Fuck me,” he bites out, eyes wild. “C’mon Naruto, fuck me.”
The clones don’t need any further instruction. In another scramble of movement (during which, miraculously, no one is elbowed in the balls), Sasuke is still propped on his hands and knees, but the clone who was rimming him now teases his stretched hole with his fingers while the others stand around him, caressing his body.
“Fuuuck, I forgot lube,” a clone whines.
Sasuke just rolls his eyes, activates the invisible seals on his gloves and pulls out a fresh tube, throwing it over his shoulder with a scoffed, “Idiot.”
The clone responds by slapping him lightly in the face with his cock and Sasuke laughs.
“Oi! Be polite,” the clone reprimands.
Sasuke reaches one hand up to grip that cock and press it against his lips. “If you’re so polite, why don’t you give me what I’m asking for?”
“Say ‘please’,” the clone says.
Sasuke rolls his eyes. “I’m not begging for your cock, dumbass. Either get the fuck inside me or—”
The clones respond by simultaneously sliding into his ass and his mouth at the same time, filling him to the brim with cock from both ends.
All Sasuke’s insults and horny whining die on his tongue, crushed by the weight of Naruto’s dick bulging inside him, stretching his ass and mouth wide and stuffing him full so there’s no room for anything in his mind but cock.
It’s like another part of Sasuke takes over and his skin screams, almost like he’s activated his Susanoo.
He needs to be fucked hard. He needs to be wrecked. He needs Naruto to shove his cock inside him over and over and over and—
The clone behind him pulls back, Sasuke’s ass stretching around the slightly thicker centre, before slamming back in, the force pushing Sasuke forward further onto the cock in front of him, making his eyes water at the depth. When the one in his mouth thrusts shallowly, the cock in his ass is pushed deeper and Sasuke can feel the soft press of Naruto’s balls against the base of his cheeks.
“Sasuke . . .”
“Sasuke!”
“Sasuke, fuck—”
There’s an absolute feeling of completion Sasuke gets from being spitroasted, a satisfaction so deep and primal that he can’t help but let out a muffled groan. With every thrust, he can feel the details of Naruto’s cock with his lips, with his tongue, while the same one fills his ass, only making him crave it more.
Back, forth, back, forth—Sasuke is never empty, always overwhelmingly full and that’s how he wants to be, how he aches to be. Surrendering to Naruto like this makes Sasuke feel like his body is made for this—not for battle or politics or life-or-death ninja shit—but for sex and heat and heavy wet cock.
Despite how heavy the table is, it shakes and creaks with the movement of his body, the force with which the clones thrust into him.
Suddenly remembering the two other clones, Sasuke shifts himself more upright, pulls the clone in front of him to stand on the table so he can balance himself on just his knees, freeing up his hands to grasp one cock in each hand, groaning at their weight and feel, god, Naruto’s cock is just so fucking gorgeous, Sasuke feels utterly spoiled when he can have four of them.
It allows him to experience every sensation of Naruto’s body simultaneously:
A full rough pounding in his ass, fucking his hole open.
The luxurious texture and weight on his tongue, visceral pressure at his throat.
Its gorgeous shape and slickness in his hands, all velvety veiny skin.
Sasuke is absolutely cock-drunk and honestly? It’s the only kind of drunk he likes to be, the only time he’ll truly let his guard down, let himself feel.
As degrading as it may look to an outsider—letting four of Naruto’s clones use him while Naruto himself watches—Sasuke knows, Naruto knows, that Sasuke’s never been more loved or powerful than in moments like these.
This is all for Sasuke.
As if Naruto heard his cock-hungry thoughts (or maybe that was his muffled whines), the clone in front of him pulls back sharply, holding his cock away from Sasuke’s mouth, keeping Sasuke in place with a strong hand twisted in his hair.
Sasuke’s eyes are locked onto the cock in front of him, glistening and shining with his saliva in the light and he knows his Sharingan is activated, he can feel his chakra burning and spinning in his eyes as he fixates on it, desperate for it back in his mouth, filling him again. God, his mouth is so empty. He tries to rock forward but the Naruto behind him has a firm grip on his hips, still railing him within an inch of his life, and the Naruto above him tightens his grip on his hair.
“Naruto, fuck off, let me—” Sasuke growls out.
“You want it so bad,” the clone teases, his voice playful and raspy and summery and it tickles all the right associations in Sasuke’s brain, sends sparks down his spine as the clone behind him traces its arch.
“Obviously, moron, fucking—”
“You’re so desperate for my cock, Sas’ke.”
“Yes, fuck, c’mon, idiot, stop teasing me—”
“Look at you, god, I wanna show you what you look like, Sasuke.”
Through the haze that Naruto’s praise always evokes in Sasuke, he hears a low sexy (but shaky) chuckle from the head of the table. When he focuses, he can almost feel the hot, smoky chakra flowing off the original Naruto, darkened by the feral energy of the Kyuubi that Sasuke works to unleash in him.
He says the words.
“I’m yours, Naruto.”
And that’s it, the cock is back in his mouth and he’s getting fucked, rougher and harder than before. Everywhere Sasuke looks is Naruto—above him, around him, behind him, inside him, over him— fuck . . .
He breaks off from the clone in front of him to bob his head over one of the clones he’s jerking off and within a few twists of his wrist, the clone is cumming into his mouth and over Sasuke’s face as he pulls back, letting it drip down his neck and chest where he rubs it in, laughing and sticky and shuddering.
The other clone breaks away from Sasuke’s grip to switch with the one in his ass, thrusting in, once, twice, three times before cursing and groaning and twitching inside Sasuke, filling him up, only for the original clone to fuck back in, the cum bubbling up at his entrance and trickling down to his perineum.
God, Sasuke loves cock, he loves cum, and he’s not fucking ashamed of it—not when it’s Naruto—because even in clone form, he looks at Sasuke with such reverent adoration that it’s so fucking hard not to orgasm just at the sight.
“C’mon, cum for me, Naruto,” he gasps up at the clone in front of him, jerking him erratically, throwing his ass back against the clone fucking him.
He doesn’t know which Naruto he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter because they’re all him.
Feeling a little evil, he clenches around the cock in his ass and Naruto swears and with a cry of his name, spills inside him, pulsing and growling, his cum mixing with the other clone’s, to the point where Sasuke can almost feel how full he is.
Tongue flicking against the cock in his hands, Sasuke taunts Naruto—because what is sex if they’re not arguing or competing in some way?
“I’m so full of your cum, Naruto,” he murmurs. “Come on, give me more, Naruto.”
He closes his eyes and sticks out his tongue, leaving his mouth open and waiting and inviting and then—
The first splash of cum on his tongue surprises him, but by the second, he’s gulping it down greedily, lapping up where it drips over Naruto’s pumping fist. It’s warm and thick and viscous on his tongue, the taste bitter and salty but so uniquely Naruto.
“Sasuke . . .” he sighs as he runs his fingers across Sasuke’s sticky lips.
Once Naruto’s fingers and cock are licked clean, Sasuke sits back on his heels on the table and looks around the room. The four clones are collapsed in various places all over the room—over the other end of the table, across the rolling chairs, and one is even starfished on the dark green carpet which is just . . . so Naruto.
Sasuke scoffs, flicks his sweaty bangs out of his mismatched eyes, proud of his hard work. Idiot can’t pace himself, he thinks.
At long last, Sasuke, knowing he looks like an absolute mess, glowing and sticky, the cum and sweat cooling on his skin, turns to his Hokage. The finale of the show is still to come.
Crawling across the table, his palms sticking and peeling off the wood with each prowl, Sasuke reaches Naruto—the real Naruto—his Hokage, his boyfriend, his sun, and knocks the Hokage hat and cape off, letting them flutter uselessly to the meeting room floor.
He moans at the sight. Because Naruto looks feral as fuck and it shouldn’t be such a turn on but it is.
Naruto’s irises are red, glowing with Kyuubi chakra, and his pupils have turned to slits. His naturally sharp canines have extended into fangs, indenting into his lower lip. The whisker marks on his cheeks are darker. And best of all, his pants are down by his ankles and his cock is red and angry and thick in his hand, precum dripping between his clawed fingers.
“Hey,” Sasuke croons, tracing Naruto’s jaw softly with sticky fingers.
At just that slight touch, Naruto’s eyes blow wide and his mouth falls open around a whimper. He’s keyed up and sensitive as fuck.
“I’ve got you, usuratonkachi,” Sasuke promises, slipping off the table to straddle Naruto’s lap and in one smooth motion, Sasuke sheathes Naruto inside him, squelching through the other clones’ loads and making it drip down the backs of his thighs and onto Naruto’s.
“Sasuke—Sasuke—Sasuke—” Naruto gasps brokenly into his sweaty neck, claws digging into the meat of Sasuke’s ass, rocking his hips up into Sasuke’s messy, sensitive, overfilled hole.
“You made me this way, Naruto,” Sasuke breathes softly into Naruto’s forehead, down to his cheek.
It’s true. Over the last decade, Naruto taught Sasuke to give into his desires and get wasted on them, taught him it was okay to want and want and want to the point where he was only truly satisfied by multiples of Naruto.
“Look at the mess you made of me,” he murmurs against his lips, his fangs.
Naruto doesn’t move or try to claim Sasuke’s lips and Sasuke can feel him shudder with restraint.
God, he’s so good.
Sasuke kisses him fondly, presses the remnant taste of his clones into Naruto’s tongue. At the taste of himself, Naruto’s kiss turns heavier and his hands run all across Sasuke’s sweat-sticky body while Sasuke rides him slick and slow —don’t cum yet, don’t cum yet— the best part is about to happen.
As Naruto whines and begs and pleads— “Sasuke, I can’t, please, I need to, Sasuke, oh fuck!” —Sasuke pulls back with one last lick of his fangs, activates the seal on his gloves and throws a shuriken at the nearest clone.
It disappears into smoke and Sasuke’s Sharingan swirls as he watches the memory of its orgasm wash over Naruto, recording that cocktail of pleasure and pain and possessiveness that morphs across his face.
I love you, Naruto.
And then Sasuke pops the next clone, the next, the next, bringing the orgasms onto him one by one, as Naruto screams and whimpers and growls, rutting into Sasuke helplessly, as the pleasure assaults him in relentless blows, as he spills rope after rope into Sasuke. His claws dig into Sasuke’s hips and it stings but it feels so fucking good knowing that Naruto wants him so badly, obsesses over him, craves Sasuke just as violently as Sasuke craves him.
And with that thought, with the way it blooms something fierce inside him, something that says, i’m yours and you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re all fucking mine, Sasuke finally (finally) closes a hand around his own cock and lets himself go, lets his release flow between them, his ass pulsing and fluttering around Naruto’s cock in a way that feels . . . there’s no other way to describe it but incandescent.
This, Sasuke thinks as his brain swirls like smoke, as he feels Naruto’s chest expand and collapse and quiver against his, this is why we built this room.
Soon, Naruto’s claws retract and he’s tracing Sasuke’s spine with blunt nails and gentle fingers. Sasuke feels wetness on his shoulder, hears a soft sniffle, and when Naruto looks up at him, his eyes are shining blue again, so full of what can only be described as love that Sasuke just melts.
“Good team meeting, usuratonkachi,” he jokes, headbutting the idiot he calls his boyfriend.
Naruto just laughs into Sasuke’s sweaty chest and the warm rumble of it shakes Sasuke’s whole body. “These are my favourite kind of meetings.”
Suddenly, there’s a loud banging on the door.
“Naruto,” comes Shikamaru’s bored drawl. “I know you and Sasuke are fucking in there and I just came by to remind you that I have the emergency key to this meeting room and that you have a meeting with the Kazekage at 3pm.”
Sasuke glances at the large clock on the wall. It’s fucking 2:55.
“Fucking Nara!” Sasuke growls as he body-flickers around the room, grabbing clothes and pulling wet wipes from the seals in his gloves. In terms of day-to-day usefulness, these storage seals were the best jutsu he ever learned after his Sharingan. “I’m going to change the locks first thing tomorrow, you’ll see . . .”
They’re presentable in four minutes flat, all thanks to Sasuke’s hard work. Naruto just sat there and watched him with hearts in his eyes like a lovesick idiot.
If Gaara notices the claw marks gouged into the table, he likely assumes it’s part of the decor and doesn’t comment on it.