Do read, if you please!

Disclaimer: I own thee not, Naruto.

WARNING: M means M little birdies. That mean LEMON UP AHEAD CAPTAIN!

A/N: Hello all and sundry! Well, this little baby is quite different from my usual writing(there's even a twist!) so let me know if you like it, ne?

Also, I would recommend you listen to some music whilst reading this, preferably classical(which was my inspiration in the fic). I give warm recommendations to Mozart's symphony no: 25, 40 and 21, and also his requiem as well as Bach's 'air' and basically.. all of Chopin's work (I love Chopin).

-O-

Masterpiece

The dull ache in his lower back was more familiar than he would like to admit and he failed to even notice the discomfort of harsh fabric against sore skin. There was a time when he would consider these feelings –combined with the discreet throbbing in his head –well enough reason to spend the day snuggling contently under a massive amount of blankets while watching re-run episodes of Baywatch and repeatedly stuffing chocolates in his mouth.

He grimaced slightly when the pain in his back peaked, and opened his locker. He vaguely noted the disarray of books and papers that suggested someone had been rummaging through his locker- again. Sighing he shut the door and carefully maneuvered through the mass of students socialising in the hallway.

He slipped past the door to his English-classroom and found himself a chair in the back. The room was wide, with walls that had at some time been clear yellow but as the years passed had taken on a sickly greyish tone that reminded Naruto of something Pakkun –his middle school English-teacher Kakashi's dog, which said teacher had insisted on bringing to school –had once thrown up in the school cafeteria. At the time he had found it amazingly amusing to watch as the girls shrieked in disgust and then continued to hunt down and Kakashi whom simply –smiling good-naturedly –told them a complete cock-and-bull story about some airplane and the empire's sudden need of his expertise. Now, however, the story only held a slightly painful sentimental memory of the happiness of long past. He stared ahead, losing himself in yet another depressing spiral of thoughts. There are people who are natural musers, who constantly mull the different aspects of things over and over. Naruto was not one of them. Yet he found that he fell into a state of deep thought more and more frequently.

He sighed and leaned backwards on his seat, just to sit right back up with a quiet hiss as pain shot up his spine. He shifted on the chair. It was one of those wooden things that seem to exist only in schools, surely special-made somewhere to cause as much discomfort as possible to the pupils of the world. He glanced at the plastic clock hanging over the door. Two more hours. He grabbed his bag from the floor, fishing out his calendar.

A few years back he would have found his own schedule tremendously boring. It was filled with a scarce number of words, repeated over and over with the sole difference that each had a different time in front of it. His eyes drifted to the column marked 'Thursday', sliding down the list of things he had planned:

07.00 –get up.

07.30 –Food.

09.00 –School start.

15.00 –school end.

15.30 –Food.

16.15 –Study.

18.00 –Sasuke.

Note: Buy ramen.

It was the definition of Naruto's life, put down on paper. Go up, eat, go to school, eat, study and then take the bus to Sasuke's apartment. Simple. He groaned. Lately he had been more and more dissatisfied with the way things were. He wanted his old life, all his friends, all the good times. He wanted his happiness back goddamn it.

But each time he reached this conclusion, the vague picture of Sasuke floated before his eyes and he couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to let the bastard down, to leave him. He had given up everything for the raven and he would continue to do it. Because he loved Sasuke.

When Naruto was still a small chibi his mother had told him about love, a wonderful, sparkling feeling that made you happy all the way from your heart to the very end of your fingertips.

'Like Ramen?,' a tiny Naruto had asked and his mother had shook her head.

'No, Naruto, not like just ramen,' she had said, smiling at him, 'it's like ramen and fireworks and festivals, and summer and Christmas and puppies all at once!' Naruto had watched her talk with awe in his eyes. He had longed for that feeling ever since. Even more after his parents passed away in a car accident when he was seven. Every time he would think of them, he would say to himself that he had to find that thing, that love that made everything sparkly and that was like fireworks.

And when he did, he discovered that his mother had failed to tell him something. Love hurt. It burned and cut and ripped you apart. It was like fireworks, but not the good kind, but the kind that started a murderous fire that spread and ate at your flesh. It was like summer, unbearably hot and sweaty and filled with little bugs that pestered you. It was like Christmas, a lonely, cold Christmas in the chilly snow as you waited for someone who would never come. Love was to be lonely with someone by your side, and love was to be smiling when your heart was torn to pieces.

He shook his head when he realised that he had –once again –been captured by a storm of fleeting and rather depressively poetic thoughts.

He hurriedly gulfed down some ramen whilst trying to memorize the citric acid cycle. His bus had been late; the line at the store gigantic and when he had finally reached home it was already 16.07. Throwing the last of the noodles into his mouth and carelessly tucking the cup in the already full trashcan he gathered his books and stuffed them into his desk-drawer.

Naruto's house was a fairly large structure with two floors and a medium sized garden out front. It was built in western style, since his adoptive father was thoroughly convinced that it would appeal more to a woman's tastes than traditional Japanese. More than once during his childhood had Naruto considered the possibility that the man was barking mad when he explained yet another object or fascination with the comment 'women like it'. Despite the fact that his only goal in life seemed to be intimacy with the opposite sex, Naruto had never disliked Jiraya. He wasn't what you would call a father figure, but he made sure Naruto had somewhere to live, money to eat and way too much porn for his own good. Jiraya himself could very rarely be seen around the house nowadays, since his work –writing slightly suspicious novels –"forced" him to travel in search of inspiration.

The watch in the hall showed 17.48 as Naruto pressed his feet into a pair of worn-out sneakers, grabbed his bag and hurriedly locked the door before taking off in a run down the sidewalk.

He stepped into the elevator and pressed the '5' button. Sasuke's building wasn't new and the buttons in the elevator had parts of the numbers missing, worn off by the thousands of fingers that had pressed them over the years. Still, the elevator was working and it was clean and well-kept. Dark wooden panels covered the lower half of it, replaced by a mirror once it reached the height of Naruto's waist, and the light from the lamp in the ceiling was soft and warm. He viewed himself; dull blue eyes staring back from a tan yet sickly face framed by blonde hair that stuck out awkwardly at the sides after being ruffled by mischievous autumn winds. His thin frame seemed ridiculously small in a big orange hoodie and worn-out jeans that clung desperately to his hips.

The elevator stopped and Naruto stepped out, looking down the familiar hallway. The floor was covered by a brown mat that should have met its maker long ago, yellow lamps kept guard along the creamy walls and a crack in the ceiling seemed ominous to all who had to pass under it.

Hoisting the heavy bag further up on his shoulder he walked down the corridor. The smell in the hall was slightly stale, but too familiar to call forth any dislike. He reached the wooden door. It looked just like every other door in the hall but still, he felt as if he could have recognized this very door anywhere in the world. He knocked once, twice and then did a small pause before kicking the wood lightly with the side of his sneakers. He didn't even know when it had become a custom for him to knock this way, or how. Strangely, he remembered very little of how any of his routines came to be, all he knew was that it was Sasuke who caused them, one way or another.

The door creaked open to reveal smooth pale skin, midnight hair and ever-guarded black orbs. Naruto forced a huge grin and stepped inside, greeting his only friend, lover and family with a falsely happy:

"Hello teme."

Countered with the never changing:

"Hn. Dobe."

He unceremoniously dumped the bag on the floor and went to equally unceremoniously throw himself on the couch.

Sasuke's apartment was small, as could be expected from a university student. The main room was spartan to say the least. The scarce furniture consisted of a desk housing a computer, a telly, the sofa and a kitchenette in the corner right next to the front door. The walls were dark blue and silky white curtains framed the windows. The only decoration in the room was a framed photo of the Uchiha family, taken when Sasuke was eight, that stood on the desk below the windows. A door beside the sofa led off to the raven's bedroom.

The computer was running and Sasuke returned to it, obviously intending to continue his studying. He resumed the music that had without doubt been playing when Naruto knocked on the door and the blonde relaxed as he recognised the piece –Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu –and lay back, closing his eyes. He let his mind wander into the music, following it's every turn and swirling sound.

Naruto handed Sasuke his dinner at the desk and settled for eating on the couch. The music still played –Bach's "air" –and they hadn't said a word since the informal greetings. There was no need. They knew one another to the point where words are just an annoying hindrance; instead they both enjoyed the brief feeling of peace. Sasuke's fingers flew across the computer keyboard, pausing every now and then to guide some carbonara past rosy lips. Naruto had showered and changed into a dark t-shirt and cosy black pants and was tiptoeing around barefoot.

The rain had started falling some time ago and it wet the dark street far below the apartment, pitter-pattering against the old windows. Bach's masterpiece ended and was replaced by the soft beginning of Mozart's symphony no. 40. It was Naruto's favourite piece. It uncovered true feelings in everyday lives. To him, it spoke of happiness and insecurities, being brought down and finding the courage to throw yourself headfirst into the unknown.

Naruto rose from the sofa and let the tones simmer in the air around his body. He held out his arms on his sides and slowly let himself be moved by the gentle tones. He moved swiftly over the floor, twirling along with the increasingly forceful music. Eyes closed, he moved without thinking. His subconscious knew exactly where the furniture stood and where he would find each wall. His feet patted barely made a sound as he continued to spin along with the piece.

He felt Sasuke's arms encircling him from behind. He was drawn close to a warm chest and they continued to move as one. Naruto inhaled deeply, feeling the strong yet subtle scent of Sasuke. He was addicted to the whiff of home that hid inside that scent.

Sasuke softly kissed his neck, nuzzling in blonde hair. Naruto's hands grasped the raven's clasped ones in front of his waist and let out a delicate sound. He felt himself being pulled towards the door to the other room and willingly let himself be led into the room and on to the bed, eyes still closed as the music got further away yet still easily recognizable in the background.

Sasuke went down on him as the piece neared its climax, licking his neck, trailing smooth fingers all over his body. Naruto groaned and let his eyes flutter open to view his lover. He was perfect; in every and any inch he was fucking perfect. Dark hair slightly ruffled and falling down to frame porcelain skin, opal eyes that burned with lust and coloured lips slightly parted. He smiled lovingly at the sight. And then Sasuke kissed him.

The kiss was like baileys; sweet and strong. Sasuke slipped his tongue into Naruto's waiting mouth, softly exploring already known territory. He savoured the salty-sweet taste of the blonde to the finishing tones of Mozart's artistic work.

When Beethoven's moonlight sonata began they parted, drawing a fresh supply of air into lacking lungs. Sasuke whispered words of beauty in his ear as the raven slowly undid their clothing, letting it fall to the floor. Tan hands explored a pale chest before fisting in midnight hair to pull his lover down for another breathless kiss. Sasuke slid his hands up bare thighs, whilst deepening the kiss. He slid his hands across Naruto's stomach tattoo, reaching up to pleasure hardened nipples.

He broke away from kiss-swollen lips to taste one of them, sensually lapping at it. Naruto moaned, pressing upward so their groins contacted. The pale man hissed at the sensation, thrusting downwards in response.

It became a game, an erotic dance to the tones flowing from the other room. Two bodies fitting into one another at every kink and turn, melting in each other's arms. Merging together in a beautiful symphony of flutes and violins. Lips met violently in the middle, wanting nothing more than to become one whole entity.

The moonlight sonata ebbed away in the background and the fierce play continued on its own. Tongues slashed and hands searched, the two bodies pushing towards each other in every possible way.

Sasuke pressed three pale fingers into his mouth –wetting them –before thrusting them inside the tan man beneath him, one by one, widening his insides. Naruto arched as prodding fingers reached his prostate. Sasuke smirked dangerously as the smaller man moaned, pulling out the digits and licking them clean.

Naruto huffed out an insult for good measure and was answered by a soft kiss on the lips as Sasuke forced into him in one move. The blonde vaguely recognized Mozart's symphony no. 25 in the background as his head exploded in pleasure and agony. A sort of unearthly logical reasoning told him that the forceful piece was surprisingly well fit for the activity. It almost felt as though he floated outside his body, watching from above as Sasuke's face rearranged itself into a look of pure pleasure as he started pulling out of the tan body again. He returned to his body the moment the raven drove into him again, hitting his prostate dead on.

Sex with Sasuke wasn't mind-blowing, it wasn't amazing or fantastic: it was divine. A pure godly miracle. He screamed in pleasure as the man rammed into him over and over, Mozart's forceful piece accompanying them in the background. It was nothing like the sweet kisses or the embraced dancing. It was raw, wild and animalistic and Naruto felt his body wrecking with pleasure at every strike.

He couldn't hear the music anymore, nothing existed except for pleasure and burning black orbs above him. He leaned upwards –pressing a wet kiss on his lover's lips –and then the world turned white.

-O-

"He still hasn't recovered then…" Tsunade sighed. It was no question, neither was it a statement. It was a plea for help, for something to do. The silver-haired man twisted in his chair, his eyes downcast as he waited for the blonde woman to answer him.

The woman let out what sounded like a mix between a cough and a sniffle. They sat together in silence. The blonde studied the room around them, unable to hold back the rushing feeling of déjà vu. Many years ago they had been sitting in this very room. The walls were a soft blue colour and the brilliant rays of the autumn sun shone in through large windowpanes draped in silky white hangings. Creamy plush seats and sofas were scattered across the room and fluffy carpets muffled the footsteps of the nurses who passed through on occasion.

This was the place where the doctors spoke to the near and dear of the patients. The news was rarely good. Many years ago, she had been sitting in the very same comfortable armchair and looked over at the very same old man. That time, she had had the worst possible news for him. She sighed and her crispy-white doctors' coat slipped of the knee of her right leg as she crossed it over the other. This time was no better.

"I'm afraid not, Jiraya…" her voice was filled with condolences, from old habit rather the belief that it would comfort the man. He raised his gaze and the unusual occurrence of tears in his eyes shocked her into silence.

"I- I don't understand…" he choked, looking every bit as panicked and confused as Tsunade felt, "will he never be better?"

The blonde closed her eyes. Oh, how she wished she could answer that question truthfully and still give him hope. Her eyes racked over the old writer, thinking about what hell his life must have been. She had been the one to deliver the news of his son's death, in this very room, and the one who crushed all dreams he had left by professionally informing him that the wife had no chance of survival. She had seen him brake, yet pick himself up again to take care of the small bundle his son had left behind.

She had watched them both grow. The boy and his grandpa often came to visit and help out around the hospital. She had seen the little boy scold his perverted guardian and took part in the older man's loving look when the youngster had finally fallen asleep in the waiting room. And she had been happy for them when one day the blonde showed up with a dark-haired companion. Her feelings were close to a mother's pride as she watched the two teenagers interact. She had thought then, that everything would be fine at last, and that they would get the happiness they deserved.

And then one stormy October night, she had watched the blonde boy fall to his knees when she reported that the love of his life was dead.

Jiraya stood, clearly no longer capable of continuing the conversation. He glanced down the hall to his grandsons room, watched the familiar brown carpet, the beige walls and the yellow lamps cradling against the walls. He noted that they still hadn't fixed the crack in the ceiling that threatened to cause an accident at any moment, and he'd had enough of accidents for a lifetime.

He turned and marched the other way, towards the grand entrance of the hospital. Tears slowly running down his face, he walked away followed by the sound of "Vivaldi's autumn" playing through the speakers of the consolation room.

-O-

A/N: IT'S DONE! HALLELUJAH! …it actually came out slightly different than I expected, but whatevs. I'm so totally depressed right now; I sacrificed my precious sleep for this fic and fell asleep in school… Well, I usually do anyway, but still!

Sasuke: I… died?

Me: And I have a test tomorrow…! Bad me! How could I?

Sasuke: Are you… ignoring me?

Me: Also, for once I did NOT listen to the soundtrack to 'sound of music' whilst writing O.O I feel… empty somehow.

Sasuke: You're feeling EMPTY? I FUCKING DIED!

Me: Oh shut up! …whiner…

-O-

Review dear minons! Or little chibi Jiraya will feature you in his next porn-collection.