An Epilogue for Sasuke

It's morning, but the sun doesn't shine as brightly as him.

He is light. He is sunshine. He is colour more fiery than any your eyes can see; he is gold and red and orange and deep, ocean blue. His laughter – his laughter – hits you so deep in your soul that you're sure your past lives can feel the vibrations. You can imagine them looking towards the ground, wondering if the earth just moved: and it did. The continents shifted because he smiled. The tides change as he breathes; his shifting moods change the weather. He is the north; you can feel the iron in your blood being pulled towards him.

No amount of closeness will tame him. You make love to him, and the beast in his heart howls against your throat. He could tear away the delicate skin at your wrist just as easily as he can kiss it. His hands, callouses and veins, scars whiter than snow and fingernails cracked with blood; they could break you.

He holds your heart in those hands and you let him. He is strong enough to shatter mountains but you let him hold the most delicate part of you. He is a sage, a king amongst men: but he is not a saint. His godliness is in his ability to love, and so you let him hold you, and your frantic heart.

Your fingers search his skin, trembling through his hair like wind through high branches. Strands of gold tangle around your fingers, forming rings that slip away as he leans into your lips. He tastes like summer, smoke and sunshine dancing on your tongue. His stomach is granite; the muscles beneath his skin coil and uncoil as he moves against you. You imagine that he is a sculpture wrapped in satin. He bites you with animal passion and you love him.

He calls your name and you love him even more.

Your body shifts against his body; he is within you and your oneness is intoxicating. Your mind is filled with him, the sensation of his lips upon yours almost as thrilling as the touch of his hands as they hunt for pleasure lower…and lower.

It's morning, but his eyes are bluer than the sky in the depth of winter. He is the sun, and his warmth chases the frost away from the shadows in your heart. Your body moves above his body and he is beautiful. He calls your name again and you love him. He says he loves you, and it makes you love him even more.

Scars cross his body in patterns of pain, and you find yourself touching them. He smiles against the sadness in his eyes as he caresses the crease between your eyebrows. He pulls you towards him and kisses away your frown. "I'm okay," He whispers. "I'm okay."

He whispers away your sadness and you love him. You kiss his old wounds, trying to pull out the hurt that clings to his heart. But his demons have their claws dug deep into his soul, and he smiles as if he understands how hard it is to exorcise the darkness within him. Of course he does: he found his demons trying to free you from yours.

And so you make love to him, hoping that this brief moment of oneness can make up for the years of agony. Wondering if a lifetime will be long enough to try and heal the pain you have wrought. Knowing he would never ask you to, never accuse you of causing his pain. But still you make love to him; his hands on your hips as you rock above him like a ship out at sea. His breath is shaking, his face flushed with pleasure as he writhes beneath you. His hair is a mess of gold against the sheets as he cries out. Flames erupt like goosebumps across his skin, so you hold him tighter between your thighs. His fingers are bruising and his body is shaking as he calls your name. Blue eyes flashing, his body arches up into his orgasm.

And he pulls you with him.

It's morning, but time stops existing within his arms.

It's morning, and you love him.

A/N: A sneaky little somethin' I had hanging around in my draft folder. Never found its way into the story because the writing style is a little, um, different. Hope you guys enjoy it!