Naruto woke to the aftermath: sheets twisted and damp, the air thick with the scent of sweat, salt, and something raw and mineral that clung to his skin. Sasuke's arm draped heavy over his waist, anchoring him in place. Their legs tangled so thoroughly that, for a bleary moment, Naruto couldn't tell which bruises belonged to which body, or where he ended and the other began. The September sun, indecently cheerful, was already high enough to slice through the window and paint the bed in a riot of pale gold. Naruto blinked, vision blurry, and for the first time in months, didn't immediately scramble to remember what day it was or whether he'd missed a dose.
He turned his head, expecting Sasuke's face to be slack and cold in sleep, but found dark eyes already awake, fixed on him with a stare that bordered on predatory. The look sent heat racing up Naruto's neck, but beneath the old embarrassment was something new—a sharp, fluttering anticipation, the sense of standing on the edge of something about to shift underfoot.
Naruto cleared his throat, the sound rusty in the stillness. "Did you even sleep?"
Sasuke's eyes narrowed the barest fraction. "Not really." He didn't bother to move, or even pretend he'd been dozing. His hand tightened, fingers splaying over the curve of Naruto's hip like he was staking a claim.
Naruto's heart performed a complicated triple axel. Most mornings, he would have bolted by now—made a noisy show of rolling out of bed, of picking lint from his hoodie or hurling himself into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, anything to break the spell of intimacy. Today, he just laid there. Let the silence stretch, both of them measuring the distance between this moment and the mess of the night before. The ache in Naruto's body—deep in the bone, a dull echo of being filled and claimed—should have stung with shame, but instead it hummed with a strange satisfaction, as if the space inside him had finally been put to good use.
He was the one who moved first, turning so he was face-to-face with Sasuke, close enough to feel the Alpha's breath on his lips. He hesitated, a thousand possible words queueing up and then dissolving, before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of Sasuke's mouth.
The effect was immediate. Sasuke's whole body stilled, then coiled; the tension in his arm turned urgent, not constricting but insistent. He kissed back, slower and softer than last night's violence, and in the slow grind of mouths and the gentle brush of tongue was a clear question: Are we really doing this?
Naruto responded by nipping Sasuke's lower lip, then muttering against his mouth, "We are gonna be late for class."
Sasuke huffed—a tiny, incredulous sound—before he pulled Naruto closer so their bodies were flush. "Then I guess we should get up," he said, but made no move to release his grip.
Naruto, emboldened by the lack of resistance, smirked into the next kiss. "I gotta shower," he murmured. Then, daring, "You coming with, or are you going to sulk in here like a vampire?"
Sasuke's answering smile was slow and predatory. "You couldn't get clean on your own if you tried."
It was a dare, not a question. They untangled and padded toward the bathroom, both of them too sore and sleep-mussed for modesty. Naruto flipped on the light and the vent fan in one go, then twisted the shower to as hot as he could stand. When the fog started to bead on the mirror, he stepped in and let the water hammer against his shoulders, hissing at the first contact with the sting of bruises and hickeys.
Sasuke joined him before he'd even finished soaking his hair. The Alpha's hands found his hips in the steam, yanking him back so his body was pressed to Sasuke's hard chest, and for a moment Naruto thought this was going to be a repeat of last night—rough, needy, no time for words or care. Instead, Sasuke just pinned him there, breathing against the side of his neck, the heat of his cock pressed between Naruto's thighs but not yet demanding entrance.
The surprise was almost more arousing than the touch itself.
Naruto's brain skittered through a million jokes but landed on nothing. He leaned his head back, exposing his throat, inviting the bite he knew Sasuke was thinking about. "You're gonna leave a mark."
Sasuke did not rise to the bait. "Good," he murmured, and instead of biting, he ran his lips along the wet skin, tasting the water and the sweat and the fading ghost of last night's violence.
When they finally started to move again, Sasuke soaped Naruto's body with slow, methodical care, as if he was intent on memorizing every scar and ridge of muscle. Naruto tried to take the soap and do it himself, but Sasuke just batted his hands away, wordless and efficient. When he got to Naruto's ass, he squeezed, almost hard enough to bruise, then massaged the soreness away with surprising gentleness. Naruto made a show of rolling his eyes, but didn't pull away. He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable pressure—Sasuke's cock against his entrance—but instead, the Alpha just held him there, one palm flat against his stomach, the other at the small of his back, breathing him in.
Naruto's own cock twitched, not quite awake but eager, and Sasuke's hands didn't ignore it. He stroked Naruto to hardness, fingers slick with soap, until the Omega was gasping into the tile, head spinning with need. When Sasuke did finally push into him, it was with a deliberateness that bordered on reverence. He didn't fuck, he filled—slow, grinding movements, the heat of it amplified by the scalding water and the impossibly intimate angle.
Naruto clawed at the wall, toes curling against the slippery floor, every nerve ending tuned to the place where their bodies joined. It was different this time—not possession, but belonging. Not a contest, but an answer.
When he came, he choked Sasuke's name into the mist, and Sasuke didn't stop—he kept moving, kept holding him together until the Alpha's own orgasm hit, and the two of them slumped together, shaking and spent.
After, Sasuke insisted on washing his hair—running his fingers through the tangled blond, working shampoo down to the scalp, then tilting Naruto's head back and rinsing with such care that for a second, Naruto forgot the world outside the shower even existed.
By the time they dried off and dressed—Naruto in a wrinkled tee and Sasuke in the clean, black-on-black layers that seemed genetically coded into him—they were almost late. Naruto grabbed his bag, crammed an extra suppressant packet into his pocket just in case, and shoved his feet into sneakers while Sasuke watched, amused.
In the hallway, Sasuke reached for Naruto's hand. He did it with the casual confidence of someone who had always gotten what he wanted, fingers wrapping around Naruto's with absolute certainty.
They reached the quad, sunlight blinding and hot, and every group of students they passed turned to look. There was whispering, some not even bothering to hide it, but Sasuke's posture—tall, indifferent, unbothered—dared anyone to say something out loud. Naruto walked a step behind, half-expecting a shoe or a slur, but the campus seemed to bend around them, the space ahead clearing in silent acknowledgment of what had shifted.
They slipped into the science building just as the warning bell rang, hurrying down the corridor toward Orochimaru's classroom. Naruto's stomach knotted at the thought of facing the professor—the same twisting dread he felt every session, which was precisely why he couldn't afford to miss a single one. As they entered, he braced himself for Sasuke to release his hand and claim his usual front-row territory. Instead, the Alpha tightened his grip and steered them directly to the beta section where Kiba always saved Naruto a seat, pulling him down onto the chair beside his own.
Heads turned, and not just the usual furtive glances. Even the stoic girl with the blue scarf two rows ahead risked a double-take, eyebrows arching as she noted the way Sasuke's knee grazed Naruto's under the table. A trio of Alphas at the front made a production of it—one outright twisted around to gawk, the others doing the calculation in their heads, trying to decide if this was a power play or a sign of Uchiha collapse. Naruto felt every ounce of attention like it was a weight tied to his chest.
Kiba dropped into the next seat over with his usual abandon, chair legs screeching against the tile. He looked from Sasuke to Naruto and back again, then flashed a canine grin. "It's about time," he stage-whispered, loud enough for a whole radius of students to hear.
Naruto nearly choked on his own tongue. "What—shut up, Kiba."
Kiba just leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head, the picture of self-satisfaction. "You owe me five bucks," he said, aiming the comment at the girl in the blue scarf, who flipped him off without missing a beat.
Naruto slid down in his seat, wishing he could melt through the floor. Sasuke, meanwhile, sat perfectly upright, gaze locked on the front of the room, as if daring anyone to challenge his right to sit where he pleased.
The start of class was delayed—Orochimaru nowhere to be seen. Whispers swelled, full of speculation and a nervous energy that fed on the professor's reputation for unpredictability. Minutes ticked by. Naruto could feel Kiba's foot jiggling against the leg of his chair, a nervous habit that always came out when things felt off.
At 8:10, the door at the back of the classroom swung open with a sound like a pistol crack. In strode a man Naruto had never seen before—tall, gaunt, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked expensive and funereal. His hair was slicked back, and his glasses caught the light with a predatory glint.
He strode to the front with the assurance of someone who belonged there, picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote in tall, looping script: "PROF. HOKUTO (substitute)." Then he set down the chalk and addressed the class.
The chalk scraped as he underlined his name twice. "Professor Orochimaru has taken a temporary leave of absence," he announced, each syllable falling like a dead weight into the silent classroom. "I will be evaluating all coursework until his return." He adjusted his glasses with one finger, light glinting off the lenses. "Questions are discouraged."
He waited exactly one heartbeat, then continued, "Turn to page two-seventy-three. Lecture begins now."
Naruto glanced at Sasuke, who was already narrowing his eyes, lips pressed into a razor-thin line. Kiba leaned over and, under the pretense of fishing something out of his backpack, covertly unlocked his phone and started tapping furiously into the group chat.
Naruto's phone buzzed in his pocket a second later. He thumbed it open under the desk.
KIBA: Orochimaru out all week, got a weird sub. Feels off. U seeing this?
GAARA: Not in your section. But Temari can check staff logs. Will report.
KIBA: This guy gives me the creeps. Bet he drinks raw eggs for fun.
Naruto risked a glance at the front. The substitute was already barreling through the day's topic, a monotone recitation of genetic drift and the emergence of rare phenotypes. He neither looked at the class nor allowed for questions—he simply lectured, steamrolling through concepts at a pace even Sasuke would struggle to keep up with.
KIBA: New guy might be a plant. Will update after class. PS: Naruto and Uchiha sitting together is a big fucking deal, in case you missed it.
GAARA: Noted. Good luck.
The substitute droned on, and the class fell into a sullen silence, everyone just waiting for the bell to ring. Naruto spent the rest of the period with his leg pressed against Sasuke's under the table, not letting go, like they were both waiting for something to go terribly wrong.
At the end of the hour, the sub snapped the textbook shut and said, "Dismissed," with the finality of a guillotine blade. Kiba was on his feet in an instant, phone already out, and Naruto and Sasuke followed him into the hallway, neither eager to be left alone in that room with the lingering smell of chalk and cologne.
As they stepped into the corridor, Naruto's phone vibrated again.
GAARA: Temari says Orochimaru's file is flagged "administrative leave." No details. We're on it.
Sasuke placed a hand on Naruto's shoulder—an uncharacteristically gentle gesture, but one that sent a wave of calm through the Omega's tense frame.
Kiba checked his phone, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Gotta run, math midterm. If I see anything weird, I'll blow up the group chat." He fixed Naruto with a look. "Don't do anything stupid without me, okay?"
Naruto mustered a lopsided grin. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Kiba jogged off, leaving Naruto and Sasuke alone in the alcove, surrounded by the muffled thrum of campus life.
Naruto sighed. "So… now what?"
Sasuke's lips quirked. "Now we eat. Unless you want to pass out halfway through your next class."
Naruto opened his mouth to argue, but his stomach rumbled audibly, undercutting any pride he might have had. Sasuke guided him to the nearest cafeteria, where they found a half-empty table by the window. The sunlight caught in Naruto's hair, turning the mess of blond into a halo, and for a moment, Sasuke just watched him—saw the exhaustion, the anxiety, but also the stubborn lightness that had survived everything thrown at him.
They ate in companionable silence, the clatter of trays and hum of conversation a backdrop to the low current of anticipation that connected them. Sasuke brushed his fingers against Naruto's every so often—never enough to attract notice, but always enough to remind him he wasn't alone.
Naruto pushed his ramen around with his chopsticks, then glanced up at Sasuke through his lashes. "Should we be worried?" he asked, voice dropping low enough that only Sasuke could hear it. His knee bounced under the table. "About Orochimaru disappearing. About that creepy sub."
Sasuke's eyes flickered to the window, then back to Naruto's worried face. "Probably," he said, voice low enough that only Naruto could hear. His fingers brushed against Naruto's wrist. "But there's no point worrying until we know what to worry about."
Naruto relaxed into the touch, letting the warmth from Sasuke's skin chase away the last of the morning's chills. For a while, nothing needed to be said. They just watched the world outside the window, people coming and going, lives intersecting at random.
Naruto's phone buzzed.
GAARA: Meeting at library, six o'clock. Hideout, no guests. Temari's got news.
KIBA: Bet it's about the sub. He's definitely part lizard.
Naruto snorted, then showed the message to Sasuke. "Looks like we're back on the case."
Sasuke nodded, the edge of a smile breaking through. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
They finished eating, then walked together through the quad—this time with their hands brushing in the open, no need to pretend. Sasuke didn't let anyone's stares rattle him. Naruto found he didn't mind anymore, either.
Six o'clock would bring another round of secrets, conspiracies, and maybe danger. But for now, the day belonged to them, and to the possibility that, together, they might actually have a chance.
When they reached Naruto's next class, Sasuke stopped and pulled Naruto in for a quick, unapologetic kiss. A few passersby stared, but nobody said a word. Sasuke's eyes shone with something steady and fierce.
"We'll figure it out," he promised.
Naruto nodded, hope blooming stubborn and bright in his chest. "Yeah," he said, and meant it.