[The memory that seizes his mind, in its disorientation, allows Laurent advantage enough to strike. His cheek glows a wet stinging red. Barely has he had time to process what he's seen, the loneliness and violation, such that only a sick weight in his gut lives to tell of it as he's trapped against the pool edge. Then Laurent is there, too close, almost in contact with the front of his bare body — hand snarled into black hair, warm breath fanning skin, words drawling in volatile expression of rage. Sasuke's pulse jumps, and it is attraction he can sense in himself because he's felt this before even if he dismissed it away. Violence is second nature, learned well, the only expression of physicality he was ever allowed or ever taught. And Laurent has colored it with thick brushstrokes of desire as he's never known.
He can't possibly imagine it — Naruto as Laurent, Laurent as Naruto — but the blond hair, satin tone, blue eyes...
His own reaction is physical too, shoving Laurent away from him with only his right arm in a powerful surge that may knock him off his feet into the pool. But he chases, grappling for Laurent, uncaring of the slippery collision of limbs as he tries to get that same arm around him, tries to wrestle him into submission with his whole body, legs and arm and the solid bulk of muscle everywhere else. It isn't overtly sexual, he does not try to kiss or touch Laurent in the way a lover would; he doesn't know how. Yet it's desperately bent on the hinge of what he's just seen and what Laurent has just said.
Water splashes the marble walls of the pool in waves. Then it stops, and another memory seizes them both, grainy and abrupt: a young boy so much like Laurent, but dark-eyed and dark-headed, witnessing the death of his parents at the hand of his brother. Screaming hysterically, begging until there's nothing but blood and two bodies on the ground. Then, running to escape the pursuit of that brother, stumbling over tiny feet, pathetic and weak and barely able to breathe through fear. The panic and disorientation that eclipsed into darkness at such a betrayal, knowing that it was not just his parents but every person with the name Uchiha.
Out of the haze, he surfaces in the tangle of Laurent's limbs — there is long, wet, blond hair plastered across his shoulders and face. He extracts himself and reaches for the edge of the pool, trying to climb out but slipping on the marble one-handed and falling back into cold water.]
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He can't possibly imagine it — Naruto as Laurent, Laurent as Naruto — but the blond hair, satin tone, blue eyes...
His own reaction is physical too, shoving Laurent away from him with only his right arm in a powerful surge that may knock him off his feet into the pool. But he chases, grappling for Laurent, uncaring of the slippery collision of limbs as he tries to get that same arm around him, tries to wrestle him into submission with his whole body, legs and arm and the solid bulk of muscle everywhere else. It isn't overtly sexual, he does not try to kiss or touch Laurent in the way a lover would; he doesn't know how. Yet it's desperately bent on the hinge of what he's just seen and what Laurent has just said.
Water splashes the marble walls of the pool in waves. Then it stops, and another memory seizes them both, grainy and abrupt: a young boy so much like Laurent, but dark-eyed and dark-headed, witnessing the death of his parents at the hand of his brother. Screaming hysterically, begging until there's nothing but blood and two bodies on the ground. Then, running to escape the pursuit of that brother, stumbling over tiny feet, pathetic and weak and barely able to breathe through fear. The panic and disorientation that eclipsed into darkness at such a betrayal, knowing that it was not just his parents but every person with the name Uchiha.
Out of the haze, he surfaces in the tangle of Laurent's limbs — there is long, wet, blond hair plastered across his shoulders and face. He extracts himself and reaches for the edge of the pool, trying to climb out but slipping on the marble one-handed and falling back into cold water.]