Author's Note: I didn't really do much to correct my mistakes. I apologise. I'm just too lazy. I hope they're not to cringy. lemme know if they are. If it's to much then I'll force myself to make it manageable.

• • • • • • • • • •

The next morning I woke up with a bad case of morning wood. The strained arousal pressing against my briefs was enough to make me realize exactly how long ago it was I got laid. I let out a frustrated sigh when I think back to the dream I had. Flashes of blonde hair, golden skin and impossibly blue eyes flood my mind. I shudder at the heat rising in my stomach.

I'm a fucking grown man. This shouldn't be happening. I haven't had a wet dream since my somewhat emo phase in junior high when I discovered the magical world of gay porn. Why am I reacting like this to a man I've only met once? I don't even know his name, I realize. Why can't I get that perfect round ass out of my damn head? For fucks sake.

I sit up in my bed and hiss when the action causes friction against my erection. It's even harder now that I was thinking about my dream and I restrain the urge to jerk off. A cold shower should do wonderfully.

I shuffle out of bed, nothing on but my tighter than normal brief, and make my way to the bathroom. I almost stumble a few times from the friction on my arousal mixed with the pain on the side of my ribs. But I managed to get there easily enough.

He got me good, I'll give him that. Something tells me he didn't even try all that hard when he elbowed me. It makes me wonder if the blonde is interested in martial arts. When I'm successful enough to get into his pants, 'cause I'll definitely be successful, maybe I'll ask him to be my new sparing partner. I could imagine it now. I could see us beating the shit out of each other in my private gym, only to end up having hot and sweaty sex in the middle of it all.

I definitely need that ice cold shower now.

When I'm clean, I get dressed and leave the mansion feeling sexually frustrated and ready to kill.

Ino is waiting for me at the entrance of Chidori HQ as she always is. It's become a religious routine for her to escort me to my office, much to my pride wounding shame. I can protect myself from any attacker but it's gotten on my nerves to repeatedly fend off horny women, so I reluctantly let Ino take care of that. She does a great job at it.

When Itachi first hired her for me, I hated her with a bloody passion but as time went by it dwindled away and was replaced with a sort of fondness. She never tried to grope me and never tried to flaunt her womanly breast in my face. Unlike the rest of the woman in my work place, she dresses in professional attire that doesn't overly reveal too much cleavage or skin.

My resentment towards her completely vanished once I discovered she happened to be from the other side of the rainbow as well. One can imagine how delightfully surprised (and maybe slightly disgusted. Don't get me wrong I'm glad, but girls are just ew.) I was when I caught her molesting a short pink haired woman on her desk. I later learned that the lady was her fiance, Sakura.

Even more surprisingly, Sakura was a volunteer at the hospital my mother worked in (Today she is an intern at the hospital having finally finished medical school). She'd been embarrassed and begged for mercy thinking I'd fire her lover for tempting her into such unprofessional acts. Which I would have given it were anyone else. It was hilarious honestly.

They didn't do it again after that but I did often see Sakura when she visits the blonde.

"Hey, Sasuke. You're looking like crap today." I mentally roll my eyes at Ino's blunt statement. Only Ino has the balls to be so straight forward with me. Another reason why I let myself consider the female a close friend.

"How kind of you to point out." I say sarcastically as I accept cup of coffee and paper work she hands me. It's a letter from a neighboring company along with a few business proposals. My mood sours further.

"You don't have much on your schedule for tomorrow. Lucky you. You can be out by noon chasing hot blondes." She says with a knowing smirk. At the mention of my favorite little obsession, the mood I came to work with seems to lighten. Being my only true friend, of course I had to tell her of my encounter with the sexy blonde. She just really gets me, you know?

I smirk as we pause at her desk in front of my office. She shuffles through her filing cabinet and hands me a few more documents. I distinctly remember having more then one meetings scheduled for today. She must have made some rearrangements in order to help me leave early for the festival.

"Thank you, Ino." I say. She winks and settles at her desk. I step into my office and quickly get to work. There's no time to waste.

• • • • • • • • • •

As Ino predicted, I was out by noon and ready to continue my game of Cat and Mouse. After returning home to change into some more casual clothes, I drove straight to the Festival. It took me about half an hour to locate the artist, apparently having chosen a different location today. I didn't approach him right away, however, choosing to admire from a distance. I take refuge in a bench that's a good thirty feet away and simply observe.

It never occurred to me yesterday that the big, very orange sign besides him would have his name on it.

"Naruto Uzumaki." I mumble to myself.

Fishcake?

What kind of ridiculous name is that? Though I must admit, I do quite enjoy eating fishcake. And the name Naruto does roll off my tongue with a delicious taste. Hmm. I'd love to try eating that fishcake.

Oops. Sasuke Jr. is waking up...

I glare down at my growing crotch and will the slight hard on away. Settle down young one. You're time has yet to come. Good boy.

I turn my attention back to Naruto and watch closely. I have to hand it to him, he really is a talented artist. Talent and very diverse actually. Unlike yesterday, he has his own little tent with three tables aligning paper-thin walls. I catch glimpses of the inside as people come and go through the entrance.

The tables neatly display many different kinds of art. Thanks to my impeccable vision, I can see most of them clearly. They're each made in different art styles as well as with different techniques such as pain, pencil, ink or pastel. Honestly, I've never seen such a large variety of art styles made by a single person. Albeit, it's possible that they're not all made by him and that he's helping fellow artists sell as well.

The blonde had a little area set up in front of the tent where he's doing some more portraits for costumers. I noticed the different types of portraits people walk away with. So that provides a bit of proof that, indeed, he made all those artworks by himself. It's incredible really.

People go in and out of the tent, some leave with purchased art, others just looking, and a few lingering around to watch him do his magic. There's a man walking around the tent, tending to the people who come and go. I assume he's helping manage the stand while the artist is busy with his hands.

Before I know it, I was walking towards the displays. He doesn't notice me as I walk past to get to the tables, too caught up on his current commission. I get a good look at his face and notice a smidge of paint on his cheek. I restrain myself from reaching to wiping it off and continue towards the tent.

I move along the tables slowly, admiring every single display until I come to a halt in front of a particular watercolor painting.

I stare.

And stare.

"Hi, I'm Kiba. Do you need any– Whoa man! That looks a crazy lot like you." A voice says besides me. It takes me a few seconds to drag my eyes away from the painting to the brunette standing next to me. His eyes are bright and wide in amazement as they flicker from the painting to me and back again.

Who the fuck gets upside-down triangles tattooed onto their face? And why does it suddenly smell like wet dog?

"Are you one of his models?" He asks.

I blink a few times. "No." I reply and I try not to grimace at the smell out of politeness.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. These where made strictly from Naruto's imagination." He gestures to all the works on the table.

I fix my gaze back on the subject of discussion. It really, really does look like me. The painting is of what looks like a shirtless angel with large black feathered wings. Well, angel of death is more like it, considering how slightly sinister it looks. The wings are splayed out wide and stretch across the long rectangular canvas. He has his slightly muscular back turned – my back is way more muscular than that, by the way – and is glaring over his shoulder with a very seductive and arrogant looking smirk on his pale face. His jet-black hair is in much the same style as mine but it's messy and the spikes look like they are a result of a good night out at a club.

However, it's the eyes that show the least and most resemblance, ironically enough. They are not black like mine. No, they are red and have some kind of symbol in them with three comma-like shapes.

There is something incredibly Uchiha about those glaring eyes. This is, without a doubt, definitely based off of me.

I smirk. So he's been thinking about me, huh? I wonder how he managed to do this whole painting within a day. Though I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. I've seen how quickly he does those full portraits for his costumers. It's incredibly impressive really.

"That's wicked, dude. Not to sound like a pushy salesman or anything, but you should totally buy it. It's literally perfect for nobody but you!" He says, flashing me a toothy grin.

I completely intend to take him up on that but before I can say anything, a familiar voice pulls the brunette's attention from me.

"Hey, Kiba! I ran out of clean canvasses. Do you mind getting a stack from the van?"

We both turn to see the artist walk into the shade of the tent. Our eyes meet and he stops dead in his tracks. A look of surprise flashes across his cerulean eyes. I smirk at him.

Suddenly, he seems to snap out of his shocked state and throws an accusing finger in my direction. "You!" He shouts. "What the fuck are you doing here, Teme!?"

"Don't look so surprised, Blondie." I say and the blush on his face just makes me smirk more.

"Y-you– what–!"

"I thought you said you didn't know him?" Kiba says throwing me a confused glance. God, those triangles are fucking bothering me.

"You only asked of I was his model. Not if I knew him."

"Oh shit, you're right."

"Model? Why would I have that asshole as my model?" Naruto snaps irritated. Some of his earlier anger was replaced with surprise and confusion, but his voice is still laced with a bit of annoyance.

"Because I'm irresistibly attractive?"

"Ha! You wish!" He bites out.

"Still haven't come to terms with your attraction towards me? Tsk tsk tsk." I shake my head in mock disapproval. Honestly, this guy needs help.

"Still haven't pulled your head out of your ass?" He crosses his arms and glares at me. I glare back at the insult.

"Uh... I'm just gonna... go get those canvasses..." I vaguely hear Kiba say but my eyes stay on blue as he leaves the tent.

No one is in the tent but Naruto and I so I use this newfound privacy to my advantage. I take a few steps forward but he backs away. So I take a few more. He let's out a gasp when his back hits the table on the opposite side and I grab the edges, trapping him in place. His eyes widen when I tower over him and I'm glad for the slight hight difference. I lean in close, our noses about an inch apart. Our breaths mingle together and I just barely restrain myself from closing the gap. Oh how much I want to fuck his pink lips with my tongue.

"No, but I can put my head in your ass if you'd like?" I breath out. A dark blush rises from his neck to his ears and I smirk again. My cock twitches in approval but I will it not to harden any further.

"T-this is harassment! I-I can pull a restraining order on you!" He stutters out. He thinks he can get away from me? How cute.

"Hmm. You can always try though don't expect that to keep me away." I say ghosting my lips over his. I slowly move to glide them over his cheeks, his jaw and finally his throat, not touching skin no matter how much I desperately want to taste it. His breath catches in his throat and he slightly tilts his head to the side, while probably not even realizing it.

I let out an amused chuckle at the reaction but regret it immediately when it seems to snap him out of his trance like daze. A fist come flying to my face but I step back and dodge it by a hair. Not this time Blondie. I won't be caught off guard again.

Before I know it there is another fist flying towards my and this time I wasn't so lucky. I wasn't fast enough to take another step back so my hand flew up to try to catch the fist, holding it in place. I was successful but the impact was so great that I swear I heard my wrist crack. I contain a wince, not wanting to show him that it actually inflicted pain.

How can such a small man pack such a powerful punch!? Fuck!

I smirk and Naruto let's out a frustrated growl. Just when I think he's about to throw another punch, I catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye. Not expecting the attack, I don't have time to react at his knee comes into direct contact with my gut. Again.

He lets out a satisfied ",humph!" when I double over in pain and leaves me to support myself against one of the tables.

"That fucking..." I croak out.

Well, this was an interesting turn of events. Yeah, I may or may not have just gotten a sprained wrist. And alright, I most likely have internal bleeding but hey, no pain no gain right? And I'm sure I probably gained something out of today.

I think.

It takes me a moment to regain my composure.

"Here you go Naru– Where'd he go?" Kiba asks as he returns to the tent with a fresh stack of canvasses.

I look at him and the stupid tattoos on his face somehow reminded me of the painting I was looking at earlier. I breath in deeply and hold it for a few seconds. Then I release it and straighten myself. I grab my wallet from my back pocket an pull out a few hundreds as I turn to grab said painting. I slap the cash into Kiba's palm as I push past him, not acknowledging the jolt of pain the action causes in my wrist causes, and leave the tent.

"Wait! This is too much!" I hear him yell but I ignore him and continue to walk – no, I do not have a slight limp – in the opposite direction.

To Be Continued...