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Obito was never the one to leave things to his imagination. He much preferred having the physical attribute for almost everything that he craved in his life.
Life was too fragile not to live it out, he reasoned. Especially now, when he's at his prime—now that he could do anything and everything he wanted; now that the dawn of the Infinite Tsukoyomi drew near.
He won't regret anything anymore. Nobody will get hurt anymore.
But there was something he can't quite reach—something carved deep into his heart that he could never bring back, no matter what measures he was readying himself to go through.
Soft b rown hair. Enchanting black eyes. Purple markings on rosy cheeks. A glimmering smile playing about pink lips.
So, Obito opted for the next best thing he could get.
"Ne, ne, Photographer-san," Obito breathed against the other man's neck, reveling in the shiver that shook the entirety of the smaller man's body. He licked a wet, hot stripe on the pearly white skin already peppered with fresh purplish marks and angry red bites. "You haven't told me your name yet."
Fingers soon found their way through Obito's locks, grasping and threading themselves desperately and greedily as the brown-haired man arched his neck sidewards—an offering Obito gladly thanked with another bite. One of the man's hands dared to feel blindly for the hem of Obito's shirt, and with a low growl, Obito caught it by the wrist and slammed it at the empty space on top of the man's head.
"Sukea," the man managed to reply in shaky breaths, gasping when Obito's other hand took their well-earned revenge as they slid underneath Sukea's baggy clothes and spread wildfire across the man's chest. Gloved fingers teased and twisted one of the hardening buds on Sukea's chest, while the other hand ventured downwards to rest at the man's hip and grip it hard enough to bruise.
The man hissed—in pain or pleasure Obito didn't care enough to know, but the breathless whine is more than enough to make the aching, smoldering need in him grow. The brunet under him bucked his hips forward, desperate for more friction. Obito groaned at the contact, and if he had just a little less control over himself, he would've torn the man's clothes right off and ravaged him then and there.
Normally he already would have. Obito didn't usually have the patience for anything like this. But he wouldn't, not right now. No, he wants to take his time, to relish every sensation.
He wants to see.
Obito backed away slightly, just enough for the sight he so desperately craved to be revealed to him. His uncovered eye raked over Sukea's body, hungrily taking in every inch the image presented to him, of the man spread willingly beneath him, all for him to devour; curly light brown hair, glassy onyx eyes, smeared violet paint, and a pair of swollen lips. His eye darted to Sukea's throat as the smaller man—flushed and panting—gulped beneath him, looking up at Obito through half-lidded eyes blown wide by lust, all traces of wariness and frustration overridden by want.
Somewhere deep in his muddled mind treacherously whispered it will never be her. He found himself chuckling despite the lingering ache in his chest. It's a deep, bitter sound.
"Nice to meet you, Sukea-kun," Obito purred, before leaning in and catching Sukea's earlobe by his teeth.