Love isn't a thing that you can fall in like a puddle. Do you hear people falling in friendship? No, you don't so why should we make acceptations to this butterfly-effect? Just because it makes us feel special? Love is a choice, not a feeling. You love someone by giving them the highest good you can give them, even if it's leaving them alone to forgetting them. You can feel something people call love too, but true love is caring for the other person and their well-being. So when you say 'making-love' you are actually trying to sweeten the sound of the dirty deed. Sex is purely beast like and never is love filled, because anyone can 'make-love', but to want the best for the other person is love. Do you get it? Ino has understood this concept for many years, exposed to it at an early age from flings and a certain girl, the one who influenced Ino to love her like no other, Sakura Haruno.
She pulled the rubber-band out of my hair. Her fingers fumbling clumsily from the alcoholic beverage she drank earlier, like she was parched, downing shots one after another until I stopped her. She put up resistance at first, but I was persistent and she soon gave up. I wasn't sure how I found her at the eye-sore of a bar but I did, and I offered to walk her home and she told me, with some giggles that she didn't want to go home. She didn't want to be alone, remembering Sasuke and Naruto in her vacant apartment, which was the main reason why she left to drain her emotions away. A nasty habit she had developed secretly behind my back.
Her hands caressed my arms, finding sensitive places that made me squirm. I decided to let her stay at my place, oblivious to the events to come, not wanting her to feel the pain, accompanying me was better than wallowing in self-pity and sadistic humor. I allowed myself to let out a gasp. A smile played across her lips. I wanted her to feel a little better, even if I wasn't into her advancements, but I couldn't help to not feel disappointed. I never wanted to get her into bed, not since my eyes lingered on her eyes longer than any friend's eyes should. Sakura continued to stroke my arms, admiring the fair tone and muscle underneath. She wasn't looking into my eyes; instead she was observing my body. She wanted to be pleasured, not loved. I understood those two different topics clearly. Love and sex were two different things.
She guided me to my bed with eagerness and drunken stupor. Her hand wasn't in my hand, instead coiled around my wrist. She was avoiding the memories of our childhood, instead only wanting to envision how well I could make her body writhe. She called it love, I called it sex. We still were two different people, long ago which were connected.
I lightly flipped her over on the bed while she groaned impatiently. I evaded her straight forward shot to my loose skirt. If I was going to give her what she wants, comfort sex, I would want to have much foreplay. Love doesn't have to be shown physically, but it does soothe my mind and eyes, the soft kisses and light touching.
Once on her back, her casual black tank top riding-up to the curve of her chest, she quickly brought me down on her, kissing me sloppily without hesitating to invite her tongue into her thirsty siege upon my lips. She wanted to go straight to the prize. She didn't want to admire what traits I carried or what I wanted in return. She just wanted to be in blinding bliss, forgetting her problems in this rat race of a life. Only if she knew, that no matter what, at the end of the race, even if you won, you're still just a rat. Nothing changes from that, so why rush? She didn't seem to be conscience of this. The alcohol on her tongue made me want to gag, but the thought of her feeling happy, just for one day, made me hold back the repulsive act. I allowed her to have her way with me, because in the end she'll be happy. I wanted her to be happy. I didn't want to get in her pants. If only she knew that.
Soon she stripped herself in front of my eyes, and tried to release me from the prison of cloth my body dwelled in. But I told her not to. Saying I just wanted to please her, it was her night and not mine. I was being truthful though I didn't have sex on my mind. I had moonlit walks in the park and rose petals raining upon us. I eyed what she wanted, what she offered to me. Her body was a beautiful vanilla color. Every curve on her body was soft and delicate. A scar on her arm caught my eye. I loved it though she whined to me about it, saying it flawed her body. I think it made her more beautiful, but she would never understand what I think.
I trailed my fingers along her soft stomach, tracing her strong abdomen. Within this cage, somewhere deep in her darkest insecurities and secrets, I could feel she still liked me as a friend, even when I called her names, strengthening her emotional barrier, battling her, physically training her body and speaking in riddles, mentally challenging her to see if she knows what I mean. I do everything for her with a good goal in mind. I'll never do something that is for my own selfish benefit with her being discarded or used in anyway.
She lifted her hips, telling me to quicken my pace. She still wanted to feel me inside her. I wonder if I could bring back that feeling of child happiness when we were young. To bring back that love we did share for each other, until she burned that love down to 'love' some boy who will never become a man. She wanted comfort sex, not some relationship, I kept telling myself. How I wanted her to feel what I felt, again, I wanted her to love me like she use to.
I gently slid my fingers into her. She wiggled with harsh breaths; I gave her more pleasure than she thought. I was fully clothed with an un-satisfied frown, doing what she wanted me to. I wasn't happy about it, because she didn't want my love. I was a human and wanted to be loved back like everyone else, but I tried my hardest to put a neutral frown up. I couldn't persuade myself into it. I wanted her to love me, not want me, love me and not need me.
My fingers soon started plunging inside her, faster and harder. I teased my mind into believing if I went deeper within her that I could find her old self. I could find the Sakura who really did love me, but was it love if she threw it away so easily? Was true love actually hidden and easily discarded? Or was she pretending to love me? Everyone was good at pretending, but I still loved her. My pace sped up faster, my fear of her not loving me at all in her life influencing my digits to quickly keep rhythm. I hoped our relationship was a rhythm, at least, because rhythms repeated themselves. Sakura would love me, then she wouldn't, she would love me again and then not. Being loved every now and then was better than no love. I felt her tighten around my fingers, trying to keep me within her. I wasn't running away from her, so why cling to me? Why do you act like I'm leaving? Her voice called out my name, but I didn't acknowledge her cry. It wasn't my name. It was the name of the person who was a one-night-stand, not a friend.
She came right into my very own fingers. I could've felt happy, accomplished or even proud, but I wasn't. I was disgusted with myself. I made her happy, I surely knew that when her toes twitched in pleasure against my clothed belly. I committed something everyone believed was loved and was sick of it. Sakura could believe its love but I wasn't convinced. This was an animal act of reproducing, well should've been if I wasn't a girl. People labeled it love but is love even connected with reproducing? Male deer mate with female deer, many of them, but never sticks with one. Is that making love? Does Sakura really believe that is love?
Sakura's breath began to regain composure. She finally looked me in the eyes with her now sober green ones. Was she finally fully aware of this? Her pink hair glued to her face from her sweat.
"I love you, Ino." She whispered in a false-loving tone. I was sick with it. I could tell she noticed my dissatisfaction. I tried to put up a mask, but couldn't. She hurt me with those beautiful words. Love to her was nothing more than some physical act, like doing laundry or writing.
I didn't reply, instead I placed my cum soaked hand in her mouth. She needed to taste her own love, its bitter sweet taste. She had no right to say I love you when she un-intentionally didn't mean it. She sucked on my fingers erotically. She was savoring her own love, as if tasting to see if it's real. It wasn't real Sakura or it would've tasted heavenly sweet.
She never would understand my love for her. She would never see I didn't approve of her 'love'. We were two separate people that had two different topics. It was the way it would be for a very long time. She fell asleep right after I gave her dose of 'love' and I got out of my bed to sleep on the couch. I didn't want to linger in this room, reminding me of what I just did. I loved her but didn't want to go that far with her. I was upset and tired. I plopped on the couch and allowed myself to fall asleep quickly. She wouldn't love me like I do...
Unexpectedly it was only a year later that I got my love returned, when she gave me a helping hand to brush myself off when I fell into a mud puddle. It was a small but very loving scene. She gave me a thoughtful smiled and waited for me to clean myself. She grabbed and led me off to the park. I fell into a disaster of dirt and water, but somehow it created love in the after-effect.
Interestingly I am ok with that.
A/N:
Hmmm another one-shot. It isn't that long like my other ones but I liked it. Reviews are loved. It was edited lightly due to suggestion in Review ;D
I got the title from a guy who came to our school, talking about love and sex. He touched me with his talk and he has a book called Don't Take Love Laying Down. I wanted to use the title because it is so very true. If you have extra money, like deep opinion books then buy this book! You would be surprised how forward and mind changing he is with his words. Trust me, it isn't that stupid father or mother sounding voice but a very persuasive voice that can capture young readers and old ones as well!