First Kiss
DISCLAIMER: DONT OWN IT.
WARNINGS: NONE.
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..: Dedicated to Melitza :..
Here's some SasuSaku for ya'. Enjoy.
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Breathless and smiling widely, they don't feel the impact their bodies make on the soft sand. The taller, and admittedly darker, of the pair lands gracefully on his back, rolling backward slightly as he straightens his curved spine.
They land in a tangle of limbs that neither seems to know how to extricate themselves from.
It is dark already. There is a cool northerly breeze from just off the ocean.
Her eyes glint in the darkness. His are hard to find.
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She is the first to touch. Curious, she strokes his cheek with tentative fingers- brushing dark locks from his aristocratic features. She is greedy in observation, allowing herself the full luxury of memorizing each fine line and detail of him.
He is second, and more discreet in his consideration of her. His eyes, already lost in the inky blue of the beach, trace her features with such a careful finality that it is hard to tell if he will ever allow himself to set eyes upon her again. But he is quick, his focus flicking from her luminous green orbs, to her fine cheek bones, to her soft lips blooming wetly in the dark.
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She shifts atop him, stretching her legs and saddling herself at his waist, propping herself up with one arm. The other arm is employed gainfully.
She traces his face in the darkness.
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He, on the other hand, is less inclined to satisfy his own curiosity. His hands steady her hips, coming there in confusion as he realizes he can find no better use for them.
In this, he is awkward.
In other respects, he is the more graceful of the pair... but here, in this darkness, with the sounds of their heavy breathing ringing in his ears, he feels useless and unprepared.
The gravity of the moment is too much for him.
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The ocean is still, sloshing against the shore with reluctance. He feels her touch, but exists less in the moment, and more in the space. He feels the movements of the water, the frigid rush of the wind, the salt hanging heavily in the air.
She is warm and he leans into her touch.
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"Sasuke-kun?," she murmurs.
"Hm."
"Are you comfortable?"
He is shocked at her words and his feeling of dissociation grows with every moment his answer is not forthcoming.
Witty responses fly through his head, each dismissed as soon as their conception. He settles for:
"Hn."
She pulls slightly away, perhaps alarmed at his emotional distancing, even in these close quarters.
"Sasuke-," she begins to choke out and he realizes that she is as afraid, if not more so, than he is. His breath catches in his throat. Why is she pulling away?
"I want-," he starts, desperate to stop her retreat, but cannot finish. There is not enough air for him to voice all that he wants from her, not enough time, not enough energy left in him. "I want-"
He still cannot verbalize. He takes her hand instead, and, in a moment of uncharacteristic sensitivity, presses it urgently to the pulse beating away below his jaw. His hands press hers into cupping his face.
"I can't-," he manages.
Her legs are hooked around his waist and it is as though he can't find where she starts and he ends. He looks for the junction where they meet and can't find it. When had they become so inexplicably intertwined? He is frightened and wants to extinguish this alarm. He wants to be the cool, elegant lover Sakura surely expects him to be.
He finds himself lacking and, in his frustration, begins to pull away just as her lips crash down on his own.
Goosebumps race across his skin and he shifts uncomfortably. He dissociates himself from the situation and finds her further away than he had previously thought. She is floating, it seems to him. Floating out in the velvet black of the sky above. There is a flurry of stars above them, none of which provide much light. Sakura seems too far for him to reach, but too close to actually be among the celestial bodies.
His eyes are open, hers are squeezed shut. He is suddenly aware of the tensing of all of her muscles. Her thighs have clamped around his waist. He breathes out through his nose and his eyes slide shut.
He pulls away slightly and then crashes his lips on hers again. His hands, of their own accord, find their places: one cradling the back of her head, slipping through the wind tousled locks of carnation-pink hair, the other pressed gently on her lower back. He slips his hand under her shirt and finds the heated surface of her skin.
She smiles against him and shivers at the coolness of his skin, glad that he is taking advantage of the warmth she has to offer. He simply presses her closer.
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In the aftermath there is no awkwardness. When they straighten up and brush the sand off their clothing, she takes a hold of his arm and grips it lightly. She rests her head against him. He stares straight ahead and when she predictably stumbles, he helps he regain her sense of balance.
At the camp, their fire burns merrily. Kakashi sits reading. Naruto, mistaking Sakura's sleeping bag for his own, has curled up nearby and is fast asleep. Sasuke sits by the fire.
Sakura walks a few feet away from the camp and lies in the sand, gazing dazedly up into the night sky, her pulse still humming and her heart beating heavily in her chest. Every thump of the clenching lump of muscle seems to echo through her entire body. She feels she is a vibrating heap of flesh and nothing more. She lets her mind become blank.
Her eyes, of their own accord, slide shut.
She is almost asleep when she feels the vibrations of Sasuke's approaching footsteps. He is unaware that she is still awake. He sits next to her.
His hand reaches out and touches hers as it rests on her stomach.
She falls asleep.
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Even in the inky blackness of the lightless beach, her pale skin stands out in sharp relief. He is fading into the background, fading into the space- and glad that she's so bright. Her visage has anchored him here.
He'll have no trouble finding his way back to her again and again.