Author's Note: Ugggh. I've been sitting in the back seat of a car for an undesired six hours, and am currently struggling with motion sickness. Someone stab me, now. My mind is so sick that I had actually written this... this... whatever it is. SasuxSaku. Implied SasuxNaru and NaruxSaku. I blame fizzy drinks, motion sickness and Snow Patrol. Guh.
Mature content. My very first. Gosh, I'm proud (note the sarcasm)
Lie
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Hot tears streamed down her rosy cheeks; but instead of brushing them aside as one is usually prone to do, the young lady with powder-pink hair and seafoam-green eyes merely squeezes her eyes shut tighter; breathing in his steamy breath and pressing closer against him whenever he initiated the appropriate contact.
His tongue roamed her mouth. His lips were moist; soft against her own. He smelled of rain and sandalwood. His every touch was unimaginably smooth – fluid; just as he ought to be. Just as she had, for so long, dreamt he would be. He was perfect. Perfect.
...yet...
...why was she crying?
"Sakura?" his monotonous voice greeted her tears once they finally broke apart for air. Ebony eyes pierced through the said 'Sakura's' delicate form. "If this isn't working-?"
"No," stated the twenty-something-year-old, simply, breaking his sentence. Quickly, she wiped her eyes; straining herself to meet his own emotionless ones. Her smile was shaky and false – they both knew it. "I... I want it... this way."
The Uchiha nodded, understanding thoroughly as he motioned to embrace her once again. Closing her eyes gently. Bringing her lips up to meet his own. Tracing her frown with his expert tongue. Easing her mouth open. Dragging himself steadily forward. Delicately pressing her against his chest. Running his liquid fingers through her long pink hair.
Everything...
Everything about him... about her... and they both knew this...
-was a lie.
And they did not deny this as, carefully, fragments of clothing were soon falling to the floor. Did not deny this as, gently, naked bodies were grazing against one another – applying the required force; receiving the correct amount of heat.
No passion had been exchanged that night. No happiness. No emotion, whatsoever.
What they were doing – they both knew – was wrong.
Nonetheless;
It had kept them from the one thing that hurt the most.
Kept them from pain.
Kept them from him.
...And that, alone, was enough reason for them to continue.
Sequel, anyone? (flame here)