In hotel rooms collecting page six lovers
o-o-o-o-o
Five hours and fifty-nine minutes left.
He was going to hell. He was going to burn in the eternal fiery flames of doom below. There was no more hope left for him. He'd been pushing it with all his merciless killings that went with his job – being an elite jounin and everything – but this was asking for thirds when the meal placed in front of him didn't even offer seconds. This was what was going to throw him into the pits of hell and this was going to forever banish him from those pearly gates. It didn't matter if he was atheist. After this, he knew he'd be going no where good. With these blatant facts, he should've been at least a bit concerned for his fate, for the fate of his accomplice. He should've been scared at how fast he was signing the pact with the underworld, how his signature was being all too gladly scribbled onto the fringed parchment. Most of all, he should've been responsible.
He found himself not caring in the slightest at the moment.
How could he when the opportunity placed in front of him was so enticing? He'd blame it on the half bottle of sake later. This behavior was all caused by the alcohol that slipped down his throat and fogged his rational reasoning. It was the intoxicating substance that made her eyes sparkle in the dim lighting, that made her smile seem all-too-welcoming. Despite the blissful cloud that hazed his mind, his conscience was still pursuing. This was wrong. Deathly wrong. He was the older one here, but he wasn't trying to stop the uncontrollable ride that they both had been strapped into. He should've been concerned at how fast the clothes were coming off and how sweet her plush lips tasted, especially when she moaned like that.
Five more hours.
But he didn't care. He had five more hours left to deny everything. He had five more hours to blame it all on that half cup of sake. He had five more tantalizing hours to tangle his fingers into her coral locks and not give a damn about what his conscience had to say.
My, she looked lovely tonight. The way her emerald irises glazed over with lust and how her hands reached for him all made him want to squeeze her closer so that the contours of their bodies locked perfectly together. How could something that was so forbidden, so undeniably wrong (blasphemously so), look so beautiful? Her eyes traced his masked face, patiently waiting for him to rip it off, to rip everything off – his clothes, morals and self-control. He couldn't stop the light pants that made his navy mask steam up in his own heat. She sighed with content as she let him zip down her ruby shirt.
Five hours.
It wasn't awkward, even when her bindings unraveled, revealing her lovely, plump assets. All there was, was a questioning gaze held in her jade orbs, wondering is this okay?. He paused, wanting to drink in the picture of her laying peacefully upon his bed, the way her chest moved with her quick breaths, how her self-control was being noticeably stripped away, the way her roseate tresses splayed around her head, hiding the white sheets from view.
It'd only be for one night. That was all that was silently offered, it was all he would take. Roaming hands and lingering touches only went so far, only satiated them both so much... Their selfish, primal desires made the innocent quips and teasing fall away to raw passion and longing. The components were all there – a bad mission, 20 years of pent-up sexual tension, a familiar face, a beautiful smile. He was left to wonder how the time bomb didn't detonate sooner than it had.
His shirt was stripped away along with her skirt and spandex shorts. The pleasant touches and gentle strokes were giving way to possessive nips and musky desire. Her once calm, peaceful face became twisted into an everlasting grimace of want. Her nails shredded his bare back and he knew that a bruise would present itself upon her neck later on. She screamed at him to fuck her, to make the painful throb between her legs go away. He took his time, but still felt himself trembling under his own chipped away self-control.
God didn't show up when He should've and Kakashi was taking things into his own bloodstained hands. His eyesight was failing him and he could no longer see that it was her that lay beneath him, that was groaning in ecstasy with each powerful thrust. The hips that were lolling against his own encouraged him, made him sweat and grunt with unreleased pleasure. It was a matter of need, not want. She wasn't complaining about this evident fact, however.
"You look lonely tonight, sensei. No one should have to drink alone."
Her arms encased him in a binding grip, too tight to breathe in. Her teeth sunk into his shoulder as her orgasm was taking over her senses, but she still had a mind to keep quiet, lest the neighbors hear. He could feel the pain seer across his pale skin, but only clutched onto her small frame tighter in a vice-like grip. The moon outside his window bathed them both in a silver sheen. The sheets upon his bed were tangled around their legs, dampened with their sweat.
"As much as I would love to get hammered, Sakura, I do have an image to keep."
"And just what would that image be?"
She buried her head into the crook of his neck as he finally came, pleasure coming to him in waves that were laced with light regret. Her breath fanned his burning skin and he brought up a hand to cradle her head as the other encircled her waist.
"That I have a grip on self-control, unlike you or Tsunade-sama..."
"Bullshit. Everyone has a weak spot."
Kakashi closed his eye to the accusing glares of the stars peering through his window. The girl that was nuzzling her head deeper into him wasn't an unidentifiable blur any longer. That one sip of sake was to blame for the hot liquid that was falling onto the crook of his neck, for the blood smeared across his ivory sheets. His hand began rubbing small circles upon her back on its own accord.
"Shinobi don't have weak spots."
"But humans do. We've got five more hours to figure out yours, sensei."
Kakashi peeled off his mask and let his naked face bask in the moonlight. He buried his nose into her pastel locks and breathed in her sweet scent of strawberries. He could feel her body shift before her head lay itself upon his chest, right above his heart.
She whispered hoarsely, "Sensei.." before lulling off to sleep somewhere far more pleasant than where Kakashi lay now, feeling dirty and disgusted with himself as the realization of what had just occurred settled into his no longer foggy mind. He stroked her hair lovingly, perhaps apologizing for what he did so willingly. He wished he had someone, anything, to blame.
Three hours and forty-five minutes left.
Kakashi swallowed his guilt as he kissed Sakura's tresses before allowing insomnia to take its rightful place, feeling ridiculously sober.
o-o-o-o-o
A/N: This was a bit hard to write because I'm not a "smutty writer". I've never written a love scene so I noticeably strayed away from blatant terms and actions, which may be the reason why this oneshot is so short.
A little peek into a scenario where Sakura and Kakashi do it. I don't have much to explain, the innuendos and such are all there, but if anyone has any questions regarding the restating of five hours and then three hours, or the constant rambles on self-control and whatnot, then please ask via e-mail.
This wasn't meant to be angst, just a slip of conscience and a look into how hard it is to stray away from forbidden fruit. I am a diehard KakaSaku fan so it was tempting to add a little fluff, but with the dark premise and such, the fluffiness was not appreciated for this oneshot.
Enough rambling. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed. Drop by a review to let me know!
- - H. 92