Chapter One:
It was a job. That was it. It was a job that paid nice too. He was damn good, with that nice paying job. But the only reason why he probably got the job was because of his –quote: "adorable looks and rare red hair". It was all they ever talked about. It was bad enough that his hair with all its bright fiery redness was talked about all over the village. It was bad enough that his sister pushed it as far as to calling him Red Hood. It was bad enough when the village started to call him Red Hood. Or when his sister's specially hand made him a girly bright red hooded cape to match his bright red hair.
It became even far worse when he started to adore the handmade hooded cape and wore it all the time along with the embarrassing name of "Red Hood".
But once he received that nice paying job, there was another name to add to his title. His job was to deliver. He never expected it to go any further. It was just a job to help with the bills. But when you are a delivery boy (or girl), you are called a 'rider' and your occupation is 'riding'. Hence his added name Red Riding Hood. Though he'd still just prefer his accurate name, Gaara.
Though, he had to draw the line when they all called him little. He was quiet aware of how short he was, but to add it to the name of Red Riding Hood made it sick. He couldn't wait until he achieved his greatest goal . . . to grow at least two feet over night. Then announce just how 'little' he was. Ha.
Along with the title and clothing, came the name-calling he received. Even though he was prideful of his persona's malevolence he couldn't help but admire the gratifying names that were thrown at him. When the men would stare and whisper, while the women smiled and praise his work politely. Deep inside he came to love the admiration of his natural feminine look. When he would ride his treats placed in the lame colored basket to a customer, he couldn't help, but give a small smile in amusement to know that his alluring appearance was striking to the individuals on the streets. That with the help of Temari's embarrassing ideas put into costume, Gaara knew that he was sexy and couldn't wait to show it off. It not only assisted Gaara in his work, but also facilitated in Temari's clothing business. Leaving Kankuro satisfied in the relief of not working.
After his small slender hand would knock softly on the door Gaara would then wait patiently for a response. When the door would click open the customer's face always seem to light up at the sight of Gaara dressed in the signature silky red hood. Not only did this make Gaara feel tranquil, but also the sense of liberation follow it behind in significance that he was now in good terms with the village, and the people have appear to forgotten the occurrence which happen so long ago.
"Good evening Red Riding Hood." Gaara smiled diminutive at the nickname. The woman was his daily customer he liked to visit her, mostly because she invited him in for a break off of a days work for a cup of tea, a slice of treats, and a chat. "Here to deliver?"
Gaara nodded timidly as he held up the basket that accommodates the treats inside. "It's from your sister." He said, the old woman smiled when she obtained the small basket, "would you like to come in for a stopover?" Her voice was always so sickly sweet.
"I do believe I have time." Gaara answered. The woman smiled bigger, the wrinkles on her face tightening. She then retreated inside the house taking the treats with her. Gaara removed his long boots from his feet and stepped quietly inside the large house softly closing the door behind him. He breathed in. He liked the smell of old people, particularly this one. The place smelt of Old Spice, Gaara remembered that the woman purposely spayed the smell in memory of her dear husband. He liked that smell as well. Kankuro didn't seem to mind the smell himself when he would apply the fragrance to his underarms to rid of his reeking body odor.
The interior was all-antique in its classic way. The old faded pink flora wallpaper, cornered grandfather clock, and plastic covered couches to extinguish the stains and multiple animal hairs. The typical elderly house, but this had its polished title floors and carved oak tables everywhere free from dust and cup stains. Gaara untied his crimson hooded shall and hung it on the displayed coat hanger next to the door. He walked through the carpeted living room to the sophisticated kitchen to find the old woman slicing the breaded sweet treats that were delivered. The elegant framed teapot resting on the stove panel just barely starting to sweat. Gaara sat at the white dining table, his back against the chair, his legs under the table, and hands clenched together in a polite manner. Presenting how classy and respectful he could be.
"So, how's business?" The woman hovered over the counter.
"Very good, thank you." Gaara nodded, it was best to be polite.
The woman stretch to the cupboards to retrieve two serving dishes, "That's well, and your sister?" Ever since Gaara started the riding job in frilly clothing to help 'advertise'--as Temari put it—citizen have come to know the whole family including Kankuro and his jobless life.
"Temari is doing better, though Kankuro is still being pushed for employment." Gaara said adding Kankuro in.
The woman nodded. "Every time I see that brother of yours, he reminds me of my husband, when all he would do was sit around and drink beer."
Gaara chucked to the thought. He was always more loose around her when it came to emotions.
"Have you found a hot one yet?" She asked, setting the plated sweet biscuits on the table and going back to the counter to fetch the tea. Though the teapot just now is starting to steam. Gaara rolled his eyes, she always asked this when he would come over. The old woman referring 'hot one' as "Nice, young men with tight abs and sculptured buttocks." That sentence being her quote.
"No, I have not." He said bashfully.
"Well, you should've found one already." She would say that sentence a lot as well. "With all those handsome gents gawking at you, I would have expected a hot one sometime."
"I see them staring," Gaara admitted. "But I'm just not interested."
He watched her lower the heat off the stove panel and removes the pot, pouring hot water into the china and mixing the teabag around inside the cup using a long spoon.
"Nah, you're just playing 'hard-to-get'." She smiled bringing the tea over to the table and Gaara set down the coasters for the cups. "That's how I got my husband."
"I know you've told me." Gaara said instantaneously, not wanting a repeat of the hour and a half story. He took a bite of the sweet bread and then blew on the hot tea to cool.
"Well if you're ever in need of a good shagging, I know some fine men." Gaara nodded. He already knew those 'fine men' she talked about. He met every one of them when he came over riding biscuits she ordered. Those fine men were very fine indeed. Gaara was quiet interested in them, but they were either with a woman or married. Something Gaara didn't want to get into with his favorite old person's grandsons.
"Did you hear that a Kyuu was caught on our side of the forest?"
Gaara put down his china cup and shook his head. If it was another thing he liked about visiting her was the discussion of the most difficult subjects of politics and religion, something most people don't talk about without trying to get into a quarrel. But the Kyuu Clans were even more interesting.
The old woman gnaws off her bread before speaking. "I feel dreadful for the boy. He was sentence of death last night. I believe this is worse than the war. I remember as if it were yesterday."
He remembered it too. They would have all easily resided with each other in synchronization, but both governments saw it differently. No citizen knows accurately why the war began, but that it was all erroneous. He reminisces when they separated himself from his friend. He remembered when they were banished to the other side. He never saw that friend again. He never could remember his friends name or the full features of his face. The years apart have tarnished that. It was after the war when the clans both agreed that if either populace were witness on whichever side they would suffer severe penalties.
Gaara finished up his sweet bread as the old woman was beginning to tell the ending of the war. He never really listened to her exaggerate her stories on and on to where they would never stop. It got boring when she would repeat things. It was at that point where Gaara would unconsciously nod his head and make small noises signifying he was 'listening'.
When Gaara finished up his tea the woman took the time to look at the wall clock.
"Oh my." She said stopping mid-sentence of her story. "You should have left an hour ago; I'm so sorry Red Riding Hood."
Gaara lightly smiled. "No, it's okay. You were my last customer."
Gaara walked out of the woman's house and down the street crossing a few alleys before meeting face to face with Sir Lutmerv. Or in Gaara's term Sir Buttperv. The man was the son of political power; he would be the next leader of the Being Clan. Despite the man's lack of brains, he was exceedingly rich and very handsome. Even Temari gawked and groveled at him. But Sir Lutmerv had the deepest desire to deflower the lovely Red Riding Hood. Gaara –on the other hand-didn't care for anything the man had to offer especially his outlook on the government's prejudice.
"Why Riding Hood, what a pleasure." The dark haired man whispered closely into Gaara's ear.
"And to you Sir Bu—ahem—Lutmerv."
"Please, I've told you just call me Kombu." the man said gently touching the lower of Gaara's back. "Why don't we just do what we usually do in the back alley?"
His hand curving lower to cup Gaara's ass. Gaara glared, his fist clenching resisting the urge to punch him.
"Thank you, but I must get home. Kombu." Gaara said monotonously. Kombu gently pulled Gaara's hood back and sniffed his hair lightly. His hand crept under the small dress (Temari forced him to wear that morning) to fondle him. Kombu's large fingers pressing down on the frabric to smooth through the two globes of Gaara's bottom. Gaara gasped; maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a small session in the alley. Kombu smiled deviant-like, he knew he caught Gaara in his web. The redhead grabbed Kombu's hand to have him led away into the alley.
Yes, it was evil how Gaara used the man for pleasure, but the redhead would never allow the man to go farther. He drew a dark line at that point; Gaara just got the fun out of getting aroused then releasing it. He wanted to see how far he could push it and Kombu was more than willing to volunteer.
Gaara breathed heavily while Kombu nipped at his neck harsh. The large man would press Red Riding Hood up against the alley wall spreading his legs far apart and grind into him. Gaara would force a moan up. Kombu's hardness rubbing against him made Gaara shrivel alongside the wall. His own manhood started to stimulate to stiffness.
Even though it was painful to him, Gaara would never allow himself to ejaculate in Kombu's presence; to him it showed a sense of vulnerability for the man. It was bad enough to see him when he moaned deeply as the large man drove into him massaging the hard erect member in the petite of Gaara's underwear. He wouldn't allow the scorching, frisson, sensation of excitement to release from him; he couldn't dare let the other man know the superlative feeling down below.
Afterwards, he didn't feel ashamed, or guilt, or pity, just dirty. Gaara thought about the alley session with Kombu as he walked home late at night because of it.
He didn't what Temari would say and he couldn't care.
He just wanted to get home to finish off the demanding hard erection in between his thighs.