NOTE: I really don't know where this came from, and it was not meant to be this long BUT OH WELL. It's the first part of a sequence of things, and it'll start to unfold better as to setting and shit later. Basically, it's college AU, and they're prolly about 22 or so. Since it's kinda long and the next part's even more so I'm dividing up each event as I go, because I like quick convenient blurbs more than I do ridiculously long oneshots. Trying a different kind of writing than my usual here, tell me if it works? D; also lolsorry my new Rizzle alert people, this just needed to be written for the sake of my sanity.
The first time she kisses him, it's not at all what he imagines it would be.
They both get invites to the party, and they decide there's nothing better to do on the Friday night, so they go. It doesn't matter that neither he nor Sakura know who or what's it for, just that there's a lot of booze and a lot of people they know. They're young and in college; this is what it's supposed to be about.
They split off early, her group of girlfriends waving her over at the start and the guys hollering for him to start the drinking games. Everybody knew he's the game master. He claims it's the beast inside of him that gives him such a high tolerance; the same one that makes him outwardly aggressive in sports and conflicts. Nobody really gives a damn, except its fucking fun to test. And that's all that matters.
He doesn't know how much time has passed by the time he's drunk. Not nearly as bad as the others, no, but still pretty damn drunk. The shot glasses at the table blur together when he looks at them, and he has no idea if it's just because there's so many, or if it's the amount he's taken in. Which is a lot. Those stupid Never Have I Ever games always get him fucked up. The people around him are also blurry; he doesn't remember who's been there from the start, or who just joined in, or even really what's going on. He just answers questions and takes drinks when they're given to him.
He's not a very smart drunk, if he were to sit back and think about it later.
A hand is on his shoulder then, and he looks over his shoulder so fast he has to grip the edge of the table to keep his world from spinning. When he's finally able to focus on the face hovering there, he offers the roseate a lopsided grin.
"Hey Sakura," he says, with only a bit of a slur. Christ, he knows he should be happy he's not passed out on the floor at this point.
"Naruto, I'm playing Truth or Dare," she tells him, and he nods even though he doesn't really understand. He's still smiling when she comes around to stand in front of him, and she fixates her green gaze on him. 'She's got pretty eyes,' he thinks dully, surprised at how bright she seems to him in contrast with the rest of the room. It's probably the hair that does it.
"Sunshine, they dared me to kiss you. Is that okay?" she asks him, her nickname for him catching his attention more than the question. His buzzing brain took a moment to understand, but when he did, his eyes widened and then narrowed in rapid succession before he laughed.
"That's a lame dare, Sakura-chan. You should play with us, it's more fun," he explains to her, reaching for the closest full drink in his range. But she grabs his hand, and puts it on her waist to get his attention. He frowns, and blinks. If he had been aware, maybe he would have blushed at the look she was giving him, but instead he sat looking dazed.
"What if I think this is fun enough for me?" she questions, her tone low and sultry, almost too low for him to hear. He can't fully comprehend it anyway, but that's beside the point.
"Then you suck at party games," he finally retorts, missing the double meaning she handed to him on a plate. But still she laughs at him, and he laughs with her because that's all he can think to do.
"I'm just going to take that as a yes," she declares, smirking in a way that should have sent him reeling. It really should have. Her hands go to the back of his neck, and he can feel them pulling him forward, demanding he stoop a bit. His hand is still on her waist, and the other instinctively mirrors it. But just as their lips brush when she comes forward, she moves to his ear instead, her hot breath there making him shiver as a slow burn settled low in his stomach. He couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or not, but he was pretty sure all the things he had been drinking didn't feel good like this.
"It's just a dare," she whispers there, and he's not sure why she tells him this. To him, it sounds almost like she's trying to reassure herself, not him. And then the warmth at his ear is gone, and it's on his mouth, and it's all he can do not to groan at the feeling. He uses his hold on her waist to pull them closer together, bodies flush while she stands on her toes to acquiesce him. It's heat and it's instinct but it's not passion or romance, not anything he had pictured for them. But when she opens her mouth against his and slides her tongue along his lip, he allows the intrusion and counters it with his own, a low moan traps itself in his chest, carnal want blazing through system, enhanced by the alcohol.
She tastes sweet and bitter, like cherries and the sharp bite of vodka, and something else he doesn't know how to describe. He lets her control the kiss, the slick heat of her tongue easily beating him into submission, whether it be because of her natural prowess, his inability to sort out his shit and get it together, or just because he lets her since he thinks it's ridiculously sexy when girls do that. Her tongue pulls back, but her teeth tug at his lower lip, hard, enough to make him growl and push her against the edge of the table they're standing near.
It's then that he feels the change in the way she feels against him, and he's pushed back gently but firmly, and then she's behind him. He feels dizzy and disoriented, still caught up in the heat of the moment, and the confusion in his eyes show that. When they meet hers, he sees something he doesn't expect; something akin to surprise and almost anger, as though he had done something wrong. But she's already stepping back from him, and he knows he won't be able to follow. Nor does he really want to.
"Just a dare," she mouths to him as she slips away, and he doesn't understand why it's so significant that she tell him that. He doesn't get girls or what they do. As he turns to lean against the table again and reach for a full shot glass, he decides he doesn't really want to get them. For right now, getting that if he drinks enough of these shots he'll either pass out or black out seems plenty good enough for him.