hole in the center
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Char./Pairing: Temari/Kankuro
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: sexual content, language
Summary: She's had worse ideas but she likes this one.
-x-
You grind your hips against him, sweating and out of breath. The club is packed and bodies are pressing against your back constantly. This dance partner of yours is too drunk to recognize who you are. Music blares from every direction; you can't hear anything else but the beat.
Your head hurts but that doesn't stop you from looking across the room, through twisting bodies and flashing lights, where he is. Dark eyes lock onto yours each time you glance his way. He's always watching, no matter what. He'll always be there, leaning against that wall, ignoring the world to see you here. It would be disturbing to you, but so many things in your life is so fucked up, it doesn't count anymore. Arms crossed, stiff neck, set jaw, and narrowed eyes, he's the typical version of the brooding, jealous guy. And you're so to blame.
The feeling to provoke him tonight grows stronger and your hands grip the back of your dance partner's head, bringing his lips down on yours. He goes with it, oblivious to your intentions. Your eyes stay glued to the brooding man against the wall. His eyes turn to slits and your job is done. Pulling away, you wrap your arms around the guy's neck, getting closer as possible. Your partner brings hands to your hips and tugs you to move in some direction and you know exactly where he wants to go. You attempt to brush his hands away but they stay there. He's insistent and gripping harder as you struggle away, angered.
Someone places a hand upon your shoulder and, as you whip around to see, your eyes widen when you see him there. He's never made his move before, so it's surprising with a taste of satisfaction. He doesn't look at you and he's glaring directly at your horny dance partner. There could be a fight, but the guy apparently gets the clue after watching you grasp onto your savior.
Leaning into you, his mouth touches your ear. "You know better."
Sad thing is that you really do. Big sis knows best. Supposed to know best, anyway. Holding you close, he leads you through the crowd of dancing figures. You guess he's taking you home this time, unlike how he used to let you go home with some other guy who won't know your name in the morning. But you both pass the front entrance, you're drug to the back, in some dirty alleyway where no one is.
"Why are we here?" you snap at him, shocked at how hoarse your voice comes out.
He gives you a look to shut up and clutches both your wrists in his hand, forcefully pushing you against the dirty stone wall. The disadvantage naturally sparks frustration and you bring a knee to his gut, which he easily avoids. You open your mouth to scream, tell him if he tries hurting you, you'll give him hell. But his tongue swallows any words you offer and his other hand is finding places to make you squirm.
It's suddenly way hotter here than it was in there. Red darkens your face with heat. It's humiliating but pleasurable; you're thinking that maybe this is what you've wanted from him for so long. That maybe all the games and anger meant your desire for him. And it's obvious that he wants it too, as his arousal is pressed against you. You writhe and bring a leg around his hip, closing the space between you both. Fingers slide underneath the shirt you have on, skimming over sensitive skin. Your moan is still stifled by his mouth over yours, preventing sound.
Promptly, he pulls away, stepping one pace back, though your wrists are still trapped in his one hand. His stare is more intense than usual, piercing something you thought was unbreakable within you. Breathing is hard and you pant for air, as does he. Your skin burns where he's touched and you want more so badly, it's making you sick.
"Let's go home, Temari," he says breathlessly.
You can only nod as he lets go of your wrists and you take his hand, ready to with him.