A.N.: As found in my journal.

I'll just leave this here...

Anatomy Of A Plan

A dissertation in three acts

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| Vol 1 of 3 |

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Rating: Mature

Word Count (Total): 15.000~~

Summary: Sometimes things are not what they appear to be - It's all a matter of perspective.

Pairing: Kakashi/Sakura

Genre: Shameless PWP. Err, I mean: Romance

Disclaimer: If it was mine, trust me: you would notice the difference.

WARNING

Edit: This is a very heavy piece, with strong language, and what can be perceived as a wiff of non-con: There is a reason why I decided to post all three chapters at once. Like the summary states, somethings are not what they seem to be...

Still, I realise I was at fault at not making this warning earlier, and I apologize for it. It was never my intention to hurt susceptibilities - this was an exercise of writing intended to be a "rollercoaster emotional trip", but I was most definitely at fault for lack of warnings.

That being said, I wish you enjoy.

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Act 1 – Preparation

Darkness licked by the low lights on the small bar served her well, her skin seemingly glowing in the eerie ambiance.

Her pink locks gained an almost purplish hue, with highlights as she passed under a light fixture, her motions graceful, regardless of every sip of alcohol that had passed her lips – that he imagined twirling around her tongue before sliding down her throat, the soft motion of her neck as she did, and for a moment, the imagery of that same swallowing motion, but dry, as her neck arched filled his mind. His jaw stiffened under the second skin of cotton that covered his face.

Her viridian eyes shone as if made of glass filled with the fieriest of beverages in stock at the bar, a hard shell of emerald that hid inside liquid heat which promised to wipe away reason and replace it with fire running through one's veins at a single sip.

She smiled, openly, little laughs that he could hear, crystal clear for he was drinking in everything that came from her.

Watching, in what people could call a predatory way if the glances were seen by someone who truly knew him, understood the path of his thoughts. Fortunately, there weren't people like that around – did such people even exist?— so he continued watching with the same calculation as if he was surveying a worthy opponent – an elusive prey – in intense glances, under the guise of the perpetual droopy-eyed look and the slouch of his back as he sat at the bar.

He wasn't inebriated: at least not by the alcohol that ran in the midst of another celebration of a successful mission, another enemy defeated.

She sat, comfortably over the side of one of the long benches at one of the booths, parted legs, one of them curling the side of it, foot in a tiptoed position, making the material of her knee-high boot tense. Powerful yet slender muscles attesting her strength, the sight of the pale skin of her thigh before it was snugly enveloped by dark stretching material seemingly mocking him, teasing him, tempting.

She leant over the table, her arm coming to finger flick the nose of a very drunk Naruto, eliciting a couple of laughs from the other occupants of the table, as he snapped back and nursed it with his hands, giving her time to swipe the little cup in front of him with the back of her hand towards Ino, who promptly drowned it in one gulp, followed by cheers as she slammed the cup over the table.

Sakura sat back with a devious little smirk on her lips that made his own curl upwards for an instant, before dropping in a heartbeat—no, a lurch, for she crossed her arms under her breasts, bare arms pulling them together snugly and again for a second only, her taste, the texture of them almost filled his tongue, with the aid of the devious portion of his mind.

All the conventions of society had long lost their meaning. The idea that she was unapproachable and forbidden to him had all but been smothered: it had been destroyed, and with it, so had his restraint when thinking about the pink-haired kunoichi, the Godaime's pupil, his ex-student; the now also yukata wearing full grown woman.

She was still forbidden. It was still taboo. But he didn't care. Not anymore. There was no point now.

He continued watching as she continued tempting him, and the warmth, one that alcohol could never deliver swam in his veins, as his mind contemplated the plan that filled it to the brim, spilling the heat to every part of him. That lone onyx eye wasn't shining due to the soft light to his right: no, it was shining with barely suppressed want.

He turned around, the cup in his hand coming to his lips, but the heady-scented liquid never passed his mask. He set it on the bar once more and if anyone was paying attention to him, they would see that it was unusually full.

A soft prickling sensation on the back of his neck made him stiffen imperceptibly as he felt, smelt and sensed her stop less than four steps behind him: her voice again ringing in his ears, every word as clear as if she had been speaking directly into them.

"I'm off people; need to catch up on some things. Namely my bed."

There were protests from the majority of them – one that he recognized as being the damned Inuzuka brat who had been dogging her all night– but she paid them no heed, reiterating her will and need to slide into her sheets.

The Inuzuka bluntly asked if she needed someone to walk her home – and he considered how satisfying it would be to chuck his head against a wall and feel it crack under his grip, as he clenched his jaw once more. Suddenly, a sound slap and a grunt came from the general direction of the table, as laughter erupted again, the loudest from the kyuubi container, who by the sound of it was nearly choking in mirth.

He steeled himself from looking back, charcoal gaze sliding to the stained mirror across from him instead, catching a glimpse of the pink haired woman on it, between two full bottles, half hidden by someone behind him. Her hand up in a little wave and a soft shake of her head, before her eyes set on his back and she moved closer, hips swaying with two steps before he let his eye drop to the surface of the sake he had still in his cup.

He had been expecting her hand on his shoulder, for her to speak to him – to say she was leaving, to wish him goodnight. But she didn't.

He frowned as he sensed her passing by him – 'Grab her now, to hell with everyone else'— the trail of her scent pushed towards him, over the other odours surrounding them. She was leaving. It took every little bit of willpower he possessed to keep his eye glued to the stained surface of the wooden counter. 'Patience.'

No one noted that less than five minutes after Haruno Sakura left, Hatake Kakashi's stool at the bar was vacant, a lone cup still filled to the brim with sake the only evidence that he had in fact been there.

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Act 2 1/2– Execution

Sakura heaved in relief as she slid the key on the keyhole of her front door. There was a dwindling tension in the night air, but if she acknowledged it, it wasn't evident. She pushed the door open, moonlight streaming lazily inside the small hallway and illuminating another pair of knee high boots softly tilting towards the wall. She stepped inside, throwing her keys in a little bowl on the small table she had under the coat-rack, making a high clattering sound as she raised her right leg, one hand still over the doorknob, the other coming down to unclasp the first bind of her boot.

Only the first, for she suddenly sensed a presence behind her – weirdly without a chakra signature – making her look back, her eyes widening slowly the longer she stared, her foot lowering to the floor.

She blinked after a couple of seconds, recognizing the silhouetted figure cut by moonlight, her heart drumming in her chest due to his prolonged silence – or maybe it was due to the look he was giving her paired up with the realisation he had been masking his presence until that very moment. She turned to fully face him, her hand on the doorknob leaving it.

If she appeared not to sense the tension before, she did now. Her tongue came to pass over her lips as she gulped – a motion he followed with reverent interest – before she spoke, quietly.

"Kakashi-sensei?"

He didn't respond; instead he took a step closer and one couldn't help tagging the motion — as another step was given — as being dangerous. The permanent slouch was gone: his gait gracefully predatory, the droopy gaze seemingly fiercer, fixated on her own orbs. Her hand closest to the door snapped to the side of it as she gave a step forward, half hiding herself behind the wood.

"…Ka…Kakashi-sensei, is everything alright?" She stuttered softly, her green eyes glued on his masked face, as he stopped less than a step from her.

"No." The tone in which that word came out reverberated through her very bones. The deep baritone voice seemed deeper, fuller – purposefully low. Enticing. She gulped again, brow knitting in a confused expression when his hand set on the door, his gloved palm pressing against it.

Her eyes that had followed the motion snapped back to his, her heartbeat picking up, as she sensed the soft pressure of his hand strengthen, pushing the door against her, making her step back once. And again, for the look on his eye was speaking of things that made something clench viciously in the pit of her stomach.

"Huh… I… Kakashi—"

"You left."

She blinked in surprise at his tone, thrown off by his words: he took the opportunity to give one more step, passing the strip of metal that marked the beginning of her hallway and pushing the door as he went, making her step back still keeping the door half shielding her form, green eyes subtly shining even in darkness, and suddenly her heaving chest stopped the moment her back met the wall.

"Kakashi-sensei, I... I don't understand…"

She looked like a frightened child with eyes wide and her bottom lip sucked between her teeth, the hand still rolled about the side of the door clenching as her arm pressed over the upper side of her breasts. His fingers slid on the door's surface until they also met the side of it at the same time as a step, positioning him in front of her, his digits rolling on it like hers were, and pulling it towards him. Her fingers tightened on the wood but he gave a stronger jerk that made her gasp and relinquish her grip.

There was the outline of a smirk under the mask as he stepped sideways and all but threw the door closed — it was uncanny how he had given it just enough momentum to allow it to close without a bang.

Shocked was not enough to describe her expression, soon replaced by a weary one. She shifted against the wall. It was amazing that she hadn't snapped at him for his weird behaviour, or maybe it was the fact that he was acting so… strange that kept her anger at bay. She gulped again as her eyes totally accustomed to the sudden lack of light.

"What do you mean I left…What is wrong with you Kakashi-sensei?" She breathed out, her hands flat against the wall, her lean body tense — flight or fight mode.

"Everything." He answered in that low tone that made her breath hitch in her throat.

"I don't…" She bit her lip nervously, her eyes dancing from his face to the end of the hallway and back at him. "…What did you mean when you said…I left?" She repeated the previous query nervously.

One of his hands rose to set on the wall, fairly close to her shoulder that shrugged slightly, successfully caging her in and cutting off any escape route she had thought of taking. Her mouth suddenly went dry as she kept her eyes on him.

There was only an arm's length between their bodies, making it impossible for either of them not to feel the other's warmth.

"I was at the bar. You left." He accused, causing her eyebrows to furrow.

"I didn't see you—"

"Don't lie to me Sakura." He cut her off - the warning rumbled deep in his throat causing goosebumps to spread over her visible skin.

"I…" Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to find her words - it was as if they were swimming out of reach. She dropped her gaze to his shoulder. "I… I'm sorry, it… I… it's not that big of a deal sens—"

"Don't." He hissed. It was more efficient than any shout could have been yet just as fierce as one.

"I don't understand…" She whispered before biting her lip again. His lone onyx eye followed the motion, the sight making the hand on the wall clench. "…why you are so angry at me over this. Why… why you came here to…" She derailed, shifting uncomfortably in her spot.

"Why are you here?" She fixed him with a confused look, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you want, sensei?"

His other hand rose to join the one against the wall as he stepped forward, both of them sliding up until his forearms set over it - gloved hands at each side of her head, making her press her body firmly against the surface as he leaned towards her. The drumming in her chest picked up again and kept the pace high as his scent swirled around her, his warmth touching her before his masked cheek did hers: covered lips ghosting over her ear, his breath disturbing the soft strands of pink hair.

"I want you to stop calling me sensei." She stiffened at the murmured words, barely audible since her mind was tracking the spider web pattern of goosebumps that spread from the place his breath was hitting her ear and enveloped her torso. Her lids dropped over glazed emerald orbs, her hands over the wall fisting. "I want…you."

She expected him to continue: for the rest of the sentence to come, but it never did — there was no rest.

The realisation made her breath stop, and not only from the certainty it was filled with: there was something else - something deeper, darker, and so incredibly primal in those words that it made that little feeling in the pit of her stomach flare higher. Her breathing quickened, heaving chest brushing along the pockets of his vest, teasing her swelling and suddenly constricted bosoms.

"You can't… possibly… mean… Kakashi-sen—" The honorific never left her lips; in its stead a little whimper ripped its way from them, barely audible in the dark hallway, as his still covered lips brushed along the shell of her ear, sending another wave of sensation coursing through her veins. Her eyelids fluttered before she caught herself. "Kakashi, I… we… You are my sensei! I… you… This is wrong!"

Her hands rose, trying to shove him back – why she didn't think of using her chakra-enhanced strength was a mystery – but the push on his shoulders did nothing to deter him, quite the opposite; his right hand on the wall snapped down and rolled around her neck, not choking her but in a good position to do so, making her fingers on his shoulders flex in a claw. Her eyes widened at the feeling of leather pressed against her tender neck, his mouth still lingering close to her ear.

"I don't care if it's wrong or right. I want you." His knee nudged hers once and then pushed forcefully when she tried to squeeze them together. "All of you. I want to see, touch, and taste every little patch of skin you never show in public. I want to rip sounds from your throat that were never heard before." His voice was rough and—gods! It was so warm against her skin. She whimpered – deliciously so, his mind prompted – her knees weak and yielding to him. He pressed his upper thigh against her, and again one more mouth-watering sound rose from her throat, vibrating against his hand. "I am tired of watching you from afar, tempting me. I want it all, having a right to or not. I can't stay away from you anymore Sakura. And since I am already going to Hell, at least I will claim the right to be in it fully. I will be damned, but you will rise to Heaven by my hands, mouth and—"

A set of three rapid knocks suddenly echoed in the narrow hallway, making both of them stiffen.

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Act 2 2/2 – Execution: Complications Management

He masked his chakra automatically, his hand snapping to her mouth as his head moved to face the door, black-grey eye squinted. One of her hands snapped down from his shoulder to grab his wrist, trying to tug his hand away from her, to no avail - his good eye came back to her and the terribly angered stare made her flinch. His eyebrows creased at the sight before a soft smile formed under the stretchy fabric of his mask; his other hand came slowly to his face, index pressing against covered lips in a silent request for her to keep quiet.

Her chest heaved rapidly as she kept stealing glances at the door and the man in front of her; feminine hand loosely rolled about his wrist still, her exhales warming the leather that covered his hand. He could still feel the presence on the other side of the door – he was sure she could too – and he recognized the signature of it, as he did the majority of Konoha's shinobi. The tension in his body only escalated the longer the presence stayed there.

What he had planned was sure to elicit plenty of noise - and he wasn't in the mood to be interrupted by someone with a knight-in-shining-armour momentary drive.

He leaned towards her again as another set of knocks came, now paired up with an all too familiar – and frankly annoying in silver-haired man's view – voice, muffled by the closed door:

"Sakura? Sakura… are ya home?"

Inuzuka Kiba was knocking on her door, at inappropriate times of the evening, when thinking she was alone at her apartment. That made the anger in Kakashi rise in ways he wasn't really sure he could handle, the green-eyed monster that had prompted the view of the damned brat's skull hitting any surface available at the bar doing the same now. His lips pressed full against her ear, trying his best not to lose himself in the sweet scent coming from her roseate locks as he murmured as low as he could manage, since the Inuzuka had ears as sharp as he did.

"Get rid of him."

It was rasped and quiet, beautifully melting into the background sounds: she was sure she had only heard it for the vibrations of his words had been picked up by the intricate natural design of her ear. Her hand on his wrist clenched there, as she tried to jerk away from him, but the strong thigh still between her legs forced against her apex again, the moan that would have slipped out trapped inside her covered lips.

"Get rid of him, or I will, and I'm not planning on being all too gentle about it. He pisses me off."

She stiffened again, her eyes wide, moving to him but only catching the silver locks since he hadn't moved away from her. She tried to nod, difficult task due to his hand still over her lips, her body relaxing as if to say she wouldn't try anything else but follow what he said to her.

Her hand on his wrist slid over his arm, her palm gracing his forearm, pushing the rolled sleeve further up until the side of her hand hit the bundled up fabric against his flexed bicep.

He finally moved back, sensing her motions, and leant away, but not before one more rub of his thigh against her middle. His eye locked with hers, squint in warning, as he slid his hand down her face, watching as her full bottom lip yielded with the downward motion of his hand before it stopped about her chin: his hand moving for fingertips to curl, caressing her lips as they went.

The touch on her lips, even by such an innocent part of his body, was felt in a way that was everything but sinless. It was as if her body recognized the touch, her lips parting minimally, her bottom one hinting moistness that was sure to grace his skin. It did and his smile crashed, charcoal orb trained on the sight, as his fingers ended their journey by curling under her chin, pushing it up.

Again that fire flared, both in his eye and on her apex, eliciting the first real cramp of undeniable desire on her intimacy. For a moment, they stayed that way, as he watched her puffs of breath slide between her lips — as he eyed them hungrily. That look doing incredibly wonderful things to her body, to her heart, to the skin of her breasts which tightened, roughing the darker peaks that almost hurt against the constriction of her brassiere.

In that moment, there were only the two of them. The pink haired woman pressed against the wall, one hand wrapped over the tight black sweater at his shoulder, the other clenching on his arm as he kept her chin in his grasp, tilted up to face him fully. The silver-haired older man, leaning down ever so slightly, his chest moving evenly, breath deep, clashing against her face and making her pink tongue slide over her upper lip, in want or nervousness, one couldn't tell.

Maybe it was both.

Another knock – the moment was lost. There were no growls of annoyance, even if Kakashi seemed ready to murder something, as one of his hands came to her hip: the heel of his palm digging against her hipbone forcefully, making her flinch from the feeling by tilting her hip away from it, his fingers rolling about her waist, his arm moving and making turn in her spot, before he pressed her back fully against his front, his arm pressed against her abdomen, his other hand coming to clamp over her mouth again. In good time, for the feeling of hardness pressing snugly against her backside elicited yet another would-be sound in her throat, and her shoulder curled as his nose pressed against the back of the shell of her ear between the roseate locks of her hair.

"Do it. Don't try to warn him of anything." He warned again, before pivoting on his right leg, bringing her with him and walking to the door, the softest of grunts more felt than heard by her.

His own physical reaction rubbed against her, making her eyelids flutter as his thighs pressed on the back of hers. Her hand came to the doorknob at the same time his left her mouth, the hand clasped over her hip moving from it as his arm slid away—but it didn't quite made it off her.

Her hand on the knob tightened, as his hand swerved in its path when reaching the middle of her pelvis, the dark shorts' crotch grazed by his fingers – his little finger hooked on the slit of her skirt, had pulled it away – before his hand groped her over clothing, the response in form of an enthusiastic throb both of his hardened length against the cleft of her backside, and of her by now swollen lower lips, suddenly warmer due to the rough touch. Her left leg shifted its position, squeezing his hand between her thighs, making it clench, tips of fingers in a circled motion.

She kept the moan from escaping by sheer willpower. He wasn't sure if he was impressed, or miffed by it. Two seconds passed, before she realised he wasn't going to let her go. Her expression was frozen somewhere between confused exhilaration and slight anger. Once a breath was drawn inside her lungs, for a question to exit, he answered it, almost as if it had been expected.

"Bend over." Two simple, roughly spoken, vibrating words against her ear again, making something jump – the abnormal beat of her heart, a rattling gasp in her airways, the increasingly humid sleeve of her womanhood – as she found herself again frozen stiff, and yet almost melting.

She gulped, as she bent her torso towards the opening space of the door, and turned the knob, her heart drumming in her chest so loud she was afraid it would be heard by her late night visitor. And that wasn't an option at this point: she hoped the Inuzuka had already left.

She opened the door, only her head poking out and visible, as she regarded the young man at her doorstep. Akamaru was nowhere to be seen. He swayed softly and smiled when he saw her. And what a sight she was indeed with her hair in mild disarray, pupils dilated and a delicious blush crossing her cheeks.

"Hi." He started. "Took ya long to open tha door." A widening of his smile, as it morphed to something a little more suggestive. "Were ya in bed?"

Back on the other side of the door, Kakashi barely suppressed a growl in annoyance at the brat's words, choosing to inspect the sight presented to him. He had told her to bend over to keep him from being seen by the dog-boy, but the position proved itself to be more provocative than he had thought it could: the way her backside pressed against his own arousal so damned perfectly giving birth to a derail of his mind.

"Hi Kiba. Well, y…yes, I… I was in bed already. What are you doing here?" The words stumbled across her tongue in their rush.

His other hand slid over the small of her back, pushing it down ever so slightly; her words registering in his mind as another portion of it fantasized.

What would she do, if he pulled her shorts and underwear down her legs, right this instant? If he knelt behind her, and tasted what he could already sense wafting up his nostrils, even with the barrier of cotton…

"Are ya ok Sakura? You seem a little…"

Or instead eased himself into her warmth—no… shoved mercilessly, for he was more than certain of her readiness…

The telltale of the moist of her folds starting to sip through her clothing was teasing the tips of his fingers, which twitched against her covered centre at the scenario rolling in his head.

"I…" Pause. "…f..fine. Huh... Kiba, this is really not the time to… visit anyone."

Would she be able to keep her voice from crying out? Would her hand on the doorknob clench up to the point it would tear off under her grip? Would her legs spread wider to accommodate him?

"Oh! I know… I was just making sure ya came home safely and all.. Ya sure ya're alright?" His tone was clearly doubtful. "It looks like you…" And now he sounded almost risqué. "You know, if you're alone and all…"

Would she shut her door in the damned Inuzuka's face, while he took what he so clearly wanted right under his nose, against the door he was standing in front of? He could almost see it, her cheek pressing against the door, the arch of her back as her legs tensed…

"Kiba! You… Just leave. You're drunk out of your mind." She managed, albeit breathlessly. "Just go home, sleep it off."

…give some howls to the damned dog-boy, by the force of his hips: rip them from her throat.

"But…"

Against the God.damned.door…!

"Inuzuka Kiba, go away before I kick your ass! I swear to God!" Her voice was trembling.

He didn't know if it was from fear of Kiba pressing the subject, or from the stronger grip he had on her core, as his middle and ring fingers moved softly over the increasingly wet shorts. The fabric of his mask was starting to bother him as the imagery, both real and imaginary, was not only warming his body now: it was burning him, as he pushed against her, yearning for some semblance of relief — hand still against the small of her back, heel of his palm digging on the soft curve — rubbing his aching erection in mock thrusts against the roundness of her backside, snugly nested between his hips.

Perfect fit.

"Alright, alright! But ya know, when you want…" He heard her huff – or maybe it was a choked whimper – at the same time steps were heard moving away, not without a little shuffling. Her back was trembling, keeping the same position as she watched him walk away.

As soon as Kakashi heard the Inuzuka's feet hit the metallic steps of the stairs, his hand slid swiftly over her back as he leant forward, spreading fingers the moment they reached the middle of her shoulder blades to delve inside her hair, in a loose grip over her locks. She gasped, her hand on the doorknob shoving the door closed, as her other set on the little wall space next to it.

"Kakashi…" It was barely a whisper, rough. He decided he liked that tone.

Stepping closer, he pressed himself on her making her arms flex as she shuffled her feet closer to the door, until her left toe hit it: a grind making her nails scrape the wooden surface, the prickling feeling on her scalp coaxing her heart to violently thump against her ribcage as he pulled – not enough to hurt, but leading her head back to set over his shoulder, her neck arching back before the fingers entangled in her hair slid to her chin, to keep her there, thumb swiping over her bottom lip.

She could feel his warm breath fanning across her collarbones, the front of the short yukata dishevelled, his covered lips against her neck, and dear lord: she could feel his teeth scrapping over her jawbone. She could feel him swaying against her; she could feel his breath pushing his front against her back, the hand still clasped on her core relinquishing its hold as it came up, fully intent in coming up the top of her shorts.

Maybe it was panic, maybe it was due to the overwhelming sensations rippling throughout her, the rhythmic clench on her inner walls: she suddenly stiffened, her hand on the sidewall pressing against it, her bicep clenching, with the aid of a little chakra and then releasing the tension on her muscle like a coil.

"NO!" She barked, as she felt the impact of his back against the wall and a huffed groan leaving him with the force of it, his hold on her loosening: she took the little window of opportunity and bolted down the hallway.

It was a moot point to run from the Copy-Ninja, but it seemed she was willing to try it anyway, her heart thundering in her ears, breathing ragged as she reached the end of the hallway as it expanded into her living room. She looked back, flushed cheeks, her hair wiping across her face, when her right knee collapsed from under her after a miscalculated step, making her topple forward, hands snapping in front of her bracing for impact, her eyes barely able to see the scrunched up side of her living room carpet before her hands hit the floor, preceded by her knees.

She couldn't hear him, couldn't sense him anymore either, as she tried scrambling back to her feet, probably intent on the living room's open veranda door, right hand coming to the surface of the coffee table she had fallen close to in order to give her momentum for her rising, grunting as she pushed her left foot on the floor in an almost tiptoed position.

But before she managed to stand, she felt something grabbing her ankle, and pulling her back, forcing a little yelp past her lips as her eyes widened. Her hand slid on the surface of the table, fingers slipping at the edge of it before rolling on one of the intricate crafted legs that support it, giving it a jerk as she was pulled back once again, making a couple of trinkets fall to the ground, muffled sounds against the carpet.

It is a moot point to run from the Copy-Ninja indeed: he had caught her.

(End of Volume 1)

Edit: This is a very heavy piece, with what can be perceived as wiff of non-con and strong language. There is a reason why I decided to post all three chapters at once. Like the summary states, somethings are not what they seem to be...