Author's note: Another Oneshot. I did this in the middle of study breaks. The most mature thing I have written. I love this pairing but there are no fics about them, so I wrote one. Can you guess who they are? (Just read them in the top and you will know). Also this is the first time I write at a first person perspective, which I avoid all the time, but it felt better this way. I would like your opinions on that part.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Naruto" or any of its characters; they are the property of their rightful owners.

The Seductress Whispers

I felt something in me stir after I saw her. She was simply standing on the shore, the softest of winds waving her golden hair as gently as the caress of a lover. And I stood far away mesmerized by the pure beauty she possessed. Poor me, I knew that I was captivated by her. A siren she was. Her face was almost hidden from my sight, and what a sight it was! The glow of the fading sun fell on her ashen skin, and in her eyes, the foamy waves of the ocean were mirrored.

I stretched my arm and tried to touch her, but the distance was so, so unbelievably large that it made my already weakened heart ache. She knew I was there, yet she made no move to acknowledge me. She gazed the calm waters and the horizon, as the sun was slowly setting down.

A raw sound came from within my throat, as numbness begun taking over me and my eyes were fiercely closed in a failed attempt to stop the pain from taking over me. The last thing I saw was her turning her body more, in an angle, (oh what a loathed angle!) that blocked her face from me.

And when my eyes were open again I could only witness at the yellow cascade of her hair blending with the scenery, in a way no artist, yet how skillful he would be, could capture the beauty this woman possessed. The way she stood showed her confidence and how she was fully aware of whom she was. Yet somehow, despite all the dirtiness and blackness of her actions and the life she lived, she had something that no other woman in her position would carry. She was surrounded by a veil of elegance and aristocracy.

Unlike other women of the same profession I had met, this one held a special place in my heart. This morbid seductress had more inside her than what the surface showed. Her job was not to save me, yet she dragged my broken body here and tended to me. The mission was a failure on my part, but she did her job fine, played her role perfectly, flawlessly.

I distinctly remember her fake moans and groans and sighs. Yet I cannot forget the look in her eyes; smart and almost wicked, captivating, so intense it almost scared me and pained me to see a woman so breathtakingly beautiful like her with that look in her eyes. She knew I was watching her, she knew I was lurking in the shadows; she was waiting for me to execute my part of the job. I couldn't though. The sight of her made me forget of everything. I was cast into her realm, into her world, where nothing existed but her. She did my part. The deed was done in the end.

An itch was creeping slowly to me; an itch to touch her, to feel her, to taste her. Images flooded my already clouded mind. Images of her body stripped of all clothes, her skin showing, taunting me with her lips and her haunting voice calling my name. In my dream she wanted me as much as I wanted her, and at one point I couldn't tell reality to fantasy. It felt so real like her hands were really tracing me, like her legs were really open for me.

But those were illusions. She had enough men in her life, men with money who paid her and gave her gifts. She seduced them for the sake of men like me, who we would later kill as they were too enthralled by this poisonous mistress.

I looked at her again and she was smoking a cigarette gracefully. The smoke rose to the skied and she pretended to touch it with her fingers, like it was a game for her. Everything about her had sexuality beyond her years. Her figure was almost sinful and her eyes had mastered the art of faked innocence. My blood was boiling and I had to touch her. I had to experience her. I knew I had to.

So I called her name and she finally looked at me. She asked me what I wanted and I told her, quite shamelessly what it was.

Her. I wanted her. I wanted to make things to her and I wanted her to make things to me. And that devil woman laughed at me like she pitted me. Poor, poor man, she quoted mockingly, you can't have me.

I asked her why and I received no answer. But her eyes, that looked so different from before, whispered to me. Her azure eyes were saying what her mouth could not utter. Her hand was moving slowly and she captured her hair behind her ear, exposing to me her delicate neck; her neck, where love marks from other men were too visible for my liking. And she smiled. Not the smile I saw earlier that night, where malice was almost shown, but a smile bitter and sad and so not fitting for her perfect face. Her silence spoke volumes to me.

And then I knew what she felt. She couldn't live with it. She didn't want to have a real relationship with a man for the guilt would eat her away to the core of her heart. Things were already hard for her. And then she turned away and strolled with the demeanor of the seductress once more, at the shore line where the waves stroked her bare feet.

I vowed that day to wait for her, for as long as it takes. Maybe I would try to free her from this binding affair with the fate she has chosen. Maybe one day I would stop being a shinobi and live a life more normal with her. Maybe I would die tomorrow, maybe in fifty years. I caught in my palm the grains of the sand and watched how they fell from it. I knew one thing though, that she would not escape me as easily as the sand did.