Disclaimer: Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto. Only the story belongs to me. (Aquarius21294)
Warning: If you do not like Sasuke, Temari, and/or SasuTema, this fanfiction is not for you.
Rough
As another ridiculously hot day in Suna passes by, they sit together, taking the heat in stride.
He'd be leaving for Konoha in the next day or two, but time is a bit slower in the desert, just a bit.
His face is solid, stern. Eyes staring off into the horizon, not blinking as if the sun, in all it's molten glory, didn't mean a thing.
This silence would have bothered most, but not her. She, with her vast experience, could take such things.
Gaara is her brother after all.
This woman, harsh and hot as the sand itself, could put up with the likes of Uchiha Sasuke.
He, being the "Ice Bastard" and she, being the "Sand Bitch", it almost seemed natural. Almost.
Almost as natural as him being with Sakura, the first woman to care for him.
(The dead do not count in such cases.)
But Sakura was - for lack of a better term - soft.
And neither of them had no need nor want for soft.
Temari's eyes remain open as the sand carried by the wind brushes across their faces.
"You know," she says as she stands up. "I never did finish that fight with you."
Sasuke still gazes into the horizon, briefly remembering his encounter with the Sand kunoichi while in pursuit of Gaara.
He looks up - despite the shine of the sun - and shoots her a blank stare.
With a slight hint of rebellion, she stares back.
In a mere second Sasuke finds himself perched atop a tall mound of sand as the typhoon wind spawned from Temari's fan tears through the surrounding area.
Sasuke allows himself to smirk, just a bit.
He can't help it.
He likes it rough.