Many beloved thanks to all of the reviews for the first part. ^_^ Simply lovely and heartwarming.
Okay, I said this at the beginning of the last chapter, but I'll say it again. (Since I'm nervous about this chapter!) This fanfic has themes of adult desire. If desire/sexual descriptions, etc, make you uncomfortable, I suggest not reading further.
Enjoy!
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Day passed. Night fell upon her.
Once again, she was allowed to work. The tale continued to repeat itself to her, but she grew more accustomed to functioning with it. She probably would have been able to sleep at night, but she denied herself rest until after she trained with Sasuke. She could not bear to miss the opportunity for time alone with him, no matter how little he communicated with her during their moments together.
She sat waiting, a strange, warm sensation washing over her. This sensation was born of the simple realization that she had spent not one, but multiple evenings alone with Sasuke—and another one was coming.
Despite her better judgment, a small smile tugged on her lips.
There was a thrill to being with him. She knew the thrill was wrong, that the giddy sensation in her stomach should be avoided. She knew that enjoying her time with Sasuke was aberrant, but it was effortless, natural—and also incredibly demeaning. He was the ultimate unrealizable fantasy. Those who suspected her continued childhood affection would often give her awful looks of pity.
The looks said, "You poor girl. Don't you have enough self-esteem to want someone else?"
Sakura bent her head forward.
She hated even thinking about how she felt. She was an awful stew of emotion with regard to the Uchiha. Her emotions ranged from wanting to jump on his back in a hug to pummeling his face in. Her emotional bond was unbreakable, regardless of their past. Having grown into adulthood, her emotions intensified into a powerful sexual attraction.
All things considered, pondering her true feelings for Sasuke was enough to make her want to rip out her hair—her feelings for him brought too many sensations all at once.
Making matters worse was her inability to even express to him that he frustrated her. Naruto did it so naturally, calling out immediately whenever Sasuke was an ass. He didn't pretend he'd forgotten Sasuke's hideous deeds of the past. In fact, he would even risk making him irritable by reminding him. Sakura could barely acknowledge that Sasuke was ever gone from the village out loud. It was hardly any wonder that Naruto and Sasuke's relationship had grown progressively through struggles, while hers with Sasuke remained stagnant.
Hell, it wasn't even stagnant. During the daytime, she couldn't even acknowledge her openly affectionate actions toward him in the past. Exposed to the blinding light of the sun, their relationship had become so repressed that it reverted into nothing. So they could function. Pretending neither of them knew things…
Like how she had offered to betray her village for him.
Twice.
That he had rejected her offer.
Twice.
That he had tried to kill her.
Twice.
And that Sakura loved him.
Always.
But in the dark of evening, they were beginning to share…and she was beginning to hope.
Sakura winced, pulling her hands to cover her face. What a grotesque problem. Her previously pleasant excitement was gone, leaving her feeling miserably lonely.
The sounds of approaching footsteps alerted her. She looked through her fingers, seeing her expected companion. He stood before her, arms crossed. He looked down at her observantly, wondering why she looked so dejected. Their eyes made contact, and he saw instantly how glassy hers were.
He told himself it was the light of the moon or just shadows playing tricks on him. He wasn't willing to speculate why she could possibly be bothered. As she rose to her feet, he evaluated their new nightly ritual.
Each night, she'd babble something about how she couldn't sleep or why it was inconvenient that she couldn't sleep. He wouldn't offer her the information that he usually struggled to fall asleep, but he assumed that she had drawn the conclusion on her own. Then, without any apparent transition, they would spar. He would win their sparring session once it had dragged out far too long, and she would leave.
What he didn't understand was why he kept returning each night. He guessed his curiosity kept him coming—he wondered why she couldn't sleep yet again. His psychological issues regarding why he struggled with sleep were far more obvious than hers. What could possibly be so burdensome in her life to keep her up at night? She would probably tell him if he asked, but he found it strange that she hadn't willingly told him in her babbles.
What piqued his curiosity even more so was why she habitually returned. Surely, there were no romantic intentions. She was too brutal of a fighter to be imagining an amorous evening spent bonding with him. Furthermore, he told himself, they weren't bonding.
She gave him a polite smile.
The other reason why he returned each night was that he didn't mind the sparring sessions much. As much pleasure as he and Naruto found in beating on each other, it was refreshing to focus his battle skills against someone new. He would inevitably win, but the sessions were somewhat progressive regardless.
"Ready?" she asked, taking a stance. He nodded, waiting for her to charge at him.
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The goddess would continue to gain his attention, attempting to rouse him. These efforts would awaken him briefly, but he would return to his state and ignore her.
Each evening that followed had a special and bizarre training cycle.
She would arrive in the forest sometime around midnight. Then, she would have to find Sasuke in the darkness. She knew he did this to improve her ability to sense him. He was surprisingly efficient at going undetected, but her chakra control enabled her to perfect finding him rapidly. Sakura teased Sasuke often about his desire to play Hide and Seek every night. He'd roll his eyes at her each time.
Then, he would charge at her unexpectedly, forcing her to protect herself. Their fights would then break out.
She put up a good fight. She couldn't match his speed, but she could certainly hold her own against him. She never held back. Her fists were furious and strong, bruising him if he wasn't quick enough to move.
Never once did he activate his Sharingan. Each night when she observed this, she would become royally unnerved and angry. Her speed would increase—her ability to dodge him, flawless—and her attacks were twice as brutal. Once he was able to stop her, he would stare at her as she panted raggedly with fury. Each night he was amazed, wondering where such anger was born from.
The final part of each night was by far the most fascinating. Sasuke always marveled at how her tone and behavior would change so rapidly.
After their wild fights against one another, things would grow calm. Instead of enraged with passionate dueling, their bodies would relax into something unfamiliar. Sakura would always offer to heal Sasuke, and he would refuse her until she'd healed herself first. Once she was in satisfactory condition, he would stare at her expectantly. She would smile kindly, and then proceed to heal him.
She was a phenomenal healer, beyond his understanding. Her fingers would mend his flesh with ease. Sasuke would marvel to himself over her capabilities. Yes, he had mastered inflicting pain and death. His battle prowess was well known and matched by few.
While Sakura wasn't a warrior like him or Naruto, she had a gift far more precious. Her ability to preserve life and ease pain seemed so contrary, especially to the ninja lifestyle.
Everything about her seemed so contrary. One moment, they would charge at one another with the burning rage of the fight. She would strike him without mercy. Likewise, he would attack her without even feigning restraint. However, once the battle was over, she was gentle toward him.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
Soothing.
Enough so that, each night, he would return home and sleep contentedly.
Their nights together blended into an endless form for Sakura. Weeks passed, her sleep slowly returning to something she could handle. Her nights after her training were not restless, but full of contentment. She continued to work at the hospital and complete missions with her team. The story kept up its daily rounds in her mind as well.
The goddess did feel pain from her beloved's neglect, but her spiritual wholeness for following the correct path dulled the pain to tolerable levels.
All the while, she kept her evening ritual to herself. While it wasn't necessarily a secret, it felt almost too delicate to share with the world.
On a particularly memorable night, she finally expressed openly a token of warm feelings toward Sasuke. He hadn't been aware until that night that he'd been anxiously awaiting evidence of her affection for him—like when they were genin. They had completed their round of Hide and Seek and sparring. He sat before her, wincing as she tried to fix a particularly painful wound she had inflicted on his shoulder.
"Sorry," she breathed softly.
He sat patiently, waiting for the inevitable relief she'd find for him. She bit her lip as she focused on him. She pressed on the wound and vaguely heard Sasuke hiss in pain. Slowly realizing how to mend him, she started to soothe the ache of the injury.
"Sorry," she repeated herself. "I should practice shoulder wounds more."
He offered her no response for a few moments. A pensive, distant look fell over him as he remembered a time long since passed. After she mended the wound she had dealt him, she massaged the spot for a moment, making sure it was not tender with pain.
He mumbled something softly. Her hands stopped moving, afraid to miss any of his words.
"When I was…."
A long pause.
"When I was not part of Konoha… there was this town. I heard a group of men talking about a healer from Konoha with pink hair. You were highly regarded."
A small smile was etched on her face. Sakura felt a warm wave of joy rush and overcome her. Unable to contain herself, a giggle escaped her. Sasuke felt a sense of peace from hearing the sound.
Lost in the sensation of Sasuke speaking kindly to her, her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders. He inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden burst of affection. The hug was familiar…refreshing. It was like a sudden manifestation of a memory that had faded and gone fuzzy. The touch was so clear, so real. He had nearly forgotten what a hug felt like.
Except…this hug felt gentler than the ones gone pale in his memory. It impacted him more than others, but the touch was more delicate. If he moved too fast, spoke, or expressed any distaste, he knew the hug would crumble. So, he remained perfectly still, trying to let her remain as long as she pleased.
"Sorry," she murmured shyly into his ear as she pulled herself away.
He thought to himself that he didn't mind the hug that much, but said nothing.
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When she resumed working her usual hospital shifts, she found herself quietly yawning. She slept far better than she had before, but more energy was expended each day. She knew she could take a break—that she didn't have to meet up with him every night.
But she couldn't resist.
Of course, she couldn't skip her regular team training times either. She had tried a couple of times, but Naruto grew anxious and showed up at her front door. He demanded that she come train, using his usual playful antics. Unable to disappoint him, she would attend the training sessions.
Besides, she wasn't willing to explain to anyone how she was growing so strong when she had failed to attend training. Logic would follow that she had been doing something. And she wasn't willing to share her something. Not yet.
It was something precious that she didn't want to reveal to the world. He, apparently, regarded the time in a nonnegative light. That isn't to say that she thought Sasuke liked training alone with her…but maybe he found it a satisfactory substitute to tossing and turning in bed. Or, perhaps, he just regarded it with the same neutrality he gave her.
However, there was a night when she questioned her judgment of his neutrality.
They'd been particularly rough on each other that night. He held her down to the earth, pinning her aggressively with each attempt she made to struggle. Eventually, she managed to wriggle from his grasp and strike him off of her. He grabbed her ankle when she tried to rise and pulled her back onto the ground. He pinned her again. She struggled once more, but this time she was not able to escape.
This scenario was not unusual. What followed was.
After she'd healed him and herself, she wished him a friendly goodnight.
He grasped her shoulder, not allowing her to leave. Instead, his hand ran through her hair. Slowly, with precise perfection, he removed leaves that had embedded themselves in her pink tresses during their struggle. Her mouth pouted slightly in surprise, but she remained still for him. He eyed her analytically, his fingers brushing against her scalp time and time again. Even when all the bits of leaves were gone, he ran his hand through her hair two extra times.
At first, he intended on just removing them. But, as time went on, he grew fascinated by the weight and texture of her hair. Seemingly heavy, the hair was light and silky in his grasp—easily smoothed.
Even more so, he was curious why he liked touching it.
Suddenly withdrawing from her, he looked away. Without any words, he left.
In his wake, she remained still. Her body was numbed entirely—fuzzy and vibrating with shock. Never had he touched her so delicately, even for the briefest of seconds. She stood still, afraid to move away from the moment. Even though he was gone, she couldn't bring herself to stir from the spot. She felt as if leaving would make her forget the electric feeling of his hand running through her hair. A cool breeze rustled her hair, making it fall forward and tickle her face. Tucking the hair away, a soft smile finally settled on her shocked form. Hope leaped within her and she wished for him to touch her like that again.
"Maybe next time," she assured herself ever so quietly.
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The god grew fearful for the goddess. He believed the raw energy of the universe surrounding him could harm her, so he encouraged her to defend herself. Thus, the goddess strived for the way of the warrior.
Shortly after that incident, he changed the intent of their sparring sessions. What had once been a mere exercise to relax them became a series of lessons. Lessons in flaws he had observed she had. She would have been offended if there wasn't a clear and concise meaning behind each lesson. Each time he directed her to do something, he was teaching her to defend herself. These lessons of defense were not intended to fight an unknown enemy.
They were intended to teach her to protect herself from him.
Each and every attack he had ever successfully used against her in the past was brought up. He would instruct her how to defend against his favored attacks. Why or where he had gotten such an idea, she couldn't fathom. More so, she didn't understand why he was so passionately insistent that she perfect them.
He managed to step behind her.
How, how, how, how could he always get behind her? Every night! Every time! For years now! Her frustration was cut short when she felt something icy against her neck. Her skin puckered from the cold.
His arm wrapped roughly around her abdomen, holding her in place. A kunai lay flat against her neck. Her heart instantly began to pound wildly, making her vision obscure. Air caught in her chest. She couldn't breathe, no matter how much she tried to collect herself. The position was too familiar. Events of a nightmarish past became vivid and tangible.
He'd attempted to kill her before in this very stance.
"Get out of my grasp," he ordered her slowly, factually. He pressed the kunai harder against her neck, but not enough to cut or pierce her skin. If she moved incorrectly, she would harm herself.
"I can't," she breathed. Her knees were growing weak. She feared she would collapse, but he did not pull away.
"This is a common stance," he continued with an edge in his tone. "You need to learn to remove yourself from it."
She tried not to let her voice crack the next time she spoke.
"I don't know how," she answered.
"Figure it out," he ordered, growing angry. A shiver rippled through her. Even though she knew he wasn't about to cut her throat open, she felt threatened. Her heart pounded harder, blood rushing through her. As terrified as her body responded, she felt a peak of arousal begin to spike through her. He was so close. The warmth of his breath on her neck as he ordered her. His solid body pressed against hers. The undeniable attraction she felt whenever he took command.
"Do it, Sakura," he growled huskily. With each moment, he grew more and more impatient with her. She shifted against him, frightened by the foreign, raw sound emitting from him. Yet, a spark of excitement jumped between her legs at the low rumble of her name. The kunai shifted against her ever so slightly, reminding her of how she should be feeling threatened. She eased away from the kunai, her backside pressing further into him.
All his muscles jerked, aware of her close proximity. With each inhalation of air, he breathed in her delicate scent. Her stomach flexed against his hand, alerting him of her fear. She shuddered, easing back against him again. He could feel the heat of her body, making his head spin.
"Sakura!" he reprimanded in frustration, jarring her into action.
Her hand rose and grasped his forearm slowly. Using her unbelievable strength, she gradually pushed the kunai away from her throat.
There was a pause, a moment where their bodies remained close. Both were unwilling to step away from each other. Their bodies were not ready to feel the cold of the night without the heat of the other.
Suddenly aware of himself, Sasuke pulled the kunai to her neck once more.
"Again," he ordered. "Faster this time, so I am not aware. Get out of my grasp."
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He knocked her out the next night.
She was going to figure out how that bastard was always so quick. She did have monstrous strength—when she could catch him, she could inflict a considerable amount of damage. The trick was catching him.
When she came to, she realized she was out far longer than usual. Either he had been too rough with her, or she was unusually slow to recover from the blow. With her head resting on the ground, her eyes fluttered open slowly. She realized how much time had passed when she saw pink and orange streaks beginning to slowly taint the dark depths of the night sky.
She inhaled then sighed, rolling over slightly. The side of her face gently nudged a leg. To her surprise, she found Sasuke sitting patiently beside her. His legs were folded, his back against the tree. He looked from the sky to her. A single brow rose, which she took to mean, "Are you alright?"
She said nothing, but gave him a somewhat bashful smile as a response. Her throbbing head longed for a sort of softness to rest upon. Following some ill-conceived instinct, she laid her head on his lap. Bliss eased into her momentarily while she remained unaware. Once she realized what she had done, she felt a stone drop through her.
However, he did not push her off. He kept entirely still, neither encouraging nor discouraging.
"Want me to take you home?" he asked. He did not look down at her—a strange heat was crawling up his neck towards his cheeks. The soft pressure of her head resting upon him consumed his awareness, and he reacted in a way too foreign to him. His heart beat a little faster and, despite himself, he could not will it to settle. As his heart raced, his face grew warmer.
She waited a moment and slowly gathered herself to rise. Her eyes slid to him and a shock passed through her as she observed an unfamiliar hue of pink across his cheekbones. He looked agitated as he turned his face away from her—was that a blush he was trying to hide, she wondered.
"No," she answered with a sincere smile. A sudden, mysterious bit of elation jumped through her, giving her energy. "I can get home alone."
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Their sessions grew inconsistent with their various missions and her busy daytime life. When they were home at the same time, she would still attempt to arrive on the spot. Sometimes, she would collapse on her couch when she got home. She would sleep past her time with him.
He didn't express annoyance when she did not show. In fact, he did not acknowledge that she had even been absent. Eventually, however, his displeasure with her absences became apparent. He even seemed to have suspicions about why she didn't show.
After their usual battle, he tilted his head to the side. He analyzed her closely, scrutinizing her. Boldly, he spoke his mind.
"Do you train alone with other men?" he asked accusingly. She must have been hallucinating, but she thought she heard a hint of jealousy and suspicion in his tone. She had to have imagined it—longed for it. There was no way Sasuke could be jealous. She was so taken aback, she couldn't form an answer.
His eyebrow rose in impatience.
"No," she blurted. "You're my only… t-the only man I ever train with alone."
His look of annoyance faded. He nodded at her, but said nothing by way of explanation.
Dare she believe it, but did he look a little relieved?
When the god would awaken from his mediation briefly, he always checked to make sure the goddess remained devoted. Potential jealousy would burn through him, but each time he opened a single eye, she continued to have love within for only him. This pacified him. The god, however, denied any longing for her.
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Uchiha Sasuke had found a new lie to tell himself. He told himself that he trained with her constantly because he wanted to build trust. Sakura was not like Naruto, who instantly forgave him. She needed some help rehabilitating the scraps of trust she had for him. He reasoned to himself that he was obligated to this for the sake of his team. Despite this theory being articulate and logical, it was a complete and total lie.
He liked spending time with her.
There was no other reason for his actions. He wasn't trying to benefit his training. He wasn't trying to establish trust, though it was a bonus of the time spent together.
He simply was drawn to her—to time spent with her alone.
His favorite part, though he would never admit it to himself, was when she healed him. He secretly craved the time after their sparring was over, when they'd sit together calmly…and her fingers would travel along his skin.
He wondered occasionally if she attacked his chest and back so frequently on purpose. His suspicion was that she liked running her hands over his torso. Confirming his thought even further was how she'd occasionally rub his back after she healed him. When her fingers brushed against his skin, vibes of satisfaction would jump in his muscles.
Despite enjoying the way she touched him, he told himself there was no sexual attraction.
That is, until the night she cut her lip.
They had been wrestling on the ground, a kunai between them. The kunai had slipped from her grasp and slid across her mouth. He hated the slight of her blood, even though she managed to cover her mouth with her hand quickly.
Moving rapidly, her green glow mended the delicate flesh she had torn. She poured water from a bottle across her mouth, removing the excess blood. She washed off her hands then tested her lips by touching them gently.
He watched all the while, transfixed.
Her viridian eyes flashed to him. The glowing tones of night made her eyes more vibrant.
"Did I heal it completely?" she asked him. Her bottom lip pouted forward slightly.
He rested his hand on her cheek, thumb brushing across the lower lip. Their eyes met, and for a moment, he couldn't look away. A strange thought bubbled inside him.
He wondered what it would feel like if he leaned his face against hers. He wondered if he'd like the feeling of her lips on his. Kissing her lower lip. Running his tongue along it.
He fought the horrifying new urge, pulling away from her.
"It's fine," he snapped.
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The other gods grew restless from the god's obvious detachment from the goddess. The god of lust and desire was sent to awaken the detached god from his meditation. The god of lust tried to allure the god with the sweet smells of springtime when he watched the goddess.
Uchiha Sasuke was not a sexual person. Whether that was due to his development into adulthood in an insecure environment or to his overall repressed personality, he didn't know—but it held frighteningly true. He did not pant and lust for women the way his peers did. And, for the record, he did not want men either.
That's probably why the new sensations he'd been experiencing were driving him mad.
Training alone with Sakura…it inspired something completely new in him. Lust would trickle through his frame with each of her movements. When she lunged forward to attack, he had primitive thoughts of pulling her closer by the waist. When he tackled her and held her to the ground, his mind whispered thoughts of pinning her down in a completely different manner. He imagined how it would feel to have her body struggle against his for a completely different reason. What her face would look like contorted with pleasure instead of pain.
He'd always been plagued by dreams of her. When he slept, images of them alone together teased his mind and body. He frequently dreamed of undressing her and touching her, but he dismissed it as a natural reaction from his subconscious toward the most important woman in his life. He reasoned to himself that there was no real attraction; merely, she was the only female close enough to him for his dreams to warrant such action. No man sleeps his entire life without erotic dreams, and it was only logical that his erotic dreams featured her. He was physically healthy, after all. He was physically supposed to be sharing his urges with another. He ought to be relieving himself at least.
So, when he did not pursue any physical gratification, he assumed it was natural that his body would release it during his dreams.
This… this suddenly new sensation… could not be rationalized. This was real. He was awake.
And he loathed it all with a passion.
He was constantly thinking of touching her. Touching her gently in affection. Touching her to pique her interest. Touching her to make her moan.
The absolutely worst stimulant for his desire was when she healed delicate places on his body. There had been a time when he found peace in her touch. Now, he only felt desire. A mysterious, sharp desire to return each of her touches. His fingers twitched in longing to move across smooth skin.
Smooth skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight. He absorbed it all. The details he took in when he spent time with her overwhelmed him. Each sensation from her touch was twice as vivid as the touch itself. The colors of the night, usually muted and dull, were now vibrant. The blues of the world at night seemed too radiant now. The cool tones of night made her naturally warm appearance smolder.
It was as if he was experiencing spring for the first time.
Her fingers brushed across his thighs, tightly crashing him into reality. She kneeled beside him, healing some wound that was too deep to ignore. The pit of his stomach grew warm as he watched her. A question posed itself in his mind.
What would it feel like if her fingers tickled up his thighs?
The warmth in the pit of his stomach grew into a heat. Sparks of something ignited themselves in his groin. Such an alluring kunoichi was touching him in the night. He considered the consequences of pulling her onto his lap.
He began to watch her intently.
Her face remained completely still and controlled. Too much so. A heated blush had crept across her cheeks, telling him that she was also aware of the intimacy of their position. She'd tucked her bottom lip under her teeth in an attempt to comfort herself. Despite being nervous, thrills of excitement rolled across her from being able to touch his thighs, even if the touch was for medical reasons. Once he was mended, she pulled away. He expected a form of relief on her face, but instead found a stronger blush forming.
"All better, Sasuke-kun?" she asked with a cheery tone. She tried to look pleasantly innocent, but her eyes did not sparkle with childishness. Instead, they seemed to burn with her own hints of longing.
He nodded, swallowing past a suddenly dry throat.
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The detached god was angered by the lust inflicted upon him.
He hated it. He hated being constantly lustful for her attention, and he especially hated how he was no longer himself. Instead, he acted like someone else.
He planned his entire day around her, or rather, so that he would have plenty of energy by nightfall. Some days, he could hardly handle the slow dragging of time. He anxiously waited for sundown, wishing away his whole day. Even more burdensome than her manipulation of his schedule was her manipulation of his thoughts. He thought of her constantly. And when he thought of her, his heart would race. His focus would be completely shattered. At this rate, he could hardly function as a ninja.
This was all obviously her fault. She had somehow managed to charm him. Oh, how he loathed being captivated by her every action and word. How tiring it was to constantly dwell on her, but he couldn't help himself. Even the incredibly thick Dobe had noticed something was amiss with him.
When she arrived the next night, Sakura was greeted with the fiercest of glares.
"No Hide and Seek tonight?" she asked in nervous playfulness. His glare grew more intense.
This was so like her. She was constantly annoying him. When she wasn't babbling too much, she was making that sad face. When she made that sad face, he felt immense guilt. When he wasn't feeling guilty, he was considering ridiculously sentimental thoughts.
All of it was supremely annoying. His annoyance toward her grew to a peak that night.
Her heart began to beat a little faster from his forceful glare. He unsheathed his sword.
"Get ready," he barked at her.
Why was he so angry?
He lunged at her, and she managed to evade him. What followed was probably her most frightening experience with him since he had returned to Konoha. His actions were not precise fighting, but an animalistic and violent rage. Her heart pounded in her ears, urging her to avoid him using all the ways he had personally taught her to evade his attacks.
For the first time ever, she managed to get behind him. With a rough punch to his arm, she knocked the sword from his hand. She stepped backwards, avoiding him as he twisted to hit her. He dove forward unpredictably against her.
She landed with a harsh thud on the earth. He climbed atop her, dominating her. But not the way a teammate or friend dominated in a spar. His domination was aggressive…and somehow sexual. Her eyes widened as she began to openly pant in fear and excitement. She struggled frantically against him. As she did so, her hips bucked against his. He grabbed a hold of her shoulders to pound them against the ground.
"Stop that," he growled.
Her eyes snapped up to his. For, perhaps, the first time ever, she glared at him.
"You're really annoying me lately," he snapped.
She huffed in response. He analyzed her. Her cheeks were flushing, most likely from anger. Her lips were full, pouting. He tightened his grip on her as he tilted his head. Suddenly, his control slipped away from him.
He lowered his lips against hers harshly. The kiss was none too gentle, bruising her. Her body instantly stiffened in shock. She inhaled sharply beneath him in surprise. When he realized the forced kiss was not reciprocated, he pulled away.
He looked down at her, his eyes lowered. Shame struck him violently. Where was his control?
"You!" she gasped with fiery eyes, unable to even form a complete sentence. Then, her hand tangled into his hair. With a fairly brutal tug, she pulled him back down to her mouth.
The kiss did not lack ferocity, but this time, it was not painful. Her lips moved surely against his, making his tight grip on her shoulders loosen somewhat. His tongue slipped from his mouth to slide across her lower lip.
Far more enjoyable than he ever imagined.
Then, his tongue ran into her mouth. Perhaps the way they kissed was too rough. Surely, they would both have bruised lips, but neither cared. Both had been far too desperate for this touch to feign gentleness. When her teeth tugged his lower lip, he gave a broken groan. He thrust his tongue against hers again. Their mouths worked restlessly—tongues rubbing, teeth nipping and chewing.
Sakura began moaning beneath him. Neither of them could breathe steadily, both left panting.
When he finally managed to pull himself away from her lips, he couldn't help but admire her state. Her lips looked far more appealing when they were puffy and swollen from hungry kisses. He smirked at her and she giggled playfully in response.
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Sasuke stumbled into his house, still panting from the kisses that had teased him. His lips were sore from the ferocity. He rested a finger on them. He stood still a moment, remembering how she wriggled so in his grasp. The sound of her giggle.
He immediately felt his heart begin to pump blood rapidly. Perhaps, it had never stopped pumping so wickedly inside him. He didn't have a mere hot pool of sensation in the pit of his stomach. He had a full-blown, raw ache for her.
He peeled off his shirt, his feet quickly padding to the shower. He threw the shirt to the floor, not caring where it landed. He stood in the entryway, staring into the bathroom. As much as he wanted to believe that a shockingly cold shower would cure his itch, he knew it would only manifest itself again. His eyes widened in surprise toward himself. He gave a short pant before turning on his heel.
He made his way into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
He wasn't an easily distracted man. He ought to be able to turn his attention from the desire his body kept demanding of him. Yet, he couldn't.
He had to give in, didn't he?
Remembering the sound of her moaning from his kisses, he felt his warm blood come to a boil.
"Sasuke-kun…"
He shook his head slightly, almost in disbelief of what she was driving him to. Surrendering, he settled onto his bed. His hand fell to the waistband of his pants, but he imagined the touch was softer. More feminine.
His hand slipped inside, gasping as his fingertips brushed against himself.
Relaxing, he fell backwards, lying down. He let himself fantasize about pulling her onto his lap. He firmly gripped himself, giving a long stroke.
He imagined her wrapping her arms around him. Kissing him. Pressing her weight against his lap pleasantly.
"Nhh… Sasuke-kun, I'm so wet."
A grunt escaped his lips as his fist moved percussively. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips.
He wondered what it would be like to lick her neck, to feel her wriggle beneath him because it felt so good. What it would be like to remove every piece of clothing from her. What it would feel like to kiss every inch of her newly bare skin.
"More! More!"
Touching her. Teasing her with his fingers. Licking in the most sensual and delicate of places.
His heart began pounding rapidly, thrumming directly into his ears. Pleasure spiked and tensed his muscles. A needy grunt escaped his throat.
If only she was biting his lip again. If only she were with him. If only he was thrusting into her…
His pumping was nearly constant now, speeding up. All his muscles were coiled. His mouth fell open as he felt his orgasm near. His eyes clenched shut as ragged pants escaped him. A soft curse fell from his lips as his abdominal muscles tightened. The sensations of his fantasy grew so vivid that he almost could feel her warmth. He could almost smell her intoxicating sweet scent. He moaned her name desperately.
"Sakura!"
White blinded his eyes with the intensity of his release, warm seed spilling into his fist.
A shaky breath escaped him as he tried to find composure. Sluggishly, he rose from his bed to clean himself before returning. He lay on his side, pressing his cheek into the pillow.
Instead of falling into a blissful sleep, his mind continued to dwell on Sakura. He wanted her desperately and some part of him slowly planned at what point he should bring her home. He'd pin her to the bed and, at the rate he wanted her, he'd keep her there for a couple of days.
But what would the long-term consequences of that be?
His lips fell into a frown. He could never use her so boldly. He couldn't bear to force additional emotional harm on her. She had been too kind with him—too loving.
But he couldn't be with her. The idea vaguely tempted him for a moment. He took a moment to indulge his fantasy with whispers of pleasant phenomenon like…
Waking up to her laugh. He envisioned how she'd engage him in playful banter, despite the fact that he would never quite know what to say to her. How she'd sigh when she realized the time, muttering how she didn't want to get up and leave the heat of their embrace.
Making her breakfast. He pictured her in his too-big clothing as she rushed to the kitchen to find him. How he'd like to listen to her constant, upbeat babbling.
Returning home from a hard mission just to settle down beside her warmth in his bed. He imagined peeling off his clothes and sliding into bed as she sleepily wrapped her flushed body around his and pressed open-mouthed kisses against his neck.
But for how long? Did he seriously believe he could have a functional relationship? Something healthy, not destructive?
Two minutes before he'd kissed her, he had been hitting her.
"Stupid," he scolded himself, turning in his bed. Spending time alone with her was never a wise idea.
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Once again, I'd like to thank my beta Sakura's Indecision. She's an absolute angel. ^_^
