A/N: Not the sequel to Fruits of Lust.


For the smexy djagito.

This update wouldn't have been possible without ohwhatsherface and her persuasive bribing.


.02

We are darkened and forever stained with sin.


.:aeternus eternus:.


It was every girl's dream of a blossoming fairytale love; the kind that included a swarm of butterflies and frantic heartbeats upon each new and anticipating encounter coated with warm, addictive kisses on lush grass or in between drops of rainfall, nature as the only witness of a growing affection in each stroke of skin that led into an unforgettable, eternal union between two lovers.

Sea-green irises simply stared, without a single flutter of long eyelashes, at the reflection emitted in the long length mirror. The sun's beams hit the glassy surface at an angle; illuminating the white material she donned and making the fabric look of a brittle substance, just like the scattered cherry blossoms illustrated on the resplendent kimono.

Soft, coral tresses were swept back in a semi-elegant form, allowing some deliberate rebellious tendrils to adorn her incredibly innocent, girlish features. Her usual pink petal lips were bolded cherry red, clashing with pale, pallid skin of her visage, and to which also demonstrated a state of nervousness swirling within her. Yet, at the same time, her overall appearance was nothing short of perfection.

The wishful little girl had grown into a beautiful woman.

The woman was prepared and dressed at her best, since this day marked a new commencement in her life. Swirling cautiously, she made sure nothing was out of place as she repeatedly glanced at the result in the reflection. With months of preparation and waiting, everything she had wanted to have, have all fallen in place: a secure future and her fairytale ending.

She prayed the right decision was made, and as much as she had repeatedly reassured herself, there still was the seemingly endless beating of butterfly wings from inside, yet this time, she was beginning to hate that feeling, more so when she had been unable to cease those nerves for the last hour. A case of uncontrollable jitters was expected on a day like this, but something was extremely off. Why didn't she feel the extreme happiness she had looked forward to and hoped?

She doesn't look like me and yet…she is me

Releasing a sigh, she faced the mirror once more; olive orbs averted downwards, entering a laconic stage of reminiscence at how exactly she reached this point in her life, before her acute senses tingled in warning, alerting her body and mind that danger was approaching, but she was a second too slow in reacting.

"Everyone is waiting for you, princess."

The deep, sardonic voice sent automatic chills down her vertebrae, triggering her heart to freeze momentarily before it forcefully beat against her ribcage in an accelerated pace, linking to her calm breathing pattern as it altered considerably. Her viridian orbs dashed to meet the mirror, a quick ally, to see the still figure from behind, hidden by opaque shadows.

It wasn't long until the figure emerged from the darkness, the same light hit and enhanced his features, the same beautiful face she dreamt through long cool nights and unsettling short slumbers; though it failed to make him look angelic. He looked quite the opposite, with the combination of his pale complexion and dark locks, including the lack of expression, bottomless—she once feared them to be forever empty in consequence of his previous external and internal battles—onyx eyes and cunning smirk.

He proceeded to walk closer, keeping jade eyes connected to his in a tortuous allure as his began to work his hypnosis: a languorous power that had always been inescapable, ensnaring her into his control from the moment she first set sight on him, to the days and nights in between, and up to this exact instant.

She wasn't certain what it was about those dark depths found in his eyes that made her stomach plummet with unsettling emotions whenever he put his focus on her. She knew, from the very beginning, he used it to his advantage with the intention of making her feeble—she blinked and the view changed, her common sense returned while she battled the seductive waves he liberated towards her by averting her eyes, glancing to a vase of crimson red peonies located within a few feet from him. Ino had picked it out especially for her as a sincere wish for a happy future, but the striking flower bouquet was not worthy of his notice for his eyes were only focused on…

"What are you doing here, Sasuke?" she softly asked, still not quite daring to look at him just yet, while her arms subconsciously crossed over her front.

Protecting the heart which I once given you unconditionally. Without a second thought to how you would take it in your hands

With an attentive gaze, he watched her movement and responded in a low voice. "What do you think?"

The chills returned, answering to his query. Before she allowed the moment to become awkward and tense—out of her control—her viridian irises transformed from the unstill, cautious look into one full of determination. "This isn't..." she began, but stopped to clear her suddenly dry throat before continuing angrily, "Leave!"

Obsidian eyes narrowed at the demand, not accustomed to being told what to do, as he looked at her through the mirror. She kept her determination strong; her arms dropped at her sides, hands curling into fists, and did not feel alarm as she stared back into those hard dark orbs. A brief reminder traveled across her mind, telling of the fear previously evoked when she had been afraid to meet those eyes again after a long absence.

She had enough of this incursion, especially when her perfidious mind and body's reactions were a hazard to her confidence, and turned around to face him when he didn't budge, much likely considering her threat to be inane like always. How could he do this now? He promised…She became startled and her resolve faltered after finding the proximity between them tremendously close and so sudden.

Pursing her lips from gasping aloud when her torn reaction risked the remaining amount of willpower left, she kept her strong eyes in play, but traitorous legs took steps in reverse, sending her towards the mirror where she could be trapped onto its surface, reminding her of the times when she was powerless against him. What startled her most were the onyx orbs that also had transformed into a composed, lustful gaze. Those pair began to eye her down gradually, daringly, without shame. Shifting, she felt exposed and swallowed when his hand rose, digits aimed for the target.

"If only they knew..." he murmured as he fingered the white kimono, paying more attention to a small portion above her chest.

She couldn't articulate a word. His scent was suddenly very empowering: the same fresh shower smell combined with the sweet aroma of burning wood that made her heart lurch with every intake of breath. It was the scent she was so used to, starting off as an ache to find; and when she did drink it into her system, it always left her in a stupor—mind dizzy, senses scuttled and emotions at the brink of rupture.

"...the things I have done to you…"

The humiliation I suffered for each time you released your hate and it hurt so much

Following his seductive scent was the deep voice that made her knees weak, the one that broke her perfect posture she had learned from a decent upbringing, shaming her so. She was supposed to have perfect feminine etiquette to make others proud, particularly herself, with head held high—in the right place—as one of the village's respectable kunoichi, but everything became clumsy and chaotic like she was reverted to her younger self, lacking self-esteem.

The only part of her that improved was her hearing, which heightened in ability to just hear him speak, to hear the familiar, smooth vocals, even if it was his customary one syllable words or sounds. And what she always dreamed to hear was her name rolling off his tongue—

"…what we do together alone."

Despite her assertions of moving on, ready to give her love to someone deserving, she, with misplaced and scurried feelings, let the dim hope emerge in a rare opportunity, even when every fiber of her being screamed at her to stop it, she couldn't…for so many reasons of the heart and surrendered to him. And the many lies that sprouted in the earth like tiny seeds with this capitulation had rapidly grown out of her control.

Sakura couldn't let this ensue again, most definitely not right now, because she fully realized how immoral the situation she had fallen into was, including the fact that she was so close to achieving what she wanted all along and this would ruin everything she had worked for.

"Sasuke," she replied, wondering how to make him understand, "Anyone can come in. Leave before—"

Her reasoning was disrupted by knowing lips in a forceful kiss. Her tentative body pushed forward, away from the mirror, away from her reflection, to gravitate towards him in instinct as his cool lips crushed hers, moving at a quick pace with his tongue luring her in at the same time. Leaning against him, she once again let herself succumb to his simple touches that made her body become both extremely fatigued and alert, as if touching him returned the energy drained with his mere presence—He was a contradiction…

…an impatient man who sought what he wanted—willing to enter a fight, no matter the strength, to prove his power—the lost little boy she had fallen in love with, the silent stranger who returned into her life after breaking her heart, the man she learned to despise with the interior of her being and now…

While her mouth was devoured by lips and teeth, her hands shook in the need to hold onto him. It was too much, even though she had savored his taste for so long, it was like his mere taste was a drug, and while it was supposed to make her crave for more, she still couldn't adapt to its additive, potent high. His exploring hands traveled from her arms to the small of her back, to areas where it made her feel there was an absence of clothing, as they claimed what was already claimed.

The first time they exchanged more than an awkward—in her perspective—touch was when he had finally managed to anger her with one of his sarcastic, cruel comments. Fist ready and pride stung, she aimed to wipe that smirk off his face when he seized her wrist painfully, pulling her hastily and causing her to tip into him as he took the back of her head, smirk in place, before guiding it to his. He had stolen her first kiss, and, what should have resulted in rejection, created the circle of deception and lust she couldn't find the end to.

From behind, she felt him loosen the obi, tugging it away from her form. A sound of protest escaped from her throat but was smothered with his tongue. His hand crept to cup one of her breasts and it took almost all her will to break away from his hot mouth that always left her breathless.

I know I can't breathe without you, but now, how am I supposed to breathe with you if I…?

"I can't," her statement was uttered in one alarmed pant.

All he did was smirk. And her eyes were drawn to the paint that had decorated her lips, which was now smeared around his, looking so much like…blood. Instantly, there were flashes of his cruel battles upon seeing the vibrant color on him and it dawned in her mind that he was one of the most dangerous men in the world. She knew he was capable of ripping her dress, her beautiful dress, to make a point and so much more.

"It hasn't stopped you before."

You are a liar. Her conscious blamed after the fact was revealed, and she tried to lessen the guilt by defending herself, "Because I—"

There was a pull of her shoulders, and the outer layer of her kimono revealed the one underneath it. That quickly was pulled open as well. It was like the first time he undressed her with the sensation and pleasure of unwrapping a gift, only he had gone as far as to rip them in shreds, as he continued to part the layers open. He shifted forward and a hand went under it, fingertips traveling up skin until it met delicate lace. His finger was running across her lower abdomen, across her thin panties before heading downward to her core.

"Remember the first time, Sa-ku-ra?" he asked so calmly in his usual monotone, hiding the mocking gist intended.

She was silent, faded cherry lips were quivering when those fingers teased her womanhood, slowly sweeping pass areas that were key to finding bliss as transient presses brought sparks within the pit of her abdomen. Her legs also started to quiver in familiar anticipation, and still, were not enough to ignite the desired and forbidden flame.

His sly smirk remained positioned on his mouth, knowing full well the torment and disarray he was pushing her into. It wasn't the first time this tactic was exploited against her; he used it every time in the thrilling foreplay to watch her face become alive as her cheeks are enflamed to a tomato-like red shade and hear the helpless resonance in the moans through parted lips. Those melodious hums nearly sent him over the edge, especially when she arched, full breasts teasing him from beneath some garment, knowing it was his hand, not hers—nor anyone else's for that matter—that was the maker which created this beauty.

And with power to generate a different kind of beauty she didn't know she possessed, he made her pay with a price to grant her eternal bliss veiled in a few moments by prolonging the ticks of the clock. He wanted to hear her plead, acknowledge that he was the only one who did this to her, and give him permission to take her whenever he wanted. And plead she did, to his complete bidding.

Her pursed lips, muffling upcoming whimpers, and forced open eyelids were preventing him from seeing his creation. Though he was not angry or frustrated because it only added on to what he wanted: to break her slowly for it was most satisfactory. Wandering back to start over again, he dragged long fingers harder onto her flesh, a thumb rested on top, and rubbed.

"You were so willing," he murmured.

And he was so cruel in his actions, receiving pleasure from watching me suffer inches before him. I was his amusement. He never cared about my well-being

With the silent command of his touch, the building ticklish feeling discharged liquid, readying her for stimulation, nipples taut, much to her disbelief at how rapidly she became wet—though there were times when a small stroke in the precise area was all that was needed to receive him, challenging her initial opinion—as gratifying sensations gathered to intensify and sate.

"I-I don't..."

Her claims were left unfinished when digits disappeared, to her honest dissatisfaction, only to appear at the side of her hip as panties were pulled down to her thighs. Feeling a fleeting cool breeze, she was unable to collect herself and he stole this chance by hoisting her just enough to slam her against a wall. Her dress loosened, nearly flying open, and her jumbling thoughts ceased, resulting in an almost pathetic, quick surrender as she croaked weakly.

"Not in here..."

That teasing hand pulled at the expensive material, wanting to tear it off her body. "I want you now."

He always gets what he wants. What about my happiness?

And her panties lowered until it fell to her feet. He fumbled for a moment with his pants before taking her around the waist, lifting her to the wall and gathering her thighs to set them further apart impatiently, fingers sank into soft flesh, which would certainly bruise over the fading purplish, abusive spots already present when he settled himself in between. It was the only warning before he entered harshly, making a complete invasion, mimicking the first explosion she experienced and it left her choking in gasps.

In spite of her breathless state and imbalance, he held onto her legs around his waist and began to move on his accord. She attempted to capture a single intake of air, but he was suffocating her, large hands on her bottom—squeezing, bruising—his chest shoved upon hers in the same vindictive action that made her feel like an object—a rag doll.

It was degrading to feel like a rag doll, limbs were motionless at her sides, legs wrapped around him to keep her from falling as he plunged into her without any consideration in giving her pleasure.

The severity of their intercourse made her back hit the wall repeatedly and she tried to maintain her head straight. There were restrictions with the attire as layers threatened to fall off when she struggled to keep them attached to her body. But her body was no longer under her control.

When she couldn't catch her breath, she began to feel faint and it added to the effects of the fast pace along with his constricted hold on her, face buried in her perfumed neck. Hot breaths soared over her skin, down her collarbone, creeping under loose fabric, and the top curves of her breasts. Spikes brushed her face as he raised his head; his quick, warm breaths entered her mouth, and she took each one in, recovering from her previous state, but it was replaced with the all too familiar, overwhelmed feeling of burning fire.

Opposing to her beliefs, he was holding back. He wanted her naked, out of the dress she had obsessed over, which reminded him of her prideful habit of worrying over her appearance, to trail his tongue over her sweaty body and feel the withering of blazing skin under his as he groped bare hips, thighs, breasts…

He lifted his mouth to her ear, remembering the dirty words used in the heat of passion—the release of a growing rage still existent in him—knowing he was merciless with her, deliberate and on instinct.

In one movement, he captured her lips and kissed her again. All he wanted to do to her was felt in that bruising kiss: he tugged on the edge, the pull of luscious skin fed the animalistic tendency, and his tongue mingled hers short after, coaxing it to slither into his own cavern, which she did so meekly. Only when she had thrown morals out the window did she respond as feverishly as he. At times, he witnessed how she overlooked the reality of things. And the reality was that he would never tire of her, and additionally that she, no matter how hard she tried, could never push him away.

With that knowledge, he continued to penetrate her silky, taut walls to nourish the void created by a robbed childhood. Swallowing her moans, she briefly closed her eyes, hoping to gain control of the situation. When she opened them, realization of her surroundings sank in; they were near a temple. In a panicked gasp, she feared for the consequences of their actions. She remembered her mother's warnings, about men like him who only wanted one thing, the natural necessity for love of females, and the great blindness both genders possessed in obtaining what they longed for.

They would burn in hell for this…but at that second, in the transition and fusion, she was living in his flames. She didn't care about anything else, except—she clutched at his arms pleadingly as the path to their peak hastened, asking him to be tender just for once, even though that trait was erased from his genes.

Don't break me

Expectedly deep down, she knew that he wouldn't and he refused to comply with her silent cry. Not wanting to feel so helpless, she resorted to wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling the intensity of the unreleased emotions. Her legs around his lower waist tightened in compulsion, making him groan.

He plunged into her harder, their bodies hit and her dampness increased, squelching as they met. The sound she once thought to be sordid stirred up warped excitement locked by morality and innocence, and consciously her nipples continued to harden uncomfortably, also desiring to be loosened from heavy layers of clothing. She bit her lips from telling him to go faster, harder.

Don't ever stop

In a blink of an eye, she no longer felt dirty. It wasn't an importance compared to this dire need to fulfill the void of sweltering incompletion. The increased pace, his cool breath mixing with hers, supplying her lungs as augmented heartbeats were pounding out of her ribcage in this white searing concoction, itching and blinding them both.

Her hands grasped onto his shoulders, nails dug into his fabric, remembering the force in which she gripped onto him when she was lost to herself; nails breaking skin, staining her fingers with his blood.

Acting on an animalistic urge herself, she moved her hips to meet his thrusts as she rose and descended. It became faster and faster yet it didn't seem like she would reach the desired end. As if reading her mind, though it was in the knowledge of her body, he put his arms completely around her and in a swift movement appeared at a table. Her back partially met the wooden surface as a vase was knocked down, breaking into many pieces. Towering over her, he thrust in and out nonstop, with his hands at her hips moving her rhythm to match his.

"Sasuke-kun…" she gasped, the effects already captured and sent her to the stage of bliss. Biting her own lips from unleashing moans and screams, her eyes closed in concentration as they entered memorable territory, engulfing her in a tremendous wave of pleasure.

She shuddered against him after the passion coursed through her entire body, toes curling, eyes dilating, and released her lips from her teeth, which she had bitten so hard that she already tasted the copper in the midst of ecstasy, providing a sweeter taste to her satisfaction. She knew he reached it too when he had emitted a full groan subsequent to a final arch of his body into hers.

Jade and onyx became hidden under eyelids, basking in every ounce of their tainted euphoria before the fervor ebbed into the relaxation meant to be enjoyed in bed, filled with loving caresses, tangled limbs, and nestled bodies resembling one.

He didn't make an effort to slip out of her. Instead, he opted to hold her closer, and listened to the cadence and movement of their breaths and chests. She felt lightheaded, unable to open her eyelids more than halfway. His mouth lowered to her scented neck and noticed the mark he put on her neck yesterday was gone. Her half lidded eyes finally widened. She figured out what he was thinking. "Don't! Everyone will see—"

"And why should I care?" he murmured against her neck, teeth grazing the fair, snowy skin ready to sink his teeth.

Rapidly, tears formed in her eyes. "Sasuke..."

He looked at her, meeting his reflection in those iridescent olives, and out of rarity, but certainly out of lost gentleness, raised a hand to cup her face, thumb ready to catch the droplets from the corners of her eyelashes. There was a genuine look of surprise in her orbs, and his lips were prepared to reciprocate a response when they were interrupted by loud knocks on the door.

"Please tell me you're not getting cold feet, forehead!" a voice yelled through the door.

The eye contact was broken when she looked towards the door; realization returned to her senses and she was subconsciously pained by having to dodge his touch, squirming in his hold.

He complied by letting her go, to which she bolted up from the table, yet stayed inches from her. When her feet were planted onto the floor, she pulled up her panties over hot skin and dressed again. Sasuke had looked at her expectedly and she avoided his gaze, instead, she rearranged her dress, and answered Ino, "I'll be there in a minute!"

Sakura fumbled with the heavy layers, putting them in place in a speedy manner in contrast to the careful technique that took minutes to align until she pleased, and had trouble tying it, lacking the help from Ino.

"Help me with this!"

She had whispered in a frustrated tone, and he slowly complied. Once it was tied, he took hold of her arms before she dashed away, and lowered his mouth to the side of her head. "You're not fit to wear white. But it's the only color that fits you…apart from red."

"Sasuke," she whispered, hurt by the truth in his words and her hypocrisy.

"Red suits you the most," he continued as he pulled back a lock of pink hair from her face.

Because I love it when I see the sight of my blood on your sweaty skin as I wither underneath you. I stare into the crimson that swirls in your eyes when you force all the repressed emotions with every thrust, desiring a release and a will to destroy me

"Sasuke, please go," she asked, turning in his arms.

He gave a silent sigh as he observed her flushed face: the various, arousing expressions in those dark, dilated emerald irises were secreted in his own, and the swollen, edible looking lips were simply asking to be tasted again. Her visible neck was doused with lustrous moisture like the skin above her breasts when he usually trailed it with his mouth…she was looking so beautiful, so frail, so fuckable.

His gaze dropped to the band on her finger, causing his eyes to become clouded and his mask placed again. He knew what this ceremony meant to her. It was what she deserved for suffering because of him, especially when she was with him, for all those years. And without another word, he turned, adjusting his own black attire before leaving the room as silently as he entered.

She only watched the empty space he occupied for a few seconds before dabbing the sweat from her face away with a spare handkerchief. It was too late to cool down her hot body in all those layers of her kimono so she forced herself to adapt to the strong heat as she hurried to the mirror, frantically reapplying the red paint on her lips. Lastly, she perfumed herself all over with the scent of lilacs, noting that she heavily smelled of sex—of him.

It was time.

Her stomach became full with those annoying butterflies again. Hoping she looked normal, she took one deep breath and peered down the aisle, head filling with questions. Was this the right decision? Would she honestly be happy?

"Are you ready, Sakura?"

She turned to the voice and was greeted with the sight of a curved eye. The formally dressed silver-haired man extended his arm and she momentarily feared this man, who could see beneath the underneath, could decipher what she intended to hide for the rest of her life. Smiling automatically and unwilling of drawing attention or the never-ending doubt, she took Kakashi's arm, grateful that he was giving her away. She had made her choice long ago, this was the path she wanted to take, and wasn't going to back out now.

However, the burst of fortitude was unsuccessful in relieving the filthiness she felt about herself in this ceremony. Her panties were still soaked in her wetness, sticking to her rear and inner thighs uncomfortably as she took the first steps to the altar. She could have taken them off, but what if they were found? The last thing she needed was a scandal on her hands, and it would be idiotic to be caught now, after she had evaded it cautiously when she first committed this sin.

The attention of people present almost made her lower her gaze to the floor, further making her feel unworthy to wed under the current pretenses, at the thought of what was going through their minds. Soon, she was next to her soon to be husband, signaling the start of the ceremony, but her mind couldn't concentrate on what was being said, too caught up with what happened mere minutes ago: the sinful, disgraceful act that occurred and to which she had enjoyed.

Can this continue on? Would the passion dim? Elude like we do from reality?

Her notice landed on the cup, once she was handed it, in which she would drink from, and she placed her mouth at where her counterpart had. As she drank, there were flashes of a tongue that had engaged with hers so demandingly, mixing their saliva and taste.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The pink-haired woman turned just as a face neared hers to deliver a kiss. To the audience, it appeared short and sweet. To her lips, it was long and lustful.

The sound of applause drifted their mouths apart. She smiled but concentrated on the feel of his body next to hers. The multiple layers of their wedding kimonos separated the skin, but it didn't stop his scent from filtering through her nostrils.

Her gaze turned to the crowd, her friends, companions, and the witnesses of this event: those who supported and those who took longer to approve because they didn't believe. And it was that lack of support that created the doubt within her. His hand took hers; each of their gold bands touching flesh, and along with the shiver produced with the touch of his skin came shock. How was it that everything they been through and done—shamelessly, secretly, sinfully—he still had this effect on her?

Her long eyelashes moved upward as she peeked at him in wonder. In response, he fixed his dark gaze on her and she serenely wanted to melt.

And she could only imagine, though she had dreamt and lived it all, what he would do to her tonight as illegal, taboo actions become legally sinful.

Their sins were blessed.


.:Everlasting:.


A/N: If confused, feel free to PM.