Bound
Wretched
He pulls away slightly, almost painfully aware of the way she is suddenly trembling. Sakura has never once seen him like this. She has never seen him step off a battlefield against her clan, still steeped in the bloodlust. He is scaring her. He still doesn't know what she went through. This knowledge chaffs, though not quite as much as the sight before him.
He breathes in a deep, ragged breath in an attempt to calm himself. Her emerald eyes are wide and have that horrible suspicious sheen and he knows that he will make her cry. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to do anything to hurt or scare her.
But he needs to know.
His touch had been so light. It is almost painful, the way he is so overly aware that he needs to treat his wife gently. Tsunade had said that it would take time for her to heal.
Sasuke has this horrible feeling that those words are a terrible understatement. For a moment he just leans over her, trying to ignore the hints of fear that are now bringing tears to her wonderfully vibrant eyes. He breathes a deep ragged breath and forces himself to hold still. Momentarily he just stays there, his arms shaking more from the force of his emotions than the stress of supporting his own weight. He presses his forehead gently to hers, not trusting himself to speak. He has always been a bit more—obsessive—protective of his things than the rest of his family, and knows that despite his best intentions he will probably scare Sakura.
He presses his lips tenderly to her generous forehead, before he pulls himself up so that he can finish undoing the buttons that keep her nightgown closed. Neither of them is quite able to breathe as he slowly, gently pulls the delicate material down. He barely has it down past her breasts when his vision is quite suddenly flooded with red. Her sudden intake of breath lets him know that there is no more hiding the family secret from her. He finally finds the will to speak, choosing his words ever so carefully, but he is still not able to keep the hint of a growl out of his voice.
"They hurt you." It is a blunt statement, almost careless, and his touch is impersonal as he traces the purple bruise on the curve of her left breast.
Sakura doesn't say anything, it chaffs that she is hardly even breathing, her hands curled slightly over her breasts as if she is worried she may need to fend him off.
"Move your hands. Let me see." He tries to keep his voice soft, to sound nonthreatening and he waits as she slowly, painfully slowly, uncurls her hands and lowers them to the side. "Sakura." He is not quite able to keep that hint of desperation out of his voice. "Don't you ever fear me." Sasuke takes care to hold her gaze, and doesn't move until her chin tilts downward in a nod of understanding. His eyes linger on hers for moment, and a lump forms in his throat when he notices the tears that are gathering in the corners of her eyes. When they start to fall, it is only then he is able to look away from her and concentrate on discovering the exact extent of her wounds. For a short moment he is relieved when he sees no cuts or stains of blood.
Then he pulls her nightgown down past her waist. His vision floods red and all he can see is the horrible bruise that covers the entire expanse of her lower stomach. The skin is a sickly yellow around the edges and he can only stare at the hideous mark even as he feels something that is remarkably close to fury. He is not aware that the expression on his face is akin to that of horror as he finally manages to look away from the purple flesh and pull back enough to get a good look at her.
Tears are falling steadily down her cheeks as she looks at him. Despite having grown up in a land of blistering heat and scorching sun she has always been exceptionally pale. The horrid starkness of the bruises in combination with her tears and paleness makes her seem so much smaller. She seems so unbearably delicate and fragile.
Sasuke is quite certain that he does not want her to pull her shift down the rest of the way to see what further damage her family has caused, but he also knows that he will be causing her irreparable pain if he were to turn away from her now. It would be far worse than anything her family could have done. He swallows thickly when he notices just how the bruises continue to trail downwards as he pulls the silken nightgown down over her hips.
Suddenly Sasuke feels as if he is five again and watching his favorite dog getting run over by a carriage. He barely manages to hold back a choking sob that has somehow cooled the rage he should be feeling at his wife's current state. He can't explain why he feels this way but suddenly it becomes quite unbearable, this horrible and undeniable proof that he has violated their marriage vows and failed her so completely. Sakura shouldn't be looking up at him like this, with her eyes too wide and cheeks too wet from the tears that are spilling over her cheeks. His hands shake slightly in a way that he is so certain no one but he has ever noticed, but her emerald eyes are drawn to the thumb that is slowly reaching out to brush against her unblemished cheek and he watches as her mouth forms into a small "o".
Her lips look so soft.
Sasuke isn't quite overcome with desire, but rather this unbearable need to touch her and for her to reassure him that she will get better. He needs to know that she will be all right and that she won't hate him for failing her. She closes her eyes as his fingers brush carefully over her smooth skin, and the tears that scald him. He isn't quite certain what it is that she sees, watching him and he can only hope that he has managed to properly convey to her just how remorseful he feels.
The uncertainty in her wet eyes tells him that he hasn't.
He doesn't think as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers, letting his body rest against her bruised form. He isn't quite prepared for the way that she cries out and twists under him, arching her body as if she is trying to get away from him. His mouth goes dry and he can't quite roll off her fast enough. Sakura curls into a ball when he pulls away from her, trembling, and more of those wretched tears fall as she gasps painfully.
A guard scratches the door and softly murmurs to see if everything is all right. Sasuke's eyes are too wide and full of too much shock, and he feels numb as he answers. He isn't quite aware of the words that are formed, but it is enough to get the guard to leave. The bed creaks slightly as he sits on the edge, careful that even this bare movement doesn't hurt her. He feels hollow as he watches her clutch the silk sheet around her form, her eyes dark with pain and her cheeks wet with too many tears.
"I can't touch you." His voice breaks a little as the realization hits him, and the back of his eyes burn slightly. He wants to touch her, to wrap himself so completely in her softness and heat, but he can't. Even the slightest touch to that horribly bruised skin has her pulling away from him and curling into a ball. This need to touch her is like a physical ache and he isn't quite sure that he can think of a more potent hell.
"I'm sorry." Her voice sounds more broken than his own and she shakes with an emotion that he doesn't quite understand. What can she possibly need to apologize for. "I—"
More of those horrible, dreaded tears form in the corners of her eyes, and even though he knows he can't, knows that he shouldn't, he moves closer to her.
Sasuke watches her so very carefully, waiting for the slightest hint of pain as he slowly pulls the cover over their forms. His hands ghost over the line of her body, wanting to touch and yet not quite daring. It is only when she struggles to move closer to him, wincing slightly as she does so that he permits himself to rest a hand against the curve of her hip. She winces and gasps, but the slender fingers that are suddenly grasping around the hand on her hip have him stilling, and Sasuke can't quite force himself to move. He swallows hard, still watching, before finally giving into that terrible temptation. His other hand cups her pale cheek and he kisses her. He whispers soft words that don't really seem to take a form as his lips brush over her smooth skin. He can take comfort, at least, with the way she sighs against him as her head rests heavily against the pillow. At least this doesn't hurt her.
He does not sleep this night. He knows that if he does then he will only want to wrap himself in her warmth, and the last thing that he wants to do to her is cause her any more pain that what she has already suffered.
Gods, he just wants those tears to stop.