A/N: At rufnkiddingme: I couldn't PM you about what you asked, so I'll answer here. Your question actually made me chuckle, because I'd precisely entertained that idea and thought about incorporating it into the story. But I ultimately decided against it; because I didn't want to demonize Sasuke too much, and I also didn't want to justify Sakura's actions.

Sooo I did a GaaSaku drawing, kinda inspired by this chapter (kept it PG-13 though ;P). Feel free to check it out on my Tumblr page; link is in my profile.

Chapter 13

"You seem to sport a fixation on my hair."

He'd let himself thoroughly enjoy the soothing sensation of fingers embedding themselves in the roots of his messy mane and threading from one end of his scalp to the other, before he lazily cracked his eyes open. To be woken up by an impromptu massage treatment to his head wasn't exactly something Gaara could complain about, nor could he about the sweet fragrance that inundated his senses. For someone who didn't have a particular penchant for sugary treats, the smell sure was intoxicating.

Vanilla, he'd briefly noted before rolling his eyes upward to the culprit who was seemingly trying to claim territory over his head, given the manner her hands moved as though to map out every inch of the area.

"What can I say? Red is my favorite color."

A melodic giggle rang out above his left ear, and he felt the reverberation all the way down through their bodies that relaxed into each other at each curve like perfect puzzle pieces.

With her pink tresses spilled around the frame of her face, the temptress met his eyes and simpered at him, though her hands did not stop in their ministrations. With quiet approval, Gaara let her delicate work continue. When he'd made his trip to Konoha with a half-baked vacation plan, he hasn't thought that he'd be adhering to its purpose, seeing as how he's spent a good portion of his time in bed. And the bed, one that was rarely ever touched before during his previous stays, was in an unkempt state more often than not these days.

For an irredeemable insomniac like him, the surprising couple of hours that he could sleep in her presence every now and then was truly divine. If he'd known a warm body next to him was what he needed to alleviate him of a lifelong ailment, he could've made some kind of arrangement on that front. But he wasn't about to add promiscuity to his lengthening list of sins...

It was never his intention to bed a married woman. And on top of all, the wife of Sasuke Uchiha… No, not when he'd found her in a state of drunkenness that first night; not even when he'd undressed her from her sullied clothes afterwards with the kind of practicality akin to helping an injured comrade in battle, without any wandering from his disciplined eyes.

Yet, it just so happened that this became his circumstances.

Though, somehow, this more glaring problem of her being the Uchiha's mate has hardly made it to the recess of his mind for him to simmer over. And he'd quelled any embers of guilt by taking comfort in the fact that he never did think highly of the raven-haired man. An ingrate, in his mind.

His own councilmen have clashed with him on several occasions over what they'd termed as his "unconventional logic and methods" in several business dealings. True to their recognition, Gaara supposed he'd indeed let his unorthodox way of thinking prevail over the standard ethics held by most from time to time… like now.

So why not enjoy what he and his companion both took pleasure in, consented to?

As he maneuvered himself in his position to allow his eyes feast on the one next to him, brazenly and liberally roving every part of her beauty exposed outside of the sheets, what flooded his brain were earlier images of Sakura biting down on her lower lip with just the right touch of shyness when his nimble fingers worked at the clasp of her bra, and the look of euphoria from her damp and red face when they became connected as one… It came no surprise to him when these errant thoughts caused his core to stir once more.

His plunge into depravity was rather spectacularly quick, Gaara thought.

Still, this acknowledgment did nothing to stop his mind from running astray. She was not the first to lie bare under him, to touch and be touched in the most intimate ways, but he'd found her the most addicting. The way she'd held on to him like her lifeline screamed her undeniable yearning for him, physically. The way she pierced him with those passionate green eyes cried her need for him, emotionally. It fueled what he suspected was the beginning of some kind of obsession. For the first time in his life, he felt he was needed, and in the most urgent sense possible. Not at all like the needs of his siblings or his people required from him. And it was… inspiring.

In its own puzzling way, however, this feeling had evoked a realization of his own needs that he'd grown desensitized to as a result of years of devoting to workaholism: A desire for partnership and dependence on another—now that he'd tasted a sample of what it might be like. Though the idea disconcerted him; it plowed at his mind for a painful memory that never faded despite his transformed outlook on life… something that'd started to intrude his thoughts every time he lied awake and studied the sleeping face of his companion in the warmth of her loose embrace.

Inhaling a whiff of that sweet aroma from her that he'd become all too familiar with, he'd used the scent to dull his focus enough to spare his mind from an episode of self-introspection that it was reluctant to engage in. Really, he was never one to procrastinate, but in between relishing Sakura's hands roaming the most sensitive parts of his anatomy and hearing her groaning his name each time, he'd save this as food for thought for another day… perhaps, when he was less distracted.

Mentally taking an account of the number of days remained in his break from work, Gaara had found it uncharacteristic of him to be grudging against his lack of luxury in terms of time.

Regardless, given what was left, he'd better make the most of it. At his debauched thinking, Gaara internally laughed to himself with distaste, yet his hand had already found its resting place below her ear. Finally, Sakura pulled her attention from smoothing out the knots in his hair to his face, her curious eyes searching for a reason; and he gave it to her as he leaned in to cover his mouth over hers, his tongue gliding over the seam of her lips.

Just before his brain spun out of control, he couldn't help but wonder…

How was it that he could be reduced down to someone so primitive, so simple-minded, who'd let his physical urges drive him once again? How was it that she could unlock the bit of darkness that he didn't think still resided in his heart… the greed, the selfishness—the vices he thought he'd purged from years of non-practice?

But when Gaara found himself grinning into their kiss, it was then he remembered… Oh right.

That he never was a saint.

"Does he touch you like I do?"

The sensual voice was low and smooth, resonating deeply in her head, but powerful enough to quake her insides and chill her down to the bones. Her heart pounded in irregular beats, rousing her from her slumber, and her eyes flickered open. While sleep slowly surrendered its possession of her awareness, realization came to her just as the ray of light seeped through the darkness of her vision:

Just a dream, she thought…

—But a dream that blended into reality.

Sakura breathed in. His scent, a perfect blend of earthy musk and a note of spice, was all around; she smelled it over her sheets, in her hair, on her skin… Nestled in the crook of his neck, she languidly rotated herself to let her hand sprawl across his bare muscled chest. In response, with his arm draped around her shoulders, he ran his fingers up and down the outline of her back, leaving pleasant goosebumps in their wake.

As much as she was ashamed to admit, she'd finally remembered his hotel room number. And from there, it was a slippery slope…

It was unreal, how she could so freely circle her arm around his torso and press herself closer into him, letting his warmth permeate her being. It was unimaginable, how she could abandon all her inhibition and react to him like it was the most natural thing to do, only to have him reciprocate with equal fervor.

And it was all wrong. On the other hand, if you'd caught her in those moments when she was happily delirious from her newfound obsession, she'd tell you that the real sin here was how the world could decide that something that felt so good was so wrong?

Eyes becoming glazed, Sakura let herself sink into her thoughts while relishing in the soul-corrupting comfort. How did she even arrive at this point? When she'd woken up in his bed the morning after her drunken venture that one time, never in this lifetime or the next did she think she'd be doing the same thing months down the road, subtracting alcohol from the equation though. Oh, the irony here was too strong.

As murky as her mind had been as of late, fragments of her doubts and insecurities managed to surface from time to time. This forbidden closeness, she knew what she gained from it… but, what about him?

Why? Was the first and foremost question that constantly hang loose at the tip of her tongue, but one that was never uttered.

Does he like me? One more lodged itself in her head.

He obviously likes you enough to fu—She cut her crude inner voice short. It was an irrelevant question, and she was in absolutely no position to ask. She needed the comfort and companionship, and he gave it to her. He was a means to an end, the cure to her loneliness, and an anchor to ground her emotions. It was simple as that. So why must give it any label?

Still, a part of her begged to differ.

In just a few months' time, Gaara had given her arguably more than Sasuke ever did in more than a decade of their marriage. His company, his support for Sarada, his helping hand… and now this—she was sharing with him the most intimate part of a relationship… the last of which hasn't been a steep learning curve; they'd adjusted to each other well.

There was something to be said about the way he kissed and caressed her before they melted into each other in a hot twisted mess, the way he growled her name in that rich baritone of his when they were caught up in the high, and the way he'd made her feel… wanted. Her heart thumped a bit faster right then with blissful ignorance, but her brain always had a streak for over-thinking.

Chewing on her bottom lip to stifle the barrage of questions that were in danger of being let loose, Sakura brought her eyes upward, meeting the shade of jade under the unruly red locks that he rarely took the effort to tame nowadays. There was no point to groom his hair into its usual slick style, she figured, since she'd gotten into the tendency of inadvertently messing it up for him anyway in their activities. She wasn't particularly guilty about it though, for she preferred the look; it reminded her so much of his younger years. That flare of wildness in his appearance was rather attractive.

As Gaara pored over her, his intent expression told her that he'd caught her in the middle of her brooding; and a trace of insistence appeared in his gaze, probing her to unveil her thoughts. Her teeth freed her lip, Sakura opened her mouth. But instead of getting answers to all those buzzing question marks that swarmed her head, she merely asked:

"What about dinner?"

At the thought of food sitting untouched on the dining table, she frowned a little. It was yet another evening in which they easily fell into their dinnertime routine, absent of Sarada. What was vastly different now, of course, was that a light accidental brush of the fingers as she handed him his plate and a knowing look could have them tumbling and fumbling their way into her bedroom.

Dinner has probably gone cold by now, she sighed.

To her question, he dipped lower and found her lips with his, before pulling back and replying with a curve of his mouth, "My hunger is satisfied."

At his odd teasing words, heat spread across her face; her cheeks lit up with a blush that she thought she was really too old for. Just then, she remembered that there was more to him she has yet to learn. If anything, the playful sarcasm that he peppered his comments here and there and the diminishing formality in his speech in private signaled to her that she might just be steps closer to discovering his inner personality beneath that outward shell of impassiveness.

Inwardly, Sakura was made to agree with him: She too was not hungry anymore, for her need—a physical one—was satisfied.

It was apparent that he was more experienced than her, an observation that somewhat surprised her. Not that she was at all knowledgeable about any of Gaara's romantic involvements… Or perhaps it wasn't his experience but the lack thereof from her end that made her hands unsure in their exploration at times; yes, it'd really been that long… Nonetheless, her partner had been accommodating and patient, and she couldn't help but speculate if he's had a history of relationships. Before her thoughts could drift once again, she'd discouraged them from doing so with a head shake to herself. The questions had to cease, because this entire arrangement didn't need to be more than what it was. It couldn't.

Maybe she should clarify some things between them, Sakura mused, lest she be ambushed by all her complicated thoughts and feelings one day. Though with such consideration came the fear that they'd both sober up to their situation more quickly than she wanted… Than she wanted? She grimaced. At this point, she didn't want it to end. Sakura laughed to herself in ridicule. This telltale greed of hers was perhaps what frightened her above all.

The addiction had already done its damage, and the longings ran deep within her veins.

"That's too bad then. I was hoping you'd still have room for dessert." In a fluid motion, Sakura rolled out of her position and straddled herself on top of her bedmate at his hips.

The red-haired man underneath her wiped away the momentary surprise off his face. Playing her game, his hands instinctively came to rest on her thighs and gently stroked her skin. Smirking at her antics, he didn't hesitate to show openness to her suggestion. "Tempting. I can make room, depends on what you have to offer."

The hypnotic glow in his seafoam eyes entranced her, enough to make that pleasant warmth perpetuate in her cheeks. She thought if she just focused on the physical aspect of it all, she might be able to detach herself from any confusing thoughts that shouldn't have their place in her head right now…

Lowering herself down to him until their noses were a bare inch apart, she smiled a coy smile.

…And she'd do anything not to let those thoughts cross her mind.