November 3rd - Evening
His lips were soft against hers, softer than she remembered. The kiss was tender, something she hadn't expected. It hadn't been tender the last time they kissed… but maybe she was guilty then. She had been too desperate and hungry for more to focus on proper kissing… or softness… and oh god, he was fucking kissing her. Their moist lips were grazing each other in agonizingly slow motions. One of his hand was cupping her face, the rough material of his ANBU glove a stark contrast on her soft skin. She was surprised at her own lack of reaction, she neither pushed him away nor deepened the kiss, she just stood there, and for once she enjoyed the quietness in her mind and the feeling of comfort that coursed through her body, a slow mantra that eased the tension away. His masculine smell teased her nose and she found herself moaning against his mouth, the sound stirring her awake from her reverie.
What was she doing?
Before she had the time to pull away from the kiss, one strong arm sneaked around her waist, preventing her from going through with the escape plan forming in her mind. Right. Somehow, it was time they confronted this… whatever this was, she thought. He stopped the kiss, and rested his forehead against her own. She forced her eyes to remain shut as she felt the soft caress of his panting breaths against her sensitive lips. She wasn't ready to look at him… not just wait. She wanted to pretend she didn't have to explain herself, or her actions. She wanted him to just hold her and pretend the world wasn't after them. She wanted him to fight the awkwardness and distrust standing between them on his own, because that was one battle she didn't know how to fight.
Speaking of awkwardness… he wasn't speaking, and she assumed he left it to her to break the once again heavy silence surrounding them.
"Are we lovers now?" she asked, her voice trembling against her will.
"I don't know," he said softly, an unreadable expression on his face. "Are we?"
"This isn't a game, Sasuke." She was weary, so weary. Of everything. Of being so infatuated with him she could no longer think clearly. Of her instinct to protect herself of what she knew to be a sure source of pain. Of all the contradicting emotions she felt that both pushed her toward him and made her want to run away. She was tired of being scared, of feeling alone. Maybe, just maybe, she should give this a try… whatever that was… this thing with him.
"What about the others?" she asked, her eyes turning down to fix her toes with all the anger and fear that coursed through her at the thought of his coming answer.
"Which others?"
"The others. You've been with other women, I know." She paused, bracing herself to raise her head slowly and search his eyes. "Your ANBU partner for a start."
Sasuke faced her gaze, unwavering. He hadn't expected her to know about Hanare. Not that it made a big difference if she knew, it was probably better that way in the end, he concluded to himself. "We're not together," he supplied, watching her reaction attentively. "We never were."
"What was it then?" asked Sakura, her heart beating painful beats, and her mind burning with curiosity to finally know if Hanare had meant anything to him.
"Sex."
"That's it?"
"Hn."
"Why?" she asked, her hands twisting nervously at her sides.
"Why not?"
She sighed, troubled by his cryptic answers. "Sasuke, please."
One eyebrow raised elegantly at her last words, and she threw her remaining caution and tiptoeing around him to hell.
"I just want to know why. Why you chose her?"
Dark eyes shifted briefly to the side, breaking their eye contact. He seemed thoughtful for a minute and put his hands in his black pants' pockets. "She just never wanted anything more from me. So I knew it wouldn't turn into anything more."
"How could you know that?"
"Her fiancé died in front of her. It was on a mission, about a year ago."
"Oh." She didn't know what to say to that. She hadn't expected something like this. Even if part of her couldn't help but despise the woman who had had something with the person that had obsessed her most of her life, she wouldn't wish such suffering on anyone. "I didn't know," she said softly.
"Ah."
It made sense now, why Sasuke had felt he could have a regular partner without the cloud of a relationship looming over his head. Hanare was probably still in love with her dead fiancé. Sasuke had just been an outlet for her need for companionship. Nothing more. Somehow, she felt her pent up anger toward the girl disappear. She had never been a threat.
"I'm not sure I can offer you the same thing, Sasuke," she said, her eyes wandering again because of her uneasiness at unveiling her true feelings.
"What do you mean?"
"Just sex… without anything more. You know I… you…" she stuttered, her cheeks heating furiously under his scrutiny. She had to force her mouth close and swallow the lump in her throat to stop herself from admitting her annoying feelings. "I can't do that," she breathed.
"I know," he said simply before adding in a softer tone. "I'm not asking for that… either."
"What are you asking for… then?"
"You."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You know what it is supposed to mean. I already told you." He sighed, closing the hand at his side in a nervous fist. "I want everything."
His dark eyes were as bottomless as ever and she only saw pitless hunger in them, the feeling so strikingly intense that it was frightening… only because every cell in her body wanted to respond to that hunger and be the prey to his desires… something she couldn't allow herself to do. Because in the end he would hurt her, she knew. He could never possibly love her or want her as much as she did him. She would always be the one who would need more… and she would be left wanting with him. Saying "Yes" now was a masochistic move that would condemn her for later sufferings. But she didn't have the strength to pretend she didn't care anymore. She could no longer pretend she was strong. Strong enough to resist the obsession she had for him.
"You don't know what you're saying Sasuke," she said softly.
His features were briefly distorted by an angry grimace. If she hadn't known him for years, she would have missed it.
"Let's go."
"Where?" asked the pinkette.
"My tent," and there was this edge to his tone that didn't leave room for questioning.
Later that night...
They laid there, bodies pressed tightly against each other. She could feel the heat emanating from him sink in her bare back, the sensation lulling her into a state of deep satisfaction she didn't think even existed. So that was it, this intimacy that people craved. There. This. The rhythm of his breaths was even and relaxed, which in turn forced her to let go on her ever present anxiety to just be… there… with him.
Sasuke wrapped his arms a little tighter around her, still amazed at how good it felt to have her in his embrace. Finally.
Yet he was troubled by her lack of responsiveness during the act. He knew she hadn't orgasmed, probably hadn't even felt that much pleasure. She had been too tensed, like last time, and far from lubricated enough for her to be enjoyable. But unlike last time, it had taken a while for him to come, and the sight of her grimaces of pain and sharp intake of breaths were burnt in his mind, and he couldn't shake away the guilt and dissatisfaction it caused him. He was supposed to pleasure her, he wanted to pleasure her. But even when he had her naked underneath him, she still escaped him, as if he could never really reach her.
"Are you okay?" he murmured against her pink tresses.
She didn't answer right away, but after a while, he felt rather than saw her nod her head.
"Sakura," he tried again, his tone holding a serious edge that made her to turn her head to face him. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, black eyes blazing with an emotion she rarely saw on him.
She shook her head slowly, one hand coming to gently caress his forearm that lay across her stomach. The touch sent a jolt coursing through his body but he forced his head to remain clear.
"Why are you lying?" he asked, voice soft in the dark, a deep masculine timber teasing her overwhelmed senses.
"I'm not lying."
He felt how the muscles of her stomach fluttered as he moved his hand up her flat belly, stroking up her ribcage, right to the underside of her left breast, before moving down, slowly, to rest of her hipbone. He noticed how she suddenly tensed to his proximity to her sex, and he had the answer to his question.
"You don't like to be touched," he said. That wasn't a question.
"It's not that," she murmured, voice soft, eyes wandering from his face to the juncture where his neck met his shoulder. Again, her hand stroked his forearm lightly, and he could have sworn she was doing this to distract him.
"What is it then?"
A sad smile appeared on her features, one that denied him of a proper answer.
"I'm just not used to it, that's all," she said, her words tickling his skin.
"What do you mean?"
"Being touched. Like this. I'm not used to it."
"Sakura." He paused, waiting for her to meet his gaze before adding: "It seems like you… fear it somehow. Am I wrong?"
"It's nothing, Sasuke. I just need time, that's all."
He left it at that. Because what could he tell her? He could feel how she was closing up. Would she ever trust him? Part of him had naively thought that her presence here, in his tent, meant that they were going forward, that they were going somewhere… but he had fooled himself, once again. The mystery she wrapped herself in when the subject of sex was brought up puzzled him more than it annoyed him, and he knew there was more to it than what she let on.
The last time they had slept together had been rushed and messy, both of them too hungry and angry to care. For the life of him, he couldn't remember her being this closed off ad shy, and unable to take pleasure in the act. He had just taken her doggy-style and she had sobbed in his pillows what he thought were cries of pleasure. But now he questioned it, and hated himself for being so careless with her. He hadn't paid attention to her needs back then. He had just taken. And all the while he had been afraid that this was an illusion tricking him and that he would wake up in the morning without knowing the feel of her body, the softness of her curves, the way her hair clung to her sweaty face when she lay spent next to him afterwards, eyes closed and breathless. He felt shameful for having enjoyed it. Twice.
This time had been different. Slower. Softer. This time he had focused on her, on how their bodies were intimately pressed against each other, on the pattern of their breaths. And he had seen how she tensed under his touch, how she had grimaced when he had entered her.
"Will you stay?" he asked in a whisper.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asked back, and he could hear the incredulity in her voice, something that caused a sharp pain in his chest.
"You could," he replied evasively.
"I could," she replied softly, too softly. "But I shouldn't," she added.
He remained silent, tired at her pushing him away, fed up with her futile attempts at avoiding the inevitable between them.
