...
Part of her wanted to panic. The other part mused on about how much better she'd feel once the backrub was done.
The first part insisted that she make the backrub done, now.
What have I done what am I doing oh shit I'm alone in here with him now and apparently that friend thing we talked about, that friend thing I've been thinking about all day, that friend thing that upset me to the point that I went after Lee . . . That apparently went straight out the window.
Lee. What do I do about Lee?
"Relax," Gaara murmured, shifting his weight against her.
Damned Sand brat. Damned annoying, horrible, demanding, spoiled Sand brat.
"I am," she tried to growl. It came out closer to a whimper.
His hand ran up into her hair, brushed it away from the side of her neck. "No you're not."
"I'm trying." That was a little closer to honest.
"You're still too tight."
Inner Sakura exploded out of hiding, eyes popping. What? Whoa!
Sakura started to squirm. "I'm fine, really."
"No, you're not. If I let you up now, you'll only feel better for a little while. If you let me finish, then you'll just be a little sore tomorrow, but all right."
Inner Sakura doused herself with lamp oil, held up a match. Thank you, but I think that was my cue!
"I think I need to get up."
"I never got to try out groundwork with you. Do you really want to change that?"
That might be interesting, Inner Sakura noted.
Go finish off that fiery immolation thing, she hissed.
Having gotten no reply, Gaara returned to his task, one hand resting on her hip as the other soothed another clenched muscle by her shoulder blade. In the silence, Sakura argued with herself mercilessly.
He kissed me again. That wasn't supposed to happen – but it did. But what do I do now? I promised I'd tell Lee first once I figured out what was going on.
Tell him tomorrow, suggested Inner Sakura. It's late, Lee's probably asleep by now. And if you woke him up to tell him now, I think he'd be less than happy with you for even more than the given reason.
Sakura ignored that part of herself, choosing to spin wildly through her own worries. I can't let this happen again. It was probably just a fluke, after all. Nothing major, and he probably didn't mean it anyway. Again. He said it was curiosity before. But . . . that didn't feel like curiosity. It felt like he damned well knew what he was doing.
But he also said he wouldn't let it happen again.
Damned demanding, spoiled, always has to get his way Sand bastard. She let out a shuddery breath. Damn me for letting him.
"I shouldn't have to browbeat you into things that you know are for your own good," Gaara stated. His hands spread across the bottom of her ribcage, squeezed, then relaxed.
"I know."
I want to hide.
"Why are you so stubborn, then?"
She could hear the exasperation as well as the smile in his voice, and smiled because of it. "Guess that's just the way I am."
"Fair enough."
That's what Lee said, when I told him that I didn't know what was going on. But now I think I do. I just need to be sure. But then I have to tell him.
She tried to relax, tried to ignore the feel of his hands, tried to think about anything except his touch. Nothing worked. Breathing shakily, she was more than painfully aware of him as he traced up her arm to her hand, brushed a thumb over her knuckles. The scars from her drills with the training posts were fading, but the skin was still new, pink. "What happened here?"
"I got into a fight with a stump."
"I hope you won."
"I walked away. It didn't."
He made a quiet sound of amusement, then shifted off of her. Sakura sat up and faced him, pulling her knees to herself and watching him cautiously as he reached for her hand again.
"You could have gone with Naruto, or Lee," she whispered. "Why here? Why me?"
He shrugged, then began a close inspection of her knuckles. "Because I want to be here. With you."
Means nothing. Means nothing. Nothing.
Gaara edged in until he was close enough beside her for their shoulders to almost touch, his almost-relaxed posture a blatant contrast to her tension. The hand not holding hers reached out to her face. His voice seemed hesitant, unsure. "I missed you."
Breathe, Inner Sakura reminded her.
She tried to blow it off, smiling. "My lap, you mean."
"More than that."
Now she was the one that was unsure. "The others?"
He shrugged, looked back to her hand in his. "Not the same."
"But . . . You said friends. You said that was it."
"But it's not that easy, not that simple anymore."
As Sakura tried to figure out how to dismiss that sure series of statements, he raised her hand to his mouth. His lips pressed against new skin – then, as his eyes met hers, she felt his tongue flicker over her knuckles.
Eyes wide, she tried unsuccessfully to snatch her hand back. "What are you doing?"
His grip tightened only enough to keep her in place. "You know already."
Something in her crumpled, crumbled. Her heart sank. "Curiosity . . ."
"No," he said sharply. "Not that simple."
You have no idea how not simple you've made things, she thought, but didn't say it.
He continued, turning her hand palm-up. "I told you. I want to be here. I want to be with you." His voice dropped, suddenly husky. "I want to know how you taste."
His mouth opened gently against her wrist, tongue caressing.
She gasped. "I –"
Releasing her wrist, Gaara leaned in towards her. "Relax." He brushed pink hair away from her face and back from her neck before turning his ministrations to the spot right below her ear. The hand she had raised to push him away wound instead into his hair, as he trailed careful lips across her skin.
Elation warred with panic mixed with curiosity. The curve of his throat was close enough that she could lean forward and taste him as he tasted her.
I won't. I can't.
Only a little . . .
Salt. Sweat. A bit of dust. Lips still against her, Gaara made a quiet, appreciative noise and drew her closer.
This has gone too far. Way too far. I can't do this. How do I . . .
"Shower," she squeaked.
"Hm?" The black-ringed eyes that met hers were darkly, sensuously amused, appraising.
Alone! Breathing raggedly, she struggled to make the words form coherent thoughts. "Me. I need a shower. I'm dirty. From today."
"Ah." His hands cupped her face, pulling her back in to meet his salt-tinged kiss. Not responding was unthinkable, impossible.
If he keeps it up, you'll change your mind about that alone in the shower thing, Inner Sakura said.
Knowing that she was right, Sakura tried to pull back. "Mmf. I mean it."
He chuckled, released her, rose along with her. For a second, she thought he intended to follow her into the bathroom, but he only caught and squeezed her hand. "I'll wait."
Despite her best efforts, the bathroom door slammed behind her. She latched onto the sink, head down, breathing shaky, and tried to steady herself. He said that he wouldn't. He said he didn't mean it. But he's apparently spent these past few weeks reconsidering.
Not that simple, he said. Never that simple.
Always has to get what he wants.
What am I supposed to do now, she mentally wailed.
The way I see it, Inner Sakura mused, you have a few choices. One, hide in here for the rest of the night and hope he doesn't come in after you for one reason or another. Two, go out there and tell him that you're not able to continue because of a promise you made to Lee, where you said you'd tell him first when you figured things out. Problems there are that you've already been kissing Gaara, and that you still aren't sure of anything . . . other than how most of you is for trying out the third option.
Great, now she was taking advice from the part of herself that was basically made up of unrestrained id. Third option?
Where you go out there and do him dirty.
She gulped, covered her face with her hands. Let's figure out something along the lines of option two.
Option two is fatally flawed. You won't see Lee until tomorrow, and you have to deal with Gaara now. He'll understand, sure, but it doesn't make sense that you're holding yourself back for a promise that you've either already broken or won't break by continuing.
Won't break?
A knock at the door interrupted her. "Sakura?"
Inner Sakura whooped. Option one it is!
Her voice was nowhere near as steady as she wanted it to be. "Yeah?"
"You forgot something."
Anything. Everything. She fought down her timidity and opened the door. The corner of Gaara's mouth twitched as he handed her a set of pajamas.
"Oh."
"Yeah. I figured you'd left them in your hurry to hide in here."
The truth stung. "I'm not hiding."
"Lurking?"
Meeting his wry expression, she smiled in turn. "No. Not this time."
Back in the relative safety of the bathroom, she took a second to look at the clothing he'd brought her. Tank top. Drawstring pants, soft, somewhat oversized, yet comfortable. Nothing too revealing, nothing over the top . . .
Wait, she thought, and looked at them a little closer. Yeah, he did. It was the exact same set she'd worn the last time he had spent the night over.
Maybe he likes it. Maybe he's trying to tell me something. Even though it'd be easier if he flat-out said it. She sighed at her own hypocrisy. Like I'm not having any problems flat-out saying things to him tonight, though.
Does this mean, though, that he's trying to repair the last time, make things good again?
She stripped off her dirty clothing and turned on the shower, careful to adjust the hot water so it didn't burn her. Glancing in the mirror again, she saw that the skin across the top of her chest was red, blotchy from her keyed-up state.
See? He's no good. He's giving me hives from the other room.
The water on her skin gave her something else to think about. Would he shower with me, if I asked him? She shook her head, recognizing the silliness of the question. Better to ask whether or not he would be content with only touching, kissing. Better still to ask herself what she would do if he wasn't.
She pushed away images of their wet skin sliding together, of the cool wall at her back, and mentally reached for Inner Sakura. Before, about the promise . . .
Your promise involves you figuring things out. Right now you don't know what to think, and things wouldn't change if you slept with him.
I'd hope I'd figure out something because of that, though!
But not enough. He's still Gaara. You know he's more than earned his reputation, but you really haven't come to terms with that. You've never seen him kill, only heard about it. You know his story. You know little things, random things, like how he'll eat spicy food even though he picks green peppers out of anything, or how he'll defer to wherever Naruto wants to eat every time. But you don't even know when his birthday is.
Wow, she thought. That's right. And that's not good.
And then there's the sanity factor. He's gotten infinitely better than he was when you first met him, yes. But do you know if you're really willing to get into something that major with a person that can't sleep or their personality will be absorbed by a rabid demon sand tanuki? What if you did get that involved with him before you even touched upon anything I mentioned here? Yes, he's progressed amazingly from where he was before, but he'd never be a person to toy with, never be a person you could lead along anywhere near the degree you do Lee. Your being this indecisive with him would get someone killed.
Sakura nodded to herself and turned off the water. My indecision . . . It's doing no good for anyone. I can fix things. All I have to really do is talk to him. She tried out possibilities, phrases, questions, as she dried herself off and dressed.
Gaara was sitting in the hallway beside the door, arms resting on his knees, fingers linked. He glanced up, half-smiled at her unintelligible greeting.
"I need a shower, too," he said as he stood.
"Okay." She reached out, touched his side as he circled around her. "When you get out, can . . . can we talk?"
"Okat."
If she hadn't been looking for it, she would have missed the uncertainty that fleetingly crossed his features. But because she saw it, she couldn't let him be concerned about what she was thinking in the same way she'd worried about him. Her kiss was close-lipped and careful—but as he exhaled against her before wrapping an arm around her waist, she knew he had needed the gesture.
"It's nothing to worry about," she whispered.
His hand slipped under the bottom of her tank top, brushing the skin at the small of her back. "Good." He unwound as he passed her, his touch skimming along her side and across her stomach, the door closing on his smile.
Sakura sighed. If that little contact throws me off this much . . . Her head bumped the wall as she leaned back and chuckled at herself. I wonder how long it would take to not be so . . . aware of him.
She sighed again. Lee.
Lee said he wanted me to be happy.
Lee said, "I want you to want me." And I wanted to. But nothing like this.
Lee said, "It's your choice."
I believe I've made that choice now, Lee. And I'm sorry.
The living room seemed too formal a place to meet him, the kitchen too mundane. In relation, her bedroom seemed far too intimate. But wasn't that what she'd wanted?
I don't know, she told herself. But I don't want to be indecisive anymore.
Lights on or off? Sakura shook her head. On. Definitely.
She sat on the edge of the bed, then the corner, then on her pillow. Lying down seemed audacious. If I sit near the head of the bed, against the wall, he can lay down with his head in my lap. That will probably be the most comfortable place for him.
In a few minutes she heard the water stop running. Shortly after that, the bathroom door clicked.
Breathe. You're going to talk to him, and you need air to do that.
His bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor, his smooth stride nothing short of predatory. His sandals were deposited neatly beside the door; his shirt on top of her dresser. Because she could, she took her time watching him, intrigued by the play of muscle under his skin.
He stopped moving in front of her, a challenge edging into his voice. "You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yeah." She patted the spot beside her. "Come here."
He leaned against the wall beside her, their shoulders brushing, his knee bumping against hers. "What about?"
Everything. Anything. It's not that hard to say. "I want to get to know you better."
Sakura watched a muscle in his closest shoulder flex, saw his fingers clench ever so slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I just realized how little I really know about you. I was wondering . . ." Her hand raised slowly, came to rest on his knee. "I was wondering if you could tell me more. Could help me understand."
"I can try." His next words gave her the freedom she needed as his hand covered hers. "Ask whatever you wish."
She nodded, biting the inside of her lip.
This should be easy. Awkward here and there, but easy.
I'm not sure I really want all of the answers.
But there's no way to be able to have something real here without knowing as much as possible.
"What does it feel like . . . to lose control?"
Gaara sighed, was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his expression was carefully blank, his voice perfectly flat. "Once I'm past the fear, and the hate, and the pain . . . Once I've given up, or been so swept up in it that I can't stay grounded . . ." Green eyes met hers, startlingly cold. "Then it's wonderful."
She tried to restrain the shock, the vague sense of horror. "You like it?"
"I don't have to think, or feel. All I must do is move, kill. And the movement itself, the violence, the release . . . It becomes perfection. It becomes beautiful."
Sakura nodded. I refuse to be afraid of whatever he may tell me. There is no love in fear.
Her next question was answered with the same cool, brutal honesty. And the one after that. And so on. Anything she could think of was dealt with summarily.
I wanted this, she thought. I asked for this. So help me, I got into bed with this . . . And I don't regret it.
"For years, my existence was measured only by my destroying others. I did it to feel alive. No, I don't know how many people I've killed. I couldn't even guess."
I'm going to remember this night for the rest of my life, no matter what.
At some point he shifted away from sitting upright to pillow his head on her thigh, facing upwards to gesture with both hands. Sakura took the hint and stuck to the last of her innocuous questions, fingers working his hair to an even more unruly mess. Finally, she fell silent.
"That's enough for the night?" he asked.
She smiled. "I'm out of questions."
Gaara reached for her hand. "Was it enough?"
Nothing I can't come to terms with. For this, for the devotion of this lost soul, this broken weapon, this black-hearted monster . . . Yes, I can accept. And I can forgive.
With the decision came peace. "Yes, it was."
He pressed his lips to her palm gratefully.
Now I definitely have to tell Lee. But before that . . . "Hey."
"Hm?"
"Sit up for a second."
Confused, he obliged. She slid away from the wall, stood. It's the least I can do. And it's friendly. So there's nothing wrong with it.
Come on, Inner Sakura jabbed, you just want to touch him.
"Turn over."
I can do it and keep my promise. Right?
Comprehension brought another wry half-smile. "But my back doesn't hurt."
"Mine doesn't anymore, either, thanks to you. It'd be kind of me to return the favor."
"If you insist . . ." He stretched out face-down, folding his arms under her pillow.
Stifling a giggle of idiot glee at the line of his shoulders, Sakura straddled him, surveying his back before she set her hands against him. The texture of his skin made her blush.
Damn him, there's not a tense muscle in here!
When not flexed, she found that he was actually very soft. Determined to be thorough, she worked her way down to the small of his back, then back up. She put her weight behind the last few minutes on his shoulders, rising up to her knees and rocking carefully with her motions, enjoying the contact possibly a little too much.
There.
Sakura shifted off to lay beside him, still enamored with his skin, one leg draped across his hips even as he turned to his side to face her. By then, she recognized his expression, the particular intensity, and lifted herself off of the bed to make it easier for Gaara to pull her against him. His lips carefully brushed hers before he pulled back, watching her with wide eyes, brushing her hair back from her forehead.
Comfortable. But more.
Her hand pressed against his chest. "Your heart . . . it's going awfully fast."
"Yeah." He touched the pulse point at her throat. "Yours, too."
"Yeah, it is."
Peaceful. But more.
She almost didn't hear his whisper. "Is this love?"
"I don't know."
A smile. "You told me that before. A long time ago."
"It was different then. It's a lot different now."
"How so?"
She bit her lip. "I was seeing Lee for a while, but wasn't sure if I actually wanted to be with him. I told him that today, and he told me to tell him once I figured things out. And now . . . I get to tell him in the morning."
"He'll be upset," Gaara said, and frowned.
"I have to."
"I know."
It was ridiculous that she should feel guilt for her happiness. She told herself that as she pressed closer, but it didn't stick.
"It's getting really late. You should get some sleep."
"I know," she murmured, head against his shoulder.
He was silent for a moment. She couldn't put her finger on the source of the hissing until the light switch flipped off. Sand . . . I hope he brings the entire thing in here instead of leaving a pile on my floor.
"Don't worry," he murmured.
Sakura jerked away from him. "I didn't say it!"
Darkness apparently made him bolder. His hands ran up under the back of her shirt, traced across the thigh she'd draped over him. "I know."
No matter what, he still deserved the occasional healthy prod. "So . . . You can read minds now, too?"
"No."
"Just know everything."
His standard way to respond to a barbed comment of hers was to get grouchy. This habit, also, was comforting. "I know that in about four hours the sun is going to come up, and unless you get some sleep then you won't be very good company for the rest of the day."
She stifled a yawn against him. "If you can do it, I can too."
"Silly girl. I've got years of practice. Not to mention that my company isn't quite what you'd call the best."
Part of the conversation from their previous morning together drifted back to her. "But I know your secret, the trick to it now." Something clicked. It applies. The more you want something you can't have . . .
"Gaara?"
"Hm?"
"Why didn't you just not think about it? Not think about me, not put yourself in the situations you have?"
He touched her face, her hair. "Because I couldn't give myself enough of a reason to want to do so."
ooo
She came half-awake when she rolled over, on some level not wanting to disturb him, but he shifted with her, fitting against her back like a missing piece of herself. Knowing that he was fully alert almost made her angry, almost made her shake off the rest of her slumber to snap at him—but she could still pass off the hand that slid up under her shirt to press against her ribs, a hair's breadth away from indecent, as being there only to feel her heartbeat. And so, she let him be.
Later, when she turned over to face him, the gentle, rhythmic stroke of his palm against the skin of her back was what lulled her to sleep.
Finally, though, when she woke up to dawn's dim light, she found him pressed so close that she was overheating. Squirming free of him and of the blanket that covered them, she avoided his amusedly grasping hand en route to the window. Once out from under the blanket it wasn't that bad, but she still pushed the window open, appreciating the cold morning air that washed in and over her, chilling and drying the sweat on her skin.
How the hell did it get this hot in here?
Let's think about this, she chastened herself. Two warm bodies, one very warm blanket, small area. That will apparently do it.
Gaara stretched, looking entirely too pleased with himself. She scowled. He probably felt me up while I was sleeping, when I didn't know any better.
"It's not time for you to be up yet," he rumbled. "Come back here."
She let out a very undignified giggle before obliging, turning so she nestled her back against him. Things are okay. They're still okay.
Gaara's arm wrapped around her, hand going back under her shirt for the skin of her stomach. His breath brushed against her ear when he spoke, voice low, darkly amused. "It got . . . awfully hot in here."
Holy damn predatory. Whoa, what did I just crawl into bed with! Her next thought froze her: You know what he is.
"Very . . ." The hand on her stomach tracked upwards, apparently no longer caring about indecent, as his mouth opened against her shoulder.
Oh, wow. Oh, no.
I'm not going to . . . I told myself I wouldn't do anything else. And I shouldn't.
When she squirmed, his arm clamped around her waist, holding her against him. "Interesting," he breathed.
That's not his hip.
What the hell brought this on? "Gaara, let me go."
He loosened his grip enough for her to turn around, then clenched onto her again. "Better?"
She was about to tell him no, that it wasn't better at all—but he leaned in for the side of her neck, the combination of his tongue and teeth making her forget her words. When he moved towards her face, though, she knew exactly what to say. "Wait!"
"Hm?"
"Let me up. I've got to brush my teeth."
"Good idea." His cheek rubbed against hers briefly as he tasted her earlobe before relinquishing his hold on her.
He's going to try to follow me in, isn't he? Yeah. Sakura stopped him just outside of the door, pressing her palm against his chest. "Alone. Girl stuff."
His expression was somewhere between amused and hungry, gentle and predatory, everything blending smoothly together into the simplicity of want. "All right."
I will not hide in here. At least, not for long. Once she was finished with the essentials, she felt a little more steady. Gaara slipped through the door she left open with no further ceremony, finally focused on something besides her.
Her room was cooling down well, thanks to the open window. She absently rubbed the gooseflesh that broke out on her upper arms. Maybe I should change now. No, I don't know how long he'll take in there.
I'll just tell him no more, when he gets out. He should have had enough time by now to have calmed down some.
A whisper of fabric behind her was her only indication of his approach until he spoke. "What are you thinking about?"
She shrugged, tried to seem dismissive. He stepped around her, commanding her attention. "Well?"
"It's just . . . You came on a little strong there, you know? I'm not used to it."
Gaara tilted her chin up to face him. "I'm sorry." His lips whispered against her forehead. "I can make it better."
His mouth against hers wasn't what she had in mind, but she found that it would do just as well. And if he pulled her with him towards the bed, she'd been intending to go back there anyway. Straddling him, his face in her hands as she kissed him as deeply as he did her, she reflected for a moment that she really shouldn't be doing this. Then rational thought fled her, leaving nothing but heat, the slightly salty taste of his shoulder, his body under her hands as his weight bore her down into the mattress. Her tank top was tugged one way, then the other, her just-exposed skin protesting the cold air only for a second before it was covered by warm hands, a warmer mouth.
What am I doing?
I don't care.
His stomach was a source of amusement, something to examine, trace the lines of. Gaara gave her a second to speculate, to consider, before guiding her hands to the fastenings of his pants. Curiosity overcame skepticism, and the gentle noise he made against her neck as her hand closed over soft skin was all the encouragement she needed.
His voice was rough. "I want you." He tugged at the drawstring of her pants, tugged at the pants themselves. She shifted to help him.
Again, against her mouth as he pressed her back down, hands caressing her now bare thighs. "I want you."
She whimpered. I can't.
A hand slid away from her thigh to adjust himself, pressing himself against her. Sakura braced, but he went no further.
Black-ringed eyes met hers as he calmly licked three of his fingers. The all too personal saliva-slick slide of them made her writhe. Her eyelids pressed shut. She couldn't look at him. It was all far too much.
"I want you to want me."
The words, and her memory of who had first said them to her, jolted her eyes open.
I can't.
The motion changed from a stroke to a circle. Her stomach muscles locked and her legs shook where she pressed them against his, the fabric of his pants pleasantly distracting. Her hands raced across his back and over his shoulders, pulling him in to meet her breathless kiss.
It wouldn't take much at all . . .
This time it was a command. "Tell me you want me."
I can't. I can't.
"I do."
He still refused to continue. Sakura recognized what he really wanted as the circles tightened, prompting her to push up helplessly from beneath him.
Just a little bit. A little bit won't be so bad. But she already knew this would be all or nothing.
"It's your choice," he whispered.
But it always had been, hadn't it? To accept him, or to leave him and walk away.
She could never have walked away from him, and he knew it.
With a hopeless gasp Sakura gripped his hips, pulling him down to her as she thrust herself against him.
It was both better and worse than she had imagined. She felt her flesh tear to accommodate his, felt him rub against what seemed like every single overtaxed muscle on his way, until his body impacted against hers at precisely the right point to—
Her first cry wrenched her head back, her spine arching hard as she clutched at him. Gaara's hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the others that were wrung from her in time with the pitch of their bodies, his lips near her ear, the choked noises he was emitting driving her higher.
Eventually the waves of sensation subsided, and he pulled his hand away from her mouth in order to kiss her again. To an extent thought returned, even as her hips continued to rise instinctively to meet his. Why did he . . . Because of the open window, or because it sounded too close to pain?
One of his elbows hooked under her knee, impairing her ability to move properly against him as her shirt bunched between them.
But we're both still clothed!
His fingers interlaced with hers, pressing her hand to the mattress beside her head. Gaara reared back, wide eyes holding her gaze as with a series of sharp movements he gasped out his release.
The enormity of the situation hit her as he sank back down, his forehead against hers, nuzzling her lips, her face.
What have I done?
Sasuke's called me a whore so many times now . . . and here I am, supposed to be thinking things out over Lee, half-naked and post-coital under Gaara!
What kind of awful person am I?
Oh, no . . . Suddenly she felt incredibly, unbelievably, revoltingly dirty.
Gaara's lips pressed agitatedly against her temple, her cheek, as his hands caressed her sides, pressing her harder against him. "I love you." Then again, rougher, into her ear: "I love you."
She burst into tears.