Hiya.

02-07-2020 edit: A lot of this chapter is happening approximately at the same time as chapter 4. Not knowing this would make these first scenes even more confusing, so there you go. Enjoy. ^_^

…
Chapter Five: Repercussions.
...

"You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking, because I will kick your arse for thinking that thought."

This interruption to his normally calm façade wasn't enough to make him lash out, but Gaara could feel the frustration bubbling to the surface. His sister had been babbling for the better part of the week over his poor choice in personal assistants; she just didn't get that it didn't need to be said. Sure, this Sayuri was a weird, mysterious one, but her personality had nothing to do with his decision to hire her. And then, once Kankuro opened his big mouth and proceeded to tell Temari what Gaara had been doing with each and every candidate, the Kazekage was treated to a lecture on both professional courtesy and his twisted sense of duty.

Temari was acting like he would have slept with the each and every one of those girls if she hadn't been there to scare most of them off!

"What exactly is he thinking?" Kankuro asked, curious.

Temari crossed her arms over her shoulders. "That he's going to ruin his position and reputation just to get it on with some random personal assistant."

"Why would that ruin him?"

"It's inappropriate."

"So was him shacking up with that nurse last month," Kankuro said, ignoring Gaara's intense stare and acting like he couldn't hear them. "I think he has a thing for medics."

"He has a thing for attracting trouble."

Kankuro grinned. "That's my little brother."

"Shut up," Temari snapped. She turned back to Gaara.

Not wanting another reprimand, Gaara used his sand to shunshin out of his mansion before either of his siblings could utter another word. They'd ambushed him in his home, but the seals around his office were much better (though in hindsight, he saw how that oversight was irresponsible of him—he just didn't see the point of worrying over it, since he didn't spend that much time at home anyway, and all his important belongings had additional seals).

Gaara appeared directly in front of the dark-haired young woman his sister had just been bitching about. She gave a startled "oh!" before remembering to bow and use his title to address him. Torn between ignoring her and striding directly into his office and seeing just how easy it was to sneak up on her, Gaara stood frozen to the spot.

Gaara continued to stare at her.

He hadn't meant to become so interested in her. Gaara didn't fraternise with staff members—there were policies in place to prevent or punish that after all, and he'd put them there himself: not that they'd fraternised, per se. He'd just decided to alternate between ignoring her and openly checking her out—he couldn't decide which road to take. He had no excuse for his actions, only that he was a deranged lunatic.

Sayuri Nakayama… even the name brought a strange kind of thrill trembling through his body. It sounded strange, and didn't suit her, but he couldn't help himself. Gaara thought he smelt an underlying fragrance to her existing scent; it peaked his curiosity, because no matter how much she tried to hide it with perfumes or whatever it was she was using, he could still detect the slightest traces of vanilla and strawberry underneath it all.

He had always been highly intuitive that way, and her scent was driving him crazy.

Maybe he was crazy.

Temari certainly seemed to think so.

Gaara wasn't normally one to worry about what others thought of him—it was rarely nothing he could handle either way—but this was different. He spent his first week as Sayuri's boss torn between keeping his distance in order to enforce his own rules on propriety, and dry humping the gorgeous woman. He could feel his composure on said decision crumbling.

"Kazekage-sama?"

Gaara nodded curtly, handed her a duty roster from his personal filing cabinet and returned to his office, settling in reluctantly. He pushed Sayuri out of his head. The newest batch of paperwork got a temperamental glare and growl from the Kazekage. Some paperwork was just bullshit—so whenever the opportunity arose, he made sure to tell people he'd look into things he didn't actually have to. So Gaara's system was to sort things into one of three piles: "waste of parchment", "this crap can wait", and "do now or go insane later". He wasn't some shirker, but his time was far more valuable than the average Shinobi. Even delegating less important documents for approval was a bitch. But he did it: and all with the patience of a saint as far as he was concerned.

Since taking office, he'd gone over a number of the previous legislations and there were a few that stood out more prominently than others as by-laws that needed amending. This was his only political concern right now. The main one was the foundation of Suna's alliance with Konoha. He wasn't happy with it, and that problem wasn't going away. And with some of these newer revelations, he decided that trying to afford a new onsen house just to prevent Kankuro from peeking wasn't important enough to warrant the Kazekage's attention. (The puppet master was many things, but subtle was never one of them.)

Gaara found it funny, though he'd never admit it: Temari had no idea both of her brothers found the idea of naked women in steam and hot water irresistibly hot. He was going to preserve her belief that he really was naïve, despite his own personal experience, for as long as he could. Or as Kankuro told him "milk it for all it's worth". It made lazy weekends that much more bearable.

Gaara sighed. Still, thoughts of Sayuri spending some quality time in the local onsen and tying Kankuro down so he couldn't ogle were delightful fantasies: and classified as beautiful, delicious distractions.

"Kazekage-sama."

Gaara looked up, startled. None of this registered on his face however, and he merely nodded to his secretary. The object of his musings strode into his office and handed over a manila folder with Councillor Shin's seal on the cover. Looking Sayuri over, he realised he'd been doing paperwork for hours and he attempted a small smile in gratitude for her interruption.

She returned the smile. "Yoshiko-san said that Shin-san wants that done as soon as possible."

So much for his happy mood.

"Sayuri…" He sighed. "Thank-you, that's all."

She nodded, bowed, and left, closing the door behind her.

Gaara placed the manila folder down gently, staring at the door his secretary had just disappeared behind. The sound of his brother ambling into the hallway made up his mind on what to do next. He summoned his third eye and peeked through the wall as the puppet master grinned cheekily at Sayuri.

"Working hard?" Kankuro asked.

Sakura was just considering going for a self-directed tour to calm her nerves when the brunette interrupted her thoughts. He wasn't like Gaara, who despite his silent forwardness, didn't seem to know how to approach her. The last time she'd seen the puppet master before this mission, he hadn't been quite so happy.

She shrugged. "For now."

"You heading out to the clubs tonight?"

"Sure, I like The Zephyr."

Kankuro grinned, but didn't stop to talk any longer, heading toward the closed door to his brother's office. "I'll see you there," he said, winking at her. Without knocking, he waltzed into his brother's office, knowing full well Gaara had been using his third eye to listen in on that short but sweet conversation.

...

Friday nights were the busiest when Gaara got stuck into his paperwork. But after overhearing that Sayuri would be at The Zephyr (the most notorious night club in Suna that didn't literally reek) made him want to finish early. With a knowing smirk, Kankuro gave him a quick rundown on the sort of attire that was expected of him and Gaara silently left his brother behind, knowing he'd be expecting to accompany him if only to have front row seats to what it was that his Kazekage was planning.

Gaara wasn't planning anything. He was moving on instinct; that chunin he'd trained when she was still a Genin, stood outside The Zephyr, amidst half a dozen other girls. The brunette squealed at the sight of him. He nodded curtly to Matsuri out of obligation but continued on without pausing. After a moment's hesitation, she followed; Temari and Kankuro's sudden appearance kept her at bay however, and after scanning the night club quickly, Gaara realised Sayuri was already here.

She was sitting on a loveseat with that new ANBU, Shuin. Gaara remembered his codename was Basset. He had a thing for overstepping his mark.

Gaara took a seat, ignoring the passing waitress's attempts to offer him a beverage and "whatever your heart desires, Kazekage-sama", and pretended his siblings weren't stealing curious glances at him. Sayuri was the only thing he cared about right now; he stared blatantly and unabashedly.

She looked up at him, her fingers clasping yet another glass of whatever it was she was having—he couldn't tell and right now, didn't care. She focused on him for a moment before turning back to the ANBU next to her. Gaara continued to stare at her after she pulled her eyes away and felt like going over there, pulling Shuin away from the girl and taking her to his mansion. But that little voice in his head—the one subliminally implanted there by Temari over the course of his tenure as Kazekage—wanted him to be smart about this and not make a scene that would send the Suna grape-vine reeling.

So, he just sat there and watched, forcibly keeping his sand under control, and calming himself with mental images of himself killing that ANBU, slowly and painfully. For both of their sakes, "Basset" was going to go on a long-term mission come morning and stay as far away from Sayuri as humanly possible once he returned. These thoughts kept his murderous ones at bay; eventually, Sayuri lifted her eyes to return the stare of the Kazekage again and bit her bottom lip. The effect was instantaneous and his eye twitched involuntarily.

Fucking hell.

Was she doing this on purpose?

His question was answered when she got up, strode over to the lowset stage—Kankuro had spoken of it often in his tales of lap dances, pole dancers and horny one-night stands. And the Kazekage struggled to supress his own physical reactions when his dark-haired receptionist swung her leg around one of the poles, her seductive movements amplified by the skimpy dress she'd chosen to wear. He wondered what she'd feel like, pressed up against him, dancing like that, how her intricately woven scent would change when intermingled with perspiration. The not-so-subtle "come hither" motions of the male members of the crowd had Gaara growling audibly—luckily, no-one heard him.

And then Sayuri "invited" Shuin to dance with her and it was all Gaara could do not to encase the man in his Sand Coffin then and there. There were so many ways Shuin could die and no-one would find a trace of him.

He was vaguely aware that his siblings were talking about him: all he heard was "make him jealous", "get laid", and "oddly coloured hair". That last statement drew his attention, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the seductive, dancing form of his personal assistant: every inch of her, and every not so innocent sway of her hips made him dig even deeper into the arm of his chair.

Time passed, Sayuri didn't attempt to sneak upstairs with Shuin, and Gaara managed to relax his muscles enough to release his death grip on his chair. It would not do to have the Kazekage throw himself at some woman in the middle of a very public mix of oestrogen and testosterone. He repeated this several more times in his head before standing up, casting a frustratingly hungry look at the object of said frustrations, and left the club. But he wasn't going home, oh no. He was going to make sure Sayuri went home, alone.

Gaara was a master at moving undetected, and hovered around the entrance to The Zephyr, just waiting. She appeared ten minutes later, and he managed to reform from the dispersal of his sand in time to literally bump into his brother. The puppet master had a look of absolute glee on his face, a half wasted blonde woman hugging his side and he chuckled, noting his otouto's gaze follow the mysterious dark-haired woman from the land of iron.

"Go get her," Kankuro whispered hoarsely, before gently pushing Gaara forward.

Temari had just exited the club (alone) and, knowing he was about to get reprimanded again, Gaara took his brother's advice. He had no intention of following Sayuri into her apartment and climbing into bed with her—the temptation was there but he was well aware of what lines not to cross. He had already decided just to make sure she was going home alone, before returning to his own bed.

She didn't see him, of course, and he watched her move into her bathroom for a few minutes before coming out and getting dressed in full view of the barely open window.

Gaara didn't really consider himself a peeping tom, despite several... uh …incidents in the local onsen. But this was bordering on it. Okay, this was yet another line he knew not to cross, but he was doing it anyway. Thankfully, for Sayuri's sake, and his own conscience, she didn't strip down completely—her underwear was dark pink, lacy and while enticing, still covered her nicely enough. She turned away from the window, slipped her bra off, and pulled on a faded shirt and the shortest boy shorts he'd ever seen.

Gaara realised after the fact that his own hand had found the front of his pants and mentally berated himself. That could wait until he got home. He watched Sayuri as she settled into her bed, his eyes peering through the now near darkness resolutely until his own need for sleep drove him home.

I'm going to hell for this.

...

Monday morning had come too quickly. Gaara decided the best thing to do would be to ignore Sayuri until he decided whether it was worth ruining having a decent personal assistant over getting laid by said assistant. It wasn't like he'd have problems finding someone to warm his bed, so he didn't need her, specifically. But he knew it was just an excuse—she'd deliberately flirted with Shuin, given him more than a few seductive glances, and… well, let's just say, his hand had been busy for quite a while before he finally managed to get to sleep, both Friday and Saturday nights.

He remembered the first time he'd masturbated—he had been so naïve when it came to hormones and etiquette, not waiting to get home to do so. Kankuro had teased him for months about being so obvious in public, while Temari refused to look him in the eyes for just as long. It wasn't like he'd done it to give people a show, he just didn't realise, lost so in his reverie, that he had an audience. Unfortunately, there were a number of fan girls nearby, and he still hadn't lived that day down.

Only the threat of death in the most painful way possible kept every eyewitness publicly silent.

Gaara sighed, opening his office door, having sensed the familiar chakra signature inside.

"What are you doing?" He grumbled.

"Swivelling on your chair," Kankuro said gleefully, spinning several times before continuing. "I like it—it almost makes me wish I were Kazekage."

"Almost."

Kankuro nodded and held his right hand up for inspection; his forefinger and thumb a hair's breadth apart. "Almost," he stressed, and then chuckled. "And then I remember I hate overbearing old geezers; they suck all the fun out of life."

Gaara nodded. "Out."

Kankuro complied, jumping out of the chair, but moved in front of the desk as his brother lazily sat back in it, looking more contemplative than usual. "So, what's she like?"

Gaara looked up at him, frowning.

"You know what I mean." Kankuro grinned. "Wet, tight, wet and tight… what?"

"Kankuro…"

"Oh, you didn't get any, huh?" The puppet master ignored his brother's murderous glare. "C'mon, otouto, you can tell me."

"Yes," Gaara groaned. "And then all of Suna would know."

"That hurts bro." Kankuro cocked his head to the side as he sensed Sayuri's approach, down the hallway. "Well, gotta go." He shunshined out.

Annoyed, Gaara watched again, with his third eye, as his brother conversed easily with Sayuri. He had spoken with her on many occasions, on both professional matters, and that one time she tried to ask him about his family life. She was easy going, answering his unspoken question of "what about your family?" and telling him all about her overprotective brother. He sounded like a male version of Temari. And because he was an accomplished samurai, Gaara decided not to do anything to piss him off—at least until he gauged the man's level of creepy.

Sayuri's laughter drifted through the wall at something Kankuro said and Gaara sighed wistfully.

She was dressed conservatively as usual and accompanied by the rush of jealousy at her "performance" at The Zephyr, Gaara was suddenly very angry. She waltzed around the office in clothes of appropriate length and design and partied in a disreputable night club like she was just as loose as the other woman who spent their off hours there.

But Sayuri was different to them again, beyond the obvious and underneath those… clothes. He wanted to see for himself if she really was a porcelain doll, from head to toe, without the impediment of skimpy dresses or delectable lingerie. The possibility of luring her back to his place had him licking his lips. He had spent the week watching her with his third eye so often that it was bordering on insanity. She had him physically cornered, metaphorically speaking, and she was going to pay for that.

Gaara almost didn't notice when his sister appeared and Kankuro left reluctantly (he was thinking about that lacy pink lingerie…). He stood up, moved to the door of his office and surprisingly, even Temari didn't notice as he inched it open.

Temari bowed her head slightly, her face now strangely expressionless, and her voice came out in a monotone whisper. "I know who you really are."

Sakura inhaled sharply. "And who am I?"

"A liar," the blonde said, smiling sweetly. Of this, she was sure. "Your dossier says you're from Sakata, but not why you came here. Why did you even come to Suna?"

Sakura didn't know how to respond. But the best defence was an offense, so she threw the accusation back at the woman. "Do you do this to every woman who just happens to stumble into the Kazekage's life?"

"No, she doesn't," Gaara said; he'd been standing in the doorway to his office and, thoroughly embarrassed, Sakura sat back in her chair, her eyes drifting toward her lap. Temari shared a pouting glare with her brother and then promptly left by his silent command. Gaara moved away from his office and toward Sakura, staring at her intently. He leant forward, resting his hands on the arms of her chair and effectively caging her in; the corner of his mouth twitched when she determinedly matched his shameless gaze. He sniffed her again, like he'd been doing off and on for the last week.

There was that curious cocktail that was her scent, again.

"Temari only gets this defensive without attacking with women I have every intention of sleeping with."

Sakura felt a chill run through her body, but she couldn't look away from him. He was smirking, and leaning in toward her, without touching her. She licked her lips, and his eyes drifted to her lips, before running over her body.

"You were such a tease the other night," he said. "And I don't like to be teased—not when I'm not the one pressed up against you, or deep inside you."

Before she could utter a complaint, Gaara pulled her out of the chair and shoved her into the wall. Nothing broken, nothing fractured… a slight stinging sensation was the only evidence that he hadn't been gentle. And then he was kissing her, biting on her lips to make her gasp before his tongue invaded her mouth. He growled against her lips, and Gaara smirked triumphantly when the dark-haired girl responded to him vivaciously. He ground his hips, pushing her harder against the wall and using his body to cage her against it.

All inhibitions had officially evaporated.

Gods, she wanted him. He tantalised her senses, his expert tongue probing every inch of her mouth as his hands traced her body. She shivered and moaned out his name... then he did the same.

"Sayuri…"

Sakura stopped what she was doing, stunned. It wasn't the first time he'd called her by her fake persona, but this time it was laced with his desire. This was flipping her out, and she couldn't help the painful stab of guilt that tore through her heart.

But he wouldn't let her remain idle for long, pulling her mind back into her physical predicament, and again, ground his hips into hers; a jolt of electricity, starting at her inner thigh, shot through her and she lost herself to his embrace once more.

Neither of them forgot where they were however, and eventually, their need to breathe took precedence. Gaara was the one to break the kiss, but not the contact.

"Go home," he said after a moment, still panting slightly. He smirked at the shock on her face. "Take the rest of the day off." He pulled away from her. "I'll be going home around sunset, and I expect you to be there."

He shunshined out, leaving her dazed and Sakura let out a breath she didn't remember inhaling.

Holy fuck.

This was really happening.

Sakura packed up her things and did what she was told, leaving the administration building way too early. He was so much more intense than she'd anticipated, though the direct "I get what I want" attitude wasn't surprising, considering he was a Kage. She found the apartment she shared with Tenzou empty when she finally managed to find it in her post-make out daze. As she sunk into a hot, relaxing bath (which was its purpose more than bathing, this time), Sakura closed her eyes, just remembering the feel of Gaara, the taste of him, and his scent. It was intoxicating—no, he was intoxicating. But she couldn't shake the guilt she'd felt at his use of her fake name. Come tonight, she was going to be taking advantage of him.

On the battlefield, or in missions dealing with rogues and the usual scum, this was no problem—attack, maim, kill, or cheat, it didn't matter. They had it coming, most of the time, and even when they didn't, she otherwise felt nothing for them—the guilt had left her a long time ago. She hadn't been a mere genin for years.

Sakura had all day to wallow in what had happened, what was going to happen, and what it all meant. She had a sick, twisted feeling Gaara had done that on purpose. She had made a few friends since arriving, steering clear of the girls who had hearts in their eyes for their Kazekage. She'd always had a natural talent for befriending someone regardless of age—nothing like Naruto's abilities of course, but it was similar in premise at least.

She sighed, trying to think about the most constructive way she could be spending her unexpected "day off". Her thoughts always inevitably returned to a certain hot redhead.

Taking into account every rumour, every confirmation (mostly from Shikamaru), and every little ambiguous comment from Kankuro, Sakura found Gaara was mysterious, no matter which way she sliced it. When it came to him, she only knew three things for certain: he was the Kazekage, he definitely wanted to sleep with her, and he wasn't going to take "no" for an answer.

…

XXX

...

A/N: My cliché heart is all aflutter. ;)

No, I won't be doing that weird *back-track through last chapter* thing every time. I just felt it important to show Gaara's POV of what happened. Well, I guess you guys all have your own theories as to what's coming now. *wink, wink, hint, hint* Lol. We're only five chapters in, but this fic was never about building up some fluff relationship—the romantic part isn't immediate, but it will come. No, this is hormone driven, lol.

I'm aware this is a cliché fic but I'm just going with it: having fun. Lotsa love! ^_^

R&R.

…