Lol, I sorta forgot about this fic.
#9: This is The Life
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Sasuke/Sakura, Naruto/Sasuke, Naruto/Sakura
Rating: Hard R.
Word Count: 2,760
Summary/Description: [AU] Sasuke never arrives home earlier than ten o'clock, Sakura never asks why, and Naruto can never be as good as he wants.
Warning/Spoilers: Let's see… smut, OOC maybe, cursing, no beta. I think that's it. No spoilers.
This is how it happens...
Sasuke clocks out of his office at the Konoha Police Station at precisely six o'clock every day. Given that the Uchiha Estates are a scant twenty minutes away on a day with traffic, with a window of time for picking up something to eat, or having extra paperwork, or maybe being waylaid by a colleague, or perhaps getting a drink with the guys, he should be home by seven thirty at the latest to greet his wife.
Sasuke never arrives home earlier than ten o'clock, and Sakura never asks why.
Naruto's place is a dump. Where there aren't empty ramen cups, there're clothes; where there aren't clothes, there're scattered files; where there aren't files, there're assorted weapons; where there aren't weapons, there're smelly shoes and socks; where there isn't footwear, there're crusty knives and plates and forks; and where there isn't dirty cutlery, there's possibly a Naruto sprawled somewhere in the middle of the mess.
Hinata comes over every so often to cook him a nice meal, make sure he's doing okay, and clean up the place a bit. She hasn't been by in a while, Sasuke notes as he sidesteps a gun holster.
"You live like a pig," is the Uchiha's monotone greeting. Naruto, splayed out on the bed like he doesn't want to leave even one inch unoccupied, lifts himself up and glares at the dark-haired man with his vibrant blue eyes. Muttering a belligerent, "Fuck you", he grabs Sasuke by the face, pushes him onto the bed, mauls his mouth and proceeds to.
They don't speak again until it is nine thirty, and Sasuke is getting ready to leave.
This is how they cope...
Naruto probably won't ever understand what it is that makes Sakura ask him to spend the night.
It is a Friday evening, and Sasuke is out of town on a case. Naruto stops by to say hello to his old friend, since he never sees her these days. They sit on the couch, eating the cornmeal muffins that Sakura made and sipping iced tea, and are able to manage amicable chitchat for about fifteen minutes. They talk about Sakura's job at the hospital, and the surgery she performed on Hyuuga Neji's right eye last week; Naruto's place in the Special Forces, and the eccentric people he works with. The blond notices that Sakura doesn't look him in the eyes when they talk, and nor does she seem to pay much attention to the conversation. Her eyes flit from his chest to his legs to his arms to his crotch openly, and he gets a tight feeling in his stomach that he can't place.
He knows what is going to happen before it does. Before long, Sakura is discarding the dishes in the sink, and heading upstairs, throwing Naruto a look that says he's supposed to follow.
He knows this is a bad idea (ideas don't come much worse than this one, in fact) but God damn it, she was the first that he ever loved, (and somewhere deep and hidden in his heart, maybe the only) and there is no way he could even form the letters in his head to make up a negative when she is looking at him that way.
He meets her halfway up the staircase, and grabs her by the waist to turn her around her so that he can look her fully in the eyes when he kisses her. They continue to awkwardly trip up the stairs as she opens her mouth at the behest of his, letting his tongue do all the dirty things to her as she supposes it has done to her husband. She grabs him by the collar of his shirt with her right hand, while the left roams on a straight path south, and cups him tightly. Naruto doesn't think he's ever come that close to coming in his pants with such little provocation.
"I… think I know what it is," Sakura whispers, nipping at his mouth.
"What?" he asks mindlessly, biting back, just because the statement seems to want a question.
"What it is about you… that… that makes him… that makes him…"
She never finishes the sentence. Willow green eyes flicker over him for scant seconds before she seals his mouth to hers once again.
They stumble onto the landing, still tearing hungrily at each others' lips. Sakura guides them into the nearest bedroom, falling onto the four-poster and bringing Naruto with her. The blond has never had much of an attention span, and with his mouth on the girl of his dreams, his hand on her breast and hers on his length, it is amazing that he can take in the details of the room. But he does.
"S-Sakura-chan… wouldn't… wouldn't it be best… if… if… if we did this… elsewhere?" he asks breathlessly, cyan eyes flickering from Sakura to the pictures on the walls, to the clothes in the hamper, to the items on the dresser, to the shoes by the wall, and back to Sakura, all while kissing a wet trail across her sternum.
"No," she immediately vetoes vehemently, and pushes his head into the valley of her breasts. "Here is fine."
Naruto knows that he should put up more of a protest, knows that it can't get much more wrong than this (you fuck her husband; now you're fucking her- in their bed) but then a pink nipple is in his mouth, and logical thought simply abandons him.
He leaves around three in the morning. Sakura is awake, staring at the ceiling, but neither of them bothers to say goodbye.
"I don't know what it is after all," she mumbles to herself when she is alone, a desolate whisper that is lost to the darkness.
Sasuke arrives roughly seven hours later. He quietly hails his wife, who is making breakfast in the kitchen, and immediately goes upstairs and collapses onto his bed.
Ten seconds later, he gets back up. He does not ask his wife why the sheets are sticky and smell of Naruto; he simply changes them, and goes back to bed.
She wonders if Sasuke will keep on making love to her after she has given him children.
She knows that that is what he wants. Pride encompasses a very big part of her husband, and he is not willing to let the Uchiha name die so very quickly. He cannot undo the damage that his brother has done, but he'll try his damnedest.
She knows her husband has some measure of affection for her (maybe he even loves her), but Sakura is no fool. The fact is, she is not Naruto, and will never be Naruto.
She wonders idly, mouth working around her husband's erection, if she is trying to metamorphose. Silly idea, (she has proven that she can never analyse and imitate whatever it is about Naruto that makes him that cannonball of energy and wildness that Sasuke desires) but it would be just like her subconscious to try and go to the extremes to get her husband to treasure her above all.
Sasuke moans quietly, and Sakura takes the sound and locks it away in her mind, to treasure. His hands are fisted in her cherry blossom locks, pulling at the roots, but she doesn't mind. She bets he gives Naruto this kind of hurt.
She's never been overly good at this, but she tries; relaxing her throat as best as she can so she can take in the entire length of him; suctioning her cheeks to give him the pressure that will drive him wild; using her tongue to tease the vein that throbs like a pulse.
He rushes down her throat, warm and creamy and bitter, the shout of his orgasm muffled before it can breach his lips. She lets him slide out of her mouth, slack and slick with spit. His thigh pillows her head as she lays it to rest, trying to even out her breathing.
Minutes later, she crawls up her husband's body to kiss him goodnight, but he is already asleep, or doing a good job of pretending.
"This isn't fucking afterglow," Sasuke growls, as if determined not to enjoy the feel of Naruto raking his fingers through his midnight blue locks. The blond's chest is warm, not too sweaty, and the steady thump of his heartbeat threatens to lull Sasuke to sleep.
"Yeah. I know," is all the reply his admonishment warrants. Naruto keeps stroking, and counterpoints it with the occasional bite at Sasuke's reddened lips. The brunet cannot hold back a groan.
"I have to go home." There isn't as much venom in Sasuke's next remark.
"…Yeah. I know."
This is how they break...
He spies her at the supermarket next Saturday. Mischief gets the better of him, and it's like they're teenagers again, and he cannot resist creeping up behind her while she's contemplating cucumbers in the vegetable aisle. He frightens her out of her wits, making her jump about ten feet into the air. The result is a capsized stack of eggplants and a fellow patron knocked flat on her ass. Naruto cannot stop laughing, even when Sakura elbows him in the ribs while apologising profusely to the disgruntled woman.
She continues to admonish him under her breath as someone arrives to clean up the mess, but there is a definite sparkle in her eyes. She looks over his trolley, filled to the brim with cup ramen, snacks and soda, with barely controlled amusement.
"Getting only the bare necessities, I see." She shifts so she can face him in full, her smile pushing dimples into her cheeks.
"Yup." He grins wolfishly. "And what about you?" He gestures to the display of vegetables before her. "You look like you're about to go to war with those greens." Sakura punches him playfully on the arm as he chortles, and she's almost amazed that they've made it this far without any awkwardness.
"Oh, I just can't decide what to cook for dinner. Sasuke got that promotion that he's been waiting for yesterday, and I want to make something special to celebrate." She beams, her pride shining through her eyes. "I was thinking maybe some little cucumber sandwiches to start off, and then some fish, cooked in a tomato sauce."
"Oh, yeah, the promotion. He told me about that." Naruto thinks it over for a while. "I'm not sure about those cucumbers. Why not something with potatoes? He loves potatoes. Never told me outright, of course, but this one time he was over, I was having some scalloped potatoes that Hinata had left for me. The bastard just about ambushed me and ate it all."
He giggles at the memory, and does not realise what he has said until her face falls, all light and laughter draining away. A dull, faded look creeps into her eyes, colouring them a melancholy shade of green.
"Yes. If you say so, then… I suppose he does favour potatoes." She moves away from the cucumbers, and takes the short walk down the aisle to inspect the Irish potatoes. Her fingers are like steel around the handle of the trolley.
Naruto races after her, feeling six kinds of stupid. Him and his big, idiotic mouth…
"Sakura-chan, I… I… I'm so… I didn't mean-"
"It's okay, Naruto," she says, and the weak smile she gives him makes him feels like the worst kind of bastard in the world. "It's okay."
Next Monday, Sasuke arrives home early, looking incredibly angry, like a child who has been denied candy. Sakura immediately sours, and makes a note to tell Naruto that she does not need his pity.
"I hope you treat her better than you treat me," Naruto says as Sasuke zips up his pants. It is an overly warm Thursday night, and the Uchiha has stayed an hour later than he usually does.
Sasuke turns around as he pulls his shirt over his head. Leaning over the bed, he grips Naruto's chin to bring the blond up for a searing kiss. Sasuke's mouth is that cavern that he always loses himself in, no matter how many times he has explored it, and Naruto knows that no matter how much of a Good Samaritan he tries to be, this is a drug that he cannot give up.
"Yeah," the dark-haired man says, pulling away. Naruto doesn't think either of them knows why he slams the door on his way out.
This is how they love each other...
She hates it when he works on a Sunday, and she had made up her mind to confront him about it as soon as he came home, but the only words she has uttered since he came through the door are a half of a greeting, a surprised yelp, and various nonsensical words of pleasure.
Her chest and stomach are awash in splotches of red, the cool air of the bedroom feeling pleasantly tingly on the wet, raised skin. Sasuke is working on another hickey near her thigh, while her fingernails make rows of red up his back.
Her mind is a haze, and she knows she should ask him what prompted this (they never have sex on Sundays; it was like Christians, and working on the Sabbath). A jolt of pleasure that rattles her bones when he runs a finger from hipbone to hipbone shocks the notion out of her mind. When she next opens her mouth, it is to tell him where it aches, and what he can do to fix it.
When he drives into her, it is like someone has driven all the air out of her lungs with a solid punch to the gut. Her mouth works open and closed like a fish, while she fumbles for words and air and strength and sanity. When she finally adjusts to his girth (it's been a while), she brings her legs up and around his waist to coax him deeper inside of her. The tip of him grazes something that is delicate and sensitive, and she almost chokes on her whimper. When he starts to move, she damn near loses her mind.
Oh, God, but she loves it when it's like this, so slow that she feels like tearing the sheets to shreds in her fingers because it's driving her mad, but just fast enough to send fireworks exploding behind her eyelids. She is mumbling words that she doesn't even understand while Sasuke moves smoothly in and out of her.
"I love you," he mumbles into the salty skin of her neck, beginning to quicken the pace.
She digs her heels into his ass, and it is all she can do to articulate her next two words.
"You better."
Naruto likes to bite his shoulders. Sasuke never wonders about the habit; he is always much too preoccupied with other things.
"Fucking bastard," he grinds out, panting harshly, sucking in air like it will never be enough. Naruto has three fingers just inside him, flexing and jerking. The other hand is down the front of Sasuke's pants, jerking him off in quick, short pulls. "You fucking tease."
Naruto gnaws at his flesh, his too-long, too-sharp canines invoking sharp bursts of pleasure where they should be drawing out pain.
"Yeah, so what?" he mumbles, driving the fingers deeper, only to pull back before they can hit that spot. They both pretend not to hear the low keen Sasuke makes in breathless irritation at the shameless teasing. "You don't deserve anything fucking less."
Sasuke has two fistfuls of fabric to anchor him to the bed, and he doesn't think he'd be able to punch Naruto in this state anyway. He settles for growling at him.
"Yeah? And what do you deserve?" It's amazing that he can push out the words; they have no air behind them.
Naruto pulls at his sex sharply, dragging his calluses over the thick, red flesh in his hand. The answer is a whisper in Sasuke's ear as the dark-haired man comes. It sounds almost mournful.
"Exactly what I've got."
Sasuke's promotion has put him up quite a few notches in the Konoha Police Department. He's now the boss' boss, and the perks are quite substantial. Bigger office, more privileges, more bite to back up that infamous bark, and better hours. In fact, as the boss, he can make his own hours, once he puts in the required amount of work.
Sasuke continues to arrive home after ten in the night, and Sakura expects nothing less.
This is the life.