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The Thirty-First Hour: Action
Itachi is a patient man by heart; rushing her is one of the last things on his agenda.
So for a little longer, he only waits. But as the "seconds" tick by, and she does nothing but sit beside him, he begins to wonder what's wrong.
"Our time will go to waste like this, Sakura."
The impatience is staring to crack through his tone. He can't help it. He is desperate, desperate for her touch, her voice, and her kisses.
She bites her lip. He notices.
And he finally takes action.
The Thirty-Second Hour: Limit
"Lips, my dear, are not for biting," he scolds softly as he grabs both of her wrists in one hand. Pushing her gently onto the ground, he continues. "Lips are for kissing."
Ignoring her protests while savouring her flustered look, he leans in. "And your lips, Sakura, have a special task. Do you know what that task is?"
He waits a moment to see what she would do, what she would say.
Unable to meet the heated look in his crimson eyes, she looks away. This act only irritates him.
His voice is husky and needy, yet she finds it absolutely irresistible. "Don't test my limits, Sakura."
With that, he captures her lips.
The Thirty-Third Hour: Foreign
They were unable to go very far last time, so he wants to make it up. Without so much as a warning, or even a teasing lick to her lips, he thrusts his tongue in.
She would have bit his tongue off if it didn't feel so good.
It is a foreign feeling, having such an inappropriate kiss in such an inappropriate position, but she doesn't think it'll take much to get used to. After all, Itachi is good at this, so damn good.
The way he prods at her tongue to respond is not disgusting at all, as she had initially thought it to be. It is, if anything, alluringly provocative.
He tastes everywhere, and she hesitantly (which he finds adorable) lets him do more and more. He relishes in the feeling of kissing her like this, and he tries to memorize it.
Realizing that at this stage, she is in no condition to retaliate, he lets go of her wrists and occupies himself with caressing her sides, leaving tingling strokes along the way.
As soon as he had let her wrists go, her hands had attached themselves onto his shoulders, taking what support she could get. Although she is pinned rather firmly on the ground, she feels like unless she had another anchor, she would definitely fall into oblivion from the heated gestures, the lust glazed eyes, and the kiss that was filled with both love and vengeance, a deadly combo.
Maybe not French kissing him the first time they met was a good thing.
The Thirty-Fourth Hour: Thinking
She is silent for a long time, and he wonders just what she is thinking. Sure, Sakura is the analytic type. She can think just fine in her head without having to blabber out her thoughts, but he knows her too well to not find it abnormal that she is keeping silent for so long.
After all, she can be pretty loud sometimes.
"What are you thinking about now?" he asks calmly.
"...Us."
"What more is there to think about?"
She doesn't know what he means by that. "I don't know. I just feel like…"
He waits patiently for her answer.
"I guess…I just feel like we have a lot of potential."
These sentences usually continue with "but".
"But…?" he decides to continue for her.
"But…it's hard."
"What is?"
She looks down at their interlocked fingers, studying the way he is holding her hand firmly, protectively.
"It's hard letting someone so great go."
The Thirty-Fifth Hour: Ugly
"I am honoured you think that way about me." His tone seems devoid of any emotions, but she knows better than that.
He is glad and…relieved that she cares about him.
"Of course I do, idiot," she mutters, looking away with a slightly bashful expression.
She can't see it, but he smiles. "Have I embarrassed you in any way?"
"No," she states rigidly, a little too rigidly for him to believe her.
"Why will you not look at me then?"
And because this is Sakura, and because Sakura gets all nervous in front of the man she loves, she blurts out the first thing that comes up.
"'Cause you're ugly."
Oh, she is so dead.
The Thirty-Sixth Hour: Mess
Itachi isn't a man who cares about appearances. Oh, no, he cares about Deidara more than he cares about his looks, and he really doesn't care too much about that dolt.
But when little 5 foot 3 pink-haired brats call him "ugly"…now he cares.
"So I'm ugly now?" His tall form looms over her tiny trembling one.
She backtracks a little. Had she really called him ugly? What had she been thinking? He's the hottest damn man in the world!
Of course, she has way too much pride to admit that.
Swallowing her fear down and stretching her back to stand tall and proud, she lets out a laugh. "Yeah, so?"
He stalks closer, conveniently placing his (beautiful, beautiful) face locked in view. "Do you really think so?"
She pauses a bit, just because she has no idea what territory she's treading on now. "W-well…"
"You seem to be hesitating quite a bit, Sakura. Here, why don't you take a closer look at this…'ugly' face?" he suggests in a deep, venom-laced voice. He steps even closer, leaning forward to close what little distance they had between them.
His lips are only centimetres away from her own now, and she can feel his breath fan across her cheeks in hot wisps.
Her mind is in a clutter, a foggy mess made up of the wicked man standing in front of her. Not understanding what's going on, not remembering what he had asked her, and not knowing what to say, she spouts out dumbly, "Uh…yes?"
A/N: I change the tenses a lot...I apologize! Maybe one day...one fine day I will go back and switch the narrating tense to either the present or past...For now, I hope it doesn't bother you guys too much! orz Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I'm really sorry about the late update. I'll try to get more chapters in before school starts. For now, I'll be looking forward to those lovely reviews from you lovely people! Have a fantastic day! ^^