Disclaimer: Naruto is an ongoing Japanese Manga series written and illustrated by Masashi Kishimoto with an Animé adaptation. The Manga is published by Shueisha in Japan, and Viz Media in the United States, Canada, and UK, and it is serialized by Shonen Jump. The TV Animé is directed by Hayato Date, and licensed by Aniplex in Japan, Viz Media in the United States, and Manga Entertainment in the UK.
I also do not own any of the profile pictures I used in my fan fictions.
I also do not own any of the profile pictures I used in my fan fictions.
Wallpaper done by: kivi1230
Characters: Sakura & Sasuke
Rating: MF [Mature Freakz]
Plot Association: Season 8, after perhaps episode 181
Plot Association: Season 8, after perhaps episode 181
My present to you—have a wonderful Christmas!
Often is told, that everything happens for a reason. Just what is so special about this tragic development? What well could possibly be extracted from it? The atmosphere was always dreary and poor morale continued to spread amongst the ranks of the queen’s precious people.
Sakura sat on her heels next to Shizune, silently, motionless their heads bowed and their faces pale.
Ton-ton's nose was quirked in a primly manner. It could almost feel the depression emanating from the girls' arched bodies, supposedly impeding the Hokage's swift recovery. The concerned pig suddenly rebuked them, the tone evidently of displeasure and sympathy. He would not stand for this.
What did depression ever solve? How was agonizing over the Hokage’s state a benefit to anyone or, anything? Tsunade wouldn’t have approved of their glum demeanor, if she were conscious and not bedridden.
As though they had been in another world—a vast universe tucked away in a quiet corner of their mind—Sakura and Shizune plummeted back to planet earth with a shiver and color returned to their disgruntled faces. However, this universe was not one easily avoided; no sooner had they departed than they were being pulled in once more.
Shizune gave a light chuckle, looking down at the tiny tyke on four legs. “I don't think Ton-ton likes it when we sulk,” she stated while reeling in Sakura's consciousness before she drifted off again. Ton-ton made a blissful sound, making the woman aware that her presumption was on mark.
Sakura smiled a wanly smile, her eyes troubled still, even as she looked down at the pudgy pig. “I guess you're right. I’m sorry Ton-ton.”
“I'm surprised, though, that Naruto-kun chose to take Hinata instead of you. It was very much unexpected,” the older woman pointed out, seeming far more disturbed than the other girl was.
Sakura sways her head left to right, her eyes slowly blinking close and then open. “No, it's totally fine,” she said quickly, trying to hide the hint of petulance in her voice. “It's obvious that Hinata cares deeply for Naruto—she risked her life for him. And it's also safe to assume that the battle with Pain may have ended differently, if she hadn’t made an appearance.”
“I think she deserves to be the one to go with him.” That’s what she said, yet the words left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, and silence fell over the small tent once again—a more awkward moment of silence than the last. At least before, they weren’t so self-conscious.
Ton-ton watched attentively as Sakura peeled the washcloth from Tsunade's forehead. She dipped it into a basin of water, wrung it out a tad, and then placed it back over her woman’s forehead. Her eyes gleamed emotionally, but it was hard to say what thoughts lingered at the very tip of her mind.
“Sakura… why don't you go home for the day,” Shizune suggested. “Your house has already been reconstructed by Yamato, right? You should go home and get yourself some rest.”
Sakura’s lips flattened to a grim line. “But—” she cast a gesturing eye at an unconscious Tsunade, which Shizune followed.
“I'll be more than enough to look after her. Plus, I have Ton-ton here to assist me.”
Sakura giggled at the pigs enthusiastic squeal, her expression more genuine this time. “I don't know...”
“Listen, Sakura... it's going to be a while before the village is completely rebuilt. During this time—if word gets out about its current state especially, since our Kage is in a coma. The other countries may decide to invade us. Should anything happen,” her eyes narrowed solemnly, “we need all of our best medical ninjas to be in tip-top shape to support the Jounins. Naruto-kun and Kakashi will need your help, too.”
Sakura sighed nosily as she shrugged her shoulders in surrender. She didn’t bother to mention the fact that Shizune was a more seasoned medical ninja than she was. “Okay-Okay, if you insist. Now that I think about it,” she stood and stretched. “I haven't had any decent sleep in quite a while.”
Shizune chuckles softly as she looks up at her young apprentice. “Well, I suppose that's a part of being a doctor, especially if you're working directly under Tsunade-sama.”
“Be careful,” Sakura warned as she donned her boots. “She still might be able to pound you, even in that state.”
“Eeek,” the woman shrieked and jerked into a cringe. Her eyes and mouth were wide, as though she were bracing herself for the fatal clobbering.
Sakura heaved a half-suppressed laugh. “Be sure to let me know, if there are any changes in her condition.”
She smiled as a means of farewell, casting Tsunade one final gaze. Sensei, please hurry back to us... we really need you right now.
Sakura makes her way through the busy town, a hint of irritation in her quick strides. Most of the village was still in shambles, and loud rackets of all different kinds and volumes was heard from all around. But the angry maiden heard nothing—her consciousness was completely enveloped in one amongst the many femininely complex and, sectional categories in her mind. This time it was jealousy—a jealously coated with denial and provocation.
Jealous? Me? That's absurd! What do I care if that idiot chose to take Hinata instead of me, she fumed. We may be a part of the same team, but that doesn't mean I deserve any special treatment.
Fortunately, her mother wasn't home, which meant it was most likely possible to calm down after taking a nice, hot bath.
Mrs. Haruno had volunteered to be one of the many cooks to serve the hard-working men in the village. Her duties did well to keep her busy every day, and Sakura was inconspicuously enjoying the toll exhaustion had on her. Hellz yeah—the woman was incredibly quiet and far less nagging now. It was wonderful, and god knows Sakura was relieved that she would have the house all to herself for today.
She couldn't be any more livid right now. Therefore, it was for the best that she stayed away from another human being during this time.
Livid? I'm not livid. Why would I be livid? I'm perfectly fine, the words formed swiftly in her mind. I came home to get some rest, and that's exactly what I intend to do. Naruto can drop-dead for all I care—wait, I don’t mean that… do I?
After taking her boots off—chucking them aside harder than necessary—Sakura marched up the stairs to her room, ignoring the changes in the house's decor.
Most of the furniture went to hell in the destruction of the village, but she was miraculously able to salvage most of everything that was in her room, including what she held most dear.
A sentimental glow quivering in her eyes, Sakura lifted a framed photo to her face. It was a photo they all shared, and Naruto and Sasuke's sour facial expressions always made her smile.
With hope, desire and deep wishes, Sakura touched her fingertip to the glass of the frame, leaving her fingerprint upon Sasuke's lips. If only she had the chance to do that in reality.
Blowing out a sigh, she rests the frame back in place atop her bedside table, before sitting at the edge of the bed.
She then looked across the room to where her so-called study was. The table was not big enough to support all the medical books that she had borrowed from Tsunade’s personal study. She had to put some of them beneath it. The thick books were stocked on top of one another other, tinted a light blue form the curtains hung at both windows in her room.
Other girls might be excited about the opportunity to rearrange their rooms—long after this horrible catastrophe; Sakura would not or, rather, she was not. Those days are over. Three long years have come to pass.
To save herself the trouble of having to think artistically, she arranged her room just the same, as it was before— kind of tacky but okay.
Despite her early growth into womanhood however, like a teenager with a crush, an obsession—she had glued many photos of Naruto and Sasuke to her wall. But it was lest they were destroyed while trying to remove them why there were still there, not because she had preserved that childish and overrated mentality.
But wait, why were they still okay considering the recent disaster and reconstruction of her house? Was this captain Yamato's doing?
She shook off the thought.
There were more photos of Naruto than there were of Sasuke, even excluding those taken when he came back to the village with Jiraiya. What did this mean? It obviously held symbolism.
Oh, that's right, her eyes slitted as she looks down upon her fingers. Even when they were younger, Naruto was more around and considerate than Sasuke. Throughout these many months—they have shared burdens together, they have cried together, and they have grown stronger together.
Naruto has ripened into a fine and handsome man over the years, and her fondness of him grew, too. He was now a hero finally acknowledged by everyone in the village. He should be proud—it’s always been his lifelong dream, next to becoming Hokage, that is.
Sakura supposed somewhere in her heart, after confessing her love to him—even if it was for a different purpose—that he would have been curious about the truth of it and ask her, instead, to accompany him to the spa.
“What am I saying?” She cups either sides of your face and shakes her head violently.
Hoping to keep these embarrassing thoughts at bay, she rushed into the bathroom and, slammed the door behind her. With any luck, that subject matter would have stayed in her bedroom and, possibly dissipate by the time she got out.
Needless to say, Sakura hadn't such luck; these weren't exactly the kind of thoughts that could easily be pushed aside. But a girl can wish—there was certainly no crime against that.
She allowed her shoulders to sag while standing beneath the shower. Water motion in warm waves down her body; her curves caressed, obscured by the steam of the hot bath; water pitter-patter on her closed lids. She tilts her head back and combs firm fingers through her hair.
Before she could attempt to veer her thoughts in another direction—even if just a few degrees, even if to past-related events—Sakura began thinking about Naruto and Hinata again.
Whether or not their feelings were mutual, the resort they had gone to is ideal for marriage couples, particularly those on their honeymoon. Naruto and Hinata are young, beautiful, compatible, and curious; what if they are influenced by the ambiance promoted by the spa and its staff? What if Hinata confesses again and Naruto actually reacts. How would he react?
Involuntarily, a series of quick worse case scenarios flitted through Sakura's mind:
1. Naruto stumbling across a stark naked Hinata in their suite—stepping into her panties after having herself a shower;
2. Naruto once again stumbling upon Hinata, this time, while she was using the toilet;
3. With a devilish grin and an inward chuckle, his eyes burning with intent, Naruto pours a shot of aphrodisiac into Hinata’s tea while she's washing her hands in the bathroom;
4. By this point Sakura had started fuming—she thought of him sneaking up quietly behind an unsuspecting Hinata. He was drooling lustfully, his eyes twinkling, hands raised and his fingers furling and unfurling in a squeezing gesture. Suddenly, he gropes the defenseless princess from behind, her breasts crushed in his large hands.
Hinata gasps in response, alarmed, her arms bent upward limply with innocent fists as she looks down at her imprisoned bosom. Her expression was prim but adorable.
“And what do we have here,” Naruto whispered seductively against her ear, so seductive that the fire of Sakura's anger fluttered fiercely for an instant. His eyes cast in a shadow, his lips curved in a perverted V, both qualities portraying the shady change in his persona.
“NA-RU-TO,” Sakura hissed then growls threatening, frantically strangling the hose-like shower faucet as though it were Naruto's poor neck. Her eyes were disturbingly wide, her teeth gritted, and the distinct vein at the side of her forehead seemed mere moments away from explosion.
It wasn't long however before her tantrum had run its course—culminating with a frustrated sigh. After all, its trigger was merely based on conjecture. Why should she blow a blood vessel and kill herself for that, even if it were true?
That was a good point. Why should she?
Sakura thought about that for a while, even as she decided to draw herself a bath for a long soak. The fit she just threw seemed to have made her muscles sore, or was that psychological? Good god, just when did she step out of her comfort zone?
She considered that as she substituted her use of the showerhead with that of the pipe just above the bathtub. The dial squeaked, when she slowly turned it anti-clockwise, and a steady flow of water came gushing into the plugged tub. Sakura carefully laid back in her acrylic paradise.
It certainly wasn't a case where she had stepped out of her comfort zone. It was more as if it had abandoned her. For these three longs years, it was within Naruto that she found closure, comfort and reassurance. His determination was the endless candlewick on which the flame that was her hope burned, and although it would have taken an eternity—he was helping her to gather the many fragments of her broken heart. Every time she saw Sasuke, however, the hole in her heart throbbed fiercely, scattering the pieces all over again. And all the while, Naruto would get down on his knees beside her to help pick up the pieces.
It may have been over three years, but Sakura was still an empty shell. Like acres of a farmer's land, rendered barren due to a prolonged season of drought—for these few years—Sakura's heart has been numb and infertile. There were moments of fleeting rainfall and healing, which enabled the land to produce a few corn, but Naruto deserved more than a few ear of corn. And no amount of investment on his part could allow her to bear more fruit.
Sakura was broken beyond repair. Yet, she could not turn him away or, claim that she did not feel for him. She had selfishly used him as a crutch. Eventually fell in love with him throughout their many trials and, hardships. She knew better than anyone that the village’s hero was entitled to more than the small measure of love she had to offer.
As selfish and dependent on him as she’d been, Sakura would never claim him for herself. Despite her reaction earlier, she felt less guilty on the assumption that the feelings Hinata has for Naruto are mutual. She did not mean to love him more than a friend nor, did she ever intended to confess her feelings regardless, of the circumstances.
The flickers of jealously she felt revealed many truths to her. She left herself entirely unprotected against the barrage of emotional bruises it inflicted. Pricks of pain played around the raw edges of the gaping hole in her heart. She knew she deserved it for using him the way she did. He was her best friend. She would always love him, and it would never, ever be enough.
Suddenly, Sakura's eyes snapped open at the sound of water overflowing from the bathtub. Torn between wanting to turn the faucet off with haste—before the bathroom could flood even more—and the caution of abstaining from stirring the water in the tub too much with her movement—which would have only create the same disaster—Sakura made her way to the pipe. It was difficult to find equilibrium.
When she had leaned back again—after grumbling and chiding herself for the mundane chore she had created for herself—Sakura started reminiscing, particularly about that time when she and Sasuke (Naruto in disguise) almost kissed while sitting side-by-side on a bench together.
The day ended without her lips being claimed by his, of course. Sakura assumed he was shy, but she had reason enough to doubt that. It got her thinking, and she takes a good, long look at her torso—breasts and nipples. She wondered if she were womanly enough for Sasuke. Did he perhaps prefer older women? Did he like girls with large breasts and little cleavage?
She squeezed her curves and frowned morosely at their insignificant size. She couldn't help but compare them to Hinata's, and ended up dying a little inside.
What colour nipples did Sasuke prefer? She continued to ponder. Did he like them small and pink-tipped? She squeezed hers and gasped, a blush staining her cheeks at the brief wave of pleasure it summoned.
Did Sasuke prefer outgoing girls? Or did he have a soft spot in his heart for the shy ones? Now that Sakura thinks about it, she knew very little about the prince of all Uchihas, and yet he held her heart with such might. It didn't intimate her, however—knowing so little about him. Instead—looking forward to learning about his likes and dislikes made her thrilled. They may have been friends for a while, but actually engaging themselves in an intimate relationship would bring its joys. It would be exciting!
She just knew Naruto would bring him back to her. She had to believe that—it was the first step to having it become a reality.
Sakura groans sullenly. Just what was the point of taking that long relaxing bath, if after mopping up the wet floor, her body would go back to feeling the same way it did before?
There was really no use getting all roiled up—since that might only worsen her condition again. Although it seemed somewhat harsh, Sakura blamed Naruto for how she was feeling. The reasoning didn't have to be rational. Whoever said that?
It was faint, but she could feel it. Like a naive child, she had subconsciously paved a path of faithfulness for both Naruto and Sasuke. As crazy as it may seem, that was the reality. Of course, she knew being with Naruto was more feasible.
Sakura felt as though he had pledged an oath to be with her solely, after their nightmares were over. She felt stupid and betrayed now that he had taken Hinata on a romantic getaway at a classy resort, just the both of them. So meanwhile she was at home, deluding herself into believing that he had mutually promised on being only hers, Naruto was out building to the foundations of Hinata's love and fortifying their bond.
“I'm so stupid,” Sakura said with evident ridicule, when she was standing in the bathroom door after stowing the mop. She was wrapped in a bath towel.
She desperately needed to void this dumb one-sided contact that she had foolishly forged herself. But it was one thing to formulate a plan or resolve and another actually to implement it. How would she fire-justu this personal vow?
After a moment of intense thinking while nipping the fingernail of her thumb, her brows pulling up into a frown, Sakura sighs in frustration. Maybe it would be easier to think of an idea while she was outside, far away from the noise in the village.
Distance. The word rose somewhere at the thinnest part of her consciousness, ushering her thoughts toward memories of the past. That's right—she had found some stuff long forgotten while Yamato was reconstructing her house. She was so busy that she couldn't go through them. It was different now.
Sakura's eyes suddenly shot to the right, locking onto the second to last drawer of her dresser. That's where they were. A sudden rush of immediacy quickened her steps, perhaps it was because of that vague but heartfelt wish, a seemingly musical whisper that her heart blew to her mind that had her moving so quickly. With every step she took, the blood seemed to pound faster in her head.
Sakura hoped the gods would take pity on her wistful thinking. She didn't care if she found something nostalgic, which would remind her of him. She didn't care that the stitches throughout the wound of her heart would ache again. She didn't care if it would renew the intensity of the pain she felt when he left. But it felt like he left merely yesterday; her wounds were still fresh.
Kneeling before the mahogany dresser, Sakura rummaged through many small trinkets, which her mom had gotten her at different festivals throughout her childhood. There were bracelets, hair ornaments, ribbons and other knickknacks, too.
What laid claim to her utmost attention, though, was a ragged, timeworn ninja pouch, which sat by itself at a far corner of her treasure trove. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted as she slowly reached to retrieve it.
This feeling—could it be that she was masochistic?
She recalled how much it hurt, when she saw Sasuke at Orochimaru's hideout, yet she still craved that bittersweet feeling again. Alas, despite the nerve-racking pain, she derived pleasure from the calm and sweet sound of his voice, and being able to see his handsome face. He never frowned when she saw him last, and that preserved his beauty in her memory.
A daring endeavor to void this one-sided contract—just who was she trying to kid? It was already a miracle in itself that her battered and bruised heart was capable of loving two people, and at the same. So how would it withstand a game of love, where her primary focus would be to cheat and spite? I don't think so.
If only she could destroy this emotional oath, simply by being with Sasuke. It may seem irrational to most, but to sustain her sanity, she needed to bath in his rich essence again. That only could be achieved through being in his company.
He was like a lush, beautiful planet and she was his moon, held fast by his gravitational pull; she couldn't help but orbit around him. He possessed her fragile heart, and he would never entrust her with it again. But she never wanted it back… she only wanted him.
Sitting on her heels now, in the middle of her room, Sakura slowly opened the pouch and peers anxiously inside. Nestled between rusted kunais, shurikens, coils of steely threads and explosive tags, were two large scrolls.
When she unfurled them before her, she learned that they were summoning scrolls, judging by their very detailed inscriptions. She gasped in realization, and then a memory rose in her mind.
It was over 3 years ago, a few days after the preliminary rounds for the Chunin Examination. Sakura had secretly sneaked into Sasuke's room—within the hospital during the night—since no visitors were allowed to see him, even during the daytime.
She brought a bagpack full of books with her—books that they both read fiery throughout the night. Ever since they witnessed Iruka’s entry by means of time-space-teleportation, Sakura and Sasuke has been curious about the technique, and swore to one-day use it for them.
While they read silently, with Sakura casting Sasuke lustful eyes every now and then, the window suddenly opened, and Naruto struggled to haul himself into the room.
“Na...Naruto,” Sakura said with shock. Sasuke didn't share her surprise.
“Sakura-chan,” Naruto murmured her name in question. “What're you doing here? Ah,” he exclaimed when he spied the thick books in their hands. “Are you guys reading dirty magazines together? Sakura-chan,” he smirked perversely. “I didn't know you were into that kinda thing.”
A blush brightening her cheeks, Sakura retaliated by pounding Naruto in the head with a trembling fist. A large, sulking pump grew at the place of impact before the clown exploded into smoke.
Sakura's eyes softened and she straightened her bend, fingers still clenched into a fist. “A shadow clone...?”
Sasuke was still composed, sitting upright in bed with the ivory sheets pulled up to his stomach. He held a book in his hands, his eyes slowly moving downward as his brain processed information.
Only but a few seconds passed before another clown made his clumsy way into the room. He enlightened a curious Sakura that he created two clones, just in case he had a fight with Sasuke. Apparently, his real body was on the outskirts of the village, where he was undergoing training by Jiraiya in preparations for the final stage of the Chunin Exam.
Naruto couldn’t help himself. He provoked Sasuke about how powerful he was going to become, and that he would be the victory at the tournament. Sasuke brushed him off effortlessly and this made him infuriated. Of course, he would have continued arguing, if he wasn't sure that Sakura would hit him again.
And so, the three inquisitive rookies spent most of the night studying and working on their individual scrolls, but Sakura and Naruto eventually fell asleep while Sasuke continued to work. Why not finish it now, he thought, since he had secretly planned on leaving and rendezvousing with Kakashi to start his training regiments.
Sakura frowns as she studies the intricate markings written on the paper. She must have also secured Sasuke's scroll before stomping Naruto, and then leaving the hospital upon waking up.
She smiled then, knowing that she perhaps took his scroll so that an occasion of privacy between them would eventually be in her favor. Wanting to be alone with Sasuke was enough of a reason to stoop so low, and she would have done it again without even batting an eyelash. Guaranteed!
Lightly, Sakura traced her forefinger over a few of the characters written on the sandy brown paper. Now that she thinks about it, there had never really been any opportunities to perform a thorough examination of Sasuke's handwriting. She was almost ashamed, though, when she compared it to her horrific scribbles. They were an abomination in comparison to his beautiful and artistic strokes.
That wasn't surprising—almost everything that was of Sasuke Uchiha was painfully gorgeous. There was even a bizarre beauty in his icy glares.
Sakura's eyes suddenly got serious, and—without considering the long-term repercussions of what she was about to do, or rather she didn't want to give herself the time to think about it—she swallowed with intent. A spasm of irrational desire fueling her determination, the young maiden quickly performs the seals necessary to bring forth that of which she yearned, or more precisely—whom she yearned.
She hadn't enough time to gather herself before the seemingly thick, fleecy clouds gradually disappeared.
Hook, line, and sinker—Sakura found herself falling in love all over again. Her breath caught, and a bead of sweat sat below her temple, which portrayed her evident anxiety.
Honestly, her memory hadn't done him any justice; Sasuke looked even more beautiful than the last time she had laid eyes on him, lovelier than she allowed her imagination to stretch.
She felt a plethora of emotions as she continues to gawk at him. And she was ready to receive whatever level wrath she had evoked in the handsome devil by summoning him here. But before that, she deeply hoped he would allow her to bask in his magnificence and grace for a while longer.
His glow kindled the fire of her desire. She didn't mind if this moment could last forever, but she knew very well that was asking for a bit too much, even if it were merely wishful thinking.
“For what purpose did you summon me,” Sasuke asked quietly, his eyes closed. She knew his voice well enough to hear something brewing behind the calm, yet he sat crossed-legged at the centre of the scroll, composure coating his physique.
“Sa...Sasuke-kun...” Sakura uttered past the lump in her throat. Just the sweet, melodic sound of his voice was enough to make her body surrender. It mattered not what he said. Her heart suddenly healed, even if it were only for a fleeting moment.
She loved the taste of his name upon her lips, but what she really wanted was for him pronounce hers.
“You do know what my ambitions entail, don't you?”
She considered that for a while, but really, she was just relishing the sound of his voice again—reveling in the sweet nostalgia it induced. His voice hadn't changed much over these three long years. “D-Don't do that,” Sakura said, wincing at his biting tone. “Don't use that to drive a wedge between us.”
“This village is the wedge between us... you have no idea what they've done.”
She frowned at him then glanced down at the floor to the left, not wanting to feel the scrape of his words, when she had wishfully summoned him out of desire and affection. “Why are you doing this?”
“What am I doing?”
“Pushing me away; treating me like all those who have hurt you.”
“What would you have me do instead—tell you that everything will work out in the end? Pretend that my brother and our clan didn't exist, that the elders aren't responsible my brother's death, so that we can pick up where we left off three years ago?”
Sakura gasped, her world crumbling. She stared at the floor again, feeling foolish for having wanted him to say those very things—and more. Her brows pulled together into slits that foretold of her impending tears. “We wouldn't need to pick up where we left off, if you had agreed to take me along with you that night.” Her words were low and dreary, the thick, black threads that held her heart together loosening. It hurt.
Sasuke's lids twitched. Upon numerous occasions on the battlefield, it was the memory he shared with his friends here in Konoha, which gave him the strength to overcome obstacles, especially when he had to protect his comrades. It was the undeniable truth, and no matter how much he resented it, that fact would never change.
Subconsciously, he tried to convince himself that the memories and warmth he felt during his days with Team 7, was really that of which he derived from his clan. But it was hard to sustain this fabricated extension, when he remembered so little about his days with his kin.
Nevertheless, his desires and happiness lay within the past. He remembers that moment Itachi was giving him a piggyback ride on his back, on their journey home, when he had sprained his ankle.
“Even after all this time, you're still annoying.” That's what he said yet—from that same source through which he derived strength in battle, more so than his skills and the fuel of revenge—an insuppressible sea of emotions came gushing out, like geyser.
Before Sakura could reply and likely worsen this unexpected ocean of sensations and yearnings, with which he battled fiercely, Sasuke was up on his feet, towering over her. The Sharingan in his eyes were blazing—so hot that she knew if she had gotten the chance to garb herself in her tank top and undies, they would have melted away by his intense gaze.
Despite his threatening eyes, Sakura knew it was stupid to react like this—who knew how much time she had to look at his flawless face. After so many nights of falling asleep with just the image of him, so many nights falling asleep in regret and with desire, he was now alone with her in her room. She was certain he would have left her as soon as he had expended his patience, whether she were dead or alive. After all, what purpose did he have to be here?
Sakura could feel moisture in her eyes as she blinked. But to have her eyes filled with tears so that she couldn't see his features clearly was wasteful—insanity.
Sasuke stood motionless, his expression bridging between that of indifference and annoyance, but coated with an enchanting coolness that never failed to impress. It must have been a genetic trait of the Uchiha Clan. Despite his criminal record, Sakura was still utterly and hopelessly captivated by his sweet, masculine charms.
His eyes were soft and half-lidded. The crimson glow of his Sharingan was a gorgeous contrast to that of his pale white skin. His eyes were deep, enigmatic and almost hypnotic.
Sasuke’s brows suddenly pull together, not in impatience or in scorn, but in scrutiny. He was already way ahead of himself before he noted just what exactly his study entails. It was far too late to cease now.
There was something about the way Sakura looked today—something provided by emotional, subconscious, instinctive, and visceral standards. He tried to deny it, but his attempt was futile.
There was something in the way that he couldn't take his eyes off her. There was something about the way her lips aligned, how her eyes gleamed.
Damp, curly hair gloated in his sights with a soft, almost heaven-like glow. Her body tinted with the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. She was like an angel taken for granted that was reintroduced to his focal point, a priceless treasure waiting to be claimed as his own.
He had never taken the time out to admire her womanly features before; she had grown. The last time he saw her—after the three long years he'd been gone—was at one amongst Orochimaru's secret hideouts. Back then, she looked disheveled, exhausted and sullen.
Now was different—now she looked like the essence of sexuality, desire, and temptation. He needed her to be his.
In a sense, Kakashi was right. Revenge was comprised of a completely different taste and flavor of satisfaction, but that of which he enjoyed. However, at this point, he needed variation. He needed to sample the pleasures of a woman, and only Sakura would suffice. It would be an utter lie if he confessed to not having any feelings for her.
No! He said mentally before closing his eyes tightly—striving to erase this foolish desire that had infiltrated his dark resolution.
“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura murmured in a questioning tone.
“Be quiet,” he hissed between his pearly white teeth.
Sakura only glimpsed a blur, and felt a light breeze nip her cheeks, at the climax of his words. In his frustration, Sasuke had unsheathed and raised his sword to her throat.
Panic clutched her, snapping her eyes open. Sakura was so shocked that, when the towel around her body fell and puddle around her feet, she didn't retaliate in any way. At Orochimaru's hideout, he didn't hesitate to kill, and the frightening reality of that coiled around her insides, crushing her silently and without a shred of mercy.
Sakura's heart drummed frantically in her chest, and her eyes were quivering, fixed sharply upon him. She waited for her imminent doom. What was the point of screaming?
Dying at the hands of her first love had a bittersweet twist of a melodramatic love story, she thought. But death was far better than her day-to-day appointments with heartbreak. If she couldn’t be with him… or Naruto, then there was no point in living…
Was she really that terrified, though, why she had not reacted to cover herself or, did the young maiden perhaps wanted him to see her unseen body?
Sasuke's eyes were wide, too—they trembled in a reflection of her own. Like Naruto, he had never seen a female naked before, except in a dirty magazine. Yes, his curiosity had him skimming through an adult's territory on numerous occasions, when he was younger.
In spite of his astonishment, Sakura felt as if the force of his powerful eyes was pushing her back, but she didn't budge an inch. It wasn't that she was persistent; but rather, her trepidation and nervousness had her feet rooted in the floor.
As though the calm after the storm had dawned—the warrior's Sharingan deactivated in a spiral sequence that Sakura found quite sublime. And, regardless of her embarrassment, she felt courage, confidence and determination anew. It was time to initiate code Seduce Sasuke. That was her resolve during their moment of silence, and it was now or never.
“Stay away from me,” Sasuke instructed, as he straightened his sword in a threatening manner. Light gleamed in the girl’s eyes, and he didn’t need the power of his Sharingan to know it was a gleam of intent. But nothing was going to stop her, unless it was divine intervention… or death.
Within but an instant, his gaze leaped from her eyes to the impressive peaks of her pink-tipped nipples. His goal was to brush away the traces of lust and desire that had taken up residence in his heart—aside from revenge—but hadn't this inadvertent turn of events been utterly counterproductive? He had coaxed his celestial maiden into motion. Now her eyes evidently burned lasciviously.
Sasuke could only watch in astonishment, as Sakura walked around his steady blade, and stepped before him. Nervousness coiled around her legs like poison ivy, but she moved regardless.
Her soft, dam breasts presses against him, as she went on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Tell me what you want right at this very moment,” she asked slowly, seeming to taste each and every single word, coating them erotically with her tongue. “I'll help you to revive your clan,” she added suggestively and in a literal tone.
The warm puff of her breath made him tighten his grip around the hilt of his sword, and as if he knew what would come next, pulled the sheath from his sash and laid his blade back to rest.
It was obvious now that Sasuke had absolutely no intention of killing her; the way he held his sword was close to that of surrender. And with this reassuring fact in mind, Sakura's composure grew some, but only some—since she was still sheer naked before the one she loved. Her cheeks fiercely flushed.
But she hoped by offering him her body, by allowing him to experience love, affection and sensuality, that he would open his eyes to the world he left behind—that world where she was possibly his girlfriend, and Naruto, his best friend.
Of course, this wasn't only for Sasuke's sake. Oh, no—she wanted to have his body, too. She had always wanted to do this and that to him, ever since they were kids. It's not her fault he was so irresistible and sexy. It was only because the girls at the academy didn't want to share, why they hadn't dragged him together into the girls' bathroom and took turns sullying his innocence, in whatever way they pleased.
One does not simply suggest bearing the child of an avenger, and expects that he's successfully seduced, a deep, manly, and old-fashioned voice born of ridicule rose in her mind. With that odd but motivational report, Sakura sank back down to the soles of her feet, then slowly knelt before him, her head tilted so that she could watch his facial expression. He seemed enthused, as he rests his sword beside her desk.
Sakura's eyes just about popped out of her head, when she untied his sash, pulled down both his shorts and boxer, and were acquainted with his man parts. What was the use of the deep breath and composure she gathered before this? They both dispersed, almost immediately.
Sasuke snorted inwardly with satisfaction at her response. Although Sakura had never seen a man's third branch before, she readily surmised that the gods had blessed him in this regard. Was this a man made perfect to suit and, please any woman? Just what star was he born under?
Sakura knew she was seducing him and there was probably no mutual desire, but she had to wonder: was this hers and only hers? Would she be the first to hold and to savor him? Would she ever have the privilege of permanently owning his body... and his heart?
Sasuke could feel colour creeping into his cheeks, at the sudden exposure of his manhood; it had never been given such attention before. The feeling was intense, but with sheer willpower, he was at least able to erase the proof of his embarrassment.
Sakura may have a pretty face, but she did her homework; she knew exactly how to please her guy. If by some miracle, Sasuke had given her a chance three years ago, she didn't want to disappoint him. She wanted him coming back for more.
Well, there is a big difference between actually performing and reading about certain things. She was already on the floor, illuminated by the radiant spotlight; there was no backing out now. If the knowledge that she accumulated could not cut it, then she would have to be decisive during her initial experience.
Casting her fabulous prince a momentary glance, his eyes calm but ever vigilant, Sakura looked to his pride anew—his sacred tool for resurrecting his precious clan. It was beautiful and strong, with shade slightly darker than that of his natural skin tone. She knew where she wanted it most—it was a missing piece of her puzzle, and her body yearned for it.
Slowly, tentatively, Sakura reached forward and lightly clasped Sasuke's shaft. He throbbed enthusiastically beneath her fingers, his veins protruding in that instant. She gasped in response to the rigid size of him, her lips gaping still. He was like steel in her hand, and its temperature... this had to be the warmest part of his body.
Her centre pulsed with hunger, desire, and anticipation at the thought of him being deep within her. The sensation was new and overwhelming, but it was sparsely quelled by the nervousness of what she was soon about to do.
Carefully, she began stroking him, fascinated by the forms of his foreskin, as it plays over his crest during her rhythmical motion. She was almost ecstatic, when she looked up to find a light but unyielding frown touching his forehead. It was not in discomfort or irritation, but in delight.
It was easy to label Sasuke a sweet and kindred spirit of peace, when he was expressing such pleasure from her hand. He may be an avenger, but he was still human. He felt happiness, pleasure, pain, sorrow and guilt like anyone else—though, those levels may vary.
It was evident that the dark prince's arousal kept growing, as did hers, and Sakura could feel her nervousness, her hesitation, her fear dissolving away, like salt in fresh water. It gave root to gusto, creativity and even more lust. She felt powerful, arrogant and in charge of the moment. She was the one pulling the strings, and this level control added to her gratification.
Throwing her mesmerizing prince another brief gaze, Sakura homed in closer—her mouth opening—so that she could suck on his tip. Her lips perked up against his crown in an endearing manner, wetting Sasuke's appetite even more. His patience was slipping between his fingers, but it was okay; this was for his clan. It would not sully his aspirations.
No sooner had Sakura savored his masculine flavor, than she took him deeper inside, his warm length nestled upon her wet tongue. He groaned musically. The sound was so soothing—it made her heart dance. It was the first time she heard him groan like that. It was sexy, and she moaned, too, to let him know of her indulgence.
Each passing moment was like a fiery miracle to thoroughly savored, and Sakura did just that, always wanting more. She couldn't keep her eyes off Sasuke for long. She looked up at his far too beautiful face, as she pleasured him with her mouth, his brows pulling closer together at the import of pleasure. She stared at him, wishing more than anything that the future wouldn't happen. That it would remain frozen upon the transparent canvas of reality. That this moment would stretch on forever. Otherwise, she wanted to go along with him. In a small corner of her heart, she wished she would stop existing, if she couldn't have that, either.
Sasuke stared back down at her, his dark eyes soft, lips parted, and it was easy to pretend he felt the same way. So that's what she did. She pretended, to make the moment sweeter.
But even the sun sets in paradise, and despite her fantasies and heartfelt wishes, she knew for certain that he would leave her then. Until that time, however, she would take advantage of every tasty second.
Strapping her arms around him, Sakura cupped his buttocks and squeezed, stroking his sensitive length with her mouth through the back and forth motion of her head. She could feel him all the way at the back of her throat, and she knew then it was a sensation she would always yearn for. It was erotic and addictive.
Sakura had no intention of coming up short; she tried to be as creative as she possibly could to please him. It had only been a few minutes, but she was already a pro at multitasking. When she was not rubbing, stroking his shaft and licking his tip, she was lightly massaging his neighbors and curling her tongue around him while sucking heartily.
Sasuke could only groan and frown in satisfaction, and each time his lips parted to say her name in acknowledgment, his pride sealed them shut. After all, what they shared wasn't mutual love or romance. This was just a rare occasion to obtain a sexual release, nothing more, and nothing less.
Despite his conclusion, Sasuke could feel a great storm building inside of him—a cyclone made of fire, lightening and fierce winds. Fueled by his insatiable hunger and the gratification he derived from her expertise, her to continue to grow.
The heavy black chains that secured his rationality and control strained. He could but hear as the steel rattle as the rings rub together. All the while, the chain was heating, melting at the molten lava that was running hot and fast through his veins.
Sakura could feel him hardening inside of her mouth, and he throbbed more vigorously, more continuously than he did before. She could taste his almost frightening desire—it was exhilarating!
Abruptly, he clasps a fistful of her sleek hair and begun rolling his hips—thrusting in and out of her mouth. Sakura's eyes popped open at the sudden pace of his drive. Her heart inflated like it was going to crack right through her ribs, and her inability to breathe soon had her choking on the meaty beast that was his member.
She coughed in defeat, but in a sense, she loved Sasuke’s assertiveness. She enjoyed this seemingly masochistic taste of pleasure. She felt comfortable being submissive to him and only him. There were times when a girl needed to let go and be free—to release the reins of her control and independence to be dominated by a man. She wanted to bathe in his seething masculinity.
Sasuke could clearly smell Sakura's arousal. He filled his lungs with the scent of her innocence, her femininity. The sweet aroma was like a drug; it intoxicated him to no end, as though it would make him disoriented or mad.
Before his legs could be rendered a pair of noodles—when she took him inside again, persistent and brisk—Sasuke pulled Sakura to her feet, and then pushed her up against the door. He was starving, and he did quick work to step out of his shorts.
Their breaths came quicker as their composure slipped. His dark-night eyes weren't threatening, but they told her he was constantly fighting. It was difficult to think coherently, when Sasuke was so close to her. He breathed in her face, his sweet breath fanning her cheeks. It made her head swim, and she could feel the wetness trickling down her constricting walls. She needed him more than ever.
Aye, Sakura knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed, what she craved... every cell in her body knew. And even when she gasped then moaned—when Sasuke firmly cupped one breast, as though he were gripping her throat—she lowered her hand so that she could coil her fingers around the rigid width of him. She pumped him slowly, his heat penetrating her hand.
Suddenly, there was a strident explosion—silent, invisible, yet destructive. The iron chains suppressing the warrior snapped, releasing the essence of his insatiable hunger; he was now frantic with desire.
His eyes flashed with intent and unpredictability, as he homed in closer, and presses his lips upon Sakura's defenseless skin. The weight of his luscious curves was red hot, fiery, overwhelming—their warmth soaked beneath her skin and scorched her flesh.
His lips were wild and wonderful as they touched her body. Each time he kissed her was like an electric shock to her dormant heart. As he ran his tongue along the sweet length of her neck, Sasuke slowly, purposely, slithers his hand down to her steamy bento.
Sakura's eyes popped open then tightly closed, when she released where his hand journeyed. No, not there, she said mentally, yet her centre pulse hard with excitement and her nerves hummed in anticipation.
His fingers gently skimmed over her most sensitive place, curiously tracing along the slender length of her smooth lips, until he could tread no farther. He began caressing her then, to the point where his fingers coated in her feminine nectar.
Sasuke was both surprised and intrigued. He would have paused to study the thick liquid that kissed his fingers, but he couldn't get enough of Sakura's panting breaths. It was like a sacred and awe-inspiring symphony to his ear. It was soothing.
All of a sudden, Sakura released his erection and placed her hand over his; guiding it upward, back to her trigger. She cried out adorably and threw her arms up around his neck, when Sasuke started manipulating his fingers. They were magic!
“Yes, right there!” She said aloud, moaning and panting amorously, spreading her legs wider so that her prince could have his way. She wanted more, and even much more after that.
Sasuke's heart was throbbing as much as his erection did. He could feel shots of adrenaline coursing like electricity through his veins, as his nervousness soared. It was bizarre, for even when he was in a battle, he wasn't as nervous as this. Even the fierce battle against his brother hadn't gotten him this roiled up in the least.
He felt a faint, unfamiliar blush warm the skin over his cheekbones, upon recognition of the warm emotions that rippled potently in his heart. Their texture was similar to those he felt while he still had his family, but... better. Aye, he couldn't deny that the love and affection he derived from his family, was of a different flavor from what he derived now—this was more sacred and thick in intimacy. It was addictive, even more so than the bitter vengeance he sought.
If he destroyed Konoha, his friends...Sakura, would that make him better than those who ordered the execution of his clan? Would he destroy the only source of happiness he had left in this world?
Thoroughly influenced by this nostalgic sea of emotions, powerful waves that crashed against the reef that was his heart—without a word—Sasuke scooped Sakura up off her feet, and brought her over to the bed. Despite her alarm, she felt like a beloved princess in his strong arms. And she saw what looked like a smile upon his lips. Was it just her imagination? She only had to blind thrice before it was gone.
The moment the billow of clouds that veiled her mind dissolved some, Sakura noted there was a part of her that didn't acknowledge her resolve to seduce him, but she stifled it. There was no turning back at this point, so she might as well enjoy it.
After resting her down gently upon the bed, Sasuke straightened his bend and stood still, towering over her. His eyes were gleaming—always lit with unpredictability and enigma.
He studied the beautiful maiden—her legs bounded together—as he shrugged out of his ivory shirt. She averted her eyes shyly, a fierce flush painting her cheeks. She never thought she would see the day, when Sasuke stood butt-naked before her eyes. He was unbelievably beautiful, almost bizarrely so.
There was a sexy god in her room. She just wished he would say something...
The heat his kisses left in their wake still flared upon her skin, seeping into her veins, intoxicating her. She could feel a sense of insanity and uncontrollable desire, and she squeezed her legs together, desperately needing him there.
As if he could read her mind, Sasuke started to crawl onto the bed over her, being reel in by the red string of fate that connected them. His heart was like a firecracker in his chest, but his face was calm, always calm.
Sakura lay still on her back, with arms bent endearingly above her head, eyes glowing subserviently. And Sasuke props himself up on his hands over her, his eyes were compelling, as he looks down into hers. She wondered that her cheeks didn't spontaneously combust at the intensity of his gaze, and even more so, when he slowly lowers his heard toward hers. Sakura's eyes widened gradually.
When he kissed her—the most intimate and honorable form of sensual foreplay—Sakura felt tears burning the back of her quivering eyes. They spilled over her cheeks with unfathomable force before she could suppress them, and upon realization, Sasuke pulls back to capture her eyes in hopes of enlightenment.
She sniffed every now and then, as she wipes the tears away with the heel of her palms, like a woeful toddler. Although she couldn't completely be sure, Sasuke's kiss tasted of some measure of love, recognition, and respect. With that, she didn't feel as dumb and pathetic anymore. She had felt like a dog, chasing after a meat-less bone, that spared no flavor for her—a tragic case of unrequited love.
Sakura’s eyes widened and then narrowed, when Sasuke wiped her tear away, with the side of his forefinger. His eyes were understanding and guarded, but whether it was his intention or not—she spied that leakage of affection dwelling within them. That, along with his compassionate gesture, made her smile. His touch brought the strangest sense of relief—as if she'd been in pain and that hurt suddenly ceased.
Sasuke was a strong, proud, and charismatic Uchiha. He must be fighting with his pride and ambition all the while, just so that he could be here with her... together. It was always hard to know whether he appealed to anything—because he was so reticent with his emotions. She supposed that was understandable—since his feelings always had to climb over the dreary walls of his past, before reaching the light. Most failed.
“Sakura,” he said quietly, effortlessly winning her attention. His lips puckered together coyly, when a blush crept into his cheeks, and he averted his eyes with a tight frown. Then he was seriously, his gaze burning into hers again. “The days that I spent with you guys—those memories are irreplaceable. It's where my happiness lies.”
“But the darkness... the void that comes with being an avenger intends to take all those precious memories away. I'm being pulled deeper into that dark abyss.”
Tears rippled down her cheeks anew, but she slowly raises her hand to the side of his face, and his eyes softened at her tender touch. “Let me help you...”
“Just allow me to be with you...”
In his eyes, Sakura could see rhythms of colors. She saw us, and she nodded her head sincerely with a warm, inviting smile.
“I've always cared deeply for you, Sakura,” he confessed before a memory zipped through his mind. It was the day of the tournament associated with the Chunin exam, when he and Naruto were fighting Gaara on the outskirts of the village. He recalled telling his best friend that, he didn't want to see precious people he cared about dying in front of him ever again.
“But, I guess I didn't make it easy for you to see that.”
“Sasuke-kun... show me now,” she encouraged with beaming eyes of affection, still wondering if this were real. “Show me now that you care. The mind and heart borne of revenge is a heavy burden to bear. Within this confined space… I want you to let go and be free for two hours.”
“Forget all that is not of you and me right now. And everything that transpires in this room shall forever remain between us.” She leisurely drops her hand from his cheek. “Have your way with me Sasuke-kun... I want you to.”
It was he who cupped the side of her face now, and his midnight eyes glared into hers with the gravitational force of a black hole. Then his eyes softened. “As you wish,” he whispered, as if a charming prince extracted directly from a fairytale. He was far better than any old fictional prince was—he was real.
Sakura had yearned for him so long that now the taste of her black knight was overwhelming. Her anticipation of this moment paled in comparison to the real thing. Was it possible to love more than she did right now? She smiled, admiring him.
This time, Sakura initiated the kiss, and he kissed back, his lips pressed perfectly upon her own. Her heart pound out a jagged, disjointed rhythm while her breathing turned to panting and her fingers moved greedily to his face. She could feel his gorgeous body against every line of hers, and his hardness nestled between her thighs. His hand memorized her face, and hers drifted through his silky hair.
When he pulled back, his face inches away from hers, she could now vividly see the appreciation and desire in his eyes. She concentrates on his warm pole between her legs, to prevent tears from springing in her eyes. She was dizzy and overjoyed.
“I've missed you,” he utterly softly, when he had brought the smooth curve of his lips to her brow. Sakura's heart skipped a beat at its touch and his confession. She wondered just how much his missing her compared to how much she missed him. She didn't dare to ask.
He smelled her shoulder-cropped hair—smelled deeply of the strawberry shampoo she had used in the shower. How ironic that her damp hair was close to the color of strawberries; she looked and smelled delectable, and he tattooed a kiss upon the adorable surface of her forehead.
Lightly, he pressed a forefinger to hers lips, cutting her off, their eyes leveled now. “I know... and I'll try to repent for that as best as I can right now,” he promised.
She blushed. Her bones felt like sponge at his seductive words, but before she could imagine what his seduction entail, he stole her lips in a deep, dark kiss. When he finally freed her, he brushed his bottom lip against hers, their mouths open, their eyes closed.
Sasuke didn't need to see to find her breasts; he released the weight of his body on top of hers so that he could cup and squeeze her within in hands, her nipples captured firmly between his capable fingers.
Sakura moaned in response then cries out softly, both hands holding his head now, when had he decided to take one hard skyscraper into his mouth. He could have at least warned her first! Her body squirmed beneath his, vibrations undulating throughout her body.
Her charming knight sucked her as he would a piece candy—examining her size, shape, flavor, texture and hardness. His wet tongue rolled around and over her ripened peak, memorizing every detail, and Sakura pulled his head toward her chest in delight—wanting the sensation to last forever yet always wanting more. Her toes curled, her head reclined, and her centre tightened.
With his erection so close to her sacred nest, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have him inside. Impatience took a firm rooting in the soil of her mood, her tension riddled with unwelcome frustration.
“Your breasts are so amazing,” Sasuke complimented openly, even as he pushed both her nipples apart with his thumbs, switching from pulling, twirling and squeezing when he saw fit.
Sakura's thin brows pulled up in delight, her eyes half-lidded. She tried to smile, despite the jolts of gratification that stirred her blood to a boil. “But aren't they... aren't they too small,” she asked sheepishly in between panting breaths.
A sincere smile touching Sasuke’s lips, he sought for hers in a light kiss, his middle fingers pushing her pert peaks inward. “Size doesn't matter to me, only the shape and texture. The appeal of the nipples is a plus. But yours are perfect.”
Sakura stared wide-eye and breathless at the god whose body mold within her own. His eyes were innocent, but she could note a storm building deep within the depths of them—a raging storm similar to that which brewed, when he pushed her against the door earlier. It would seem he was drawing closer to the limits of his patience, as well.
“You seem to be an expert,” she murmured insidiously.
“I only care about your breasts,” he whispered truthfully, his voice finer than silk.
The corners of his lips pulled up into warm smile, and then his mouth was on her skin again. She writhed beneath him with angelic moans, as she squeezes his package between her legs. He throbbed consecutively. Her breasts were like pudding in his hands, and he loathed the thought of freeing them.
Her body trembled, as he began a chain of saucy kisses from the base of her throat to her ear. She gasped and felt goose bumps, when he gently nipped and pulls her ear lobe. And she cupped his buttocks and began pushing him down toward her, over and over again.
“Sasuke-kun... I need you,” she whispered hotly beneath her breath.
“I need you, too,” was all that Sasuke said, before he started making his way off the bed.
Sakura felt a spasm of panic jerk through her. Had he suddenly decided to leave? Had she said something wrong? Had she pushed him too far?
Then, the rippling waters of her anxiety stilled, when he cast her a suggestive smile. Why was he so handsome? Was it even anatomically possible?
Without uttering a word, he gently tugged her to the edge of the bed, and then clutched her legs upright against his chest. This answered her question—erotically so—and her face went hot.
His dreamy eyes remained on hers, occasionally flicking back and forth from her chest. He didn't look to her exposed hindquarters—not yet—but her nerves still kick-started a growing tremor.
Sasuke tilted his head glamorously, as he smoothed his hair back—sleek, black spikes shooting up between his fingers. He looked down at her from the rims of his eyes. “You've always wanted to be penetrated by this first, haven't you,” he glanced down at his guy-parts.
Sakura felt her entire face blush beneath her perfectly tanned skin. “H-How did you—”
“Not just your breasts, Sakura,” he began to clarify. “I only care about you and your desires. This is just me granting one of your many wishes.”
“Sasuke-kun...” she felt herself beam at him. He might as well say he loves her. That would have ignited her entire world. “I...I don't know what to say.”
“I love your voice,” he murmured. “Your panting will be enough.”
Before she could thoroughly weigh his words on her “oh, my god, this is going to be awkward, isn't it meter”, Sasuke placed his hands on both of her thighs and parted her legs slowly. She felt horribly exposed with her legs wide open like this, able to feel the cool zephyr from the open window, brushing over her sacred passage.
Sakura blushed hotter, her hair steaming as if the crater of an active volcano, just seconds away from eruption. She felt shock waves of mortification surfing over every inch of her body, and she stiffened, fighting off the urge to close her legs. Her embarrassment was belied by the fact that she knew she couldn't afford to deny him in anyway; this was a delicate moment. She didn't want to frustrate him and he ended up leaving. The reality of that would take her breath away, leaving her for dead.
“It's amazing,” he mumbled as he studied his home, his angelic voice a vibration she felt all the way into her bones.
Her breasts may have been somewhat small, but her plump, creamy cheeks down south more than compensated for her northern shortcoming.
Sasuke's eyes were shrewd; he knew it was impossible to delay now, not after witnessing such raving beauty. The slender patch of hair above her package was like an arrow, pointing him to her magnificence.
And so, he began his epic journey into Sakura's world. When she felt him pierce her with his tip, breaking her hymen, it felt like a gigantic asteroid, gradually penetrating her outer stratosphere and making its way into her sacred realm. His descent was powerful and fiery, almost out of place. She wanted to scream at the slicing pain. She wanted to stop him, yet her planet's gravity kept pulling him in, and he broke through the constricting walls of her atmosphere. But there was no destruction upon his impact.
She was tight and warm—an alternate slice of heaven—and Sasuke's eyes drifted shut as she closed around him moistly. He sighed, relishing how her body reacted around his submerged length.
“Sakura... are you okay,” he asked with concern, when he spied tightly closed eyes and the unyielding lines creasing her forehead.
“I'm fine,” she lied and hoped that her hissing the words didn't justify that fact. Sakura did her homework; she knew the discomfort wouldn't last for that much longer. So for the sake of being with him, she stifled her response to pains unmerciful whipping. Getting this far was already a miracle within itself; she couldn't afford to ruin that. “Please... please don't stop.”
Sasuke weighed her expression for a while, and then he secured his hands around her legs, his eyes mysterious. He began moving his hips slowly, stretching her with those subtle movements. He watched the flickers of emotions over her face, his eyes bright with scrutiny and pleasure. But Sakura made him see what he wanted to see.
She wished—an instinctive wish—that he was closer to her so that she could mark him with her nails; to prove to any intruder that he was already taken. Gripping the sheets didn't suffice at all.
Minutes passed like seconds to Sakura. Her chastity faded—as did the incessant sting of pain—and his thrusts gradually escalated. Now that she wasn't biting down on her lip anymore, to muffle any potential screams, Sakura's moaning and panting breaths filled the room. Sasuke had to close the windows, and she sighed with a delightful smile, when he eased back into her garden.
She frowned with displeasure when he had withdrawn from her wonderful depths, but she genuinely enjoyed looking at his sexy butt while he walked.
“You're so tight,” he whispered, and she almost concealed her eyes, when she blushed.
Her prince may have been assertive with her, but he performed exceptionally well in receiving her permission to have his way. Never had his touch felt like an intrusion, or a violation of her privacy and innocence. Everything just felt so right.
All of a sudden, Sasuke's eyes stirred with intervention, and he eased her legs down to his waist before leaning forward and quickly lifting her up against his chest. Sakura bounded her legs around him reflexively and tightly clutched his head to her bosom.
She caught ablaze at the abrupt shift of his arousal still lodged deep inside of her core—pressing hard against her sensitive walls.
The warm pool of pleasure in her belly was just too good to contain. She had to surrender against its overwhelming force. Her body shook violently in his arms, and he tightened his grip of her buttocks. Her broken gasps filled in his ear, and she entered a frenzy of contractions around him. She was drenched.
Despite floundering in a lapping sea of delight, Sakura could feel as Sasuke's lips curved into a smile against her collarbone. He must be pleased with himself.
When only her legs continues to tremble, he squeezed her buttocks and took the liberty of controlling her hips—towing her along that fantastic journey again; coaxing the embers of her desire into towering flames.
She bit his ear lobe and breathed his name between her teeth. But as he increased his pace, her butt-cheeks tapping against his thighs, she started moaning aloud again. He was so deep, so very deep inside. Her puzzle was complete. Still he continued to stretch her with each thrust.
Sakura had a million questions for him, one of which bubbled to her lips right now, but she held her tongue and pursed her lips. A prolonged whimper rose in her throat as a result, but then her lips broke open around a vibrant moan.
She didn't want to ruin the moment, however imperfect and brief it was going to be. Here in his arms, their bodies connected, it was so easy to fantasize that she was all that he ever wanted. She didn't want to think about his motivations, nor—
She heaved a distorted gasp, holding back a scream in her throat, as he rocked her body from left to right. His iron rod—nestled deep inside of her sex—felt as though it had suddenly expanded. Sakura was enraptured, but still they panted together as they journeyed to the summit of ecstasy...
Before long, he sat their weights down at the edge of the bed. When they were motionless like this, it was easy to feel the warmth that emanated from his hardness. They throbbed together—her and then him. He followed her lead, and she was surprised something so small as this could make her so jubilant.
“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura uttered softly, reveling in the puff of his breath against her skin. “Will you listen to my dark request?”
“Tell me,” he murmured. His lips were so light against her skin now, that its brief movement almost felt like a tickle.
“In the end... whether or not you get your dark revenge... I want you to remember the memorable days you had with us. Come back to me Sasuke-kun," she uttered meekly. "I'll always be waiting...”
The warrior said nothing, but she noted the way he flinched at her final set of words. He throbbed inside of her, as the gears of desire began clicking into motion again, and before long—he started to operate her hips to renew the pillars of fire that once flared within her. Sakura reclined with a passionate moan, as his rigid pole began to stir her juices once more. He took advantage of the arch of her back, so that he could lean forward to press a hot kisses upon her neck. She couldn’t catch her breath.
Sakura didn't mind that he hadn't replied to her words—because once spoken and heard—she knew they would forever remain in his heart. There was no real happiness at the end of revenge—especially the level of revenge he sought. No one can win against the winding, serpent-like hands of loneliness.
Sakura coiled her arms around his neck, again. She didn't care what she had to deal with later. Every second that he was here—so close, so deep and hard inside of her core—was precious and not to be wasted.
In an effort to shake off her chain of thought, Sakura decided to make herself more preoccupied, more disoriented, more engrossed beneath the hand of pleasure. She deprived her sexy god of his control, and then slid all the way down onto his length, seeking another rippling orgasm.
She began to move her hips—rocking back and forth, riding him to no possible end. Her motion was slow and sinuous, sexual and sensual, and they both moaned and sighed together in harmony. She couldn't help but breathe his name.
Even as Sasuke branded the crest of her shoulder with a sizzling, he skimmed the tip of his fingers up along her spinal column, and then he smoothed his palms over her shoulder blades. Electricity surges through her body at his touch that she wondered if he had secretly been using some form of Chidori on her. She could but see the fiery sparks generated from his fingers upon her hot skin. She loved the way he touched her.
She loved his sex-dori, too.
The heat from their bodies raged on and grew more intense, even more so, when Sasuke hugged her body closer to his, her breasts and nipples fast against his chest. Sakura wound her fingers in his thick hair and allowed her reception to expand. The import of pleasure almost knocked her off the ledge into unconsciousness, but she balanced herself at the ledge, her steamy nest devouring him.
Sasuke never thought it was even conceivable to consider abandoning his diabolical ambitions, but being with Sakura changed that.
Suddenly, he stood with her in hand—unpredictable as always—and turned to face the bed that centered in their magnetic field. She frowned adorably in protest, when his throbbing beast flicked from her hotpocket, and he placed her down onto her cloud-like haven.
His open smile glinted in the soft light that dyed his flawless face, and he mused at her frivolous expression of indignation.
Over these past 45 minutes, Sasuke took her away from this world and the ranks of men. He ushered her across the forbidden bridge and into a dominion wrought of pure, raw ecstasy. It was phenomenal. She loved him. She loved him more than the very air that she breathed.
Her eyes changed, the way a girl's eyes would change, when she was coiled around pleasure's finger. Sasuke crawled up over her, shielding her with his warm weight. He ignites a series of light, hot kisses along the smooth surface of her tummy, tugging at the lingering orgasm behind the sealed doors of her realm. When he got to the threshold of her cleavage, he shot her a crimson gaze.
Sakura got but a fraction of a second to cringe in shock, before his consciousness merged with hers. Then some mysterious energy nudged her—instilling a sense of calm; she suddenly knew there was nothing to fear, but anticipation hummed throughout her entire being.
Time accelerated, and she found herself lost in outer space. She was falling out of his reach, defying gravity. A sudden vertex of energy distorted the universe. It was comprised of more colors than she knew existed. Its mass wound around time and reality in a most surreal motion, quickly taking the form of Sasuke's abstract world.
Before she could feel a sense of lonesomeness, upon realizing that he had cast her into an illusion, Sasuke appeared before her. Time, distance, reality—everything moved around them, and before she knew it, she was lying in a slanted bed of flowers. They were both dressed, his soft lips inches away from hers now, eyes half-lidded in affection.
But when his lips claimed hers, there was no form of sensuality. Instead, her mind reacted—sugarcoated waves of electricity sparking throughout her brain. No sooner had she felt that spectacular surge of delight, than Sasuke delved into her pulsing centre. Reality pronounced itself then, like a bolt of lightning, and she screamed at his hard and magnificent descent.
Sakura couldn't contain herself. She couldn't catch her breath. Their fingers laced over her head, as he charged in and out of her narrow tunnel. His name was an endless chant upon her lips, her eyes glazed with shock and satisfaction. Sensuality felt omnipresent; she could feel her prince’s romantic touch everywhere. She felt lightheaded and sated, delirious with ecstasy. She knew her body wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer, but even so, she couldn’t help but demand more.
While Sasuke's marvelous world—created through his poetic imagination—lifts her mental gratification to extreme peaks, she salivates in the overpowering currents of rapture in which she bathed. It was obvious by her facial expression that she stood high upon the border between ecstasy and insanity, and she smiled openly in its embrace.
This was exactly what she expected of him. Sasuke’s personality wasn't just for show—his genius, his creativity, and his prowess stretched far beyond that of which was necessary for fighting.
Her heart was filled, swollen with so much love, that she had to lift her head to kiss him to release it. She locked her legs around him, too, keeping his lean, veiny muscle deep inside of her tightness.
There was something that she was keeping locked away upon her lips, but she could feel it clicking free with each and every kiss. Deep within her heart, she feared saying those words and receiving nothing in return upon his lips.
Slowly, purposefully, he pressed a long, hard, deep kiss to her heart shaped curves. She could feel a slightly different energy in its sweet burn, and she knew it possessed profound meaning. While she was not sure what that meaning meant exactly, her heart warmed.
With each powerful thrust, Sakura could feel those sacred doors inching open, and she flung her head back. Sasuke didn't hesitate to help himself to the long line of her throat. With each wet kiss, she felt an answering contraction between her legs.
Sakura's body felt as though it was engulfed in the blistering flames of a fire-breathing dragon. The creature's passion stemmed deeper—perhaps to the core of the earth where it drew its power—for the flames that consumed her grew fiercer. But these crackling flames did not destroy her flesh; rather it bestowed upon her a potent level of rapture, which held her at the pinnacle of contentment.
Sasuke shared her pleasure. Desire's beckoning hand was ruthless, relentless, and reckless. Need was all that mattered. It sliced through him without remorse; daggers of desire that cut all ties to the civilized.
Steamy, panting breathes, glazed eyes, sweaty bodies—the two victims of lust’s influential breath move gracefully together, their bodies deeply flushed with exhaustion. The enraptured mush that was her body went wild with pleasure still, and he delighted in her frenzied state.
Sakura wanted this moment to last forever, but she couldn't hold it in any longer. The fierce twister of emotions and desire had to be set free.
It suddenly felt like all the fireworks in the world, on New Year’s Day, went off in her body. She exploded with unparalleled satisfaction. Cherry blossoms rained in their abstract world, before it crumbled—and in reality—her body shot up against him.
She screamed in delight and broke her fingers free from his—digging her nails into his defenseless back as soon as she was able. But despite the prick of pain, Sasuke thought the combination of exhaustion, sensuality, and pure elation at her climax made for an emotional end and a fantastic sense of achievement.
In between her breathtaking and rigid contractions, Sakura could feel his length and width throbbing consistently, violently, in response to her ripping orgasm. Something warm filled her, and she heard him groan. However, the sound gradually faded, her vision growing dim.
As her body sank back onto the bed—her muscles turning to water—Sakura's consciousness drifts off into a world unknown.
She loved him indefinitely, whether it was wrong or right. Although she was still in his arms, she had already begun missing him. His body and soul was so strong that it took her breath away but, she filled her lungs with the sweet scent of him, putting it to memory within her heart, praying that it would give her the strength to stand today, tomorrow… and every other day this miracle.
“Sakura,” he whispered. His voice was sweet, thick, and golden, like honey.
Then reality veiled in nothingness.
Sakura's eyelids twitched, her consciousness blossoming at the cold chills that—despite being covered with her quilt—managed to skim its frigid lips over her defenseless body.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, and without moving an inch, her senses stretched, broadened, and analyzed her small room. “Sasuke,” she mumbled. His name burned her throat a little on the way out, also triggering tears to flood her emerald eyes.
She didn't need to look around to know that he was gone. Every fiber of her being anticipated this conclusion with bitter certainty. She wished she could have clawed her way back to reality, to see him off, but perhaps this was for the best.
The last few hours of her life has been nothing less than extraordinary, the best, but almost unbelievable considering Sasuke's fictional world. Even though she was naked, it was nearly possible to believe what had happened between them was only a dream. But when the tears began to trickle over her cheeks—both desire and grief stirring in her belly—she knew what had transpired couldn't have been her imagination.
No, it was definitely real—she could feel the perpetual heat about her body that he had left in his wake. Her centre was still wet and swollen, pulsating with the wonderful memory of him. And his nostalgic fragrance filled her room, seeming to battle for prominency with that of her arousal.
Sakura clutched the pillow harder against her body. She could feel the impending storm. She knew of its existence the moment she summoned Sasuke, and she braced herself for impact.
As though it had never been healed, the gaping black hole in her heart quakes with unrestrained fury, driving hot needles through every single cell in her body. The thick dark threads were back, too, holding the battered and bruised mass that was her life together. And pain pecked at their loose ends, tormenting her to no end.
In response, Sakura buried her face in her fluffy white pillow. If happy ever after didn't exist, I would still be holding him like this.
Like a leaf, falling, twirling soundlessly on the errant hand of the wind, her endurance slipped between her fingers like butter. And when it landed atop the gentle waters, stirring the black surface with silver ripples—characteristically, cutting the tethers of her fortitude, Sakura’s lungs filled with air, and then she started to bawl. She pulled the pillow more onto her face, trying to muffle the sound of her sorrowful wails. It rang in her ears.
What had she done? Hadn't she only deepened her wounds in exchange for a fleeting moment of sensuality? However spectacular and otherworldly it was—hadn’t she only rendered the scattered fragments of her heart nearly impossible to find now? She would never be the same again.
All of a sudden—through her crying—there came a knock at the front door. Sakura sat up in bed and sniffed, clearing her eyes. For a moment, she felt a spark of hope, but it fell on a damp fuse.
Being bold—her insecurities obviously on an abrupt leave of absence—Sakura quickly garbed herself in her bath towel that she retreated from the floor, brushed her bed-head, and careened herself down the stairs.
A short, wrinkled old lady awaited her patiently at the door. The woman’s smile was sincere; her eyes smiled, too—like those of a swindling merchant.
Sakura's throat felt swollen; she had to clear it twice before she could speak. “Madam Tsubaki,” she said with fake surprise and enthusiasm. The woman of only four feet seven inches tall was the goddess of gossip, and a competitive rival to Ino's family business. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
The woman raised a bouquet of roses that she held with care in both hands. “Am here on a delivery,” she spat. “A tall, handsome, and strapping young lad with a sword bought and demanded that these roses be delivered here, after four hours. But I came in three, because I was dying of curiosity.” She grinned.
Sakura's eyes widened in shock—of course, it was the good kind of shock—because it wasn't long before a vibrant smile teased her lips. Just how many tall, handsome, and strapping young lads with swords were in Konoha? And how very considerate him—her lovely prince wanted her to get at least four hours of sleep, after their stupendous shutdown earlier.
Her emerald green eyes darkened emotionally, as she rests two fingertips upon her lips. Now that she thinks about, she could feel a sweet, lingering heat upon them. Had he kissed her before he left? That's what she asked herself, yet she knew with undeniable certitude that it was true.
With hope shining in her eyes, she accepted the bouquet with a thank you, and abruptly brushed off the nosy woman before retreating into the house. There was excitement in her steps, as she raced up the stairs and back into her room.
Sakura had a shower and was finally in some fresh clothes. She was happy that the warmth he left with her hadn't faded. It quelled her worries and kept the loneliness at bay.
Looking out the window of her room, a hand on the glass, Sakura's eyes smoldered passionately. The sun was setting in a spectacular blaze of crimson and gold.
She hoped with all her heart that each rose held a different meaning, a different promise, a different pledge, and a different oath that he had made, for she had decided to wait for him. She would wait diligently for that wonderful day when he would kiss her again, and she would be able to taste his lips in turn.
On her bed—nestled in the towel that revealed her body to him, and against the pillow in which she cried—rested Sasuke's embodiment of comfort and reassurance. There was a little piece of note beside it, too, that Sakura had already reviewed.
I haven't been around to learning the taste of your flavor yet. I wouldn't miss it for the world! Oh, and... I left you with a present.
Sakura gently placed her hand over her tummy and smiled. It was a smile so thick that it almost seemed smug.
Sasuke could try to delude her with that cool mask he wore upon his face, but she knew that he was breaking up inside. She could see it in his eyes. Even he faced the nights, afraid and alone. That's why she wanted to be there.
She wondered where her charming prince could be right now.
Sasuke stood atop the ridge of a mountain, basking in the glow of the twilight. He watches as the sun sets beyond the wide embrace of the open sea, its hue a dark shade of purple. And he reflection of the sun upon its surface seemed like fluttering flames.
Sasuke stood atop the ridge of a mountain, basking in the glow of the twilight. He watches as the sun sets beyond the wide embrace of the open sea, its hue a dark shade of purple. And he reflection of the sun upon its surface seemed like fluttering flames.
The salty breeze whips across his face, caressing the locks of his raven-black hair. And a smile, almost invisible, seems to play on the thin length of his lips.
“Someone seems to be in good spirits,” Karin allowed, a curious, appreciative smile stretching her lips.
“Let's go,” Sasuke replied coolly, as if she hadn't said anything. It was evident she hadn't taken offense to his negligence, for the velvet sound of his voice brought a flush to her cheeks, and her ruby-red eyes gleamed with desire.
She watched the perfect cut of his shoulders, as he withdraws. His aura stirred as he strode on the path leading back to the cabin. It seemed to take on a physical form and a consciousness of its own—coiling warm arms around her entire body, teasing her in places that she wanted held and stroked. She tantalized, her bones doing a quick melt, and a grin wrought of thrill tugged her moistened lips.
“Where the hell have you been,” Suigetsu scowled in question, when Sasuke stood in the door. “You suddenly disappeared. I thought you ditched us for good this time.” he extends his cleaver toward the ever-composed leader, his teeth dangerously pointed. But Sasuke didn't seem threatened.
“I went to renew my reason for existence,” he said candidly, and then went to take a chair beside the timeworn table that centered the room.
Suigetsu wasn't pleased, and he clicked his tongue flippantly.
Juugo smiled as he patted a canary's head, which was perched on his shoulder, knowing exactly what Sasuke meant. He knew the significance of another's existence, especially when it defined that of his own.
A warrior is much stronger, when he has something worth protecting...
Wallpaper done by: kivi1230
Question: What did you guys think of that instant when Sasuke cast Sakura into a genjustu, granting her great mental and physical pleasure at the same time? And did anyone realize the sound lyrics integrated in some of the narration and dialogues?