Like Friends Don’t [Part 2] [AIM Log] [Gaara and Nanao] [Closed]
[Rated PG13-ish. Set to take place earlier today.]
Part two of two.
Nanao stepped back slowly, trying to keep space between them, but had to stop when her back hit the wall. Her voice was low, soft, as it murmured out his name, perhaps a plea to stop, perhaps nothing more than an acknowledgement. As usual, she couldn’t read his eyes, but she saw things there that made her swallow harder. “I don’t know.” Her dark eyes were wide, almost unfocused, as she forcibly stared at him.
Slowly, very slowly, she allowed her hand to fall back against the wall, bringing his with it. “I don’t know what this is about. I never have.” Shadowed eyes flickered down, away from his searching eyes, hoping he’d loosen his hands, hoping he’d stop and think… Of what? “Gaara… you can’t do this.” She looked down, looked away, realizing she might be in some trouble…
The more her words penetrated his mind, whatever had taken it upon itself to tightly embrace his brain, make his thinking unclear, unfocused, the more Gaara’s teeth ground together. He could practically taste her fear. Or was it his own? And then it was ridiculous to think he was actually afraid of her. There had always been the quiet whisperings of nerves underneath his cool, composed demeanor, the urge to close himself off whenever they happened to meet or speak with one another, but Gaara just did not do terror and anxiety. It was something he’d ignored because it only caused problems.
But wasn’t this causing problems, too? Her insinuation that he’d…
“What? What am I doing, Nanao?” His voice was full of thick, blatant sarcasm, tongue flattened against the bottom of his mouth as he hissed the words. Physically shaking now. He could feel it, fingers around her wrist stiff against her skin, the hand at her jaw unintentionally tightening, bringing her face closer so his breath fanned across a cheek.
Her perfume. He smelled that, too, and it just didn’t help Gaara’s composure either.
“Nothing to say?” Ironic no one ever spoke when he finally decided to disregard his own self-imposed flaws, and Gaara’s teeth clenched even tighter.
A soft sound strained to get out, but she held it, remaining as still as possible. She was successful until his warm breath slid over her cheek. In response, a shudder ran through her, her skin pricking up. The pressure on her jaw was tighter now, the hand around her wrist almost painful. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she’d have bruises…
Her eyes slid closed, hoping the total lack of sight would give them some needed distance, possibly calm him… Her heart was pounding, but not like before. Before, it was a sweet burn; not the frantic beat of a bird caught in a trap. The situation was deteriorating rapidly and she didn’t want to be in the hallway if and when it got worse.
She inhaled a long, deep breath, then murmured flatly, “Let me go. Now.”
Nothing made sense to him anymore. Nothing could penetrate whatever it was dominating him to the point he held Nanao close, hurting her with his constricting fingers and blurred words, stupidity an understatement. Gaara knew he hadn’t wanted things to escalate to this, really didn’t know how to handle anything because there was nothing in his memories or in those naturally basic instincts that told him what to do. He felt anger and reacted upon it, only remembering once what it actually was to lose himself in such a swirling mess of rage, forcing himself to forget. He felt the twisting in the pit of his stomach and wanted to run, not a coward but unable to do anything else when facing her. Feel anything else.
Nanao shattered him into uncharacteristic nothing.
“Why?” He didn’t let her go, but his hold on her loosened just slightly. No bruises. How would he explain that it wasn’t intentional if there were any? “Am I scaring you?”
Should she lie, or tell him the truth? The tight hands on her loosened a tiny bit, but she was still held fast. An experimental tug of her hand told her she was held tighter than she could easily free herself. That left only patience until Gaara calmed down. Patience, or convincing him to release her.
And so far, that’s gone well…
She opened her eyes again and tried to move her head, shifting it slightly in his grasp. The press of his fingers against her jaw hadn’t loosened up enough to make movement easy, but she tried to free her chin anyway, pausing in her efforts after a moment. Shaded eyes locked onto turquoise ones.
“No. You’re not scaring me…” Her lips curl up into something akin to a small smile. “You know... if I yell loud enough, someone will hear me. That might not be good if it's the right person.”
For a single moment in time, Gaara thought his heart had stopped, that his ears had deceived him as his brain interpreted Nanao’s words. A threat? Had such a thing slipped from her mouth? Been directed at him? Gaara blinked, the hold on her jaw and wrist loosening to the point she was almost free as the surprise dominated him.
A split second, just enough to breathe. Then he saw red, felt the rawest form of anger bubbling over his brain, controlling actions normally under constraint, and Gaara’s fingers were digging into the flesh of Nanao’s wrist, his hand gripping her face to force her to look at him again. Turquoise eyes wide, staring so hard they might as well have been solid glass. He took a step, pushing her back with incredible ease and ignoring the soft sound she made as she collided with the wall behind them.
He didn’t feel like himself. What was it? What was he doing?
“What?” The word was cracked, shaky. Gaara still felt himself shaking, the rage continuing to build and build without a way to vent other than this. “What?” His teeth clenched, facial expression surprisingly composed, and he leaned closer, allowing no space between them.
She felt his grip loosen and was almost able to take advantage of it, but before she could, the pressure was back, tighter than ever. In the blink of an eye, she felt her back hit the wall hard, pulling an inadvertent whimper from her throat. Her head rang with the impact, scattering her thoughts as quickly as she could form them.
Why did I say that?
She could look nowhere else other than his face, his cold eyes staring into hers. His sudden proximity sent a violent shudder down her body; her knees almost ready to buckle from the tremors. There would be no escaping the bruises now, no escaping the questions they would raise, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. She swallowed hard and reached up with her free hand, grabbing Gaara’s wrist as firmly as she could.
“Please…”
It was the same word that started it. This time, in a much different context. He was so close, she didn’t have to speak up, didn’t have to yell. A whisper was the best she could manage over her growing… was it fear?
His reality had slipped. And far too much to regain what semblance of balance he'd had before this. Gaara only registered the basics --hand encompassing both wrist and jaw, imprinting themselves into her flesh-- and even that was too much for his mind to interpret at the moment. He just continued to press forward, feeling the outline of her pelvis against his own, the soft curve of her breasts pushed to his chest.
Her perfume, the feel of her.
Please…
"Too late for that," he muttered, words still clipped and incredibly short, the chill of calm so frosted over it held nothing of human emotion. The very breath he breathed skirted across Nanao's cheek, ever closer to slightly parted lips, and Gaara dipped his head, lost beyond help at controlling the well of voided emotion filtering through his system. Lips melded against lips, hard and almost searching. Pressed forward, no gentleness whatsoever.
Nanao wouldn't break. Nanao wouldn't leave him. He'd make her stay if she tried because everyone always left him. His mother and father. Kankurou and Temari. And without further thought, he shoved her harder into the wall, none of the tenderness from their previously shared encounter evident in the kiss at all.
Please…
There was no way she could escape, nowhere to run to. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, they went from conversation to this… Her fingers convulsed against his wrist, trying to pry it away from her now painful jaw as her knees finally gave out. It didn’t matter, though… She was pressed back against the wall so hard it left her breathless and upright when all her body felt like doing was sinking to the floor.
Neatly trimmed nails dug in as hard as they could, her captured hand frantically trying to pull itself free. A low groan rolled in her throat, mingled fear and some other odd emotions she didn’t have the time to place. She pulled their joined hands back so hard she felt something scrape against the wall, warmth welling up on the surface.
His lips were hard on hers, digging in just like his fingers were, pulling what little breath she had left away. Her eyes sagged closed again, slowly draping her in darkness. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t pull loose, couldn’t free herself from his anger, so she let go. Hopefully, if she didn’t fight back, he’d lose interest.
The kiss tasted bittersweet and sour.
Gaara felt it in the soft sounds she made, how her strained movements against him simply fell away and left nothing, and his mind squeezed what little awareness remained into his consciousness, eyes opening to stare at Nanao's face. Faded turquoise followed the perfect curve of her cheek, the flutter of eyelashes, and the outline of her nose. Her beauty hurt him, how he could think of doing such a thing without consequence. Twisted, so twisted. And Gaara was still torn between shoving her until he couldn't push anymore and stepping back, catching his breath. Regain thought, sanity.
Incidentally, lips softened.
His mouth tilted against hers with a different pressure, a different angle that meant something else entirely. It reminded him of their first kiss, the pliant willingness of her body as she melted, and for the briefest moment, Gaara wanted that again. Wanted to feel that acceptance so badly fingers loosened around her wrist, released her jaw to cup her face gently, tendrils of her hair caressing his hand. He shivered, entirely lost.
How had this happened? What was he doing? But perhaps, at that moment, it wasn't such a good idea to ask questions, and Gaara closed his eyes again.
She felt hesitation for the first time since he’d pushed her back, then everything changed.
Everything.
His lips grew gentle on hers, like before. The kiss became warm and soft, almost pleading in its simplicity. A low moan tried to work its way up, but she forced it back down into her chest, unable to do anything else. Things had changed so quickly, it left her head spinning, as if it hadn’t been before.
This was what it was like before she’d left, this sweet pressure she’d asked for, but now… now it wasn’t something she wanted. Not while her jaw ached from his touch; not while her wrist throbbed from the intense pressure he’d put on it to keep her there… not while her hand dripped blood on the floor from the abrasion of the rough wall behind her.
Not when she was with someone else whom she was rapidly developing feelings for.
She couldn’t help but tense when his hand moved from her jaw, but the tension bled out in a shudder when she felt him slide his palm to her cheek. For a moment, she could do nothing but moan softly at the gentle touch, relief evident. The hand that had been clenching his wrist slowly slid down to rest against his chest, lingering there for a brief instant, before she pushed gently.
Her head twisted slightly to one side, separating their lips a fraction of an inch. “Gaara… I can’t do this… please let me go.”
Irony. Cold, blatant irony.
This was the situation in its entirety, how it continuously wrapped drowning arms around him and pulled him under. Not breathing. For a moment, Gaara thought his heart stopped beating, deciding it wouldn’t have been such a terrible thing if it was to never start again, but the pressure in his chest, on it from the push of her hand, alerted him otherwise. If anything, it proved that unbearable human weakness he’d always tried ignoring, pretending that it never existed.
Better to be alone. He’d messed up thinking he could do this, play games and still remain unscathed, untouched, and unharmed.
“No.”
Gaara’s voice was unstable, almost as inaudible as the sound of his breath escaping barely parted lips, and he lifted hooded eyes to gaze at her, the color of his irises reflecting a sharp lime nothing like the usual hue of swimming turquoise with which he gazed upon the world. His fingers tightened again around her wrist, aware how her fingers twitched against his shirt, silently asking for freedom, and his head tilted closer, hair falling over his face as lips briefly brushed the lobe of Nanao’s ear. When he spoke, the tension inside snapped, clearly defined and somewhat desperate.
“I won’t.” Whispered, low. It sent a strange chill down Gaara’s own spine, and his tongue licked the side of her neck before lips closed around skin in the gentle motion of sucking. Unlike him, but he didn’t want to be left without some type of reprieve. He pushed himself closer.
no… no… No…
She pushed again on his chest, this time not as gently. "No… " was all she could say, voice a low, almost broken breath. The pain returned in her wrist tenfold, but she couldn't find any kind of power to try and pull it free. As her body's responses slowed, her heart started pounding. She was sure it was beating hard enough to be heard by both of them, but she just couldn't think about that at the moment.
"…no."
His hair was soft against her cheek, but that wasn't what she felt. Her mind focused in on the sensation of his lips against her earlobe, the wet trail his tongue left along her neck. Her body was frozen, somewhere between disbelief and flat out fear, when she felt the almost careful suction of warm lips. A flash of panic burned through her frozen soul, her brain fairly screaming at her to try and get away.
Just as she'd gathered the remains of her flagging strength, he pushed even more into her, pressing her back until her breath left her body in a soft pant. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her now, and all she could do was shake her head minutely, her voice lost.
No…
Her words did nothing but travel straight through him, curling around the base of his spine and causing his fingers to massage the skin clasped in his. Gaara felt her succumb, how easily she surrendered the moment he pressed forward, landing them further into the wall, and no longer in control, acting on thoughts too vague to really understand, he let himself go.
Lips slid lower across her neck, eventually finding collarbone. He nipped with his teeth, only kissing to soothe after he heard the soft gasp, another quiet exhalation of breath from her unmoving mouth, and his other hand fell to squeeze her hip, wondering at her softness, the drastic difference between this and those before. Not that there really had been anything like this. With Nanao, it never was the forced expression of lust or somehow twisted into something unexplainable. Gaara was comfortable here, the words now lost to him to describe what it was.
All he could do, wanted to do, was touch her. Feel her.
The fingers resting on her hip worked their way back up, pulling lightly at the loose sweater draping her, slipping beneath it with relative ease and then that insufferable tank top. Her skin must have been silk. Gaara’s knuckles slipped over ribs, brushing tenderly with firm strokes as his mouth continued kissing at her neck, maneuvering to lick at the softer column of her throat just beneath her chin. He’d gathered this skill, still a novice in the art of seduction and expressing what he wanted. How to tell her without giving up all he had.
And the moment his hand cupped her breast, wondering at the material of her bra, why it was just so different from being with anyone else, all thought ceased entirely. Gaara’s palm and fingers curled around her flesh, squeezing lightly, testing boundaries and breaking the careful law between them, and he needed to kiss her. Needed it so badly it made his heart knock just as hard against his chest as Nanao’s was. That’s how close they were, how close they’d ended up, and he wasn’t prepared to step back. Not now, not even if they still remained in the hallway, visible to any who dared to look.
Head tipped back, vulnerable throat exposed to his lips, she shuddered with every touch. A sharp bite against her collarbone made a gasp catch in her throat, sound spilling through her parted lips. Although his hand dropped from her face, she was still pinned. Intimate touches from someone she obviously didn't know well enough, but it didn't matter. She was here, and in a situation she saw little way out of.
A tug along the bottom hem of her shirt, then warm skin slid under the tank and against her skin. It was if his tongue, suddenly on her throat, pushed a groan loose, allowing it to be heard over the rapid cadence of her heart. His hand palming her breast was almost missed; her mind was so tangled up in itself and the sounds echoing in her head. When the touch finally registered, she squirmed, desperate to move. After a quick gasping breath, she was finally able to whisper one more word.
"Why?
It was some vague sound that distracted him from the fragrant taste of her skin, the soft press of her flesh beneath his fingertips as he continued to knead out of something other than desperation. Perhaps care or want or an undefined emotion Gaara would never accept as justifiable when it came to him, involved him in any manner, shape, or form. But he heard the strangled syllables, mingled between breathy whimpers, a soft moan that excited him more than it should have. Gaara liked the idea he was causing this, making her shiver ever so slightly beneath him, not participating but not truly fighting him either.
Yet, it didn’t matter. He understood her, wanted to answer her, but when he removed his mouth from her throat, a pale pink from the abrasiveness of his kisses, the words he spoke did not suit his train of thought at all. Wrong. Misguided. More foolish than ever thought possible.
“I like you.” Monotone, husky. Far from himself.
Gaara’s mouth descended upon Nanao’s then, giving no time for verbal response as he carefully pushed his tongue between her lips, exploring the contours, the flat and semi-sharp edges of her teeth, the plane of her own tongue. It wasn’t rough, but neither was it gentle, the kiss firm and demanding. He wanted to draw something from her. A feeling, a sound, a response that gave him that warm, nearly unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Anything.
This situation reminded him of those instances when he’d been younger, and had Nanao lashed back to punch him, kick him, Gaara would have taken it. He may have laughed, sadism high in their family history, but this wasn’t pre-school, wasn’t a trite game anymore. He wouldn’t have even thought to touch someone like this at such a young age. And since his hand was already exploring beneath Nanao’s shirt, fingers teasing at the top edge of the bra’s right cup, slipping higher, hooking around the strap to tug and loosen it, push it down her shoulder, Gaara really saw no point in contemplating such things. Not when he was kissing her, loving the taste it left in his mouth, the smell of her perfume making him lightheaded. Not when his knee nudged its way between her thighs.
No point at all.
NO
The hand still pressed against his chest clenched in his shirt, pushing at him again as her mouth was taken. Once more, he had changed in the span of a second, from almost vicious, to tender, then merciless. A low moan, this time muffled by the ruthless kiss, broke free unbidden. His hand still moved under her clothing, pressing against flesh he had no right to touch. She knew she needed to find a way out; away from him, but her mind was too cluttered to think at the moment.
Her bare foot slipped an inch as his leg pressed between hers, the toes curling, clenching as if to try and find a hold on something real and solid. Something to help ground her into the reality of now and keep her from getting lost in the fear what was trying to creep along her spine. If she'd thought, she would've bitten down on the intruding tongue, but she yielded to it because she couldn't order her thoughts well enough to do so.
Half of her bra was completely down, the strap twisted around her arm, trapping it in the sleeve. She gave her arm a tug, hoping to free it so she could gain some leverage.
Misinterpretations were always so easy when not thinking correctly, his brain unable to keep up with the actions of his body, and her struggles, the attempt she made at trying to escape again, Gaara’s blunt fingernails softly scratching at the flesh beneath her bra, did nothing for what little he’d managed to recover as recognized thought. He felt her slide, balance somehow lost, and he used an unoccupied arm to wrap around her, steady her, pull her closer. Almost tender, almost caring. Misreading the action.
He wasn’t sure where the lines between them fit anymore. Not really.
Gaara continued his light exploration of never before touched flesh, mentally comparing the differences between those he’d felt like this, curious at how drastic the diversity was. Nanao was all curves and soft. So very soft to his fingers, inexperienced and seductive in the same breath. She smelled better, tasted sweeter. And when he felt another push against him, weaker, seemingly nonexistent, Gaara simply thought nothing of it.
He wanted this, she wanted this, and it was all he told himself, convinced of its truth. Didn’t have to say anything else as he drowned in the close proximity of her, caressing and teasing, kisses deepening and touches burning hot.
She knew things were happening far too quickly when she felt her body responding to Gaara’s touch. A desperate sense of urgency flashed through her, giving her more strength than before. Twisting her head, she was able to gasp as her lips parted from his. Sucking in a lungful of air, she arched her back, trying to move them away from the wall.
“No… stop it Gaara.”
Her body was in motion finally, trying its best to move away, to get free, to run. She forced her arm free and grabbed his shoulder, intent on forcing him back. Bare feet slid again, trying to find a foothold to help her gain momentum. “I said… no.”
Those tricky, nearly impossible-to-decipher turquoise eyes regarded her for the first time, several thoughts flashing through Gaara’s mind at once. He never actually perceived them, just stood before her, hand up her shirt and mouth complacently closed, breathing reigned into perfect control. No? No as in…no? Gaara had never liked the cunning connotation of that word, how it could inevitably mean “yes” and “no” and a thousand other meanings to suit those that uttered it all in a single passing moment. There was a contemplative stare, features drawn composed as if he hadn’t just had her pressed into the wall, against him, and Gaara merely blinked.
Innocent. Confused. Waiting for that dangerous anger to return, snap his restraint into nothing like it had before.
It didn’t.
Instead, Gaara withdrew himself, leaving the warmth of her skin, the fragrant feel of silky flesh, curling back behind his slowly rebuilding shield of familiarity. Her mussed hair, disheveled clothes, lips swollen from his kiss, the branding of his teeth. He saw it all, took it in with the observation of the writer he wanted to be. Saw it and did nothing but take a slow step back, head tilted. For a moment, he just watched her, irises fluctuating shades of blue and green, lime and emerald, and after that moment had passed, Gaara leaned in once again, trapping her with his arms, cornering her.
His mouth moved, soft and void of all emotion.
“Goodbye,” he whispered. Whispered as if he’d never cared in the first place. “Goodbye, Nanao.”
She stared up at him for an instant, trying to twist his words around in her brain. Her face tipped down, still trying to catch her breath. “Is this what you wanted?” She allowed herself to slide partway down the wall, finally able to duck out from under his arms.
Not bothering to pull her shirt back down, not even trying to straighten her appearance, she just turned and walked down the stair, hand clutching the rail. The door to apartment 4 stood open as she’d left it; she hadn’t meant to stay so long…
The door creaked behind her when she shut it, but she didn’t notice. Her feet stumbled on the worn carpet, but she didn’t notice. Her hand still bled sluggishly, but she didn’t notice. All that mattered was space… distance…
For some reason, she wanted to wash her face, her skin; get the grimy feeling off, but when she looked in the bathroom mirror, she froze. Neck marked by biting kisses, half unraveled braids, jaw already showing a taste of the marks to come…
The weakness that had plagued her in the hallway returned. She barely made it to her bedroom before her knees gave out.
Part two of two.
Nanao stepped back slowly, trying to keep space between them, but had to stop when her back hit the wall. Her voice was low, soft, as it murmured out his name, perhaps a plea to stop, perhaps nothing more than an acknowledgement. As usual, she couldn’t read his eyes, but she saw things there that made her swallow harder. “I don’t know.” Her dark eyes were wide, almost unfocused, as she forcibly stared at him.
Slowly, very slowly, she allowed her hand to fall back against the wall, bringing his with it. “I don’t know what this is about. I never have.” Shadowed eyes flickered down, away from his searching eyes, hoping he’d loosen his hands, hoping he’d stop and think… Of what? “Gaara… you can’t do this.” She looked down, looked away, realizing she might be in some trouble…
The more her words penetrated his mind, whatever had taken it upon itself to tightly embrace his brain, make his thinking unclear, unfocused, the more Gaara’s teeth ground together. He could practically taste her fear. Or was it his own? And then it was ridiculous to think he was actually afraid of her. There had always been the quiet whisperings of nerves underneath his cool, composed demeanor, the urge to close himself off whenever they happened to meet or speak with one another, but Gaara just did not do terror and anxiety. It was something he’d ignored because it only caused problems.
But wasn’t this causing problems, too? Her insinuation that he’d…
“What? What am I doing, Nanao?” His voice was full of thick, blatant sarcasm, tongue flattened against the bottom of his mouth as he hissed the words. Physically shaking now. He could feel it, fingers around her wrist stiff against her skin, the hand at her jaw unintentionally tightening, bringing her face closer so his breath fanned across a cheek.
Her perfume. He smelled that, too, and it just didn’t help Gaara’s composure either.
“Nothing to say?” Ironic no one ever spoke when he finally decided to disregard his own self-imposed flaws, and Gaara’s teeth clenched even tighter.
A soft sound strained to get out, but she held it, remaining as still as possible. She was successful until his warm breath slid over her cheek. In response, a shudder ran through her, her skin pricking up. The pressure on her jaw was tighter now, the hand around her wrist almost painful. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she’d have bruises…
Her eyes slid closed, hoping the total lack of sight would give them some needed distance, possibly calm him… Her heart was pounding, but not like before. Before, it was a sweet burn; not the frantic beat of a bird caught in a trap. The situation was deteriorating rapidly and she didn’t want to be in the hallway if and when it got worse.
She inhaled a long, deep breath, then murmured flatly, “Let me go. Now.”
Nothing made sense to him anymore. Nothing could penetrate whatever it was dominating him to the point he held Nanao close, hurting her with his constricting fingers and blurred words, stupidity an understatement. Gaara knew he hadn’t wanted things to escalate to this, really didn’t know how to handle anything because there was nothing in his memories or in those naturally basic instincts that told him what to do. He felt anger and reacted upon it, only remembering once what it actually was to lose himself in such a swirling mess of rage, forcing himself to forget. He felt the twisting in the pit of his stomach and wanted to run, not a coward but unable to do anything else when facing her. Feel anything else.
Nanao shattered him into uncharacteristic nothing.
“Why?” He didn’t let her go, but his hold on her loosened just slightly. No bruises. How would he explain that it wasn’t intentional if there were any? “Am I scaring you?”
Should she lie, or tell him the truth? The tight hands on her loosened a tiny bit, but she was still held fast. An experimental tug of her hand told her she was held tighter than she could easily free herself. That left only patience until Gaara calmed down. Patience, or convincing him to release her.
And so far, that’s gone well…
She opened her eyes again and tried to move her head, shifting it slightly in his grasp. The press of his fingers against her jaw hadn’t loosened up enough to make movement easy, but she tried to free her chin anyway, pausing in her efforts after a moment. Shaded eyes locked onto turquoise ones.
“No. You’re not scaring me…” Her lips curl up into something akin to a small smile. “You know... if I yell loud enough, someone will hear me. That might not be good if it's the right person.”
For a single moment in time, Gaara thought his heart had stopped, that his ears had deceived him as his brain interpreted Nanao’s words. A threat? Had such a thing slipped from her mouth? Been directed at him? Gaara blinked, the hold on her jaw and wrist loosening to the point she was almost free as the surprise dominated him.
A split second, just enough to breathe. Then he saw red, felt the rawest form of anger bubbling over his brain, controlling actions normally under constraint, and Gaara’s fingers were digging into the flesh of Nanao’s wrist, his hand gripping her face to force her to look at him again. Turquoise eyes wide, staring so hard they might as well have been solid glass. He took a step, pushing her back with incredible ease and ignoring the soft sound she made as she collided with the wall behind them.
He didn’t feel like himself. What was it? What was he doing?
“What?” The word was cracked, shaky. Gaara still felt himself shaking, the rage continuing to build and build without a way to vent other than this. “What?” His teeth clenched, facial expression surprisingly composed, and he leaned closer, allowing no space between them.
She felt his grip loosen and was almost able to take advantage of it, but before she could, the pressure was back, tighter than ever. In the blink of an eye, she felt her back hit the wall hard, pulling an inadvertent whimper from her throat. Her head rang with the impact, scattering her thoughts as quickly as she could form them.
Why did I say that?
She could look nowhere else other than his face, his cold eyes staring into hers. His sudden proximity sent a violent shudder down her body; her knees almost ready to buckle from the tremors. There would be no escaping the bruises now, no escaping the questions they would raise, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. She swallowed hard and reached up with her free hand, grabbing Gaara’s wrist as firmly as she could.
“Please…”
It was the same word that started it. This time, in a much different context. He was so close, she didn’t have to speak up, didn’t have to yell. A whisper was the best she could manage over her growing… was it fear?
His reality had slipped. And far too much to regain what semblance of balance he'd had before this. Gaara only registered the basics --hand encompassing both wrist and jaw, imprinting themselves into her flesh-- and even that was too much for his mind to interpret at the moment. He just continued to press forward, feeling the outline of her pelvis against his own, the soft curve of her breasts pushed to his chest.
Her perfume, the feel of her.
Please…
"Too late for that," he muttered, words still clipped and incredibly short, the chill of calm so frosted over it held nothing of human emotion. The very breath he breathed skirted across Nanao's cheek, ever closer to slightly parted lips, and Gaara dipped his head, lost beyond help at controlling the well of voided emotion filtering through his system. Lips melded against lips, hard and almost searching. Pressed forward, no gentleness whatsoever.
Nanao wouldn't break. Nanao wouldn't leave him. He'd make her stay if she tried because everyone always left him. His mother and father. Kankurou and Temari. And without further thought, he shoved her harder into the wall, none of the tenderness from their previously shared encounter evident in the kiss at all.
Please…
There was no way she could escape, nowhere to run to. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, they went from conversation to this… Her fingers convulsed against his wrist, trying to pry it away from her now painful jaw as her knees finally gave out. It didn’t matter, though… She was pressed back against the wall so hard it left her breathless and upright when all her body felt like doing was sinking to the floor.
Neatly trimmed nails dug in as hard as they could, her captured hand frantically trying to pull itself free. A low groan rolled in her throat, mingled fear and some other odd emotions she didn’t have the time to place. She pulled their joined hands back so hard she felt something scrape against the wall, warmth welling up on the surface.
His lips were hard on hers, digging in just like his fingers were, pulling what little breath she had left away. Her eyes sagged closed again, slowly draping her in darkness. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t pull loose, couldn’t free herself from his anger, so she let go. Hopefully, if she didn’t fight back, he’d lose interest.
The kiss tasted bittersweet and sour.
Gaara felt it in the soft sounds she made, how her strained movements against him simply fell away and left nothing, and his mind squeezed what little awareness remained into his consciousness, eyes opening to stare at Nanao's face. Faded turquoise followed the perfect curve of her cheek, the flutter of eyelashes, and the outline of her nose. Her beauty hurt him, how he could think of doing such a thing without consequence. Twisted, so twisted. And Gaara was still torn between shoving her until he couldn't push anymore and stepping back, catching his breath. Regain thought, sanity.
Incidentally, lips softened.
His mouth tilted against hers with a different pressure, a different angle that meant something else entirely. It reminded him of their first kiss, the pliant willingness of her body as she melted, and for the briefest moment, Gaara wanted that again. Wanted to feel that acceptance so badly fingers loosened around her wrist, released her jaw to cup her face gently, tendrils of her hair caressing his hand. He shivered, entirely lost.
How had this happened? What was he doing? But perhaps, at that moment, it wasn't such a good idea to ask questions, and Gaara closed his eyes again.
She felt hesitation for the first time since he’d pushed her back, then everything changed.
Everything.
His lips grew gentle on hers, like before. The kiss became warm and soft, almost pleading in its simplicity. A low moan tried to work its way up, but she forced it back down into her chest, unable to do anything else. Things had changed so quickly, it left her head spinning, as if it hadn’t been before.
This was what it was like before she’d left, this sweet pressure she’d asked for, but now… now it wasn’t something she wanted. Not while her jaw ached from his touch; not while her wrist throbbed from the intense pressure he’d put on it to keep her there… not while her hand dripped blood on the floor from the abrasion of the rough wall behind her.
Not when she was with someone else whom she was rapidly developing feelings for.
She couldn’t help but tense when his hand moved from her jaw, but the tension bled out in a shudder when she felt him slide his palm to her cheek. For a moment, she could do nothing but moan softly at the gentle touch, relief evident. The hand that had been clenching his wrist slowly slid down to rest against his chest, lingering there for a brief instant, before she pushed gently.
Her head twisted slightly to one side, separating their lips a fraction of an inch. “Gaara… I can’t do this… please let me go.”
Irony. Cold, blatant irony.
This was the situation in its entirety, how it continuously wrapped drowning arms around him and pulled him under. Not breathing. For a moment, Gaara thought his heart stopped beating, deciding it wouldn’t have been such a terrible thing if it was to never start again, but the pressure in his chest, on it from the push of her hand, alerted him otherwise. If anything, it proved that unbearable human weakness he’d always tried ignoring, pretending that it never existed.
Better to be alone. He’d messed up thinking he could do this, play games and still remain unscathed, untouched, and unharmed.
“No.”
Gaara’s voice was unstable, almost as inaudible as the sound of his breath escaping barely parted lips, and he lifted hooded eyes to gaze at her, the color of his irises reflecting a sharp lime nothing like the usual hue of swimming turquoise with which he gazed upon the world. His fingers tightened again around her wrist, aware how her fingers twitched against his shirt, silently asking for freedom, and his head tilted closer, hair falling over his face as lips briefly brushed the lobe of Nanao’s ear. When he spoke, the tension inside snapped, clearly defined and somewhat desperate.
“I won’t.” Whispered, low. It sent a strange chill down Gaara’s own spine, and his tongue licked the side of her neck before lips closed around skin in the gentle motion of sucking. Unlike him, but he didn’t want to be left without some type of reprieve. He pushed himself closer.
no… no… No…
She pushed again on his chest, this time not as gently. "No… " was all she could say, voice a low, almost broken breath. The pain returned in her wrist tenfold, but she couldn't find any kind of power to try and pull it free. As her body's responses slowed, her heart started pounding. She was sure it was beating hard enough to be heard by both of them, but she just couldn't think about that at the moment.
"…no."
His hair was soft against her cheek, but that wasn't what she felt. Her mind focused in on the sensation of his lips against her earlobe, the wet trail his tongue left along her neck. Her body was frozen, somewhere between disbelief and flat out fear, when she felt the almost careful suction of warm lips. A flash of panic burned through her frozen soul, her brain fairly screaming at her to try and get away.
Just as she'd gathered the remains of her flagging strength, he pushed even more into her, pressing her back until her breath left her body in a soft pant. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her now, and all she could do was shake her head minutely, her voice lost.
No…
Her words did nothing but travel straight through him, curling around the base of his spine and causing his fingers to massage the skin clasped in his. Gaara felt her succumb, how easily she surrendered the moment he pressed forward, landing them further into the wall, and no longer in control, acting on thoughts too vague to really understand, he let himself go.
Lips slid lower across her neck, eventually finding collarbone. He nipped with his teeth, only kissing to soothe after he heard the soft gasp, another quiet exhalation of breath from her unmoving mouth, and his other hand fell to squeeze her hip, wondering at her softness, the drastic difference between this and those before. Not that there really had been anything like this. With Nanao, it never was the forced expression of lust or somehow twisted into something unexplainable. Gaara was comfortable here, the words now lost to him to describe what it was.
All he could do, wanted to do, was touch her. Feel her.
The fingers resting on her hip worked their way back up, pulling lightly at the loose sweater draping her, slipping beneath it with relative ease and then that insufferable tank top. Her skin must have been silk. Gaara’s knuckles slipped over ribs, brushing tenderly with firm strokes as his mouth continued kissing at her neck, maneuvering to lick at the softer column of her throat just beneath her chin. He’d gathered this skill, still a novice in the art of seduction and expressing what he wanted. How to tell her without giving up all he had.
And the moment his hand cupped her breast, wondering at the material of her bra, why it was just so different from being with anyone else, all thought ceased entirely. Gaara’s palm and fingers curled around her flesh, squeezing lightly, testing boundaries and breaking the careful law between them, and he needed to kiss her. Needed it so badly it made his heart knock just as hard against his chest as Nanao’s was. That’s how close they were, how close they’d ended up, and he wasn’t prepared to step back. Not now, not even if they still remained in the hallway, visible to any who dared to look.
Head tipped back, vulnerable throat exposed to his lips, she shuddered with every touch. A sharp bite against her collarbone made a gasp catch in her throat, sound spilling through her parted lips. Although his hand dropped from her face, she was still pinned. Intimate touches from someone she obviously didn't know well enough, but it didn't matter. She was here, and in a situation she saw little way out of.
A tug along the bottom hem of her shirt, then warm skin slid under the tank and against her skin. It was if his tongue, suddenly on her throat, pushed a groan loose, allowing it to be heard over the rapid cadence of her heart. His hand palming her breast was almost missed; her mind was so tangled up in itself and the sounds echoing in her head. When the touch finally registered, she squirmed, desperate to move. After a quick gasping breath, she was finally able to whisper one more word.
"Why?
It was some vague sound that distracted him from the fragrant taste of her skin, the soft press of her flesh beneath his fingertips as he continued to knead out of something other than desperation. Perhaps care or want or an undefined emotion Gaara would never accept as justifiable when it came to him, involved him in any manner, shape, or form. But he heard the strangled syllables, mingled between breathy whimpers, a soft moan that excited him more than it should have. Gaara liked the idea he was causing this, making her shiver ever so slightly beneath him, not participating but not truly fighting him either.
Yet, it didn’t matter. He understood her, wanted to answer her, but when he removed his mouth from her throat, a pale pink from the abrasiveness of his kisses, the words he spoke did not suit his train of thought at all. Wrong. Misguided. More foolish than ever thought possible.
“I like you.” Monotone, husky. Far from himself.
Gaara’s mouth descended upon Nanao’s then, giving no time for verbal response as he carefully pushed his tongue between her lips, exploring the contours, the flat and semi-sharp edges of her teeth, the plane of her own tongue. It wasn’t rough, but neither was it gentle, the kiss firm and demanding. He wanted to draw something from her. A feeling, a sound, a response that gave him that warm, nearly unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Anything.
This situation reminded him of those instances when he’d been younger, and had Nanao lashed back to punch him, kick him, Gaara would have taken it. He may have laughed, sadism high in their family history, but this wasn’t pre-school, wasn’t a trite game anymore. He wouldn’t have even thought to touch someone like this at such a young age. And since his hand was already exploring beneath Nanao’s shirt, fingers teasing at the top edge of the bra’s right cup, slipping higher, hooking around the strap to tug and loosen it, push it down her shoulder, Gaara really saw no point in contemplating such things. Not when he was kissing her, loving the taste it left in his mouth, the smell of her perfume making him lightheaded. Not when his knee nudged its way between her thighs.
No point at all.
NO
The hand still pressed against his chest clenched in his shirt, pushing at him again as her mouth was taken. Once more, he had changed in the span of a second, from almost vicious, to tender, then merciless. A low moan, this time muffled by the ruthless kiss, broke free unbidden. His hand still moved under her clothing, pressing against flesh he had no right to touch. She knew she needed to find a way out; away from him, but her mind was too cluttered to think at the moment.
Her bare foot slipped an inch as his leg pressed between hers, the toes curling, clenching as if to try and find a hold on something real and solid. Something to help ground her into the reality of now and keep her from getting lost in the fear what was trying to creep along her spine. If she'd thought, she would've bitten down on the intruding tongue, but she yielded to it because she couldn't order her thoughts well enough to do so.
Half of her bra was completely down, the strap twisted around her arm, trapping it in the sleeve. She gave her arm a tug, hoping to free it so she could gain some leverage.
Misinterpretations were always so easy when not thinking correctly, his brain unable to keep up with the actions of his body, and her struggles, the attempt she made at trying to escape again, Gaara’s blunt fingernails softly scratching at the flesh beneath her bra, did nothing for what little he’d managed to recover as recognized thought. He felt her slide, balance somehow lost, and he used an unoccupied arm to wrap around her, steady her, pull her closer. Almost tender, almost caring. Misreading the action.
He wasn’t sure where the lines between them fit anymore. Not really.
Gaara continued his light exploration of never before touched flesh, mentally comparing the differences between those he’d felt like this, curious at how drastic the diversity was. Nanao was all curves and soft. So very soft to his fingers, inexperienced and seductive in the same breath. She smelled better, tasted sweeter. And when he felt another push against him, weaker, seemingly nonexistent, Gaara simply thought nothing of it.
He wanted this, she wanted this, and it was all he told himself, convinced of its truth. Didn’t have to say anything else as he drowned in the close proximity of her, caressing and teasing, kisses deepening and touches burning hot.
She knew things were happening far too quickly when she felt her body responding to Gaara’s touch. A desperate sense of urgency flashed through her, giving her more strength than before. Twisting her head, she was able to gasp as her lips parted from his. Sucking in a lungful of air, she arched her back, trying to move them away from the wall.
“No… stop it Gaara.”
Her body was in motion finally, trying its best to move away, to get free, to run. She forced her arm free and grabbed his shoulder, intent on forcing him back. Bare feet slid again, trying to find a foothold to help her gain momentum. “I said… no.”
Those tricky, nearly impossible-to-decipher turquoise eyes regarded her for the first time, several thoughts flashing through Gaara’s mind at once. He never actually perceived them, just stood before her, hand up her shirt and mouth complacently closed, breathing reigned into perfect control. No? No as in…no? Gaara had never liked the cunning connotation of that word, how it could inevitably mean “yes” and “no” and a thousand other meanings to suit those that uttered it all in a single passing moment. There was a contemplative stare, features drawn composed as if he hadn’t just had her pressed into the wall, against him, and Gaara merely blinked.
Innocent. Confused. Waiting for that dangerous anger to return, snap his restraint into nothing like it had before.
It didn’t.
Instead, Gaara withdrew himself, leaving the warmth of her skin, the fragrant feel of silky flesh, curling back behind his slowly rebuilding shield of familiarity. Her mussed hair, disheveled clothes, lips swollen from his kiss, the branding of his teeth. He saw it all, took it in with the observation of the writer he wanted to be. Saw it and did nothing but take a slow step back, head tilted. For a moment, he just watched her, irises fluctuating shades of blue and green, lime and emerald, and after that moment had passed, Gaara leaned in once again, trapping her with his arms, cornering her.
His mouth moved, soft and void of all emotion.
“Goodbye,” he whispered. Whispered as if he’d never cared in the first place. “Goodbye, Nanao.”
She stared up at him for an instant, trying to twist his words around in her brain. Her face tipped down, still trying to catch her breath. “Is this what you wanted?” She allowed herself to slide partway down the wall, finally able to duck out from under his arms.
Not bothering to pull her shirt back down, not even trying to straighten her appearance, she just turned and walked down the stair, hand clutching the rail. The door to apartment 4 stood open as she’d left it; she hadn’t meant to stay so long…
The door creaked behind her when she shut it, but she didn’t notice. Her feet stumbled on the worn carpet, but she didn’t notice. Her hand still bled sluggishly, but she didn’t notice. All that mattered was space… distance…
For some reason, she wanted to wash her face, her skin; get the grimy feeling off, but when she looked in the bathroom mirror, she froze. Neck marked by biting kisses, half unraveled braids, jaw already showing a taste of the marks to come…
The weakness that had plagued her in the hallway returned. She barely made it to her bedroom before her knees gave out.