But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door.
Who: Naruto Uzumaki (couragetodare) and Sakura Haruno (sucker_punches). Closed.
When: Evening of January 18th.
Where: The ruins.
Format: Paragraph, present tense.
What: Naruto and Sakura spar, which leads to an interesting development or two.
Warnings: Minor violence and teenage hormones. Not enough to warrant an R rating or anything though, haha.
( And so it goes, this soldier knows. )
When: Evening of January 18th.
Where: The ruins.
Format: Paragraph, present tense.
What: Naruto and Sakura spar, which leads to an interesting development or two.
Warnings: Minor violence and teenage hormones. Not enough to warrant an R rating or anything though, haha.
( And so it goes, this soldier knows. )
She charges through the fray, still aiming for the one she knows is true because she hasn't yet taken her eyes off him. Well, not fully. She's also been observing, like she's been taught, taking in the positions of his doppelgangers that are nearest and she catches the one kicking at her and ducks under his foot, feeling the air shift just above her head as she does. Naruto's punch she deflects at his wrist with her palm, redirecting the strike so it connects with nothing but air. Her own fist comes up, aiming an uppercut to his jaw, directing coiled chakra into it as easily as muscle memory.
Sakura is suited for this--close range combat. Tsunade's technique, which she has paid in bruises and blood for the right to use, is devastating in close quarters such as these. Devastating and deadly. So Sakura is holding back, but only just. There isn't enough chakra in that attack to make his head pitch back until his cervical column dislocates, until his spinal chord snaps and he dies instantly. There is, however, enough to leave a nasty bruise should the blow connect. Enough to possibly send him flying.
She almost wishes he'll dodge, because she doesn't want this to be over just yet.
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Spine curving, Naruto is arching back awkwardly, just enough to feel the rush of air past his face - her second knuckle clips his jaw and his eyes narrow and even that little tip will bruise he knows and even that's enough to be ever so slightly jarring. He doesn't fall back, unbalanced though he is. There is a clone behind him, hand between his shoulder blades and it uses this push in momentum to hold his place and Sakura's uppercut has left her wide open for that precious second or two but she probably knows that. There's a sound as Naruto moves, it could be a growl but it could easily be a laugh as he slips aside, spinning low, one palm to the ground. His leg kicks out, aiming for the back of Sakura's knee.
The clone that was behind him moves to tackle Sakura head on, with a knife hand aimed for her chest- and it's too open he knows and she'll take that one out too he knows, which is why there is another closing in, parallel to him and just behind her.
Naruto doesn't use a hundred clones to fight Sakura, nor a thousand either and this is his way of holding back. He usually makes do with twenty. But they're not all used for going on the offensive and somewhere beyond them both a clone pops out of existence. Periodically they do this and Naruto's mind automatically processes the information given to him by them, in this case Sakura's potential blind spots...
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Sakura moves but not quite quick enough. He glances the side of her knee and her balance buckles for about half the span it takes to draw a sharp breath. Not pained, exactly, because she's experienced far worse. But she knows she loses that hair of time and a voice swears in her head. Inner Sakura is largely dormant these days, but not when she fights. Sakura's stance is sure on her other foot so she doesn't fall, simply picks up the leg he'd hit after that momentary unstableness and aims it at the clone's side.
As her body twists to follow through with full force she allows her head to carry through with the motion, taking another opportunity to assess her surroundings. If she hadn't she would have missed the second clone--
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His eyes flicker up to her face, on her expression for half a heartbeat, but it hasn't wavered from what it was and she's already recovered he can tell as a second clone joins the first.
Gonna have to pick up the pace, Sakura-chan.
He trusts her to do this. She has to do this because he's not pausing and neither are the clones. Still low to the ground he watches her even as he flips and sweeps his other leg back in, hoping that the clones are enough of a distraction that he can trip her up this time but she's moving. It's like a dance, he sees her shoulders shift, that little tell that's enough for him but not for the clone that tries to blindside her-
He whirls to his feet, following through with the motion by aiming another fist to her side and using his momentum to give the punch power and speed. And he'll follow that one up with another if given the chance. There's a quiet maelstrom licking the inside of his skin now, it's been there for a while and he doesn't know what it is that surged in him at the slight give to Sakura's balance but he felt it whatever it was. It could have been something like satisfaction. It coiled even as it prowled and there was a moment where he had the chance to think - almost- his grin inching wider. She didn't fall though and he doesn't think she'll fall now.
But she will have to work hard to stay on her feet.
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Getting hit at all is a signal of how tired she's become. There are battles where one touch means life or death and the medic has to survive to take care of the team, so she'd been taught how to dodge. That was a lesson drilled into her from day one of her apprenticeship.
She's slacking.
It can't quite be called anger, what she's feeling directed at herself. It's not quite that blunt an emotion. It's something razor-fine and hard, just enough to sharpen her resolve to do better, be better, to not fall behind. Something that adds a vicious force to the punch she throws at one clone, the elbow through another trying to sneak up on her. Not this time, she thinks, a bit smugly.
She's at a disadvantage here and she knows it. She doesn't have Naruto's endurance, will tire out long before he does. If she wants to win this fight--and oh, does she want to win this fight--she has to end it quickly.
Either she has to pick up the pace and fight on his terms... or she has to change them.
She turns to face Naruto fully, meeting him head on. The trick with momentum, of course, is that as much as it can be used by someone, it can equally be used against them.
Sakura catches his fist with her hand. The force of it jars all the way up her arm--it hurts and it's going to be sore later--but she holds fast to it as she shifts her weight to the opposite foot, away from the side he'd aimed for. Her free hand shoots out to fist in his shirt and the unweighted foot goes for the back of his knee, trying to knock him off-balance enough to take him down.
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He grins anyway as she pulls, fiercely appreciative because that's what he wants, no holding back here and he loves that she can take what he gives and dish this out in return. He grins like a demon and just as she has his shirt, his free hand is flying out to grab at what it can, which in this case happens to be the waistline of her skirt. He curls his fingers and he holds and he lets her throw him down, swoops with her counterattack instead of against it, with a counter of his own-
Goin' down-
-as he flips himself back until the ground impacts his spine and pushes the air from his lungs in a grunt but he hasn't let go of Sakura and he doesn't intent to either. He might be down but that doesn't mean this is over just yet.
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When Naruto's back hits the ground, knocking the breath from him, her knees and one hand impact at the same time, bracing her over him. The one hand, the remaining one gripping his shirt, she doesn't release, because that's the one she's using to pin him to the ground. It's enforced with chakra. Not enough to threaten to crack his ribs, but enough for her to keep a shinobi half a foot taller than her down. Pure physics works against her, but ninja don't exactly have to fight fair.
He's not going anywhere.
A pause. A breather. Her heart's still pounding out blood and her lungs are tugging in air heavily. Fight is still running in her veins and there's a rush of vertigo at being motionless with it. Like her body hasn't caught up yet. It'll take a moment to calm down but she's already celebrating in her head.
"I win," she declares. And a grin curls at her lips to match his.
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It doesn't incense him when it comes from her. Not toward anger at least and blue eyes flash a shade darker. All he can feel is her hand holding him down, the solid strength behind it- she could break him in two he knows- and there's a moment where he thinks to buck up but that wouldn't work, she's not straddling him so it wouldn't unbalance her. He's still got his fingers hooked on her skirt. They curl momentarily as he thinks, or tries to think and she's too close, that's why he can't quite think and he knows why Sakura being this close ( sweaty and breathing hard, looking triumphant and just a little bit smug) makes it hard for him to think but that's. Really not fair.
She's not really playing fair. Even if she doesn't realise it.
I win-
Naruto's grin inches up. He slips his hands around, to her waist. His fingers spread beneath her shirt, across her skin and no, he rethinks his initial impression, she's not just warm, she's burning. Thumbs pressed to the flat of her abdomen he can feel the hard coil of muscle just under the softness of her skin and he's never felt that before but he doesn't pause can't- won't- pause because-
"You sure about that, Sakura-chan?"
-he's flipping them over.
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... She should probably be angry about that, actually. It's a cheap shot and she doesn't trust his motives to be entirely pure. But she isn't because if anyone else had tried it on her, she wouldn't have gotten distracted, she would have decked them. She has no qualms about hitting him, so she's not sure why--
Besides, it doesn't occur to her until he's already reversed their positions. He's over her and he's looking at her with too-dark eyes and she doesn't know why that makes her gut clench either. (Except, maybe, she does if she thinks about it, but now's not really the time for thinking.) Her eyes are wide as she takes in his face and the night sky beyond. It's winter but she forgets that because Naruto's warm body shields her from the cold, or maybe it's just that the way he's hovering makes her feel suddenly hot.
Damn. Damn. Now she's annoyed with herself. She thought she'd had the upper hand.
A light flush spreads across her cheeks. And she pushes up against him, but she isn't using anything other than her natural strength. "Let me up," she says. It's not as forceful as it could be.
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Does she know the poor light does nothing at all to hide the flush to her face and what is that anyway, why is she looking like that, where is the anger and the indignation because he can't find it.
Only he's not looking for it either. He's never come across that before, not on Sakura, not like this, not when they're like this. But he's not thinking about that. It could be said he's not thinking at all really, that sometimes thinking is just a little bit overrated.
One of his hands leaves her waist, she's pushing up against him and really that's not exactly the best thing to do right now Sakura, and warm fingers find her wrist, catch and hold as he pauses for a heartbeat. The other hand remains where it is, thumb brushing idly- unconsciously- over battle warmed skin.
"Then, I win," he breathes. He can't take his eyes off of the colour to her cheeks. He is riveted by that, leaning down, leaning in, closer, closer than is proper and it's things like this that will earn him that fist to the face he somehow escaped earlier and were he thinking he would realise that, but it should be noted, Naruto is not thinking and his voice is low and challenging and it matches the look in his eyes.
"Unless, you're not done?"
Provocation and invitation, all in one.
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This is too much. This is an overload, and her eyes slide closed for just a moment. There's nothing else that she can feel and smell--and he smells like sweat and the wind. Is he aware of what the pad of his thumb is doing? She shivers, and her whole body tenses against the urge to arch up, just a little, into that touch. To encourage his advances for once, and not to push him away.
This is unfamiliar and terrifying and thrilling, all at once.
Sakura scrambles blindly for the indignation that should be swelling up right now. She should really be hitting him right now. She should do that. He can't just... molest her to win a fight and he probably even expects to get decked and that's why he's challenging her, and she raises her hand--
--and slides it around the back of his head, fingers catching in blond hair and the cloth of his forehead protector. She neither tugs him away nor pulls him closer, but there's potential, isn't there?
"Never," she whispers, defiant, but she's honestly forgotten the question.
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He should be shocked at the fact that she hasn't hit him yet. He should be floored that she has cast aside the routine they have, is rewriting the script and that once again someone he knows is deviating from custom and expectations and habit and instead veering straight for the completely unexpected. But, he's not. He's not because it still hasn't occurred to him, because when she shivered he felt it under his thumb, just like the spark of something that followed it and whispered dothatagain. Avid and hungry and rapt. He's not because he is still blessedly free of thoughts that lean towards any potential consequences of just what he is doing and this is because her fingers. Are in his hair. And she's not pushing him away so he's leaning in, flexing his hold on her wrist as he urges it back to the ground, next to her head, dropping his eyes to her mouth as she moves it.
Never.
He reads the word, only half hears it past the blood rushing in his ears.
Never, she says. He does remember the question, he does, really. Flicks his gaze up to meet the vibrant green in those eyes and he can feel every inch of himself now, and some of her too, is aware of every sensual trickle of sweat and how some of her hair clings to her brow and how if he leans in a little more-
-just like he is doing, his mouth is just a hairsbreadth from hers, parted as he breathes and just breathes and feels her breathe too and he can almost taste her, swears for a moment that he does.
"You sure?"
-and then he really does. His mouth brushes hers as he whispers and it's a jolt of physical sensation, a shock that has him pause and still, teetering, holding back and only barely. But the words are still a challenge because he knows what he wants, here and now, even if it's not a conscious thing it's still in him, has been for years, just as he has wanted this for years but the question is, does Sakura know what she wants?
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His lips.
She's not thinking. How could she, when his lips are brushing just so against hers? A groan catches somewhere in her throat, not fully realized just as that kiss hadn't been.
Sakura isn't thinking but sometimes one doesn't need to in order to know what they want.
"I'm sure."
Her fingers curl in his hair, holding him exactly where he is as she leans up the tiny distance to press her mouth against his.
She wonders vaguely if this is conceeding victory or not, but she's pretty sure this is beyond winning and losing by now.
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-be sure be sure.
But he's not thinking. That one conscious steel laden appeal is blessedly absent. And in the next moment Naruto is pressing back and down with the quiet ferocity that is years of pent up want and in the moment after that he groans, a throaty vibration of sound against her mouth and he kisses Sakura with lips and teeth and tongue without thought for those consequences. In fact, those consequences can all shuffle off to hell, just this once because she closed that tiny gap and there are certain things that throw Naruto's world off kilter it turns out. Sakura and her mouth and doing exactly that are speeding towards the top of that list and the realisation is a little like being hit by a freight train and hot on its heels is possessive hunger and Naruto is barely almost vaguely aware that his fingers have curled around the jut of her hip and his other hand might be gripping her wrist just a tad too tightly but she has met him half-way in everything else so far so a part of him whispers she will do so with this too and-
-and another part whispers: so that's what you taste like.
But it's not enough, of course it's not enough only he never thought, never expected this, hoped, yes, but becoming Hokage seemed a more attainable dream than this and this-
This is him dropping a little more to the ground so he can feel her breathe because he wants to and this is him trying to slow down for just a second because it's Sakura- and the slide of his mouth might be too rough and she might not want that and he doesn't even know if she wants this but his tongue is flicking along her lips all the same and were he thinking now he would be thinking-
Let me in.
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Funny what hides there, even from her. These are all belated realizations.
But want and love and desire are tangled things to her, and Sakura's as sure as she can possibly be. To be fair, it is pretty damn sure.
Between Naruto and the earth she's not sure how she has room to breathe, and his hands may squeeze just a little too tight, but she can't say she particularly minds. Quite the opposite: this is what she wants, and she's not going to break. She samples his passion and his enthusiasm in that groan and she can't ask for anything more than that, aside from more, and because her mouth is occupied with more important things than speaking she communicates this demand by tightening her hold in his hair and pulling him farther in. She's developing an appetite rather rapidly for his kisses and his touch.
Sakura takes her cues from him because he's certainly more experienced than her. He's teaching her, whether he realizes it or not, and she's always been a very good student. His tongue feels good. His teeth--oh. She reciprocates by nipping at his lower lip herself, almost hesitantly, hoping that's all right, and opening her mouth to his. Gathering up her courage and meeting his tongue with hers.
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But it does and it's not just a kiss and he wants closer and more and her mouth is open and hot and the smooth glide of his tongue against hers is as reckless as it is hungry. It's encouragement, it's an invitation. Yes, it's all right, yes, it's far more than all right and he can taste her and he never thought he would- could, would be allowed to- and so he almost groans again but it comes out more like a growl instead. Then he is tilting his head, nose to her cheek, lips slanting against Sakura's, parted so that he can suckle on her tongue, drawing it into his mouth for an insistent moment and stifling the urge to make another sound before releasing and chasing her lips for more.
He releases her wrist but his hand doesn't move too far, just to her throat, palm against her pulse, forefinger slipping beneath her ear, thumb edging along the curve of her jawline. It's a tender contrast to the ardent demand of his mouth because he doesn't have to think to know that he wants or what he wants. It's her, just her. He wants her to leave her hesitation behind, he wants her to meet him, he wants her to push him here as well as she does elsewhere, he wants to drag every possible response from her with hands and mouth, and he wants to shove down every wall until that low banked flame is fanned to a blaze.
And he wants and he wants-
And he tugs at her lower lip in a nip, mirroring her earlier gesture only perhaps not a gentle, perhaps half-a-tease, perhaps another challenge except for the fact that he soothes it an instant later with tongue and mouth, capturing it for a moment between his lips, releasing, exhaling against her mouth just once-
But he still wants.
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