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 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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He doesn't seem to be complaining though. That may be bias on his part but in this split-second where clear thought managed to right itself, she decides she doesn't care. If he's not going to resist--if, in fact, he seems to be nothing than encouraging--then she's going to do what she wants, which is to run her tongue against the underside of his lips before she goes deeper, past his teeth to the roof of his mouth. And when she's done exploring there, she's going to retreat so she can bite at him, but harder, this time. And she's going to trace her idle fingers down and back up his spine. And if he wants her to arch up flush to him, well, she has no objection to that. The ground, though warmed by her body a little, is cold. He is anything but.
So this is what Sakura does.
To her, this is absent experimentation without particular direction. And oh, does it feel nice. Unconsciously, she feeds him a sigh of appreciation.
She suddenly remembers, because her brain's been a bit fuzzled for a while--she's still wearing her gloves. This presents her with a conundrum: she doesn't want to let go of him, but at the same time, she wants to touch him. It takes her a little longer than it should to make a decision--it was hard when he was doing that with his tongue--but in the end her hands leave him just long enough for her to pull them off blindly behind his head and toss them to the side before they return, and she's feeling the texture of his sun-colored hair.
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He would ask for more but his mind (what's left of it at least) is focused on other things, things like leaning the exact texture of her lips and maybe hopefully coaxing her to do a little more exploring with her tongue. He liked that. Just like he likes the bite that makes him pause for a split second or the way her hands have a slight tendency to wander. Right now they are in his hair but her earlier motions do offer him some inspiration and because she seems to have arching down to a fine art already - at least he thinks so- he abandons the small of her back, spreading his fingers along her thigh instead, curling until he grips, holds and drags it up, bare inches as he presses down against her mouth. His world is still off kilter because this is still Sakura. The concept hits him again- this is Sakura- and for the first time in a long time, Naruto forgets to breathe-and-kiss which really is about as basic as it gets, so he has to pause, pull back- just a millimetre, or two- to pant against her lips, and blue eyes sliver open as he swallows just once. Not for the first time his fingers flex their grip. Desire demands he hike her leg up around his hips, desire demands he press back down and rock against her and the one thing Naruto is woefully bad at battling is his own desire (practise, these things take practise and in this he has very little) but he does.
Because this is Sakura and even though he drops in to kiss her mouth again in a slower tempo, after it, all he does is rest his brow against hers, for just a moment and he thinks-
Breathe.
For himself as much as for her, he has to pause. But even as he pauses, eyes dark and fixed on her, all he can think is that right now there is Sakura and Sakura's mouth and her tongue and her teeth and that anything not directly connected to these points can just go straight to hell and he is fighting not to close the distance all over again. Fighting another groan with it.
Not-
Fair.
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Even as she thinks this, though, she finds herself diverted as she looks at him--and she really looks at him, like she's never quite known his face before. A shift in perspective and suddenly he is comfortingly familiar and a stranger all at the same time. Perhaps because she's realigning herself into a world where Uzumaki Naruto is attractive and not an annoyance, as he has been for years. And he is attractive, even in the dark. Or maybe the night amplifies it, makes his eyes that are heavy with want stand out from the rest of his features. Maybe it adds further sensuality to his lips that are swollen from her abuse. She smiles, the expression somewhere between innocent and vixen--there's too much of both for it to fall comfortably into one category. On impulse, one of her hands comes down to his face and her thumb traces the shape of them, the ridge of his cheekbone, the whisker-lines on the side of his face.
Sakura's other hand finds his, the one still at her neck, which despite being near such vunerable part of her she has never yet distrusted, she pulls gently from its place. Not too far, though. Just up enough that she can turn her face and kiss his rough palm chastly. And then look back to meet his eyes. This is an invitation.
Naruto can kiss her, or she can kiss him if he doesn't do it. Either works.
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That halts him too, almost completely in fact, his breath falters, stops, and so does his heart. Or rather it sort of skips a beat or two, tripping over itself as his eyes narrow, infinitesimally at the touch. It's been- howlonghasitbeen?- months since anyone has touched him like this. Months and he's not sure what to do with it at first and he has recollections of older touches but they don't belong here and her fingers are smaller, lighter, still as calloused as the ones he remembers but they're not those, they're hers and he closes his eyes, turns his face ever so slightly into the contact and tries to think, tries to stay here and it's somewhat easier behind closed eyes, easier to remain still and quiet and not leap straight into the list of Things He Wants to Do to Haruno Sakura.
Right now.
He would keep his eyes closed, plans to in fact (it's definitely safer that way) but then Sakura is doing other things. Things like... taking his hand and kissing his palm which is probably the most sensitive part of his hand and she should know that right? It doesn't much matter how chaste her kiss is, Naruto's eyes sliver open at touch and the look in them is anything but chaste.
He turns his hand slowly in hers, realises he is breathing, mouth open and that the sound of him dragging that precious air in is a quiet rasp, so he closes it and watches his thumb trace the fullness of Sakura's lower lip, a careful curious drag that he can't help but repeat a moment later. He knows an invitation when he sees one. He knows he damn well isn't about to refuse an invitation like this and so on the second pass of his thumb over her mouth he lowers his own mouth to touch, to echo the contact, but slower this time. There is still heat to the languid glide of his lips. But it's more of a tease now as he withdraws ever so slightly, pressing in again too softly to really give Sakura what she might be asking for-
It's an invitation too. He wants her to follow him, so he retreats when he should be deepening the contact, he wants her to take and to be willing to, without hesitation.
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The first touch of his mouth is a relief; the second is an annoyance, once Sakura wises up to what he's doing. No, no, no. She doesn't want to be teased. She wants to be pressed back down again and kissed breathless and be made to feel like a woman, for once. (She's just seventeen but children grow up at an alarming rate in a ninja village.) A woman who can inspire passion like his. It's new and she's becoming hooked on it and Naruto is denying her, teasing her.
"Naruto," she complains.
Irritation bubbles up--a familiar thing, when dealing with him, and yet it's different. Normally the end result of her being irritated with him is yelling, or hitting. This... will probably result in something much more pleasant for him, for both of them, if she's going to be totally honest with herself. But that doesn't mean she's going to let him get away with this, or play into his hand. So Sakura takes his head in both her hands, holding him there, and leans up, but instead of his mouth she aims for his jaw, and bites him there. Hard. Not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to leave an impression when she pulls back and give him a look that says, now what will you do?
He better decide quickly because she has several things in mind.
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And then she nips- no, it's a bite and she looks at him after it- and it's a push even if she doesn't know it and he moves.
He moves without prelude or warning or even a single sound. His hands to her wrists as he grips, holds, shoves them back and down, both to the ground, both next to her head with a speed and a strength that is almost entirely his own. It takes him less than a heartbeat to do this. It takes him less than a heartbeat to cover the small distance too with his mouth, first to hers. Half a kiss, half a bite, indeed there might be more teeth than tongue here, but there is no teasing. He kisses to make her feel it, he kisses to make those lips bruise so that even when he leaves them they'll tingle, burn.
Then he pulls away, but he doesn't go far because an eye for an eye and his teeth are at her jaw in a bite that echoes hers, but he doesn't stop there, slides an open mouth back, teeth grazing skin until he can nudge beneath, find her neck and once there he bites again - not as hard even if he wants to, even if there's a part of him that is just a little desperate to wring a real sound out of her. So he does drop his hips then, rolls them against Sakura's in a long sure languid movement. The reason why is obvious in the movement. Feel that? He pants against her skin, once, shudders, closes his eyes tight, makes himself stop, still, finds his way back to her mouth and there's a storm brewing in his gaze when he opens his eyes as he drops to kiss her again.
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She couldn't exactly regret goading him into this, though. In fact, her back can't help but curve up again, slightly, when he pins her wrists, the instinct to fight against that grip meeting the instinct to stay pressed up against his body in the motion. And her mouth does ache when his pulls away, and when he bites her it hurts and she thinks she might be twisted up somewhere because it's pleasureable because it hurts. Even when he rocks his hip against hers and she feels... that--and she does feel it--there is a spark of desire she cannot help, primal and not well understood but that wants him to drop down, do that again, keep doing that because it could feel so good, though she's not sure how she knows that...
But that sudden urge startles her, both in its intensity and in its newness. She knows where it leads and that's a road that's both foreign and, if she were to be honest, frightening.
Here, apparently, is the line.
Oh, she hates to do this, but: "Wait, Naruto," she manages to breathe out between kisses. She twists her wrists in his grip a little, a signal that he should let them go.
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But that's why he pulls back, poised still on this edge and it wouldn't take much for him to topple over and his eyes are still on her mouth, though after a second they blink, slowly and he refocuses on her expression, on her face and he has to remember to breathe again, has to consider closing his eyes again because again, it's a lot safer that way, it allows him the modicum of distance that really would be a very damn good thing to have right about now. His fingers curl, disappearing into the cold earth but he waits because she told him to wait. Indeed, he waits only because she told him to wait.
... or, he mostly waits.
He can't help but catch her lower lip between his teeth again, delicately. He can't help but close his own lips around it and suck, just once, before retreating enough to watch and whisper, unthinking, heated -
"The sounds you make..."
And they're not even sounds really. Just little gasps and murmurs of appreciation but the things they do to him. He had no idea. He could have guessed. He should have guessed, really.
He presses his brow against hers. She feels too warm but that's fine, because so does he. He closes his eyes, and still, he is itching to move again.
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