Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Hatsu	By : dragonslover1 Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 1420 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 11
- 12
- 13
Disclaimer: Naruto is the property of Masashi Kishimoto. I am not profiting from this fanfiction.

Hatsu

Chapter Twelve

There was a knock at the door. Gaara could hear it just fine, but chose to ignore it. He was warm and comfortable; everyone else could stuff it. And then he remembered his profession. Being Kazekage meant getting up to answer the door.

He groaned at the fact, rubbing his face with one hand. There was an answering sigh from behind his head. Surprised, he opened his eyes to the sight of a neck.

Suzaki?

Then he remembered the kink in his shoulder, her massage, how he�d fallen asleep -- and apparently, that she had, too. He was just starting to test his arm when the door opened without consent.

It was Kankuro in the doorway, who glanced down the hall before his eyes landed on the couch. Gaara stared back at him, silent. If Kankuro were at all surprised, he hid it well.

Then he said, �You were sleeping?� He glanced behind him, stepped inside and shut the door.

�Nn,� was Gaara�s reply. At least his shoulder pain was gone, though he found himself wishing he�d been asleep much longer. Preferably just like this, with Suzaki hugging him. It was too bad it didn�t last, the pleasant feeling coursing through him.

Suzaki fully woke at the sound of Kankuro�s voice, letting go of Gaara. She shifted, and he heard a few of her joints pop. He sat up, dropping his feet from the table.

�Was sleeping,� he answered at last.

�I was, too,� Suzaki added.

He considered getting up to make it easy for her, but at the back of his mind was the knowledge of her tattoo, of where it was. If her legs were on either side of him, then if he got up, Kankuro could see it. Maybe. The �maybe� was enough.

He stayed put. After a moment, she pushed herself up, using his back as leverage, managing to pull herself to the side without showing anything.

Kankuro jumped right into conversation. �You left in the middle of something,� he said to Gaara. �I don�t care, but the counsel contacted me to find you.�

�I told them I had an ache,� Gaara sent back. �I was just taking a while to make it go away.�

�That was two and a half hours ago,� Kankuro pointed out. �Is it gone now?�

He nodded, weary at the thought of going back to work. Those goddamn papers never ended. He realized now, glancing to his left, that Suzaki was sitting silently, just watching the two.

She gave him a �what can you do?� smile.

�C�mon,� Kankuro invited, �I�ll get you something to eat before sending you back to the wolves.�

�I�d rather eat here,� Gaara told him.

�Fast food is done in an instant,� Suzaki offered. �Do you have time to wait around for something to cook?�

�I thought you were on my side,� he shot back. �Besides, I have something I wanted to talk to you about.�

Kankuro lifted his hands in surrender, then pointed at him. �I�m taking a rain check on that lunch, whether you want it or not. Next time I invite you, you�re coming.�

Gaara didn�t often smile, but this was one of those times. He nodded at his elder brother with a warm smile. �Agreed.�

It was something he never directly stated, but he did like it when his siblings tried to pull rank on him. It tended to make him feel like a part of a real family, as opposed to what they really were -- three orphaned siblings who had each been going their own ways for the majority of their lives. What little bonds he had with his brother and sister were bonds he wanted to keep.

Kankuro left the two then, and as soon as the door shut, Gaara swung his gaze on Suzaki. She didn�t see him right away, stretching her arms above her head. He was expecting to feel desire at the sight, but not quite so strongly -- the view of her with a pleased expression, arms up, was ravishing in its own way. For the moment, he let his eyes trail down her breasts, to her waist and then the visible sliver of thighs.

He looked away. This was distracting him, and gods knew he was going to need to focus. The questions he wanted to ask her required courage, a lot of it. He wasn�t going to get it by staring at her curves.

She got to her feet. �Have anything in mind?� she asked.

�Leftovers are quick,� he suggested.

�I�ll go dig.� She headed for the kitchen.

It gave him a moment to himself. He stood up to stretch, hearing a few pops himself -- but luckily, no aches. That was good. Pain, after all, was a huge distraction for him. But not, he thought, as strong as Suzaki. He glanced at her through the cupboards and counter. However she�d done it, she had managed to ease his shoulder pain more with just being there, absorbing his focus, than she had with the massage.

That�s why he�d been hell-bent on not letting her touch him at all, and then on just keeping as much distance as possible. He�d nearly given up the struggle with himself the moment she had him lean back on her. Sure, it had been comforting to be held like that. . .

But he could smell her the entire time. Clean skin, clean hair, some kind of fragrance he was sure came from a bottle -- it had been a torture of sorts. Smelling her, tensing his muscles to fight off desire, then remembering he needed to relax, doing so, feeling desire, then a pain from his shoulder getting everything back under control. The smartest course of action was in talking with her, even if it did get him thinking about her breasts.

Then again, how could he not think about it with them against his back?

He was getting distracted again, wondering how they would look unbound and free to be stared at.

Now he wanted to slap himself, hard. He was glad Suzaki chose then to start naming off possible choices from the fridge. . .even if he did miss the first few options.

He just chose what she offered last, not caring much. Now that he had a bit of focus back, he started trying to phrase the questions he would ask. What would be gentle? What would be smart? Both questions were aligned with Suzaki in particular; with what he knew about her.

For instance, he knew she loved him. Even if she were skittish, it was still obvious. The way she looked at him, how she listened to him, the words she chose when she spoke to him, everything. He figured he could play on that -- because he knew she wanted to solve all his problems.

It was an instantaneous discovery, something he hadn�t thought of before, but it was true. She went out of her way to make things easy for him, bringing him food, offering to cook for him, keeping things tidy (he had never organized his videos before, yet he looked them over this morning and they were in order). She was practically a housewife already.

What if he phrased things in a certain way, to make her want to help him understand? Could he manipulate her into not being embarrassed? Would it count as manipulating, if all he was doing is phrasing things a particular way? To make her see it as something he needed to learn, as opposed to something he just wanted to know?

He snapped out of it with her taking a seat, setting down a plate for him and a bowl of rice for her. He eyed up and down her side, still surprised at how different she looked, just missing a few items from her normal ensemble.

She caught him looking, giving him a shove. �Quit staring,� she told him. There was a light blush starting on her cheeks and nose.

His lip quirked, finding he was amused. �You should be flattered,� he shot back.

She gave him a look that was nearly scalding. �Flattered because why?�

�The man you love appreciates the way you look,� he said. �Most girls are flattered.�

Her jaw worked, the blush darkening. And then she said, �Wait. In that example, how come you�re a man and I�m a girl?�

He was caught on that one. �Bad phrasing on my part?�

She rolled her eyes. With that blush, however, the move didn�t have its intended effect. If anything, she looked cute. �Eat your food,� she told him without looking.

His mind seemed to spark to life. Was this his chance, to jump into the subject of love? He faced his food, thought it over, twisted the chopsticks in his hand. How should he start?

He tried, �Then, you�re not flattered?�

She looked like she had to bite back a groan, staring into her bowl of rice. �I�ve never appreciated being ogled.�

�Not even by me?�

She seemed unwilling to answer. After a moment�s hesitation, she said, �I might appreciate it a lot more if you were in love with me.�

That wasn�t directly answering the question, but it did let him continue down the subject. �That�ll be a little on the difficult side, for me.�

She glanced up, curious. �You mean you�ve never been in love?�

That was it, the exact chance he was looking for. �I don�t think so. I don�t know what it feels like.�

She looked surprised. �It never occurred to me that it might be hard to understand.�

He shrugged, hiding how much this conversation meant to him. �Describe it,� he suggested.

Her face flamed in the frame of a few seconds. She looked away, sharply. �Now that would be hard.�

�Why? I always figured it was a clear feeling.�

�That�s just it; it�s not.� She sat back, glanced around the room as she thought. �It�s. . .�

�. . .Hard to describe?� he finished for her. At her nod, he frowned. �Would you try?�

She sat back again, after setting her bowl on the table. She was quiet for a while, her blush steadily darkening. At last, when he had nearly lost patience, she said, �It�s not a feeling, it�s a culmination of feelings. Wants and desires -- but about the other person.� She paused, worked her jaw. �He�s. . .always there in your mind, whether you want him there or not. A distraction in the worst of times, a relief in the best. Everything you do, you want to do for him. It�s like you don�t matter in your own mind anymore; it�s all him. You want him to have whatever he wants, regardless of what it would cost you.�

He noticed, as he watched her, that she was staring straight forward. Not to avoid his gaze, but because she seemed to be reminiscing, her eyes far away. She was seeing something that spurred those words on, or something conjured by them.

And what she�d said -- it held him still, silent. He couldn�t have made himself interrupt her, no matter how he might�ve tried. As he kept silent, she went on.

�You want him to be happy -- you want to make him happy,� she was saying. �You want erase all his worries, all his troubles, all his doubts. You want to make him invincible, and if you can�t do that, you�d settle for making him feel invincible. You�d give up the rest of your life just to achieve any one of those wants, even for half a second. You want to fix him when he�s hurt, protect him when he needs it, cure him when he�s sick. You would walk through fire for him, endure weeks of torture, starvation, thirst, anything. You�d give him children just as easily as you�d agree to lifelong celibacy.�

He realized he was holding his breath then, when she paused. He swallowed. His heart felt funny, in a way he couldn�t describe, like dozens of bugs were crawling around inside it. Not unpleasant, just curious. A swelling, a flowing, a sideways thump; it was doing things it�d never done before, of that he was sure.

He hadn�t been expecting this, for her to go so far into detail. He wasn�t just learning about her perceptions of love, he was learning about her wants. Things she wanted -- all for him.

Just now, she shut her eyes, her face pained. He was on the verge of asking about it when she said, voice trembling, �And you�d do any of those things, even if there was no chance he�d ever love you. Even if tore you apart to do it. But you�re hoping --� she sucked in a breath �-- that he won�t ever learn that.�

He was frozen in place now, staring. That odd feeling in his heart had intensified, spread across his body, leaving different urges for each individual part of himself. His left hand was gripping the sofa, tightly. His right hand hovered in midair, unmoving. Both his legs wanted to move, though not to the same places. His ears felt warm, as though he were blushing, too. His stomach quivered, hollow. And his eyes. . .tingled? Felt full?

�Suzaki --� he choked out, surprised to find his mouth and throat were working well enough together to form a single word.

She glanced at him, and in that moment, he realized how much she must be hurting. Her eyes showed him that, the lingering pain. He hadn�t thought, for a second, that he was putting her in so much turmoil, but there it was. Despair. If nothing else, she looked. . .afraid.

Afraid of what? Loving him? Of what she�d just admitted? Of him taking advantage of that?

She got to her feet, turning her back to him.

The word, �Stop!� was out of his mouth before he�d had a thought to say it. And then impulse started taking over. He chased after her when she headed down the hall, realizing now that this must be the reason why she�d run from him all those times before: because it hurt. He caught her arm, though she tried to evade him.

He pressed her against the wall, hesitated a moment at her tormented expression, then kissed her. The compulsion to do it was foreign, as though ordered from outside his body. Or maybe he was just letting his feelings run rampant, without any need to control them. Maybe -- or maybe her eyes had been begging him to do it, the kind of beg you could never refuse. Maybe she was controlling him.

He had thought, earlier, that he�d had to manipulate her to get her to talk to him. But perhaps, in talking to him, she had turned the tables on him without him ever realizing it.

Resistance was out the window. He kissed her deeply, tongue taking a slow tour of her mouth. At her moan, he went a step further, winding his arms around her. Then her hands were in his hair, holding on. She tilted her head in time with him, each angle they met at only growing sweeter from the previous. She wasn�t pushing him away, wasn�t fighting him. She seemed to need this as much as he did.

His breath caught in his throat when that thought surfaced. He needed this? Needed her?

What stupid questions those were. He�d been needing her for a long time -- perhaps not Suzaki herself, but definitely what she gave him -- and now that he had her, he wasn�t going to let go. He couldn�t. Not if he wanted to keep his sanity.

His hands started moving on their own, not a thought spared to direct them. Over her arms, down her sides, around her thighs, up her stomach, across her breasts. She gasped at that contact, but he swallowed her protests before they could escape. Instead, she kissed him harder, started her own sweet torture on his body, starting with his neck. About the time her hands met with his stomach, he was being driven with urges he could no longer fight.

He dropped his mouth from hers, angled a trail of kisses down her neck, across her shoulder. She gasped softly. Then his mouth met with the crease of her breasts and her gasp was much louder. He kissed once, twice, three times, and then let himself swath his tongue over her skin. A forceful moan was his reward.

This was spiraling out of control, fast and hard. Despite knowing that, he couldn�t conjure up a reason to restrain himself, let alone to stop. He toured her breasts for another moment before coming to a decision that he wanted more.

Well, perhaps it was his body and not his mind that made the choice. . .

He fell further to a squat, mouth now on level with her stomach. Flat, lightly indented muscles were here, fit but nowhere near toned. Sexy, like a dancer�s. He let hands and mouth follow the lines he found there, taking extra time at her navel. And as he did so, she never stopped making noise, moans and gasps and strangled whimpers. But never once did she ask him to stop.

And then he lowered himself still further, kissed her tattoo. It seemed to shock her back to reality.

�Don�t!� Her voice sounded panicked.

It stunned him. All those times before, when she would ask him to stop, there was a plea to her voice. It was always a half-beg; he guessed she didn�t have the self control to stop herself. But this was different. That one word was filled with fear.

And it hit him that she didn�t want him to know about the tattoo. He wasn�t on a path to her core, so it couldn�t have been that kind of fear. Nonetheless, the fact that she was scared held him still.

. . .Briefly.
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Hatsu