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
- 15
- 16
Hatsu
Chapter Sixteen
　
“You’re in trouble.”
Suzaki glanced up, having been in the midst of preparing dinner. All of the ingredients were out, the meat sliced, the pots on their burners. All that remained was to light the fires and start grilling.
Then Gaara had returned (later than she’d expected) and without so much as a “tadaima” as greeting, came over to talk with her.
“Okaeri nasai,” she replied with irritation.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded, clearly unhappy. He ignored her comment.
She tisked. “I figured if I was going to be a topic, I might as well be there to defend myself.”
“I told you Kankuro and I had it covered,” he reminded her.
“I recall Kankuro saying how you weren’t doing much good.”
“That doesn’t matter. We had it covered,” he repeated.
“Did I do any good?” she asked, switching the subjects.
“Don’t start with that,” he warned. “We’re talking about your interference.”
Of course he wouldn’t be sidetracked. She should have known. “Well, considering you didn’t start off with, ‘I’m fired,’ I’m going to assume they voted to keep you?”
His eyes narrowed with irritation. He didn’t often have visual tells like that, so she took the time to memorize it. He was resisting to answer, apparently. Which meant she was right and he didn’t want to admit it.
Conflict was just one aspect of a ninja’s life, she reasoned. “So it worked then,” she concluded.
“Suzaki,” he started with a warning tone, “I don’t want you ever disobeying me like that again.”
“Because I could’ve gotten in trouble?” she checked.
“Exactly.”
She turned to him, forgetting about the food for the time being. “Let’s pretend for a minute that I’m a kunoichi. And let’s pretend that you’re Kazekage.” That irritated look was back on his face. “Let’s go on to pretend like I tried to stand up for you and it failed. You got fired. What then?”
“I’m still a jounin,” he answered.
“So it wouldn’t really be a setback either way. Now let’s pretend I stood up for you and it kind of worked. You kept your job and I got in trouble. What then?”
“The council would have punished you somehow,” he explained. This thought disturbed him, it seemed, judging by the way his jaw clenched. His emotionless façade cracked under the possibility.
“They would have tried,” she argued. “Add in that I’m a chuunin and you’re a jounin. What are the chances of the council actually getting their hands on me, if we weren’t going to let them?”
The wheels were turning in his head as he replied, “Slim. They’re old— but they were all jounin once. Some still are.”
“Now, last one,” she went on. “Pretend it worked and the council stood down. Nobody’s in trouble and everything’s settled. What now?” She made sure to say now instead of then.
He glanced over at the pots. “Now you finish with dinner. And then we go to bed.” Her skin tingled in anticipation at the thought. “But I still want your promise that you won’t be that reckless again.”
It seemed this was more important to him than going to bed. She considered it, then shook her head. “I can’t promise that. There’s too much that could happen in the future— reckless decisions just might have to be made. But I can give you this: I’ll do my best to avoid doing anything reckless.” He looked unconvinced. “For instance, I won’t go barging into council meetings again unless the village is under attack.”
“Or something equally important,” he finished for her. “Just keep yourself out of trouble.”
She sauntered closer to him, lifting her arms around his neck. “Darling, I’ve never been a troublesome type of kunoichi. You have my word on that one.”
As if he couldn’t resist, he leaned in to kiss her. Once begun, however, the moment refused to abate. It seemed his desire for her was still as strong as the previous day’s. In fact, the only thing capable of stopping them now was for an attack to launch—
Or, she noted, for burning oil to snag her on the waist. She hissed out a breath, stepping away from the pot. “Ouch,” she grumbled.
“What happened?” Gaara demanded, concern overshadowing all else as he moved with her.
She sighed. “Nothing, really, just me forgetting that I had oil sizzling.” She ran her thumb over the spot, testing it, and nodded to herself when the tiniest drop was found. It wouldn’t scar, which had been a worry for her; if a wound was capable of scarring, then it was bad enough to demand attention. This one wasn’t.
He eyes went over the pots and ingredients. “Stir-fry?” he checked.
She nodded. “Teriyaki,” she added.
When he looked at her next, almost exasperated, she arched a brow, shameless. Yeah, so, all of her favorite foods involved rice, chicken and sometimes mixed vegetables; so what? She sent him the message with a look and he sighed in response.
“Go sit down,” she urged, giving him a little push. “Relax. And after dinner,” she said with a blossoming grin, “I’ll give you a massage.”
Oh, he liked that idea, she saw, his green eyes heating. Still, he stepped away, out of the kitchen and around the counter to plop down on the couch. As per his usual, he crossed his ankles on the table before him. And then routine was taking over, she noted. They never talked a lot unless something seriously important was going on, but they talked all the same.
He liked to know things, like to what extent she loved him. She liked to come up with analogies and tell him. Obsessed? Oh, yes, they were obsessed. It wasn’t just that she loved him and thoughts of him plagued her. It wasn’t just that his eyes always sought her out whenever she was near, that he craved her touch and her presence. They were well beyond that by now.
They were obsessed.
And, she admitted with a wave of despair, that was getting dangerous. He almost lost his job because of his obsession with her, and by extension, Sunagakure had nearly lost their best Kazekage since the first. And that wasn’t her fixation speaking, it was the cold, hard truth. At the very least, he was better than his father had ever been. She hadn’t been exaggerating in the council chambers earlier when she said the ninja respected him, when she promised retribution if he was forced out.
Sure, she’d also said— well, implied— that she wouldn’t be one to mete out that retribution, but she totally would. That old man would be her target for sure. Even if the entire council had once been jounin, they couldn’t guard against an entire city of ninja all at once. Whether they knew it or not, their Kazekage had a willing army at his beck and call. If he declared civil war, a war he would have.
Suzaki wouldn’t even be ashamed to participate in that.
Once dinner was done, she made up two plates and served them. They talked— sort of— as they ate, and mentioned the revelations she’d had as she cooked. Disbelief and surprise were written across his face as she informed him that he had an entire army at his disposal. The talk continued on, and he began. . .carefully. . .asking questions, like what would she do if she had that kind of power and so on.
“I’d make it so my authority would never be called into question again,” was her answer, voice hard and words determined.
He mulled that over, catching on to her implication. He remained silent then, lost in thought, so she went ahead and talked about whatever she liked. Whatever came to mind. She found herself musing over her mother, wondering if the archaic old woman finally got it through her head that Suzaki wasn’t her little dress-up doll.
Gaara surprised her by cutting in, “Of course. You’re my dress-up doll.”
A joke. From him. She burst out laughing. Clearly pleased with the results, he focused on his food again, and soon both dishes were picked clean. When he stood up with his plate, she took it from him. “Go shower off today’s stress,” she directed, “and then I’ll put you to sleep.”
The way he looked at her was devastating. An almost furious kind of hunger was banked in his eyes, though his expression was schooled to look blank as always. He’d picked up on her meaning, then. Good. She urged him down the hall, and though reluctant, he went.
Thanks to the nights they spent impassioned with one another, she’d learned a few things. Case in point: she could put him to sleep with a massage. He was almost always tired, she knew, but thanks to his past as an insomniac, he still couldn’t sleep regularly. His body just kept on going, his mind alert and sharp, sometimes for weeks at a time. She was trying to help with that.
And, she suspected, she was the only one he was willing to sleep near. And he liked it. She didn’t have to analyze him for that one; the words were as clear as though he’d spoken them. He liked to sleep with her, tangled around her (or she around him; he wasn’t picky). After today, she knew he’d be craving oblivion but remain incapable of reaching it on his own.
As he showered, she cleaned off the dishes and pots, having made just enough food to feed them both but not leave any remaining, then she headed for the bedroom. He was already there, lounging on the bed, totally nude with his hair still wet. His eyes, she noted, were on his pictures, scanning between them.
She’d never asked about them, and she wouldn’t. He would volunteer the information or she would never know. She respected him too much otherwise.
“Relaxed?” she asked as she began to strip. His eyes were on her a second later.
“Yes,” he answered, his mind clearly on other things.
Once she was naked, too, and her hair pulled free, she crawled over him, straddling his thighs. His eyes looked her over, pleased as ever to see her despite the fact that he knew every inch of her by now. That green gaze snagged on her tattoo and heated further.
Oh, yes, he loved that tattoo. He loved to give it as much attention as she could survive having— and then just a little bit more. When his thumb went over the kanji, she knew tonight would be one of those nights: when he just had to focus on it. And it was strange, just how much she loved that. He’d brought her to orgasm a dozen different ways (she was working on evening the numbers, herself), had used his mouth and hands on her womanhood and his mouth on her tattoo.
To her complete surprise, she loved the sensations his mouth on her tattoo gave more than the sensations his mouth on her core did. Heat and moisture pooled there just at the thought of having those lips and tongue on her thigh again.
When he sat up and pushed her down, she offered no resistance. Sure, she’d promised him a massage, but she was selfish— or was it selfless? Yeah, that was the one, she agreed with herself. He was giving her breasts only moderate attention, clearly impatient to be elsewhere. He needed and she was giving; she was such a generous lover, letting him have what he wanted of her.
The orgasm was just the icing on the cake.
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Note: Whoo, been a while, hasn't it? My apologies. But I'm trying to finish the stories I started and kind of left behind now. Expect more from these two!
- 15
- 16
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Hatsu