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Pretty Little Killing Machine	By : forgetmenow Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 2414 -:- 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-Ch1
- 2-Ch 2
- 3-Ch3
- 4-Ch4
- 5-Ch 5
- 4
- 5
Disclaimer: I don�t own Naruto, and honestly I would probably never have the creative capacity to think of something even close. Kudos to Masashi Kishimoto!

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Pretty Little Hate Machine
Chapter 5
[Draft 11-25-07]

Warning: IF SANDCEST OFFENDS YOU, DO NOT CONTINUE READING. Go read some yaoi or something. Read at your own risk.

I don�t understand why some haters out there continue when this theme totally freaks them out. It�s not like I don�t forewarn. Sheesh.

By: Forgetmenow

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Previous chapter:
The last time he truly got a good look at her was during the battle in Konoha. How could the person he knew his whole existence change from one person to another in an instant. From a nobody to a somebody. However, he knew it truly hadn�t been an instant. He didn�t know how long he�d been unconscious. Hours, days, weeks, but it wasn�t long enough. He could never get enough of the soundless oblivion called sleep which eluded him for so long.

�I�m tired, Temari.�

�I know you are.�

He sat leaning against the headboard, his back slouched as his arms hung almost lifelessly, immobile at his sides.

�Take off your shirt.� Temari softly ordered.

�Naze?�

New Chapter:

Without turning his head, Gaara�s eyes shifted to regard her. He sat up straighter and eyed her warily waiting for her response.

�I need to look at your shoulder.�

�Why do you need to?� He inquired again as he turned his head sideways. His voice was low and full of suspicion.

Temari shifted her weight from one foot to the other suddenly unsure of herself at she stood against Gaara�s scrutiny. She nervously fidgeted as if she�d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Why did conversations with Gaara always make her feel uncomfortable? Perhaps she shouldn�t have been so blunt. However, Gaara had already admitted he was tired. Surely it would exhaust him even more by dragging out the conversation, which would further lead him to become irritable and unpredictable. Gaara hated when people beat around the bush. Fluffing and babbling s in a conversation sounded like rusty nails on a chalkboard. She had to be straight forward and forthright. �Um, well, you can bleed just like I can. And that gash on your shoulder, had needed some mending�Now, I need to make sure it�s alright�if your wound is healing okay.� She did her best not to stutter, pleading with her eyes, while trying to prevent the shaking in her voice. To her relief, Gaara seemed to relax as her words were absorbed. The rigidness in his posture melted. As he contemplated her reply, his face lost some of the cold, stoic features almost reverting back to the sleeping expression she rarely saw.

Gaara abruptly broke eye contact, shifting his attention to the window, breaking the enthralling connection the two of them seem to be making. If he averted his gaze, perhaps he could prevent himself from becoming lost in her eyes, stopping himself from uncharacteristically yielding to her will.

He took a slow and heavy breath before speaking. Watching her made him feels things, things he�s never felt before. Things he shouldn�t feel. He found it unusual that these feelings suddenly surfaced so suddenly. They made him think things that were unfathomable before. His mind linked images with sensations. He remembered her warm body as she had snuggled against him and her warm, even breath as it tickled skin. He craved that peaceful calm he had woken up to earlier as her thighs were entwined with his and her pliant breasts were crushed against his body. It made the blood rush in his veins, causing an uncomfortable tightness in his groin and raising his temperature at an unstable rate.

�There�s no more blood. I can tell. My shirt doesn�t stick to my skin and I don�t smell it anymore.� Gaara�s sense of smell was quite sensitive to detecting the metallic odor.

He was indirectly refusing her offer. Temari could get the hint. At least he didn�t flat out say no. That gave her some hope. �Just because your shoulder isn�t bleeding a river like before, that doesn�t mean you�re okay.�

During the three day trek back from Konoha, the two older sand siblings had saw to the healing of the wound as well as replacing the blood encrusted shirt Gaara had worn. Gaara had fallen in and out of conscious the first day, mumbling the ramblings of a sociopath in his unconsciousness. That night while on guard, Temari kindled their dying campfire a stick, Gaara groggily mumbled for Okaa-san and restlessly shifted in his sleep. She had leaned down close to his ear and hushed away the nightmares with her gentle whispers. Her voice had been so soft, practically inaudible against the crackling of the fire and Kankurou�s snoring.

When Gaara�s eyes managed to stay open for brief periods the next day, he was silent, observing the passing landscape as he slumped over Kankurou�s back. Finally, he had remained unconscious and docile until the trio had finally arrived at their remote training ground and safe house along the border of Konoha and Suna.

�I want you to be safe.� Temari said sternly yet imploringly.

Gaara seemed to weigh her words warily, turning his head once more to observe her. He had thought if he looked away the urge to satisfy and bend to her requests would be weaker. Finally, he pulled his shirt over his head and returned to staring out at the night sky, leaving his torso and back bare, however not even bothering to completely take off his shirt.

He didn�t even completely remove his arms from the clothing. His limbs were still slightly entangled in the fishnet sleeves. The material was all bunched up around his forearms. His wrists were hidden in the folds of the shirt as he rested them in his lap. His fingers, semi-curled, peeked out from beneath the crumpled fabric.

He had little reason to distrust her. But, it made him uncomfortable that he himself did not know why he was so willing to submit to her whims. Temari looked sincere enough and everything she has ever done has been for the benefit of her brothers.

His skin was pale. His red hair, which looked almost like a mix of black and burgundy in the poorly lighted room, was even more disheveled and askew. The scarred tissue stared back at her, slightly risen above the rest of his skin. It was like a star, the deepest area of penetration being the center, while jagged tendrils and branchings stemmed from it. The Biju would�ve healed the wound without leaving scab or scar, but Gaara had met his chakra limit. His body couldn�t heal as efficiently, so Temari had to step in by administering first aid and ointment. The scar was already evidence of accelerated healing. It was darker in coloration compared to the rest of his body, however it would eventually fade over time and with proper care.

Gaara�s eyes locked Temari in a gaze that made her feel awkwardly vulnerable.

�Do what you want,� he said.

At that moment it suddenly occurred to her like a bolt of lightning that she was a female requesting a young man to half undress. Even though it was Gaara, her face still turned a shade of pink that Gaara had never seen on Temari.

To Be Continued�

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OMG, finally Shippuden�s finished airing the Gaara rescue arc. I lost my impetus for awhile since the manga and tv series have been Gaara deficient. Plus there haven�t been many new Temari & Gaara sandcest fics out there. So I�ve shifted to other pairings and series. There is more to this story, but it�s hard to organize the ideas and make it worthwhile to read.
Thanks for reading and every little comment is a big encouragement. ^_^
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Pretty Little Killing Machine