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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto in any way, shape or form.
Hatsu
Chapter Five
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Suzaki wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but it all felt so nice that it took a lot of effort to care. One minute she was sitting next to Gaara and watching a movie, and the next they were kissing and touching -- and she wasn’t trying to stop him. A part of her wanted to speak up and prevent. . .whatever was going to happen from happening, but the rest of her was doing a very good job of shutting up that tiny part.
His kisses were just as amazing as she remembered. The difference now is that there was an urgency in them, each press of his succulent lips feverish and doing wonders in making her swoon. She even accepted his hands trailing up her sides, down to her hips, around her back; wherever he wanted to touch her, she let him. When his mouth moved to kiss along her neck, she could hardly moan, it felt so good.
Halfway through the movie, the buzzer from the dryer sounded and they paused the movie to deal with it. After he took his clothes out and tossed them in his room, she’d put hers in and started it. Now she heard that buzzer again, the noise telling her that her clothes were dry. It also brought her mind back.
The voice from before rose up again, reminding her of her vow that she wouldn’t give in to this, much as she wanted to. She wanted to think that it didn’t matter if he loved her or not, that one night was worth it, but she couldn’t make herself believe it. With a huge amount of regret and more than a little willpower -- certainly more than she knew she had -- she managed to make herself pull away. With how things were going, she wasn’t surprised when he protested, both following her motions and drawing her back to him.
Since his mouth hadn’t yet left her neck, she lifted her hand to bar his kisses. “No -- stop this,” she said, not quite believing that breathless whimper was her own.
“Stop,” she heard him echo, though not as a question. She felt his hand touch the side of her neck, find her pulse. “When you’re enjoying this so much?”
His breath on her skin made her shiver. “Please. . .I don’t want to. . .” She wasn’t sure how to finish that. Until now, she hadn’t given much thought to what might happen ten minutes later.
All at once his hands were somewhere else, not touching her, though his mouth was still against her neck. “You’re. . .” he started, roughly. “Suzaki, do you understand how attractive you are to me?”
She shivered again, and though she knew otherwise, she blamed it on his breath. “Don’t think I’m not attracted to you, too,” she tried.
He looked up then, mild surprise in his eyes. “Then why are we bothering to resist?”
She knew very well that her expression was his answer. “. . .Because I won’t lay with anyone who doesn’t love me,” she told him, very softly. Her heart was beating harder now than before, with him leaning towards her like he was, sharing her air. He felt more imposing now than he ever looked before, his arms braced on the couch on either side of her. He was barring her in, whether he realized it or not.
He was frustrated, she could tell. But she didn’t know exactly why. She could say to herself, “He’s just trying to seduce you; he’ll throw you away by the next morning,” and that would fit if he was frustrated with her -- the problem is she didn’t know for sure. For all she knew, he just remembered that he’d forgotten to throw his socks in the dryer with the rest of his laundry.
Moments later, he drew back from her at last, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Now she was aggravated with herself, both for letting that little episode happen and not letting it continue. Right now he was staring intently at the table, apparently trying to get a grip on himself. Not knowing what else to do, she looked at the table too, and saw the plates and glasses they’d left there, forgotten. Standing up, she picked up hers and took them into the kitchen.
From the sounds of it, she gave him an idea of what to do, as she heard him get up and pick up his own dishes. She washed hers quickly, deciding that her room was the safest place at the moment, dropping the dishes in designated places in the dishwasher before stepping back. Though she’d hoped he would focus on his plate instead of her, he didn’t.
He caught her wrist in a grip that was neither hard nor gentle, keeping her standing within arm’s length. Looking back, she saw he was gazing at her, as well. And he said, “Do I scare you?”
She felt a jolt at the question. It had been a long time since she’d feared him, despite her parents trying so hard to make her believe he was some kind of monster. “No,” she answered truthfully.
“Then why do you keep running away?”
That surprised her. “I don’t run away,” she told him.
“You don’t,” he replied, though it wasn’t a question. He turned more towards her, not releasing her grip but not moving any closer either. “This is the third time you’ve run from me.”
She shook her head, not understanding what he meant. Okay, so yesterday, in his office, she’d bolted rather quickly. But that was once, not three.
“Earlier,” he explained, “when I had you stop the rain. Not only did you run, you jumped off the tower.”
Two. “That’s just twice,” she tried, still unwilling to believe that she was “running” from him.
“Yesterday, after I kissed you.”
“That was the first,” she argued.
“And now,” he finished. “Three.”
She stood still, surprised. When she grabbed her plate and left to wash it off, that counted as the third one? More amazing was that he was counting them at all. “I didn’t. . .think of it like that,” she replied uneasily.
“So why do you run?” he repeated.
She had to think about that, but she wasn’t coming up with an answer. At length she said, “I don’t know.”
He looked like he was judging her somehow. After a moment, however, he let her go. Turning back to the sink, he said, “You should go to bed.”
She didn’t wait around to see if he had anything else to say. She stopped off long enough to take her clothes from the dryer, and then she was laying down for bed -- the door both shut and locked, though she wasn’t sure why she bothered. Not only did he likely have a key to every door in his own home, he was also a ninja who could easily get around a door if he needed to.
Still, it made her feel a little safer, a little more in control of her surroundings. So she lay on her side, curled slightly under the blanket, with her back facing the door. Until now, she didn’t realize she was so tired. But of course she would be, logically, from all that hard chakra concentration earlier. She gave a yawn, shut her eyes, and was asleep before she could muster the thoughts to count sheep.
Her dreams were as they were the night before: full of passion, desire, and Gaara. Given what she knew of passion and what he’d shown her to date, the dreams were exceptionally pleasant. At one point she was nearly overwhelmed, despite the fact that she was merely dreaming, to the extent that she almost believed what she was seeing and feeling was real.
When she awoke, she was shaking lightly. She tried to call it shivering and pulled the covers higher on her shoulder, only to push them off right after. She wasn’t cold, she was hot; and now she had nothing else to blame. She decided to get herself back under control before venturing out, just in case he was around. She didn’t imagine he was; Gaara was the Kazekage, with better things to do than hang around a young woman’s bedroom door for her to come out. Besides which, that was a scary thought.
And now she needed a distraction.
The dreams were still active in her mind, and no amount of shaking her head or shutting her eyes was blocking them out. She grabbed her hairbrush and took her hair down to untangle it. She frowned as she did so, noting the number of snarls she had to pull through, which undoubtedly meant she’d been tossing and turning a lot. Once finished, she put her hair back up. Now was the time, she decided, since she’d stopped shaking.
The dreams were in the process of fading, but she considered it progress that they were fading at all. Out of curiosity, she stepped across the hall to the shut door she knew led to his room. Though she doubted heavily that he was here, she knocked lightly on the door. When she heard nothing, she pressed her ear to the door. Ninja training certainly came in handy, she thought with a mental smirk.
There were no audible sounds of life from inside, so she turned the handle and pushed it open. A large part of her warned her against going inside, but she consoled herself by saying that she wasn’t going to snoop, just open the door. As she looked inside, she saw the pictures on his dresser. From here, if she looked left, she could easily see the front door down the hall.
I shouldn’t, she told herself. It was Gaara’s room, filled with his personal items, and those pictures were obviously something important to him, to keep his door shut even when he wasn’t home. Despite her mental ramblings against it, she found herself smiling as she snuck into the room and looked over the pictures.
There were only three pictures of him here, one by himself, and two with his brother and sister. One of those were from his graduation, she noted, since he looked so much younger. His sensei -- a man Suzaki as of yet didn’t know the name of -- was standing behind the three siblings. In the other, it was just the three, all looking adult, so it must be a new picture. The others she didn’t recognize: a woman and two men, each in single pictures. All of the pictures were relatively small, small enough that her hand alone covered most of them individually.
And they were arranged nicely, she noted. She had just about decided to sneak back out before Gaara found her here (not that she thought he’d be back so soon) when she heard a voice that both scared the life out of her and rooted her to the spot.
“Enjoying my things?”
She winced at the tone he used with her, turning slowly and giving him a sheepish smile. She didn’t know what to say, seeing him with a clearly disappointed look in the doorway. So she said nothing, even when he began approaching her.
“I spoke with your sensei,” he was saying, “and asked him if he knew if you had a jutsu that could make it rain.” Mentally, she winced again. “He didn’t. I told him that you could,” he was close now, “and he said he had no idea you had so much chakra.” She backed up into the dresser. “It was something of a disturbing morning. I came back here to ask you more about it, and here you are in my room.” He put his hands on the dresser on either side of her. “What were you looking for?”
Her mind was completely blank. After the dream she’d had, this was like torture. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath against her lips. It was reminding her of last night, of what could have been. Now she was stuck, not just from his arms, but from her own weakness. She didn’t want to go anywhere; she wanted to stay right where she was and just. . .indulge.
He looked over her shoulder. Her heart, already beating fast, went faster when she felt him move still closer. Though he wasn’t touching her yet, she wanted him to. Behind her, she heard a clear “clack” as a picture was laid flat. She knew what he was doing now, just as plainly as she knew she was shaking with an unnamable need. As she listened, she prayed contradictorily to find a way out of this and follow the course of her dreams --which she was conveniently reliving at the moment.
She didn’t even hear the rest of the pictures as they were placed facedown on the dresser, instead concentrating on keeping her breathing steady. Now would be a horrible time to swoon, she told herself, though it wasn’t doing much good.
The next thing she knew, she was being pulled by her wrist. She followed his lead easily, out of his room completely. He shut the door behind her, then pinned her to the wall just beside her own open doorway. He kissed her, but it was a furious kind of kiss, filled with both frustration and some malice. She had enraged him, she realized, by going into his room like that.
But naturally, logically, he wouldn’t want to strike her, and so this was her “punishment.” The only problem is that it didn’t feel anything like a reprimand, and it was doing wonders in making her relive certain sensations. The kisses he gave her were fast turning almost too passionate for her to take, giving in when he sucked at her bottom lip by opening her mouth for him. This noted the first time she’d felt his tongue, and the feeling it caused nearly made her knees go out -- not that she’d fall too far with his body pinning hers to the wall.
His hands found the hem of her shirt and went under, trailing up her sides and making her gasp. Then she cried out when one hand traveled high enough to touch the underside of one breast. The sound must have been like a slap to the face for him, since he drew his hand back -- almost snatching it away. He pulled away from her then, though it was with considerable more regret than how he’d retrieved his hand. Planting both his hands on the wall on either side of her shoulders, he breathed hard.
She was breathing heavily too, nearly unable to believe she could still breath at all. Her dreams just kept replaying in her mind, becoming more real now that she had some experience with how things really felt. She finally opened her eyes then, saw that his eyes were closed, his head bowed slightly. And if she glanced down. . .
She tried not to, but eventually she had to obey the urge. She looked away almost immediately, too, seeing his physical reaction to their passion. She didn’t want to say anything, given he looked like he was fighting with his own urges. On one hand, she feared wrecking all that control he was building up, but on the other, she wanted it to happen.
Biting her lip, she retreated, ducking under his arm to go back in her room. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it, hoping the distance -- small though it was -- would eventually kill the tension between them. She realized then what a huge mistake it really was to come here.
Isn’t this what they called a double-edged sword? Gaara was her pleasure and pain wrapped into one. Being around him was enough to keep her spirits up, and kissing him was like heaven. Yet always afterwards, this is what she felt; a throbbing pain right on her heart. She’d known from the beginning that coming here might hurt her, but then, she’d expected them both to have some sort of control over themselves.
A control, she saw now, that they clearly lacked.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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