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Denial	By : djserani Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Kakashi/Sakura Views: 4298 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: As always, I don't own the world or characters, I just like to torment them. Kishimoto-sensei gets to keep them permanently. (I make no money from it!)

Chapter List
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She let the hot water wash over her. She couldn't believe how dusty she was after only a single day on the road. And how much that bothered her. Just went to show how long it'd been since she'd been on a mission. She sighed.

She gave herself a few more minutes under the spray, then washed her hair and scrubbed down. She pulled the towel down and dried her face, then rubbed it over her hair before wrapping it around herself. She stepped out of the shower and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She'd lost weight. She knew she hadn't been eating much the last couple of months, but she didn't realize just how bad it'd been. Annoyed, she pulled her hairbrush through her hair and went back out to the main part of the room. She dug her tank top and fresh panties out of her pack and after rubbing herself down with the towel, pulled them on.

By the time she'd hung the towel back up and brushed her teeth, she was out of things to do. She'd brought a book along, but that didn't hold her interest. And it didn't take Shikamaru's genius to figure out why.

She gave up on it and turned the light off on her bedside table. Then she rolled and stared at the door. And a thought occurred to her.

What if�what if she went to him?

As soon as the thought entered her head, though, she rejected it. If he wouldn't open the door or if he sent her back to her room, she didn't know what she'd do. It would smack too much of the same kind of rejection that was the reason she hadn't spoken the words out loud.

She just couldn't put herself out there. She couldn't hurt like that again.

She sighed and stared at the ceiling, watching the patterns of shadows as they shifted and moved. She should get up and go lock the door. She should stop putting herself through this.

But that was easier said than done. When a person is in love, they're willing to do all sorts of self-destructive things. And unwilling to do so many others.

And that's where she was. She couldn't shut him out, couldn't refuse him. Maybe it hurt when he left every day, but if she could still have those few hours with him, she'd take it. If she could still feel him against her, taste his kisses, she'd do it.

She swallowed hard and fought the tears. She didn't want to cry. If he did come to her, she wasn't up to explanations. And after a few minutes and a near-Herculean struggle, she managed to beat the urge into submission.

She rolled again, staring once more at the door. And blinked. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge. Did it move? Was the doorknob twisting?

He'd tried. He really did. He fought himself, paced the room and called himself more names than Hidan had words for. He was a fool, plain and simple. And now he was standing outside her door.

He cursed himself again and tried, once more, to convince himself to go back to his room. You're not good for her, dammit. She deserves better; she deserves someone who doesn't screw up, someone who hasn't failed more than he's succeeded. She deserves someone she's not forbidden to be with.

Those same words hadn't worked the night before. Or the night before that. Or each night of the last three weeks. And they didn't work now. He turned the knob and opened the door slowly.

She was standing next to the bed like she did when she waited for him at home. She wore the same type of tank top that showed her beautiful breasts and the same skimpy little panties that only begged to be taken off. Her hands were at her sides, clenched into fists while she fought the urge to come to him.

Her hair was still wet from her shower. As he watched, she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and started chewing on it. And those emerald eyes he couldn't seem to resist were pools of misery and need.

What, exactly, did she need? Did she need this? Just this? The way he stole into her room at night to fill her body and make her cry out?

Or did she want more? Was he right in thinking that by the light of day she regretted it? Regretted them? Or was she having as much trouble resisting the urge to hold, touch and kiss, as he was?

These were the same questions he'd been asking himself since the first night he came to her. And he still didn't have the answer.

He pushed the door closed and twisted the lock, then started the slow walk toward her. He hadn't bothered to put his mask or his headband back on. He wore only his pants and a shirt. And the shirt was still hanging open.

She took a few steps of her own and then she was right there. He was done with the questions for the night, now and couldn't wait any more. He pulled her into his arms, captured her mouth with his and reveled in the sense of home he felt when her arms came around him.

The storm broke like it did every night. They stayed clothed for only a few minutes, then they were on the bed, skin to skin. Hands were everywhere, their lips never parting for more than a few seconds.

And like every other night, he lost himself in her body, needing her like he'd never needed anyone else. Finally admitting to himself, if only for a few moments, that he wanted, needed and loved her like he'd never known before.

But this time, when he drew the first cry out of her, he didn't roll. He wanted another, wanted more. He shifted a little, changed the angle and savored the surprised look on her face when she came again.

This. If nothing else was right between them, this was. He knew her, knew every spot, every way to bring her pleasure. He could close his eyes and in the middle of a busy street recall perfectly the sound of her voice as she called out.

And when she wrapped her legs around him, tilted her hips and ran her nails down his back, he understood that she knew him, too. He knew that she could decimate any control he might have and bring him the pleasure, as well.

They laid in the aftermath of the storm, still tangled. He was still inside of her, their hearts still pounding, their breath still coming in gasps. She buried her face in his neck, unable - or unwilling, she wasn't sure -- to let him see the emotions warring for dominance on her face. His arms tightened around her.

As their breathing and hearts slowed, he rolled to his back and gathered her close to him. She settled in the one place that she could sleep these days, her head on his shoulder, their legs tangled together, his arms around her.

Say it. Please. Say something. His voice played the words over in his head. He had no idea that if he said those words out loud that she would. She'd do as he asked, as he needed her to.

Stay. It was the only thing she could think in that moment. She thought she'd seen in his eyes the love and the need she'd been hoping for. It might have just been her imagination, but for one moment, she was almost positive it'd been there. Please, don't go. Not this time, not tonight.

Instead of speaking, she kissed his chest, ran her hands over him, needed to touch more. She dared to look up at him and was rewarded with the feel of his lips on hers again. His hands moved over her, and she could feel the need begin anew.

He let her take over, let her set the pace. But he was surprised when she slid down over him, making a trail with her lips, tasting his skin. And when she took him into her mouth, his hands twisted the sheets and he sucked in a breath in shock.

"Sakura�," he ground out. And as he watched, she looked up at him with those huge green eyes and he nearly lost it right then. He grit his teeth and fought it with everything in him. Mercifully, a moment later, she stopped and kissed her way back up his body.

Then she was on him, her head thrown back, and she started to move. Yet again, their eyes met, fingers threaded and he could see the emotions in her eyes.

Now. Say it, Inner-Sakura screamed at her. Tell him. She opened her mouth to say it, her lips formed the word. Stay. But no sound came out.

And then her climax hit her and the only sound she made was a muffled cry of his name with her hand stuffed into her mouth to mute the sound.

But he'd seen it. Stay. He didn't know what to make of it. Did she mean just for tonight? Did she mean for always? He couldn't believe the latter, couldn't believe, despite what they did every night, that she'd want him for always, so she must mean the former.

Then his orgasm took over. He surged up into her, unable to think anything else for a moment. Unable to do anything but feel.

As she collapsed onto his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. They rolled onto their sides and she tucked her leg around him, keeping him firmly inside of her. He pulled the top sheet up over them. "Sleep, Sakura�"

It was very, very warm. That was the first thought that intruded. Why was it so warm?

The second thought she had was that it was also brighter than it should be. Something nagged at her about it, but she couldn't muster the ability to care.

Because the third thought that came to her was the realization that he was still in bed with her, curled around her back spoon-style. He'd stayed. Her heart started to beat faster. Did that mean�?

Don't get too excited, Inner-Sakura warned. He stayed - one night. Maybe he just hadn't awakened yet. Maybe he was too tired to go back to his own room. It didn't necessarily mean anything.

"We need to get moving." His voice was quiet. "I need to go get dressed."

She rolled to her back so she could see him. If possible, his spiky hair was even messier than it usually was and he had a crease on his cheek. And he was the most beautiful sight in the world to wake up to. She couldn't have stopped the smile that spread across her face for anything in the world.

"Maiko is awake, I heard her moving about. I'll meet you downstairs in a bit for breakfast." He dropped a kiss on her lips, and she tried to decipher the look in his eyes as he ran his fingers down her face.

"Okay." She said, not sure how to deal with him. She didn't have any idea what he wanted, his eyes were guarded, his expression an enigma.

And with that, he pulled his pants on, slipped through the door and was gone.

She lay there a moment, thoroughly confused. But that was okay. She didn't mind confused, because for the first time in weeks, she wasn't greeting the day with the urge to cry.
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Denial