Author: lucidic PM
“I have uppers, downers, study aids, party pills, and more,” she announced. “I have everything you need and want... for a price.”Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Romance - Sakura H. & Sasuke U. - Chapters: 5 - Words: 14,035 - Reviews: 83 - Favs: 61 - Follows: 109 - Updated: 07-15-09 - Published: 02-03-08 - id: 4050359
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
who anyone and everyone who fits, but mostly Sakura and Sasuke
what a chapter fic, AU
when senior year
where mostly Konoha
why I've wanted to do a chapter fic for a while, and I got an insane amount of inspiration from a book I read over the summer, called Rx by Tracy Lynn
WARNING it's rated M for a reason
disclaimer unfortunately, I do not own the Narutoverse's soul... it co-owns mine–under signed contract of course.
He kissed her tenderly.
She leaned into it, cupping his cheek in her hand.
The seat of the couch met her back, as he hovered over her.
No contact was broken as a condom was pulled from his back pocket.
Green eyes dully watched from across the crowded room.
Even from a distance, she could feel the lustful aura emitting from the two as the boy peeled away her shirt. But it wasn't just them, it was everyone. Her eyes scanned the cramped room and rested on one corner of the room. Bodies upon bodies pushed up against each other, swaying in the sweat and the beat of the thunderous bass. The air was thick with smoke and sex, setting the atmosphere of the vivacious basement party.
The green eyes watched the partiers' faces with satisfaction, their eyes specifically. Half-lidded and glazed over seemed be the theme. Even the deejay participated, swaying over his turntables, headphones slack against his sticky neck. A red Dixie cup sat haphazardly balanced on his stack of classic vinyls, jumping at every thump of the speakers against the wall.
A blue shirt flew from the orgy.
"Fuck me," a sultry voice crooned through the sound system.
It was the phrase of the night.
Observant eyes glanced to the left.
Two teens grinded together in their own privacy, the outside world forgotten in haze of alcohol and narcotics, their primal instinct barely contained through the material of their slacks. Lips seared wet kisses over tanned skin, sucking on the collarbone before making their way down to muscled pectorals. The other male groaned, reaching his hand around and groping his presumed boyfriendthrough the ass of his jeans.
A head swiveled.
Green eyes met brown.
"Great party," the boy complimented, yelling over the music.
The girl seated on the upturned crate shook her head. "It isn't mine," she yelled back.
The girl in his one-armed grasp, turned into him more, bringing her lips to his pulse and a hand to the crotch of his pants–giving a rough squeeze. His hand instantaneously slipped behind her pastel panties and tickled her, forcing a throaty groan from her parted lips.
He looked back at the seated girl and gave a one-shouldered shrug.
"Well, you supplied..."
He walked away.
"So it's basically the same thing," she finished, standing.
No lie there.
Primitive impulses rocked the two males against the wall into an orgasmic frenzy.
Sporadic lights in spectrums of colors roamed the floor from the low ceiling, as if searching for the best example in the room. The show was in the middle of the dance floor, greedy eyes watched every moment with a hungry glint. The girl came again as she dug her nails repeatedly into the back of a tensing male, his toes curled and back arched, obviously on the edge. Foreign bodies began to crowd the two, participating, until one could no longer see original pair.
Green orbs disgustedly watched the mass orgy. Animals.
She was a bit buzzed herself, as she stepped carelessly over the limbs of two college seniors. Tipsy was her mind, and her body hastily followed, as she unsteadily climbed the stairs of the cellar–a hand resting against the paneled wall. Subconsciously, nimble fingers rolled a small item around in the side pocket of her jacket. Sneakers met grass at the top of the steps, and shuffled from the back of the house to the sidewalk.
Delirious eyes set on her.
"Hey," a boy on the front stoop called. "Whas' ya got there?"
He sounded blazed and drunk. Her hand pulled out of her pocket.
A grin met his lips. "Give ya ten bucks for it."
Her lips wore their own grin.
She handed over the pill and he handed over his part of the deal–the money. The little blue pill went right from his hand to his mouth, followed by the subtle flavor of Bacardi Gold and a satisfied cough. Honestly, the girl didn't have an inkling of what the customer was downing. But hey, ten dollars was ten dollars.
Fingers set to her lips and obstructed an intense exhale, creating an ear-piercing whistle.
Against the dull orange of the streetlamp, a yellow taxi could be seen. Parked dangerously close to the curb, it honked once and revved its engine impatiently. The girl jogged to it and almost fell in, still mildly unbalanced and snorted at herself, closing the door behind her.
A destination stumbled its way through her lips, and leaned she head against the back of the seat as the car lurched forward. Street lights flooded in and out from the window as they drove through the city. Half-lidded eyes watched the passing scenery. Every bar, restaurant, and gentlemen's club the taxi passed seemed to be smeared together in a sickening mixture of hues.
She looked away.
By the time the cab pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment complex, the girl was only half-there. She had handed the driver three ten dollars, mumbled her gratitude, and eased her fatigued body out of the backseat.
The cab was gone.
Keys jingled limply in her hand, as she turned the lock to her apartment. Lights stayed off as sneakered feet inched their across the living room's carpet to the bedroom's. Pants dropped to the floor and shoes were thrown to a corner, cushioned by an abundance of sweatshirts. A mattress whined at an abrupt addition of weight, and a maroon comforter slipped around the tired body, encouraging sleep.
But she couldn't succumb just yet.
Her hand dipped into her bra and pulled out a wad of cash. By the red light of her digital clock's numbers, green eyes counted every bill that passed them with a subtle excitement. While one hand held the money, the other grabbed a book from the bedside table drawer and stuffed the capitol into the hollowed pages, shutting it and placing it back in its home.
Then finally, she allowed her head to hit the awaiting pillow.
And she slept.
"So, remember kids, POGo," the guidance counselor explained, writing the acronym out on the board.
Umino Iruka, the sole guidance counselor of the senior class, dusted the chalk from his hands and surveyed the young adults of the future. For an advanced calculus class, they looked quite special–for a lack of a better term.
About a third of them hadn't shown up for their first period class, unconcerned and more than likely, still sleeping. Some had put in the effort to pay attention, and sat staring at him with a glazed appearance, in all probability, not realizing they had fallen asleep with their eyes open. Others had mentally wandered off early in the lecture, and were doodling on various parts of their body–or in their notebooks, like normal people.
"Any questions?" he asked, peering hopefully around the room.
Haruno Sakura, one of the few students still awake, looked up momentarily before re-engrossing herself in her doodles. Carefully, she dragged her black pen against the paper of her notebook, perfecting the X eyes of the cute little panda riding the unicycle. Her small grin turning into a frown at the loud snores of her seatmate, Inuzuka Kiba, who was slumped messily across the desk, his arm flung out over the edge.
Then again, she didn't blame him–the lecture wasn't the most stimulating she had ever listened to. And it wasn't like anybody else was paying attention, either. For instance, on the other side of the room, Uzumaki Naruto made battle between two paper dolls–action figures, he swears–producing appropriate sound effects for the movements. Above him sat Yamanaka Ino, rolling her eyes at the blonde's display, refocusing her attention on the intricate doodle of butterfly on her left forearm.
Iruka shook his head, as he erased the board. "Alright guys, tha–"
The bell rang.
There was a mad rush to the door, as the students packed up and the left the room. Sakura roughly nudged Kiba in the side as she stood, packing up while she waited. Slowly he got ready, and slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed his seatmate out the door. The hallway was flooded with people – teachers and students alike.
"Man, it doesn't make any sense. I don't see why the Iruka–the fucking guidance counselor, for Christ's sake–has to teach us how to get out of a sinking car," Kiba complained, drawing his hands behind his head.
Sakura snorted, shoving him playfully. "Why are you complaining? You were asleep the whole time."
"Yeah, I know, but I mean–c'mon," he tried to reason. "The closest bridge we could run ourselves off is the one that connects to Wave County. And that's like, on the other side of the city."
"You're right," Sakura agreed, rummaging around her messenger bag for a stick of gum. Slipping a piece into her mouth, she offered a stick of citrus mint to her counterpart, before saying goodbye. "I got to get to chemistry before Kurenai grills me ass for being late, see you later."
And not even five minutes after she had departed from Kiba, the recognition came. High fives and compliments passed from the lips of, what seemed like, everyone. She grinned licentiously at the guys and smiled at girls. They were all wrapped around her finger, the ones that had bought from her in the past, and she loved it.
"Um, excuse me?"
Sakura turned to the voice, immediately recognizing the owner. His brown hair was shaggy and pulled back in a low ponytail, brown eyes looking down on her with an odd light. He wore a simple, blue striped button-up shirt and a pair of tan khakis. It was obvious he a little older than her, and for a second she was curious why he had approached her, but it became obvious to her when she saw his surreptitious smile.
"Can I help you?" she asked in feigned naivety, her eyes prodding him mercilessly.
He squirmed underneath her gaze and broke eye contact quickly, starting his sentence with an awkward laugh. "Heh, uh well, I don't know if you remember me from last night or anything... but my name's Idate–Morino Idate."
"Uh-huh." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you a little old to still go to high school?"
"Well, I'm a student teacher, for the freshman social studies class. And I'm really not that old either, just turned twenty-three," he explained, slightly less anxious.
Sakura pretended to suddenly remember him. "Oh yeah, you! The one who came up and complimented me. Yeah, now I remember, you were messing around with that girl while we were talking. What's up?"
Now he looked embarrassed. "Um, yeah. I was wondering if you, you know..."
Sakura caught his drift. "Sure. Meet me at the bottom of the back stairs, down by the biology rooms, at sixth period.
"Alright," he agreed, as he began to pull out his wallet. "How much...?"
A grin spread lightly against her lips, as she started to walk away. Quietly, she spoke, just loud enough for him to hear, and others to be oblivious.
"Don't worry about it... first ones are always free."