|A Lesser Man
Author: cutecrazyice PM
Sometimes, it's good, and it's sweet. But oftentimes, it's as bittersweet as love can get. KibaSakuRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Kiba I. & Sakura H. - Words: 847 - Reviews: 64 - Favs: 61 - Follows: 6 - Published: 03-22-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4147447
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A Lesser Man
He should stop it before it continued.
He knew it wasn't right, and she was only doing this because there was no one else. She was in love with someone else, and he knew she still thought of that guy, until now.
But Sasuke was gone, and he was here.
It wasn't right—but he couldn't control his mind from thinking that somehow…it was.
Or maybe it was just his hormones talking.
The whisper was soft, and very, very husky. The voice was low, and made him think of dark nights and sensual mysteries.
Her hands were on his chest, and her mouth was currently near his ear. Almost touching, feather light.
He should stop all of this, right now. They were friends, nothing more. Acquaintances, who trained at day and hung out at night, just for the fun of it. Comrades, in battle and out.
But if this was any indication…soon they were going to be.
She was in grief, after hearing that the man she loved had almost killed her best friend. Their other teammate, Naruto. She was hurting, confused and weary of the happenings going on around her—how her world had become so upside down, that she couldn't take living in it anymore.
She was drunk.
Only a lesser man would take advantage.
"Please, Kiba…please kiss me…"
He inhaled sharply. He might not be a lesser man, but he was damn well still a man—and what was a man to do, when a tempting woman was all but plastered and willing in front of you?
"Sakura, you're drunk. You should go to bed and rest now."
She let her fingers trail up his neck, let her head fall on his shoulder. She sighed softly, and had his mind going a bit fuzzy, with the simple touch and gesture.
He must stop this.
"Kiba, touch me…make it all go away…"
She touched his face, and the red triangle on his cheeks. Caressed them, so lovingly, so tenderly.
And then she kissed him.
Soft and long and very, very sweet.
His mind went into overdrive, as the sensation of having her lips on his almost knocked him cold.
She didn't love him.
But he loved her. So much.
It was a curse he had to bear with for years now—loving someone who didn't love you back.
Her hands went under his shirt, circling his stomach and his ribs. She moaned. The sound alone should have reminded him of their sad predicament, but instead…it made him want. Need, as he had never needed before.
Love, as he knew he never would again.
Helpless, unable to stop himself any longer, he pulled her closer, leading her to the darkened room where he should have put her to sleep in the first place. But now it was too late.
Try as he might not to be, it seemed like he was a lesser man after all.
The next morning, he woke up to the sunshine on his eyelids, and the birds chirping within hearing distance. He opened his eyes, adjusting his eyesight. And then, staring at the familiar dark brown ceiling of his apartment. His bedroom.
He knew, without having to look, that the place would be empty.
She was gone.
He would miss her.
He slowly got up, ignoring the warm comfort of the sheets...the smell of her in it. He glanced around, and saw that Akamaru was still sleeping cozily on the rug, a happy look in his face. He saw his clothes still by the bed, rumpled and discarded carelessly.
He saw the note. He didn't want to read it.
He went closer, and picked it up.
I'm sorry. It was a mistake. Please, don't hate me. I don't want to ruin our friendship.
There was nothing he could do, really, but crumple it, and throw it away.
He didn't hate her. He never would. But the friendship was long ruined, because try as he might, he simply could never be near her anymore without having to think about what might have been...what could have been. What had been.
It was too much, and he was just a man.
And he was in love with her.
Sighing, he picked up his clothes, and imagined it as his life, being picked up. Put back to pieces.
Maybe it was time to move on.
He might have been a lesser man, and an empty one—but at least, for one night...
They had made memories that he would keep forever.
Maybe, just maybe, it had to be enough.
a/n: A oneshot, folks. My very first Kiba-Sakura fic. I had nothing to do, and so I ended up writing this. I know such a thing could never happen, but I can dream, right? :)