Bonjour, mon petites.
title: Touch Me
rating: M for language and sexual content
a/n: It's been quite a while since I've been able to write anything. Basically, my life fell apart 4 months ago. So much so that I didn't think that I would be able to recover. But, in light of recent events, someone that helped me through the last few months told me that I should start doing the things that I love again, so I won't think about how much...well, ickiness is in my life right now. She was right, I feel so much better when I immerse myself in my stories and my ideas. It's pretty soothing. As soothing as writing pervy fanfactions can get ;)
So I hope you all enjoy. Feel free to comment or pm me with requests.
Sabaku no Gaara rose, almost mechanically from the luxurious mass that was his bed.
Sleep, even after several months of solidarity from the demon Tanuki - Shukaku - continued to elude him. The anxiety that the process of sleep instilled in him had yet to pass, despite several tests telling him otherwise, his long-standing bane of insomnia was ever present. No natural, nor artificial remedy could cure him of it. As Temari suggested: "all things heal in time".
Sighing in frustration of another night lost, Gaara turned an exhausted pale visage toward the open windows across the room. Eyes to the horizon, he observed as the weight of the sun struggled above endless hills of sand. A wave of foreign emotion washed over his consciousness as warmth coated the inside of his chest, thick like the honey harvested from desert flowers in the Spring. This same feeling came every morning while watching the landscape of a Suna sunrise.
Temari had told him a few days ago that it was pride. Pride in his village and himself for keeping it so serene. It was different than what he'd learned to distinguish as happiness, nor did it align with any of the other emotions he'd added to his repertoire over the past 3 years. What he did find, was that this emotion was was just as complex, and just as confusing, as all the others.
Pale pools of green slid closed slowly, as he shifted in the weight of the duvet atop his mattress. The heavy fabric was cool on his bare pale skin, causing small, rigid bumps to rise to the surface of the skin of his thighs. Simultaneously, a rush of dry heat from the gaping windows played across the expanse of his torso, resulting in the pebbling of twin patches of pink on his chest. The mix of temperatures and sensations caused the young redhead to inhale rapidly, feeling the sudden change in his heartbeat. Fists gripped at the rigid edge of the ornately designed comforter as his brow creased.
Every feeling left the overly sensitive Kazekage vulnerable.
The lack of his demon allowed the freedom to not only feel things emotionally, but physically as a result of the lack of instantaneous and involuntary shielding from the sand.
Every small touch was a distraction. The redhead had only experienced a handful of sensations and emotions in his fifteen years of life, and most of those were quite recently recognized. He was like a child, navigating the ways of his body and heart with caution…
And he found that he was very cautious of his current sensation.
Unlike like his reaction to the sunrise, his reactions to these sensations...these feelings of being touched, consumed him. It would occur at any time of the day or during any situation. In his bed, like this morning, if the fabric brushed his skin in a specific way. If his baths were a specific temperature. If he ate a particular food, or smelled a particular smell. Gaara felt his heart beat erratically in his chest and his breath shorten in an instant. Warmth would engulf his entire body. Sometimes, the muscles in his legs would not allow him to stand.
Despite all of this, the feeling wasn't unwelcome. Truth be told, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed how it took over his body and mulled his thoughts. Enjoyed how it made him forget his surroundings and compose himself. Enjoyed how it made him...excited.
Was that normal?
It occurred so often, he was beginning to think there was something amiss. Being no fool, Gaara knew that all of these reactions to stimuli were normal. He knew he shouldn't be embarrassed of these , for some reason, he could not bring himself to discuss this feeling, as he had with all the others, with his elder sister Temari. When he thought of doing this, his face grew hot and he could feel little nervous tremors in his abdomen.
Embarrassment, as it was called.
Perhaps he should try with Kankuro...though that prospect seemed more embarrassing than the first.
The mental conundrum of emotions was so flippant and contradictory that Gaara often found himself lost in a maze that ultimately ended in a headache or more confusion.
In short, humanity was overwhelming to him.
A shaky exhale left him feeling strange, pinpricks of that foreign feeling spreading throughout his body, to the tips of his toes. His face grew hot, flame igniting him like he had never felt before. His grip on the sheets grew tighter after feeling a dense bead of sweat drop down to rest in the hollow of his collarbone. And when he spoke, his voice came out little more than a husky whisper.
"What is this?"
The young Kage furrowed his brow further as a lithe pale hand rose to meet the flesh of chapped, dry lips. They were parted slightly to accommodate the silent huffs of his breathing. He shuddered lightly, pressing the rough pad of his thumb against the sensitive orifice. That slight pressure had the remnants of his sand armor dancing uncontrollably around his stiff frame. In passing, Gaara marveled at the reaction of the sand. It usually didn't respond to emotions so violently. It was all so fascinating.
And so good.
Consumed by sensation, Gaara was oblivious to the dozens of knocks and calls to his door over the past few minutes. His eyes opened abruptly, shaken from his thoughts at a particularly loud bang on the wood of his door. The thing was threatening to break from it hinges at the force of it all. Sighing at his already unhealthy amount of frustration for the day, Gaara flicked his index finger toward the door. The sand from his gourd, located in a protective case by his closet, compelled by the Kazekage's will broke free from its confines, spilling from the deliberate cracks. The tanned mass slid swiftly across the stone floor and wrapped skillfully around the door handle, waiting for the cue to open the thing.
Gaara's hand twitched and he exhaled sharply once more as some of the roguish sand moved to surround his chest. The rough texture of the tawny grain was almost too much for his hyperactive flesh as he could feel every particle touch him in a way he was not familiar. The mass thickened then, lightly caressing the length of his arms. Heat and pressure continued to build inside him, manifesting in his throat. Darkened lids squeezed tighter as he fought to keep the pressure inside of him, causing his stomach to churn, almost like nausea. He body was coaxing him to release the accumulation housed in his throat, almost like retching.
A few more loud wraps on his door brought his attention back to a semblance of reality and he decided that he did indeed need to confide in Kankuro about this. The redhead exhaled several shaky breaths, eventually overcoming the sensation his stomach had created. He could slowly feel his composure return and willed the sand abandon the assault on his senses and fall to his sides. With one final flick of his finger, the obedient stream of sand pulled on the handle of his door, yielding to the early morning intruders.
Gaara kept his face trained forward, cautious of what the past few minutes left him looking like. Without opening his eyes, he muttered for his advisors to enter the room.
Temari and Kankuro stepped cautiously into Gaara's bedchamber. He was in his bed, sitting up stiffly, eyes closed. Temari could only see his profile in the vast bedchamber, dimly lit by natural morning light. His brows were furrowed and his mouth seemed to be drawn up in a scowl. Despite his lack of sleep, Gaara was always seemingly pleasant in the morning, so this odd behavior spiked anxiety in her.
Perhaps he had a headache, because he didn't seem to be moving.
"Hm?" Temari tensed at her brother's weak response. There seemed to be something odd about his voice as well.
"Are you alright?" she had reached the raised platform on which Gaara's bed was perched, so she could see the in tension not only in his face, but his whole body. He was gripping the edge of his comforter with what seemed like desperation. Upon quick observation, she saw obscure patches of sand mixed into the sheets of the bed. Raising her brows in curiosity, the blonde haired kunoichi came to the conclusion that something was indeed up with her little brother.
"Gaara?" she pushed, hoping he would placate her silent request to tell her what was wrong, "Are you alright?"
He shook his head in agreement. She sighed in disbelief.
"Are you sure?"
He shook his head once more.
Casting a look of pure disbelief toward the statuesque Kazekage, Temari decided that it'd be best to fulfil her original intent in disturbing her brother so early.
"Well, then. Sorry to make a fuss but," she cleared her throat, worried that he wasn't listening, "today is the start of the official negotiations for the alliance with Konohagakure. Lady Tsunade and her advisors should be here in just a few hours."
He sat there for a few moments, as still as stone.
"I remember." he acknowledged her with such passivity. Temari's eyes widened at the sound of her little brother's voice. It seemed to have dropped a few octaves over night, It was very coarse and rough, like that of a man, not a teenage boy. Trying to decipher this drastic change in Gaara, Temari continued,
"Well...um...I was just checking to see if you were awake and preparing. The attendants have ran a cool bath with jasmine and mint to quell the dry heat of the morning. There is also the task of choosing your diplomatic attire for the day. I told Kankuro to come get you earlier but he went to the kitchen instead." she noted this with blazing contempt, eyes darting to her other little brother.
Said male stiffened under the penetrating gaze of his sister. He was certain she was going to punch the hell out of him again and was pleasantly surprised when he felt no immediate physical pain. Instead, he flushed in embarrassment and held his palms up in defeat.
"Sorry, sorry. My stomach distracted me."
"No time for distractions, baka! You-"
"Temari," Gaara interrupted their banter with his authoritative tone, causing the two to stiffen, "Please inform the house staff of our guests' arrival and make sure the appropriate arrangements are made. Also, tell the kitchen staff to prepare a traditional Suna breakfast for our guests as a welcoming."
Temari jolted at the command, marveling at how her little brother could sound so much like a hardened leader at his age. His sudden maturity of voice contributed to the slight menace of the command and caused her blood to boil in an unsettling manner. There had to be something wrong with him. This was not at all like the Gaara she usually fetched in the morning.
He had become so sweet of late, and she enjoyed his company more than she ever thought she could. They walked together, every day as he surveyed the village. She consoled him when he cried and laughed with him when he was joyful. Recently, she began sharing stories of their mother as her little monster clung to every word with a melancholy grin. Such an immaculate change. And she realized he was a really big and confused kid on the inside and she'd been helping him sort it all out.
But, despite all that he remained the the Kazekage, and could change instantaneously to the figure of hope for all of Sunagakure. This was a fact that she continued to overlook. And she was his subordinate and this sudden string of realizations had her bow slightly and responding with as much respect she could muster.
"Hai, Kazekage-sama. Kankuro, you take the house staff, I don't want you getting "lost" in the kitchen again." Temari said with edge directed to the puppeteer. He laughed that stupid laugh again and placed a hand lethargically behind his head. It was all she could do not to punch his lights out.
The two were turning to leave when Gaara's uncharacteristic plea reached them.
"No, Kankuro...I-I need for you to stay," his voice was free of authority now, replaced with a slight trembling.
Temari turned to see him, facing them now, pale eyes deep with emotion. His cheeks were flushed and delicate in the soft light. She could see the desperation in his face and knew exactly what was wrong with Gaara. Their little brother asking for help. Confused...no...plagued about what he was feeling...something new and from the looks of it, taxing on the young leader. Temari felt a light smile form on her face, intending to enter "understanding-sister mode" before she paused.
He called for Kankuro.
Why Kankuro? The scatterbrained teen had no idea about emotions. No idea how to explain and console. He'd likely confused Gaara further in the attempt to help him. She began to protest at his request to lean on Kankuro, but before she began, Gaara silenced her with his eyes, narrowed with a thick air of seriousness.
"I need to talk to him about...something."
Gaara was not surprised to see the visible pang in Termari's heart and the surprise on Kankuro's face at his request. He knew when he had made the decision and clutched to the resolve of seeking help from his brother, that he was doing something unprecedented. He never went to his brother with questions about anything. Kankuro was more for showing him inappropriate pictures and detailing his romantic escapades while the two played card games or ate meals. "Brother time" as the brunette would call it. A time in which they never spoke of Gaara internal struggle with his senses. He always went to Temari for anything deeper than surface level. He knew that this transgression would be viewed as somewhat of a betrayal on her part. Gaara hated to upset his onee-san but he could not discuss this matter with her, no matter how much it hurt her.
For this, he needed Kankuro.
Said male turned on his heel, making his way back into Gaara's bedchamber. He had to admit that this situation was bizarre as he was usually the one leaving the room when such instances occurred. But, when Gaara called, it was his duty, and his pleasure to help his little brother. He placed a reassuring hand on his older sister's shoulder.
"Don't worry, Temari. I got this one." she cracked a sad smile and nodded to him before looking back at Gaara. The weak "I leave him to you" she whispered made his heart sink a little. But there was a reason Gaara hadn't requested her, and they both knew this.
Gaara looked at Temari's hurt expression as to tell her that she was dismissed. She opened and closed her mouth twice before quickly turning and walking out of the room. It was indeed going to be a long day. He'd have to make it up to her later. But the matter at hand needed his, and his ecchi brother's attention.