This idea was inspired by a tumblr post. It was a twist on a fairy tale – and this is my twist of that twist.

There was a lot of start and stop while writing this so I'm glad I finally managed to finish it – especially considering I rewrote this several times, in completely different ways. And for no reason other than I have loved the song since I first heard it – the star-crossed kind of love sailors talk about, lol – most of this one-shot was written while listening to Am I Wrong by Nico & Vinz. Unwittingly, the song gave me the right kind of feels to finish this. Make of that what you will.

Lastly, to everyone who reads my other GaaSaku fics, I know it doesn't seem like it now but they ARE coming, I promise. Enjoy. ^_^

Of Love and Monsters.

Her mother told her stories when she was young, of knights valiantly defeating dragons and princes saving damsels in distress who she would ultimately fall in love with. And she learnt of women whose beauty caused wars, and the men whose courage ended the fighting and saved countries and lands from destruction. Mebuki Haruno also told her more about the knights who went looking to slay dragons; their exploits of fighting and killing these beasts earned them all heroic names and honours in the high court. Their tales became legend and examples of what all men should aspire to be.

Translation: girls were meant to look pretty, be fawned over, get captured by monsters and be rescued by a man with a sharp pointy metal object and a "can-do" attitude. If she believed that, she'd be dating that freaky kid...what's his name? Oh right, Rock Lee.

And then her mother died.

Then it was her father telling her stories.

Kizashi told her that boys who picked on her liked her, and boys who were gallant and overly helpful were not to be trusted – they were never up to anything good (so, no to Rock Lee, then). In hindsight, that conversation had been a poorly worded sex talk, without all the bells and whistles and visual aids. She just didn't know it at the time.

So if she couldn't trust boys, only men could kill dragons and become heroic, and all she was allowed to do was preen and be chaste, then she would just have to become a man. She didn't want any of their boy parts – eew – so instead she begged her father to let her become his apprentice. It took a month of extra chores around their home, weeks of pampering him and hours on her knees just to prove she was serious about this – and at the age of eight, Sakura forged her first sword.

She called it Rogue.

The blade was nothing special, but it signified something far grander (that she wasn't cut from the same mould as the other girls) and her father was oddly proud. Being the only decent blacksmith for miles, Kizashi had no son to pass his knowledge on to, but Sakura was determined to learn from him; the townsfolk were wary about a little girl dressing up as a young man and toiling for hours. Maybe they thought she was being provocative?


She wanted adventure. She wanted to prove herself; to show the men of Konoha that anything they could do, she could do. She wanted her name heard for leagues around.

And it was shortly before her eighteenth birthday that her chance finally came.

Call her reckless. Call her an idiot. She didn't care. She'd been dreaming about the ruined castle that shadowed their land, like something or someone had been beckoning her. Fire burned in the west ward of the dilapidated fortress; for days now, smoke had danced across the sky. Speculation on who would've lit the fires ranged from monsters to enemy troops. It was rumoured to house a formidable beast. Some said it was a Hinagon (a mountain dwelling Yeti). Others claimed it was some mutated, winged beast, or a demon fox since that was a popular Japanese myth. But in all stories, it was an unwanted beast, ostracised from its own kind.

When the call went out, there was a clamour to find out what it was. But the knights were no help; cowards, the lot of them. And like the noble children they were, trained in the royal court and eating all the delicacies of the world, they'd gone soft. One large roar from the beast (albeit, so loud they heard it down the valley) sent the last of them packing – if there was even a single noble knight in the kingdom, he was not showing himself.

Sakura had always been a curious child; often to the extent of causing her father physical maladies. But she couldn't let the idea go – she had to see the monster.

She had put her all into learning the ways of the seamstress so she could create her very own, personalised kosode (the tie-dyed, embroidered, samurai kimono, not the silk version worn by aristocrats). And while she had coerced her father into teaching her the ways of the blacksmith, she'd also followed her self appointed, surrogate big brother Naruto around and attacked him with a wooden sword until he agreed to help her train. For years, she'd dreamed of being a knight – not one of the pansies that went running from the mere roar of a beast, a real knight. She'd outgrown the suburitō – the wooden training sword – and she had her own katana.

She was an adult now; it was finally time.

"The blacksmith's daughter? You're just a little girl in boy clothes."

Screw the backward thinking of the villagers. She was ready for this.

She was going to fight and slay the monster.

He almost laughed out loud the first time it happened; almost. It was a tickling sensation, and Sabaku no Gaara was not ticklish. It was almost...like a warm breath on the back of his neck. No, the shell of his ear, like a lover would do. He hadn't felt this in a long time. He wasn't sure if he hadn't just imagined it, or dreamt it; he wasn't the cold hearted person his reputation would have his people believe. He wanted that feeling. He craved it. And the last time he'd gotten it had been...

His eyes snapped open.

The roaring died down, along with the wind, and Gaara flew to his feet. From his position in the highest tower he could see all over the realm. The beast came in handy; he could see the droves of men that came to his castle, to his ruin. They looked determined, but he felt their unease. Many of them were just wannabe knights, but a handful had a few kills notched into their belts.

That was typical of humans, cutting out pieces of their kills and wearing them; like death was one big joke. These sweaty, disgusting men made him sick. Burning in his inferno was too good for them; the ones that did not run at the sound of the beast's roar were met with cold jade eyes and a burning so painful their screams were louder than the raucous wind that had swept up around him. They deserved more – he moulded the fire to turn them inside out as they burned.

Fire was what they were expecting, so it was fire he gave them.

Back to that tickling sensation.

It attacked him again, once the last corpse had turned to ash and disappeared into the wind. It was a feminine sensation, one he'd had before, while wrapped up in another's arms and thrusting his hips like a man possessed. He wondered if the fates were jesting with him. They were merely phantom sensations – that had to be it.

That was when he saw her – he could see her now, in her little human town. She was training – from dawn to dusk with some blonde haired eyesore; the slight of a girl, barely into womanhood, who held herself up nobly but didn't gossip and preen...she was fascinating. Now, instead of training, she gazed toward him, as though through the distance between them was no more than across her courtyard. What was going on in her mind?

His eyes dilated, focusing on her more.

She looked determined. Fucking determined.

He grinned a feral grin, barring his elongated fangs as he imagined what it would be like to hold her down and fuck her senseless. That tickling sensation was back; his inner beast roared and Gaara echoed it. It reverberated across the countryside. She was a tiny thing, he could see that even from here, and he couldn't wait to crush her.

It was a slight of a woman that now entered his domain – who did she think she was fooling with that get up? While he had encountered human warrior women before, they had all looked the part; this one was petite (that was putting it politely), and actually smelt good; even from here he could smell her. A real warrior had no scent (or little smell), as they often spent days hunting game, to keep food on the table. But she was a blacksmith's daughter and had no need to waste away hours waiting downwind for her skittish prey. You wait motionlessly for your prey to come to you, not the other way around – humans baffled and frustrated him.

He would give her leeway however, as he was an unmoving target. This necessitated a change in the dynamics. But he was no prey, and would not act the part.

She stood outside the castle now; her eyes drifted up to him and seemed to become transfixed. He felt a similar pull, wondering if looks were deceiving – perhaps she wasn't a human after all. Perhaps she was instead some enchantress who had come to challenge him. As though he could be beaten by some shaman. She seemed shocked to see him however.

So he sent the fire. If she could not avoid this sliver of heat, then he did not want her.

Gaara felt his body tremble in anticipation as she passed through the portcullis; she heard his roar and answered with one of her own. His hand shifted away from the window unconsciously (the fire only intensified in response) as his fingers flexed, aching to take his weapon from its sheathe. He wanted to rip her apart. He wanted to see what made such a small woman scream a war cry so large and intimidating. An image of her writhing underneath him as he fucked the answers out of her made the corner of his lip curl upward.

She had bypassed the fire, and was now running into the lower bailey of the ruined castle to escape his attack.

The smirk deepened. This might be worth his time after all.


A dragon.

A real, flesh and blood dragon...she...she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Her vision blurred, Sakura shook her head, closed her eyes and wiped at them; opening them again, she saw the illusion. It was just a boy – not much older than her, he had crimson hair, jade eyes and...he was gorgeous. She blinked heavily – what was with her eyes? He was the boy she'd seen in the tower when she entered here.

"Who are you?" Her voice was croaky and she mentally slapped herself. He wasn't wearing armour or even a silk kimono – just a simple hakama and haori with equally plain zori. His clothes looked mismatched too, and the edges of the woven material were slightly singed – he didn't look like he knew how it was all meant to be assembled. This meant he didn't have a family or status in the civilised world. But...she didn't feel sorry for him. Instead, Sakura just wanted him to throw her against the wall behind her (or for her to throw him, whatever) and take advantage of her. They were standing in the middle of what looked like it used to be a bailey, and all she could do was stare at him.

His eyebrow (if he had any) lifted slightly and he smirked. "Your dream come true."

Tantalising. He couldn't help the growl of hunger as she switched quickly from mesmerised to angry.

She growled. "Ass-hole."

He just gazed at her. She wanted to rant, to rage and draw her sword, but he had cast a spell on her – if he was a sorcerer she was in serious trouble. She shifted slightly, inching her hand toward her sheathed katana...and then stopped suddenly; the rhythmic beating of her heart drowned out the wind in her ears as she stared at him. Her body didn't respond to her non-verbal command to move away from him. She could feel her desire to attack him for his comment easing off; he was terrifying her too. Those eyes were judging and appraising her; that fight or flight instinct shifted and suddenly, all Sakura wanted to do was throw down her weapon and let him kill her.

'What is he doing to me?'

He hadn't said he was going to kill her, but she knew it was what he wanted.

Gaara meanwhile, found himself transfixed. Was she giving up?

No. That was not a defeated expression.

'Who is he?'

"I am Gaara no Sabaku," he said finally.

"Sakura," she squeaked out.

"Hm, lame."

Before she could reprimand him, he moved – fast! One second he was seven feet away from her, and the next his breath was tickling her face.

"Do you believe in love?"

Mesmerised by his deep, husky tone, Sakura struggled to understand his words. "Yes," she said, whispering; her eyes watched the way his smirk curled, making his lips look thinner until he licked them. That was...hot.

Sakura shook herself and closed her eyes.

'Get a hold of yourself.'

"Do you believe in magic?"



Sakura nodded, watching him closely. He was very, very attractive...who was he? Oh...right.

Gaara smirked at her. "Why have you come, little human?"


"I said, why have you come, little human?"

Sakura frowned. "I..." He was too close. She took a tentative step backwards – if he was further away she could breathe better. "I'm looking for the–"


Was this a joke to him?

Gaara touched his chest lightly with a forefinger. "You found him."

"But you...you're human," she said, still frowning at him. Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. Despite his unkempt clothing, he looked otherworldly – that skin was alabaster but not sickly, and majestic but not fragile. He had two arms, two legs and one head, but there was just something about him – something that made her want to run away and hide, but also touch him. She wondered if his skin really was as soft as it looked, or if his scruffy clothes hid a lean, toned body. She wondered too much.

Gaara humoured her denial; he stood tall, holding his body upright and watched in fascination as her jaw dropped. His shadow had changed – from the humanoid form he often took to a human with wings. He allowed his outline to obscure his human form and for a few seconds, she saw his true bestial form.

And in Sakura's befuddle brain, his appearance screamed one thing:


'No, no, no, no, no, no, no!'

It was the natural order of the world: people lived in towns, villages and castle towns. Dragons lived in caves and ruins and hoarded treasures. Dragons were animals; and animals most certainly did not talk. Or look like that.

Too soon he looked more human again, and her brain couldn't absorb it properly.

"Draw your sword."

Sakura inhaled deeply. She was going to ask him why, but then remembered suddenly why she was here. She wanted adventure. She wanted to be known far and wide for her skill in combat, she wanted people to acknowledge that there was more to her than her pink hair and female genitals...she wanted so much. If she had to fight this Gaara, then she would. He was leaving her no choice now. She felt a rush of confidence and unsheathed her katana. After creating the Rogue when she was eight, the sword went through a number of incarnations. This one was Rogue the Third – technically the eighteenth, but most of them were melted down and reforged. Her current blade was her favourite.

Gaara was impressed; she was ready to take this seriously. While she'd obviously been taken in by how he looked – who wouldn't, right? – she was stubborn as a mule. Whatever she was telling herself had brought her here didn't matter to him. He had an urge and she was going to fulfil it. Losing his smirk – and every other emotion that was showing on his face at that moment – he forced his baser urges down, for now. He wanted to play first.

His fingertips sparked; the electrical look was just for appearances. It did what he'd intended – her eyes went wide. "You have no power that can harm me," he said arrogantly, his face still blank. "I could roast you alive right now, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Then do it," she snapped.

"This is not your world; it is mine." He continued with his lecture as though she hadn't spoken. "If you do not leave, you will burn."

He held out his hands, ready to summon his fire.

"Wait!" Sakura threw her hand out to stop him (from doing what, she wasn't sure – she only knew that it would not be good for her) before she could stop herself. Miraculously, he hesitated; the mask of indifference still plastered to his face he did however, seem content to hear her out. "I heard a legend," she said. "That those who defeat dragons can tame them. Is this true?"

His eye twitched involuntarily. "You came here to tame me?"

No, she really hadn't. It was a little known myth that knights and princes of the past had managed to tame dragons, but she had come here for the kill. Feeling absurd at that thought, Sakura decided to take another route; the idea of trying to kill this beast now sickened and twisted her stomach.

"It is indeed possible?" She inquired hopefully; she held her breath nervously.

"No," he said. "Taming is a false myth."

Sakura let the air out of her lungs. "But..."

Gaara smirked at her, her unease exciting him. "Taming is a wives tale, but Binding is not."

"Binding?" She gripped her katana tightly, not sure if she should raise it again or sheathe it.

"A contract," he said. "If you defeat me, I would be forced to enter into a life contract."

"Well what–"

"In blood we bind, and in life we are tied together. It is that simple."

'Yeah right.' It wasn't very explanatory to her. "So all I have to do is defeat you?"

"Yes, but that will not happen."

She scowled at him; he was an arrogant bastard. "We'll see." She took a step backward, shifting into a more offensive stance. "I wouldn't underestimate me if I were you."

"I have nothing to worry about," he said. "It is I who will defeat you."

She smirked back at him. "Then by all means, defeat me."

This was turning into an interesting day.

He raised his hands; fire formed at his fingertips and the smirk on his face told her he thought her too soft to handle it. Gaara sent a wave of fire toward her – he intended it to be minuscule, more like a whip. As expected, her eyes widened and she looked too stunned to move out of the way.


It would be over too quickly for his liking.

As the edges of the fire crackled – the heat was visible in the air – Sakura suddenly moved. She ducked, rolled away from the redhead, and looked for cover. The bailey was in ruins yes, but there were a number of overturned, stone pillars. She darted for the nearest one. The masonry took the brunt of the attack and she sighed. This was not going as smoothly as she'd hoped.

"Give it up," Gaara called out. "You can't possibly hope to win against me."

Sakura seethed. He was deliberately riling her up! That prick! A few more colourful words erupted from her mouth – loudly – and she heard him chuckle.

"If you don't want to die, just give it up." He could blanket this area in fire, but the amusement of her body blackening and turning to ash would last only a moment. Once he had her exhausted, he intended to claim her, no matter what. That was his goal now.

"Come out here," he said. "Face me like a real warrior should."

Annoyed, Sakura did as she was told. The instant she saw the smirk on that face of his, she started thinking of all the ways she could get him in close quarters – if she moved too far away from him, his fire would just draw this out. If she had any hope of winning this, it would be hand-to-hand or melee weapon to melee weapon. He carried what looked like a short version of the ōdachi on his waistband – for what reason a dragon would need a sword for, she had no idea, but she had to get him to use it. The ōdachi looked old, though pristine.

'His being a dragon and possibly centuries old is explaining a lot,' she thought.

"You will become my mate," he said matter-of-factly, interrupting her thoughts.

The immediate reaction on her face was priceless – it was a cross between mortification and curiosity. He wondered if she had heard about the mating rituals of the past, the ones done when dragons had mated with humans before. He had originally taken this current, human form now to play with his food, but she was steadily making him think more salacious thoughts. He wanted to taste her – he had every intention of fucking her, no matter how this turned out. But he would not be defeated by this slight of a woman. Gaara had already decided he would make her a concubine. She would be his first for a very long time, as he was rarely moved by the women of the world, but he could already imagine her succulence. She was pure. She was feisty. She was ripe. Perfect.

"I will not." She seethed. Sakura pivoted, scrambled and rolled out of the way as he waved his hand toward her again; the fire above her head as she dropped to the ground was a terrifying reminder that she really was out of her depth. But she refused to back down. She had admired his body, she had pictured him naked, but she would not let him dominate her! She had ogled half dressed warriors all the time from the roof of her house over the years – knight wannabes (from the ages of sixteen to twenty) trained in the field near the Haruno family home every day. He wasn't anything special.

"I will have you," he said, interrupting her thoughts again. "You will never leave this tower little human."

'Fuck.' Of course he was different; that voice was haunting enough, before she even took in his looks. But if he was a dragon, did that mean his humanoid body was an illusion? She hoped not.

'Go to your happy place,' she told herself. 'Fire bad. Tree pretty. Dragons terrifying.'

She jumped out of her new hiding place, deliberately letting her "roll" into the open taking her much closer to him this time. She needed strategy more than anything else, to do this. The moment she was on her feet she took note that she was less than four feet from him; Sakura struggled to hold onto her sword the moment she grasped it. His gaze didn't leave hers. She was entranced again. She couldn't pull away from those piercing eyes. So jaded, so cold, but so...unfathomable. And he wasn't walking toward her. Dragons didn't walk. He stalked; the hunter to the prey. And as much as she felt drawn to him, wanted to touch him, and to have him touch her, she didn't like the feeling of being helpless against him either.

She closed her eyes and focused on his movements as much as she could. He was two feet away now, and the blade of her katana was twenty-eight inches long; she had just enough room to manoeuvre as he neared her and she lashed out. If he hadn't been expecting her to get in under his arm, he didn't show it. Gaara merely blocked her thrust with his left hand – his right hand fell to the hilt of his ōdachi, just like she'd planned and Sakura pressed her advantage. He started smirking at her again, but she ignored him this time. She had to. When his ōdachi finally came loose of its restraints, the clang of the blade striking hers echoed over the bailey. She barely noticed that the tone was slightly more high pitched than a clang should be and continued to go on the offensive; Gaara parried, choosing not to block unless she managed a swing that almost took his arm off.

Gaara was surprised that he was surprised; she may not have looked like a warrior but she held herself like one. She walked like she spent hours everyday practising swinging that needle of hers. The katana was well forged, but that didn't mean she'd made it. But he'd known she was a blacksmith's daughter from the start. He shouldn't be surprised that she can handle herself. If they stuck to melee she would still never outlast him, but the longer this dragged on, the more likely she could get in under his defence. It was impenetrable – that's what he'd always known to be true – but hadn't she already gotten under him? She was still alive and swinging that infernal blade at him. He hesitated to burn her, to turn this bailey into an inferno to satiate his love of the smell of burning, human flesh. He wanted to fuck her senseless and Sabaku no Gaara was NOT into necrophilia.

He wanted her in one piece, breathing and moaning underneath him.

Gaara mused on that as his concentration slipped.

Sakura took advantage of this, pushing the tang of her blade along his, pressing her weight into it as she pivoted. The edge of the ōdachi was forced upward as the katana sliced into his flesh; she had finally cut him.

Gaara growled – loudly – and grabbed her by the throat roughly. Unable to stop him, Sakura felt the katana forced from her hand; her back hit something hard (most likely that wall she'd daydreamed about earlier) and she let out a breathless gasp. His grip was fierce, but he refrained from cutting off her air flow.

"This game is over," he said, snarling.

He had lost – they hadn't gone over the terms before fighting, but the tradition of his people in melee combat was first blood – and he didn't feel much like telling her that. Instead, he dropped his own weapon and moved in close to her, pressing his body against her petite frame; their hips moulded well he noted. There was no extravagant armour on her – she was very evasive, so he supposed she thought it would just slow her down – so undressing her was going to be simple.

His tongue flicked out, as though to taste her, and she noted absent-mindedly that it was a normal tongue; not forked, too long or dripping with saliva/poison, as she imagined a dragon's might have been. It was human. But instead of his tongue making contact with her, his lips descended to kiss her skin instead; her face lit up like a brightly enamelled Yule tree. Embarrassed, she took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Every instinct in her told her this was a good thing, but her brain wouldn't let her give in. She was too smart for that.

Against her better judgement, Sakura looked up into his face once more. She wasn't sure who had won, but she'd made him bleed, so she guessed the victor wasn't him. Most likely.

"We are bonded," he whispered; he inhaled her scent. He'd just decided not to tell her but there was no denying she was smart enough to figure it out for herself after all.

Sakura swallowed heavily, very aware that he was pressing his hips deeper into her and his hands were now both on her waist. "Then swear–"


She whined softly as his teeth nipped her pulse point – he was making her hot. "Please–"

"I will promise no such thing," he groaned out. "You will be mine and mine alone." He sighed as she clenched her fists, annoyed. "But that means that I am yours as well."

Gaara mentally slapped himself the moment the words left his mouth; her face lit up and an excitement not exclusively attributed to his physical desire for her ran through his body.

He had made a number of pacts with humans over the years – only one other had been about sex though – and never had Gaara willingly admitted to the slight creatures that he was as much under their command as they were under him. It was knowledge they came to on their own – he would not Bind himself to an idiot after all.

The ritual was almost over – the first blood was done, now there was the matter of her becoming his mate. He relayed this to her and smirked as she frowned at him. He was playing with her, he had to be. This couldn't be real.

"You really want me? Like.." She swallowed heavily, lifting her head and doing an impeccable impression of the snooty women in Konoha that annoyed her. "For a m-mate?"

Damn her stuttering.

Gaara nodded.


"All living things have desires."

Sakura snorted before she could stop herself. "But nobody desires me."

"You judge yourself too harshly," he said, lifting a hand to run his finger along her arm. He seemed rather keen to get under her skin, his smirk deepening with every tremble and sigh she emitted – like she was a plaything. His wandering hand now cupped her face. "You are the product of your own desires." He leant forward as though to kiss her and her breath caught in her throat. Gaara wasn't smirking; he ghosted his lips with hers. "And I want who you are."

Sakura waited, staring at him, lost in the depth of that stare as he continued to silently flirt with her. All to soon however, it was over, and he was pulling his face away. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel disappointed or grateful.

"Do we have a deal?" He asked. His hand moved from her face and down to hers; their fingers interlaced.

"You need my permission?"

"The ritual cannot be completed without your consent."

She nodded. But she was still worried he could do whatever he wanted with her.

"This is a two way street," he said, elaborating. "If you tell me to stop, I will stop. If I want you to lay underneath me, then you must. But..."

Sakura wasn't sure if the heat on her face had turned it a bright red or just tinged it pink. Either way, she felt uncomfortable talking about sex – and a little angry at the implication that he could take it from her if he wished. It had never occurred to her that sex would someday be something she'd be pursued for. The boys (and now men) of her village were interested in the buxom woman – the woman flouncing about in her complicated kimono and batting lascivious eyelids at them.

Gaara watched her face turn from beet red to horror stricken, unable to appease the uneasiness in him that she would turn him down. "I will not force myself on you, my pet. Of that you have my vow."

That went over well – she seemed calmer now.

Sakura smiled. She felt a connection with him, so it couldn't be all that bad, right? He was an arrogant asshole, but he was also being kind and considerate. Maybe it was just that she had to agree to the ritual, but she felt like he genuinely cared that she wanted this. She may not have come here looking to be someone's mate, but that adventure she longed for wasn't out of her reach. Life wasn't a straight line, and the curves and angles had brought her here, to the angelic beast that now stared at her expectantly. No matter how this came about, she wanted this.

"Yes," she whispered – the next second, his hungry mouth was on hers. He didn't waste any more time, surprising himself with how desperate he was for this.

She moaned. Oh heavenly kami, how she moaned. Gaara ran his hands over her body, not leaving an inch to the imagination. Her kosode was easily disposed of, but he undressed her slowly appraising every inch of her. She had a few scars – from training he supposed – but her skin was otherwise unblemished. He pulled away long enough to discard his hakama and haori and kick off the simple zori; naked in front of her finally, he couldn't help the smirk of pride as her eyes trailed down his body.

The lean muscles were everything she'd hoped for. But it also made her think about her earlier concern that this was all an illusion. "Is this real?" She whispered.

He leant forward and lightly kissed her again. "Every inch of me."

Sakura blushed heavily. Kami he was a prick!

Ignoring her renewed anger at him, Gaara shifted his back, almost uncomfortably; she saw him change this time. It was just his wings that emerged (they seemed to literally sprout from his spine), and they were beautiful. Like him – a beautiful, majestic extension of him. He immediately wrapped their bodies (like a blanket) in what she could only describe as velvet protection of his wings as he took her mouth in his again.

Sakura wrapped her arms around his shoulders and just let him smother her. The instant his mouth moved to her jaw, his hands fell to her breasts. She moaned and ground against him, barely noticing the fire in her groin as something hard and warm against it. He lathered her with kisses, worshipped her body and when she was sure he had lied about being a beast, slipped from her grasp. For a moment, she had no idea what he was doing. Then the fire returned and she half shrieked; his head was between her legs. He chuckled and the vibration travelled through the length of her. Too soon it was over and he was kissing her again – the strange taste in his mouth was a distant realisation in her head.

She was his. He was hers. They were theirs. It was all relative.

Then he pushed inside of her, muffling her cry with his mouth and savouring the feel of her body encasing his. He moved his hips immediately, groaning loudly as she clenched and jerked involuntarily underneath him. It was so much more than he'd anticipated. She moaned as he rocked with her; she was unconsciously setting the pace and he was letting her. He didn't care now, that this slight of a human was dominating him. She hadn't meant to, by the look on her face, but that was what was making her so irresistible. When she started slowing down he pulled out of her, flexed his legs and turned her around before slamming back into her.

The scream that erupted from her echoed further than his roar. She buried her face in the feel of him as he moved, pushing back at him. For an instant, she recognised how crazy this had all gone before her brain shut down and she just fell into the waves Gaara was creating. She closed her eyes and let go of every timid thought – she was screaming now.

Gaara felt pushed more power into his thrusts; as beautiful as this was he needed to take a more primal angle in this. It felt right to do so. He moved faster, gripped her harder and slid his hand down to her bundle of nerves, drawing a violent end to their consummation. He would be more gentle with her next time, but for now, it was done.

He was caught now. She had her claws in him and wasn't letting go. Sakura quivered as she came down from her high.

Now she was his mate. He would do anything for her. He would fly over her little village and scare the biddies that looked down on her if she asked. He'd burn them all. That was how it was supposed to be.

"Fuck." Sakura gasped out an explicative, swearing her ass off as she closed her eyes. Only the smug chuckle of the man behind her registered as she drifted off.

Gaara stared down at her. He realised he'd lied earlier – he wasn't her dream come true. She was his.


Sakura woke in her feather bed, a feather pillow under her head, and a warm, content feeling in her belly. The sun normally blinded her at this point, but someone had drawn the blinds. She stretched, yawned and took a moment to remember what she'd done yesterday. It was clear as day in her mind, but almost felt like a dream. She must've slept the day and night away.

Sabaku no Gaara.

She sighed.

He had clearly brought her home, and it looked like he'd left her behind. But Sakura could still feel him – like they were connected via some invisible thread. She climbed out of bed and wrapped a dressing gown around her naked body (obviously he couldn't resist leaving her naked, the bastard) and moved to the window. He was nearby.

Sakura closed her eyes and heard him roar in her mind. When she opened them again she could see him for real this time. She dressed hastily and ran out of her house. She had seen him across the field that led to the centre of town as though he was right in front of her.

She ignored the gasps from the townsfolk as she threw herself into his arms. He ignored the scandalous looks as he kissed her. Her dragon looked like a prince right now, but she didn't care. He was here, and there was no doubt in her mind: he was hers and this was just the beginning of her adventure.


I was all set to apologise for the tease of not putting in a lemon – it wasn't originally going to be in here. It never felt right to include one, until I was about 75% done writing this and then I was hit with all these images – you know the ones I'm talking about – and suddenly it was just...beautiful. Now I can't imagine it any other way. Hope you do too, and review. ;)