Title: It's About Her
Summary: He loves the fact that she doesn't love him. Kabuto/Sakura
Author's notes: Well, you did want more Kabuto/Sakura. This has no connection to For a Moment.
Warning: Unbetaed, because I can't be bothered. Sex with a MINOR, once again.
Rating: M/R, then.
Time-setting: Spoilers for about chapter 200-ish of the manga. Takes place during the three year period that the trio divides.
Kiss me, though you make believe;
Kiss me, thought I almost know
You are kissing to deceive
--Make Believe, Alice Cary
He loves the colour of her hair. He loves the way it looks when she kneels before him, unbuttoning his pants, taking him into her mouth, following a rhythm that makes his head hurt with passion. He loves clutching it as she works her magic, tugging hard when he wants her to stop, because he won't finish before her. He won't finish until she has spread herself before him, surrendering her body completely to him.
The first time he wondered if she would bleed the same colour as her hair. Surely a creature as glorious as her did not bleed red. He watched, mesmerized by the pink of her hair, as she undressed. Many women were better built than her, and yet her hair seemed to overcome any fault she had. He could not help taking her palm, cutting it, loving the squeak of pain she let out, and then being disappointed that she bled the same colour as him.
He loves to undress her himself. He likes stripping her bare before him, being able to observe what he has created. She may be human, but her submission towards him is completely created by him. The way she concedes to his touch is his art. He knows how to make her moan, call out his name, cry and mewl. He knows every part of her body, and every part of it is his.
He loves to kiss her, tasting her mouth, especially after she's been down on him. He loves the taste of power he has over her. He loves that he can manipulate her by throwing her just one name, one promise. He loves that she is so easy and that she is completely his. He loves that she comes to him, begging, throwing herself at him, allowing him to do whatever he wants with her.
He loves the beginning of the act. She arrives, nervous, angry, intimidated. He has to walk her through the steps, even though she knows her way quite well. He loves the middle of the act. He shows her just how much as he enters her, enjoying the way she screams his name. Kabuto-sama, Kabuto-sama. He plays it over and over in his mind when he's working, and sometimes it's enough for him to explode right there.
He loves the ending, especially. He loves it when she starts to cry, always silently, because she no longer has the strength to be loud. She cries in misery, and he loves knowing that he is the cause of it. He never holds her, just keeps to his side of the bed—if they're even in one—and lets her get it over with. If she isn't as exhausted she'll remind him of his promises. Let me see Sasuke-kun, please. Let me just see him, you promised. He loves giving her false promises.
But most of all he loves the fact that she doesn't love him. Because if she did, then things wouldn't be the same, and he wouldn't love being with her.