Note: For some strange reason, the site was screwing up this fic each time I posted it. I blamed it on the title since the original was in French and had an accent, so I changed it to English. Hopefully it'll work now…
WARNING: Violence, cursing, slight GaaTema implications, may seem disturbing to the faint of heart. If any of that bothers you, hit the back button. Otherwise, enjoy!
Sand and gravel scraped beneath the sole of her sandal, crunching and chafing against the heels of her feet as she turned her body.
Complacent eyes drifted to the hands pinned to the arid soil, blinking at the harsh glint of sunlight reflected off the hilt of the kunai. Blood flow was limited, and what little there was had been swallowed up by the thirsty desert, the rest coagulating against the rough, scarred hands of the man she'd pinned beneath her.
Shifting, she moved her legs till she was straddling him, knees pressing into the hot dirt on either side of his ribs.
Temari watched him breathe harsh, shuddering, gasping breaths, fingers twitching numbly as his hands remained useless and pinned over his head, twin kunai embedded neatly into his palms. The white of his eyes was yellowed and bloodshot, his face covered in blood and grime and remnants of vomit.
His lips moved soundlessly, his glazed eyes relaying his shock and terror as the young girl atop him produced another kunai, her delicate, small fingertips idly tapping the sharp point as she gazed at him.
"Please don't kill me," he whispered hoarsely.
Temari cocked her head to the side, continuing her idle tapping, saying nothing.
"I didn't mean it, I swear to God. Just—please, let me go. I won't hurt you," he pleaded.
She blinked once, before a harsh, bitter smile twisted her lips, eyes narrowing in scorn.
"You won't hurt me?" she echoed, in fake innocence. "What makes you think you could hurt me?"
He clenched his teeth when she ran the tip of the kunai across his cheek, leaving a long, glistening red line.
"Please…" he whimpered. "Please."
"B-rank mission," she suddenly said, tone business-like. "Capture marauder and bring him back to the village. Dispose of his lackeys, and if need be, dispose of main target. I.e. You." She tapped him on the nose.
"There's no need," he said desperately, fingers twitching unconsciously. "I'll come with you without a struggle."
Temari smiled slowly, then glanced up into the glaring sun, the blinding light glinting off her blonde hair and the glistening sweat on her neck. An hour before, he would have licked his lips appreciatively at the view, would have ordered her to remove her garments, would have forced himself on her.
But now he lay docile, subdued and terrified as his eyes darted in all directions, looking for other signs of life—anything, anything to save him.
His fingers twitched again, a pitiful whimper sounding in his throat as waves rippled on the arid dirt that stretched for miles, the desert mirage and blinding sun surrounding the girl in a glimmering, fiery halo.
Slowly, she lowered her head again, teal eyes staring complacently down at his terrified face. It was getting harder to breathe—the hot, dry air seared pain into his parched throat, each harsh breath impeded by her weight against his chest. He ran a dry tongue over his lips and his breath hitched in relief when she returned her kunai to its holster.
"What was it you said before?" she asked, tone harmless, almost amiable. "You know, before I kicked your ass."
His brow furrowed and he forced himself to swallow the venomous curses that bubbled higher up his throat with each passing second.
"I didn't mean it," he muttered.
"Sure you did," she said airily, looking utterly harmless. "I remember it perfectly. You said—you'd make a good fuck. Take off your clothes and bend over and maybe I won't hurt you too much."
She said it all with a smile and he grimaced.
"I'm sorry," he hissed through clenched teeth.
Temari nodded slowly, understandingly, shifting slightly so she was leaning lower, closer, eyes cold despite the smile on her face.
"I could grant you that, you know…as a last request. You'd like that wouldn't you?" she asked softly. "You'd like to fuck me?"
He shook his head wildly, lips pressed tightly together.
"You can scream for help," Temari said with a grin suddenly, beckoning offhandedly to their surroundings. "But the only ones who'll hear you are the vultures…and my brothers," she murmured, eyes glinting cruelly. "And trust me, you don't want their attention."
"What are you going to do to me?" he whimpered.
"I could have killed you hours ago," she said carelessly, scraping grains of sand from beneath her nails. "But that would've been kind."
"Look, I said I was sorry about that…comment," he said desperately. "I'll come quietly, I swear!"
"You don't have a choice in the matter," she said coldly. Her eyes flitted up and down his terrified face, narrowing into slits.
"Answer me this," she murmured, stroking a finger down his throat. "What made you think you could have me?"
He said nothing, staring wide-eyed as her thumb brushed over his Adam's apple, fingers curving over his neck.
"Do I look like a whore to you?" she asked softly.
Her fingers tightened their grip and he lost any and all sense, panic seizing him. He hollered and screamed and cursed, calling hysterically for his minions to come save him, voice growing high-pitched and unrecognizable as her fingers continued to tighten their grip.
"Do I look like a whore to you?" she repeated, her voice venomous despite its soft tone. "Do I look like I'd give myself to the likes of you?"
The man made a garbled, choking noise in his throat as her grip tightened further, nails digging into the soft flesh of his neck.
"No! No!" he wailed, yellowed eyes blurry with tears. "No, you don't!"
"I'm violating protocol," Temari said calmly, maintaining her tight grip as he writhed beneath her. "If I'm to kill you, I'm supposed to do it quickly, stealthily, quietly." She ran a finger across her throat to demonstrate.
"But you," she said thoughtfully. "You're classified as a murderer, marauder, and rapist. I think I'll take my time with you."
"Bitch!" he gasped, attempting to move his arms and crying out, feeling the kunai sever his tendons. "Crazy bitch!"
Temari made an admonishing noise in her throat, shook her head, and smiled.
"Help," the man croaked, wheezing as the pressure on his windpipe increased. "Somebody…"
He lay there, struggling to breathe with her sitting on his chest and her fingers wrapped around his throat, shaking and calling out weakly for a minute or so. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, moaning pitifully as the coppery taste flooded his mouth.
"No one will come," Temari said contemptuously. "Your lackeys are long dead."
"Bitch," he said weakly, voice tiny. "You're crazy."
"Crazy I can live with. I have for years and I find it's quite helpful for survival."
The man attempted to move his hands, wishing desperately to be able to shove her, hurt her, make her shut up. But the kunai only cut deeper and he cursed at her with every venomous fiber of his being.
Temari listened to his tirade expressionlessly, unperturbed as spittle and blood bubbled up between his lips and dripped down his face. But she blinked when he abruptly fell silent.
She watched his eyes grow to twice their size, mouth dropping open, allowing a small, hysterical and hopeful noise to escape his throat.
A shadow fell over her and Temari whipped around.
She froze, staring blankly up at the figure and saying nothing, caught in the act and waiting for permission to continue what she was doing. It felt odd, having him of all people discover her. She vaguely wondered whether this show of brutality would impress him.
"H-Hey!" the man on the ground shouted. "Please, help me! She's trying to kill me!"
Temari blinked, shielding her eyes when her brother moved, cocking his head to the side and allowing the sunlight to spill over her.
"What are you doing?" Gaara asked blankly, staring down at her expressionlessly.
Temari bit her lip, squinting up at him.
"Just finishing up the mission, Gaara."
"Hey you! Please, get this bitch off me!" the man called, a note of hysteria entering his voice. "Hey!"
Gaara lowered his eyes to the man his sister had pinned to the ground, giving him a blank stare. The man stared back, his eyes growing wider when he slowly came to realize who the red-haired boy was.
"No," he mumbled. "No, no, no, no, no…"
Gaara moved, stepping soundlessly and slowly around the man's legs and towards his side, staring down at him intently.
"You want to finish him then, Gaara?"
He remained silent, his eyes slowly trailing the man's dirty face. His gaze stopped and lingered at the man's throat where Temari's fingers remained, now flaccid. An almost curious expression overtook his features as he glanced at his sister, who gazed back, looking disappointed.
This was the first time he was seeing someone kill with their hands. This was the first time he was seeing Temari do something…interesting.
Something stirred within him, bristling with excitement and anticipation. He suppressed it, wanting to see for himself where she'd go with this. Temari's lips parted in surprise when Gaara slowly removed his gourd, setting it down in the dirt. Silently, he sat down next to it, crossing his legs and glancing at her expectantly.
Temari blinked and the man beneath her sobbed.
"Gaara?" she said uncertainly.
"Do it," he said, staring intently at the man's face. "I want to watch."
A part of her conscience questioned whether it was horribly wrong of her to feel as ecstatic as she was—one for being able to continue, and two for being acknowledged by her brother.
Maybe, she thought, breathless with hope as she lowered her gaze to the man beneath her. Maybe this…
Her fingers tightened once more and he cried out.
Maybe this would impress Gaara.
The man beneath her jerked and struggled viciously, blood pouring anew from his impaled hands. Annoyance crept into her expression as the kunai cut through his hands further.
Her eyes moved to Gaara and her breath hitched.
He was staring fixedly at the blood that seeped from the man's hands, watching it with suppressed adoration and longing as it soaked into the dirt. Sand spilled from the gourd and pinned the man's arms to the ground, the animated grains licking up every drop they could get to.
It wanted the blood badly now, yearning and whining from within, but Gaara suppressed the urge to take the kill for himself and settled for gathering what he could from the hands. He bit his lip and edged closer, breathless and fascinated as the man's face changed from red to puce.
Impressed, Temari thought to herself, short of breath herself as she watched her brother's expression. He's impressed…pleased…interested. Gaara's interested in this, in what I'm doing.
The marauder managed to retain consciousness on the few mouthfuls of air he squeezed into his lungs, his horrified gaze darting between the wide-eyed, fascinated expression of the boy and the euphoric expression of the girl, who stared at the boy with something akin to rapture.
"Insane," he whispered, feeling sick. "You're both fucking insane."
Temari's grip grew tighter, sweatier, when Gaara moved his gaze from the man's purpling face to Temari's, catching her gaze with his own.
They watched each other, breathless and elated for different reasons but both sharing a twisted, depraved form of mutual enjoyment.
Suddenly, horrifyingly, she felt an incredible surge of pride blossom within her, pleasure flushing her cheeks a comely shade of rose and making her teal eyes glitter.
My brother, she mouthed to the marauder. He's my brother. And I'm pleasing him.
Her grip tightened till it could tighten no more and the man's eyes bulged, skin graying and temples throbbing as veins stood out on his skin. Red and blue globes pulsed in his vision, lungs burning and quaking, fingers twitching uncontrollably.
But he continued to watch, continued to watch and be morbidly fascinated despite his impending death.
The boy had lost interest in him, knowing he would stop breathing eventually, knowing his heart would ultimately come to a standstill. He'd had enough of his graying face, bulging eyes, and dirty blood.
Now the boy watched the girl, and the girl watched the boy, both fascinated with each other and neither paying attention to him.
The blue and red globes pulsed and darkened into purple, and still he watched, watched the girl bite her lip, oblivious to the streak of crimson emerging from beneath the bite.
Temari felt her chest ache, felt her limbs quake, extraordinarily pleased with herself for catching Gaara's attention, Gaara's interest, Gaara's approval. Her brother watched her, looking infatuated.
He was pleased with her, and she would never be able to explain the sheer intensity of her euphoria at that moment, with the glaring sun burning against her skin, baked dirt burning against her knees, and his intense gaze burning against every inch of her flesh.
By now, the pulsing purple in the marauder's vision had paled into pinkish white, his thoughts quiet and stunned as he watched his captors.
They're fucking getting off on this, he thought inwardly, astonished. Getting off on me dying, for fuck's sake.
"How is it?" Temari spoke suddenly, tearing her eyes away from Gaara long enough to smile down at the man. "Feel good?"
Fuck you, he thought, unable to speak.
"Erotic asphyxiation," she murmured, emphasizing each syllable. "Heard some people like it." He was vaguely aware of her nails digging into his neck.
"You like?" she asked softly.
He said nothing, vision dissolving permanently into a white haze, limbs growing limp as she leaned close enough to whisper into his ear.
"Call me a whore?" she hissed. "Consider this my service…free of charge."
By the time Temari sat up again, the man was dead. Those glazed, yellowed eyes gazed lifelessly at her, the dirty mouth slightly agape with blood and spittle still bubbling through. Temari slowly exhaled.
A moment later, her gaze flitted back to Gaara, who continued to sit there, watching her with a peculiar expression on his face. She dug her fingers into the dirt by her sides as he gazed at her, unblinking and silent.
"You can have the rest," she found herself saying, her voice strangely high-pitched. "I'll…find Kankuro."
The old fear returned, accompanied with a peculiar, dissatisfied sensation that manifested itself in the fitful twitch of her limbs and slow blinks. She'd pleased him, she'd caught his interest, she'd received his acknowledgement—it should have been enough.
But the way he was looking at her—it made her shudder, made her want to seek out another lowlife they could both bond over, smile over, love over.
Temari loved her brother, and in that moment, as he watched her take the life of another, she felt in that short moment that he might have loved her, too.
It made her feel both sick and elated at once.
"Gaara?" she said softly, timidly. "Want to go?"
A soft breath pervaded the air, the sand crunching noisily beneath his feet when he moved. Temari remained seated, unmoving and silent as her brother knelt before her, his closeness freezing the air around her despite the searing heat of the sun.
Temari didn't dare breathe, staring wide-eyed at the calm, complacent face that hovered inches from her own. Camouflaged lashes cast faint shadows on his skin, the pale green of his eyes disarming and frightening in their coldness, reflecting her blank face.
Something touched her lower lip and she lowered her eyes, finding his fingertips gently tracing the soft flesh before retreating, coated in a dark red sheen.
Her breath hitched, something hot and throbbing blossoming in her chest when he brought his fingertips to his own mouth, dark pink emerging from between his lips to sweep the blood from his fingers.
He paused as the taste settled on his tongue, heady and coppery and familial. She tasted like Yashamaru.
Not at all bland like he'd once thought.
Gaara let the barest hints of a smile grace his face, watching his sister light up at his expression.
His tone was mild and inviting when he finally spoke.
"You should play with me more often, Temari."
Then he was gone, walking back to the marauder's hideout and leaving Temari standing in the searing heat next to the body.
Her arms slowly rose to hug herself, her mind a chaotic plethora of thoughts.
She had violated protocol, risked failing the mission, killed a man with her bare hands, and neglected her status report.
But her brother Gaara had acknowledged her, had been impressed with her, had talked to her. Her brother Gaara had respected her.
And all it took was killing someone.
She took a stumbling step forward, in a daze as she slowly followed him, a bright smile gracing her face.