Title: When All Else Perishes
Rating: R. Maybe even… Hard R?!?!?!
Word Count: 556
Summary/Description: Give a girl her dreams, if nothing else.
Warning/Spoilers: No spoilers. I did a weird kind of switchy thing when I was writing it, so everything doesn't flow like you think it does. Oh, and, er, smut.
A/N: Smut is so not my strong point. And the angst shouldn't come so readily, damn it.
Dedication: For Yukari Rin. Request: May I request something bordering on smut for SasuSaku, with no twist at the end which makes it cracky? When you said, not cracky, my mind immediately fixated on angst. So, it doesn't have a cracky ending, but… it still might be… eh. And I actually ended up not using the prompt, hot (sorta). Sorry. …I hope you like it?
Disclaimer: Who in their right mind would mistake me for Kishimoto?
(In the end, she gives up. On everything. Hope is for the fools and the dreamers who have not yet had reality's bitter taste on their tongues.)
Haruno Sakura's first night of love-making shall be an incomparable night of passion, reconciliation, and love.
He shall come back, broken, beaten, and bruised; but he shall come back loving her, having realised in his time of defection that no amount of revenge could fill the chasm in his soul, and that his home was where his heart resided, and she had had his heart for years and years now. She shall welcome him back, tired and angry, but too happy to let any of the former emotions take precedence.
They shall start, tentatively, to build a relationship with the shattered remains of what he had left behind. It will be shaky, and unsteady, but it will be theirs, for all that that signifies, and for all it is.
Sakura shall lose her virginity in Sasuke's old bedroom on the rundown Uchiha grounds, surrounded by cobwebs and memories and ghosts. It shall be clumsy and awkward on the first try, but perfect because of it. And what will it matter, anyway, because he will love her. Yes, he will love her.
He shall peel her clothes from her prone body, and his eyes will never leave hers, not even once. His fingers will glide all over her flesh, each light touch sending a pleasant jolt to her nerves. His kisses will be deep and probing, opening up a part of her that has always been saved for him, and him alone. She shall writhe against him, not caring if she seems wanton in her eagerness. She will let him know with each movement, each slide of her hands and each thrust of her hips, how much she wants him.
He will nuzzle her breasts with a soft sigh, and tell her that she is beautiful. She will not be able to return the sentiment, made incoherent and stumbling in speech by his touches. But he shall know. He has always known.
When she encloses his length in her small, callus-grazed fingers, he shall gasp, a soft intake of breath that will let her know how much he desires her, how much she affects him. His kisses will become fiery and impassioned; his roving touches urgent and needy. Her name shall fall again and again from his lips like a rain of lava from a molten sky.
And when he steadies her hips and drives into her, slow and smooth and sleek, it will take every ounce of her willpower not to scream, and to reserve herself to a low, keening sound. They will meld perfectly, like clay being poured into a mould, and it will be like nothing she's ever experienced; heat on top of pleasure on top of an ever-spreading feeling of fullness. It will be hot to drive away the frigidity, sweet to mask the bitterness, unique to compromise the blandness that she had been before, and achingly real, to send her ghostly world spinning into Technicolor.
(And it doesn't matter that it can't be real, damn it.
Because Haruno Sakura has given up on everything – where has all the hope gone, child; you seemed to have so much – but she will not deny herself her dreams.)
A/N: I apologise for its strangeness. Please review.