Author's notes: a gift fic for a friend who has been requesting smut for two years now. I realize the drunk!romance is a "done that" plot, but silly me and my shamelessness.
Pink. It was everywhere.
Oh, that was her hair.
Since when were her arms that tawny and muscular?
And—oommph—what was that heavy feeling on her stomach? She could hardly breathe!
Sakura stared dazedly at the scene before her, waiting for her mind to register what her eyes saw. Her mouth felt parched, her throat scratchy, her head throbbing something insane, but it was the best she felt in such a long time.
Whatever you do, don't look to your right.
Oh, but it tickled too much. Hot puffs of air fanned across her cheek, warmed her neck and throat, reminded her of the aching between her thighs.
Which started approximately yesterday afternoon.
On the grass, beneath an amber-glow sun, with the most delicious breeze.
And there was sake. A lot of it.
He had green eyes, vivid and desperate, and Sakura can't forget them. Even when she lightly laid her palm over the lid of his eyes and let them close peacefully, she had the sinking sensation that it could have been different. The kind of feeling that churned her insides and made a loud, painful hum inside her head. If only she had been quicker, closed and dressed the wound a little faster. The flow of blood had been much quicker than her fingers, fingers which even after five years of healing still tremble.
Sakura feels the sticky, wet grass clump in her palms and a choked shriek muffles against her knees. Letting go of the soil, her fingers drunkenly reach for the black jar of stinging alcohol. Sake is good for dulling pain. She pours it down her patient's throats when they are screaming. One sip of it makes her lips pucker and her insides cringe, but that was only the first. Already on her third jar, she is flush-faced and miserable and numb and everything she doesn't expect a drunken person to be at all. Stupid Naruto always seems oblivious and happy when drunk.
A hand presses to her shoulder and an intense warmth, hotter than the burning alcohol, rubs into her skin. Even without looking she knows it's Naruto.
"Need a drinking partner?" he asks softly.
She is always puzzled by Naruto when he is being serious. She knows him as the goofy kid, the one with lopsided grins and perverted jokes. Sakura is too familiar with Naruto when he is deserving of a good knee to the groin. When he is concerned and warm and everything she needs, she is scared.
"Go ahead, I've got plenty," she tells him, swallowing down her thoughts.
He takes a glance at the pile of jars and takes in a deep breath. "Perks of being a medical ninja..."
"You know what is so fucked up?" she says suddenly, raising her head to look at him.
His blue eyes soften, their blaze dimming to cool pools of sky. "What, Sakura-chan?"
"They..." She pauses to hiccup miserably. "They thanked me."
Naruto thinks about the boy's family, the one whose wounds were deemed un-treatable, but Sakura was the type of person to never give up. The prospect of failing fuels her, eggs her on.
"You tried your best."
"I didn't do my job, damn it!" she snaps. "I'm supposed to heal people! Save them. What good am I if can't?"
Tears are slipping and sliding down her flushed cheeks now. Naruto bends down to wipe away the tears and is surprised at how damp and wet her face is. She had been crying for a long time and crying a lot.
"Let's drink together, Sakura-chan."
Up until Naruto's fifth drink everything has been fine; she tells him about her guilt and mistakes and he tells her it's alright. He squeezes her hand softly, reassuringly. And somewhere between this drink and the next, she is guiding his hand slowly to her face, kissing the tips of his fingers lightly, thankfully. She's not sure what she's doing or why she's doing it, but Sakura has a pretty good idea. The blame lies in the days when she was bored and had nothing to do but to watch Naruto train, watch the sweat beads roll off his strong back and disappear into the soft waistband of his pants. Or maybe the day when she realized that having Sasuke back wasn't the most important thing in her heart anymore, not that she didn't keep lying to herself that it was.
"W-what are you doing, Sakura-chan?" he asks her.
She doesn't answer him, afraid that the sound of her voice will startle her, wake her from her dreamy fantasy; so she quietly looks at him with pleading eyes and begs him to understand.
"I can't," he says quietly, but she knows that he's fighting a losing battle. "You're not yourself right now."
That's right, she isn't. She's piss drunk and in the morning she'll slap him, call him a pervert, and try to forget the whole thing. The story unfolds in her mind's eye in a matter of seconds, enough to convince her to bring Naruto's fingers lower, lower, sliding his rough-padded fingertips along her neck. He's staring at her, awed, afraid to move. The wind ruffles his hair, and his scent—so full of sunshine and earth—drifts over her. She can feel the blood rushing in and the loud drumming of her heart.
This is it; stop here.
But she can't and she won't.
Sakura presses his palm flat against her left breast, lets him feel how hot she is beneath her tank top. He doesn't move. He's sure he's got this all wrong. She can't possibly really want this. He wants to do the right thing, but his mind is frozen and his hand no longer seems to belong to him.
Finally, she speaks. "It's alright. You can touch me."
It's unfair, really. He hadn't stood a chance. Her soft encouragement unravels him, and Naruto is suddenly pushing her gently down onto the cool grass, cushioning her back with his hands. The muscles in her stomach jump wildly, and she dizzily recognizes the heavy weight of him on top of her. They have been like this before, but now it's entirely different. They are not training for a mission or sparring for fun. There are no dark pink blushes at the tips of their ears when her breasts graze against his chest. She is no longer pushing him off, accusing him of taking advantage of his skills and strength to grope her.
He is whispering something to her, something inaudible and tender. "I want to make you feel good. Are you sure?"
Sakura can't think of a better way to say, "yes" so she slips her hand around him, feels the thickness and the strength of his desire. A trembling sigh escapes him. Her hand is stroking up and down the length of him, and she's coaxing him, drawing him closer and is relieved when she feels him uncurl and lose completely. She's never touched anybody like this before, and she is glad that it's Naruto because he is caressing her so exquisitely. She is amazed at his short gulps of air and how much it reminds her of that time they were in the hot desert; she had taken off her shirt and pretended that his gaze on her body didn't give her chills.
Her hand moves faster and harder and remains where it is even when he comes, shaking and unsteady. She smiles up at him and realizes that in the glaring sunlight, his blue eyes are even brighter than the sky.
"We can forget it ever happened," Naruto speaks up, two blocks away from her house.
He's walking her home, said something about it being dangerous around this time of day or something equally ridiculous, and now here he is in front of her house.
Her heart pounds thunderously. Turn around. Run back. There are danger signs, warnings, obnoxious alarms.
"Come in with me," Sakura says.
Sakura laughs at how silly he looks against her pink bed sheets. The smile on her face disappears quickly, though, when he flips her onto her back and grinds his hips against hers. The breath that she sucks in is sake laced and bitter, but his kisses soon take care of that. Her hair tickles his cheeks and he laughs softly into her wet mouth. She takes the opportunity to dip her tongue deeper. Their gentle kisses become frenzied, messy, wet and entirely different from what she managed to sneak-glimpse in Kakashi's novels.
She is pressed flat against him now, crushed to his body by the sheer force of his hand at her back.
"Do you think..." Sakura doesn't want to finish her thought, doesn't dare. But Naruto is smarter than she gives him credit for, and he already knows what she means.
"That you'll regret this afterwards?" he finishes for her, while his hands are trying to thumb her underwear down. He likes to work from the bottom up.
She nips on the lower pout of his lips. "That you'll regret this."
Naruto looks at her for a long, forever second and skims the straps of her tank top with his fingers, gently tugging them off her creamy shoulders. Then he kisses her forehead and whispers, "No." He grabs her waist and pulls her down onto him, and she is suddenly forced to bite down a scream and a ripping shudder that starts at the back of her spine as it works its way across her belly.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
"I'm not, idiot." Her fingers dig into his shoulder blades, forcing him to move.
She isn't thinking of how small she really is and how big he is, how amazing it is that he can fit inside of her so perfectly and how slippery good everything feels each time he fits himself into her.
"Wrap your legs around me," he whispers to her, and she is nothing but glad to listen.
For more anchorage, she holds onto him, pulls him into her tighter, meeting his thrusts and his moans fervently.
"I don't want to hurt—"
Sakura chokes out a "please" and the world collapses instantly. Nothing has ever felt so good, so incredibly fucking good. She feels herself climbing higher and higher, and her fingers dig deeper into his flesh because she's almost there. Almost, almost. Can't turn back now. Harder. Faster. Now. There is a desperation in the way she arches against him, rocking rhythmically against his hips.
Then in one, two, three she's there. She's shaking against him so bad, deaf by the roaring in her ears that she can't hear his groans of release.
"Sakura, Sakura—" he says over and over before something takes hold of him, freezes him.
She brings a hand to his face to kiss him softly, to swallow his relieving sigh.
Then he is wrapping his arms around her, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of her and the lovemaking.
"Thank you," she says, but he is already fast asleep.
The next morning his hand is searching for her warmth, but she's already putting on her clothes, fixing the disheveled headband atop her head. His sleepy eyes open, and he peers curiously at her with half-lidded wakefulness. She wants to lean down, to kiss his full mouth and smooth down his messy hair so much that her hands are almost shaking.
"Where are you going?" he mumbles.
"To work." She finishes clipping the knife to the inside of her boot.
"Oh, I see."
The next words don't just spill out of her mouth, they rush and sting and hit Naruto much harder than she expects them to. "That—yesterday—it was a mistake. I was drunk. I'm sorry. We... we shouldn't have."
Sakura refuses to look at him, afraid that he'll see her apology for the lie it really is. It wasn't a mistake, and she had known damn well what she was doing, but the realities of the coming morning are too hard for her to handle right now.
She wants to apologize again, wants to tell him about the demons that taunt her, the guilt that still has its hands firmly fisted in her hair—why she can't, but things are better left unsaid.
He smiles at her softly, understandingly and she knows this will haunt her for many nights. "Sakura-chan... That's too much."
As always, reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading.