A/N: Part 1 in the 'What Gaara Knows' series...or..whatever you wish to call it.
Gaara was never one for sweets.
It was just one of his 'quirks' that he never really outgrew. He hated the way taffy would stick to his gums, or how hard candies would roll around his mouth, bumping against his teeth with an annoyingly muffled clatter. As a child he'd discovered he couldn't stand the taste of jelly filled onigiri; the contrast of flavors was much too revolting for his simple taste. Temari had tried an array of sweets and deserts for him to taste at one point, bitching about how it wasn't normal that her little brother didn't enjoy treats like normal children. It often annoyed him; how easily she could forget that he was in no way, shape or form, what one would consider a 'normal' child. Unless normality had been kidnapped and fucked into distortion somehow. His older brother once laced his rice with sweet red bean paste under the illusion that if Gaara wasn't expecting it, he wouldn't know the difference.
Three hours of arguing and two broken ribs later; Kankuro in fact realized the flaw in his thinking.
But then, Gaara unexpectedly and rather turbulently came to meet a young, rash, and hyper-active blonde with a love of action, trash talking - and of course, Sweets. He never could understand how the boy could stuff down bowl after bowl of scalding ramen and then devour bag after bag of sugars. Before then, he assumed Naruto's stamina was hereditary on some level, or some freak of nature aspect of the boy. After the chuunin exams and three years of friendship, he came to understand that the boy's blood had to be made completely of sugar. Or damn near at least. And Gaara knew it was only a matter of time before Naruto tried to do the same to his own blood. Though the thought made him cringe in disgust, some part of him knew it was unavoidable. The kitsune had a way of not only making people believe in him, but in making people believe that they wanted to do whatever he asked. He'd convinced Gaara to do everything from skinny dipping, to sex in the rain outside the gates of Konoha. Of course, that didn't go too well.
It'd taken all his will power to not kill the Jounin who'd caught Gaara with his pants down and Naruto moaning like some high class porn star. Ugh..
That one had seriously taken the cake out of all the irrational positions the boy had gotten them in.
Then there was the time Naruto picked Tsunade's office as a make out pit-stop. It wasn't often Gaara had reason to visit Konoha, and vice versa with the kit. So when he did, the long weeks, or months of constant celibacy left the Kazekage worked up enough to seek release anywhere. He'd unknowingly established the fact that Naruto could make him do almost anything he wanted. And one night, when he and Naruto found themselves tangled up in pale brown sheets of his bed, half naked and breathless, the boy stopped the Kazekage abruptly.
"Wait," he muttered, knotting his fingers into the thick red hair to pull away from a fiery kiss. "I thought we could try something...interesting tonight."
Gaara's non-existent brows rose at the comment. What could be more exciting than being two seconds away from getting pounded by a ten-incher? Nothing came to mind.
Chuckling quietly at his lovers clueless expression, he maneuvered himself from underneath the red head; thigh brushing against the tip of his swollen phallus. Opening the top draw of his bedside table, he looked around. "Hm...somewhere in here," he mumbled.
"What could be so interesting that you had to stop me now?" The ex-Shukaku vessel groaned, eyes narrowing out of intense vexation.
Still digging around the contents of the draw, he looked back at Gaara with a faintly shrewd smile. "Oh, you'll like it, believe--Aha!" His fingers wrapped around the wide plastic bottle he'd been so frantically seeking. Shifting his weight to once again rest beneath his love, he held up his prize. "Ta-dah!"
Blinking, he nearly sweat dropped at the boys audacity. "A bottle of honey? You're not serious..." His tone was far from the deep, warming octave he normally used exclusively for Naruto. Right now, he was simply appalled.
"Yes, honey!" He exclaimed, as if him saying it made it any more clear and Gaara any less annoyed. "You see, I was talking to Sakura an--"
"Sakura? Haruno Sakura?"
"You're taking sex advice from a virgin?"
"Hey! She knows what she's talking about!" Naruto defended angrily. "She's the one who told me to try that tongue trick on you; you know, the one I--"
"Yes," he cut the boy off once more. "Yes, I know, and trust me I'm very, very thankful for that."
"And, you'll be thankful for this. Come on, Gaara, lots of couples do it! Smear a little here, a little there, tongue it up; doesn't that sound a little bit romantic?"
If only I didn't have a conscience, he thought sinisterly. I'd make my way to Konoha and rip her a new asshole in her neck...hn. "As romantic as that may be," he begin, keeping his bitter thoughts to himself, "I don't like sweets, and you know that." He couldn't even bare the taste of candy, how did Naruto expect him to deal with honey?
Naruto's childishly angry tone took on a matter-of-fact pitch. "No, you tried most sweets and didn't like them, but not all."
"I do not like sweets. I would think I know my preferences and dislikes," he returned tartly. "And why do you choose these exact moments to bring up these issues? I'm lucky if I get to see you ten times a year, and you always seem to want to waste what precious time we do have with eccentric chats just like this one!" He was slowly loosing all desire at that moment. As much as he loved the boy, Naruto had quite a list of his own 'quirks' that would have been better if he grew out of them.
"Fine." His expression turned sour as he dropped the bottle to the unoccupied side of the bed. "Go on and finish what you started," he said, his own lack of desire now painfully evident.
"Hn..." There was a time when he'd as easily taken the boy with or without his current frigid attitude. But there was something amazingly wonderful about the way Naruto would cling and buck and wither against him; and he knew he wouldn't get any of that unless he broke the boy out of his detached shell. On the flip side, he also knew that would mean complying to the shinobi's demands...
It had been two months, three weeks, and sixteen hours since he'd felt the blond squeezing down on him; and if he had to suck up a little honey to feel it again, that was a sacrifice he could come to terms with. Groaning as he reached over to grasp the plastic bottle, he mumbled something under his breath. "If I decide to do this, will you not be so damn cold?"
A small smirk making it's way to Naruto's lips, he propped himself upward on his elbows. "Scouts honor," he said, pressing his moist lips to Gaara's clavicle lightly. Muttering quietly, he licked the man's neck in short, cat-like strokes of his tongue as he spoke. "So, will...you?"
The soft snap of the bottle cap flicking open made him giggle.
Gaara has never been one for sweets.
It's just one of his 'quirks' that he never really outgrew. He hates the way taffy would stick to his gums, or how hard candies roll around his mouth, bumping against his teeth with annoyingly muffled clatters. But he does know that he seems to like honey; likes the way it spills thickly out of it's container, sliding and sticking to the tanned body of a certain blond. He likes the way it slips down and over Naruto's waist, his hips, his thighs. He likes the way it feels against the boys clean, petal smooth skin when his tongue finally laps up the abstract lines of sweet goo; the way it mingles with his lovers own taste to form something incredibly new and delightful. Naruto whimpers, and mutters words of encouragement and desire as he bucks, shifts, twists, and opens his body up to the Kazekage.
Gaara still will not eat sweet-buns, or onigiri treats; but he'll gladly turn Naruto into his own special treat, lick him clean only to coat him in another fine layer of honey for his own enjoyment. He knows the kitsune just wants to say "I told you so" but between the licking that leads to the touching which leads to the slipping and thrusting, he can't keep his head straight long enough to utter it. He's sure he wants to thank the Konoha ninja for teaching him something new, like he always does, but once he slides into that always-so-damn-hot-and-oh-so-tight entry of silken flesh and contracting muscle; the only words he can manage are incoherent praises and blessings to the body he can never get enough of.
And that seems good enough for them both.
A/N: My writing hasn't gotten much better, but hey, never hurts to keep trying. Anyway, reviews are appreciated, as is criticism. So long as it's constructive and not of the stupid type. And if you don't like yaoi, don't bother sending me private messages of 'Ew, how gross.' Stop reading it, you lowlife. x.Hugs.&.Kisses.x