Disclaimer: I don't even know what I'm doing. (Read as: Naruto isn't mine.)
Author's Note: Um, well, to be honest, I'm not that big of a Naruto fan. Eh heh… I mean, I sort of follow it because two of my best friends are obsessed with it, but… this and Reminders are probably the only Naruto-related fanfics I'll ever write… unless I write Zena and Nina more presents (which, incidentally, this fic is. I wrote it over the summer, though, so I dunno why it took me so long to share it with you guys… oh well!).
Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy! XD
"And how do you see this playing out, exactly?"
The crisp words echoed through the darkened room, carrying with them a mixture of aggravation and annoyance. For a moment, neither said anything more— rather, the previous speaker crossed her arms over her chest, and the one to whom she was speaking simply looked sheepish.
"Well?" Sakura prompted in a hiss, scowling down at the man she'd straddled with her knees. Her jade-green eyes narrowed; a long finger tapping a steady rhythm against her forearm. "What happens now?"
Kakashi— pinned to the floor by his young student and a rather impressive array of shiriken— wriggled slightly. It was the closest thing to a shrug he could manage. "Well, from this point, things could go a few different ways," he said, attempting a casual drawl as he tried very hard not to concentrate on the moist heat set so pointedly upon his belly. "We could pretend that the past two fabulous hours never happened, and make believe that these daggers are here because you thought I was some sort of imposter and attacked me. Or we could continue where we left off, only with fewer clothes. Or we could spend a few hours talking about whatever happens to come into our heads. Or we—"
She slapped his chest with the back of her hand, sneering her irritation. "Twit," she spat, cheeks darkening to a rather fetching shade of magenta. "I don't mean this. I mean this."
With swift hands, she snagged a corner of her sensei's mask and snapped it like a rubber band.
Sakura glowered, flopping back onto the legs Kakashi had propped up and slouching into a pout. The older man couldn't help but notice the way her legs spread as she slid… the movement brought his eyes to the single curtain of red cloth that hid her— great gods above, when had she taken off her black pants?
He swallowed. Hard.
"This!" the girl was grumbling, oblivious to his ogling. "This stupid mask of yours!" Sakura snorted bitterly, face flushed and voice breathy from many different variations of frustration. "Do you know how disgusting the thing tastes? Either you take it off, or this is all you'll see."
She swept a hand down her body, and though there was more cloth on it than he would have liked, it still wasn't a bad sight: her hair was delightfully rumpled, her lips swollen and bruised, her dress-top mussed and only half-buttoned. In any other circumstance, he would have been thankful for what he had.
But if there were a chance for more…
Kakashi hesitated, teetering on the edge of his decision. Sakura, his reputation. Sakura, his image. Sakura, his secrets.
Hot, wild, passionate sex in the academy closet or his mask.
Sakura arched an eyebrow. "You seriously have to think this through?" she drawled, visibly irked. Her legs spread a little wider, she sunk a little lower; she glared down her body at him, face framed by her breasts and the valley between.
Kakashi groaned audibly, on the verge of sulking. This just wasn't fair! "It's a lot harder than you think," he growled, brow puckered with indecision.
She smirked. "You seem to forget where I'm sitting."
"That's not what I meant."
"Are you sure?" Teasing fingers ghosted down his thighs, stopping to play with the tips of her rosy hair. His voice caught on a husky moan.
"Me or the dumb mask," she repeated, re-crossing her arms and jutting out her chin, the very picture of stubbornness. "Final offer. And I must say, I'm insulted that it's such a difficult decision for you."
Neither moved, nor blinked, nor even seemed to breathe… Kakashi's resolve was wearing thin, but Sakura's patience was thinner by far.
"Fine," she ground out a minute later, sitting up with a toss of her head. "Whatever. Take your time, see if I care. In the mean time, I'll be over in the corner, getting some reading done."
And with a single fluid movement, Make Out Paradise had been fished from Kakashi's shirt-pocket and snapped open with a crisp sound, held loftily in Sakura's small left hand.
Kakashi's eyes widened; his stomach dropped. "You wouldn't…" he gasped, horrified.
"Wouldn't I?" Standing and pressing a hand to her hip, Sakura flipped through the worn pages 'till she'd reached her sensei's bookmark. Swift green eyes skimmed the page, flicking and flashing over the unfamiliar passages. "Let's see… and with a muffled moan, the delicate ninja fell against the unforgiving oak tree, rubbing and rubbing the rough bark against the ache between her long, supple legs…"
Her free hand slipped downward…
The fingers paused, toying with the hem of her top. "What was that?" Sakura asked sweetly, casting her teacher a deadpan sort of glance from over the top of the book. He was already writhing, eyes screwed shut and panting with agony. "I couldn't hear you over the sound of thrashing. Really, I've barely read a paragraph yet. Pipe down. If you won't do it for me, then—"
His eyes snapped open so suddenly that it sent jolts of pure electricity down her spine. Distantly, the girl wondered if it was some sort of wonderful, unknown jitsu… But then Kakashi opened his mouth to speak, and Sakura was pulled back to reality.
"Yes?" she prompted softly, fluttering the book as if it were some sort of fan. "Would you like something, sensei?"
The young man snarled, fighting against the daggers that held him. "Mask," he demanded, his voice guttural and low. It sent those tingles down her spine again… "Off. NOW."
Sakura arched an amused eyebrow, slowly lowering herself back into a crouch— her eyes never leaving Kakashi's.
Kakashi stared firmly back.
Then, with a satisfied smirk, she did as she was told.