Chapter 1

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It would have been the most perfect scenario, had the situation not been so delicate. There he was, her former teacher, the ever-so-elusive Hatake Kakashi; head all but plowed in his crushed pillow, body smashed all over the bed. And the best thing was, he was asleep.

And his mask was all but begging to be removed.

Yes, it would have been a perfect scenario indeed. Here she was, Haruno Sakura, an innocent girl who happened to just stop by at her former teacher's apartment, to relay a message to him. She had knocked; he had not answered. And so, she had let herself in, staring for a full minute at the obviously out-of-this-world sleeping man before remembering her purpose there and taking a step closer, until she was standing right beside his bed. Sakura quietly stared some more at the man. His vest was off, and the sheets were tangled around his trouser-clad legs. His silver hair was disheveled, and he was breathing regular, even breaths. Yep—definitely shut out from the world. Floating in dreamland, most probably.

She wanted nothing more than to reach out, and slowly peel that annoying, mysterious little mask away. Her fingers practically itched at the thought of doing so. Usually, her sense of honor got in the way, before she could even have the courage to do such a thing—she knew it was a bit like cheating, and no matter what, she vowed she would choke on her own saliva than do something as deceiving as that (a.k.a. taking the upper hand by removing the mask right now while the man was unaware and looking unashamedly at the face of the said man, therefore winning her long-standing bet against Naruto, and even Sasuke).

But right now, this morning, she was too irritated to even care if that so-called honor was actually worth it, especially since she knew Naruto would have won the bet one minute ago, had he been the one asked to deliver the message. Besides…all was fair when it came to betting games, right?

Right.

Fingers anticipating, Sakura lifted a hand, closer and closer to his face.

She touched the cloth, pausing. Hesitating.

And gasped, when his hand suddenly came to life and gripped hers.

In one breath—hell, it was probably even less than one breath—she was flipped over, and sent on her back to the bed with a muffled thump. With him on top of her, eyes still closed.

He murmured, something unintelligible.

And suddenly, before she could so much as react, his masked mouth was suddenly on her ear…her cheek…her mouth.

And his hands were everywhere.

The usual Sakura would have punched him in the jaw then and there, not caring that he was her former mentor, and should be respected even when they were both already grown up (well, she was nineteen, and she supposed that was more than grown up). The usual Sakura would have bitten his lips and his mouth, until he bled to death—then she would have proceeded to punch him raw, until she ensured that he did bleed to death faster. But she did none of those things.

She couldn't.

Instead she lay still, unable to comprehend what was happening. Unable to even move, and think things through. She could feel his lips through the mask, and they were soft, and kissing her so…thoroughly. Almost hungrily. His body was hard, and almost pinning her to the spot—she was strong, yes, but at the moment…she was too shocked to even consider doing anything. Too…weak. Her own body was going soft, as he continued what he was doing. Slowly, inch by desperate inch, she could feel her insides heating up, all because of his mouth, and those hands—wicked, strong hands. They—the hands—were sliding all over her skin, as if they belonged there. Her mind was dimming. Through her rumbling head, only one sensation dominated: the sensation to answer, and let this delicious encounter continue.

Delicious?

Continue?

What the hell was the matter with her?

She was under her ex-teacher, for crying out loud. Who was years older than her. Who was obviously drunk last night, given the faint smell of alcohol on his breath—heck, the aroma of it on his exposed neck. And who, she was pretty sure, had mistaken her for someone else.

Which would explain why he was ravishing her like there was no tomorrow.

So why the hell wasn't she protesting?

And darn it—why could she hear herself moaning?

Trying to desperately hold on to whatever sanity there was left in her mind, she lifted a hand again to put on his shoulder and stop him from doing…what he was doing. It was the right thing to do, right? What they were doing was…forbidden. Fisting a hand, she held on to his shirt, about to push him away. Determined to.

She stopped, when she felt his mask slip away. Felt his lips, bare now, roam back to her mouth, lazily. Softly.

Wonderfully.

Her breath hitched, and her eyes closed. Her grip on his shirt loosened.

Oh. My. Kami.

What on earth was happening?

She hadn't realized this, but she was actually responding now, her own mouth moving. Seeking. Her hands reached up, touching his shoulder, sliding slowly, slowly…up to his neck. Tracing soft little circles there. She heard a groan, not sure whether it was from her, or from him. Did it even matter? Her hands continued sliding up, up…

"I don't…Kakash…" she murmured, dazed out of her mind.

Abruptly, the mouth harassing her own stopped, and disentangled. The hard body disappeared, taking the heat and warmth with it. The bed moved. Before she could comprehend what was happening again, or even open her eyes, a voice came.

Rough and shocked and almost accusing.

"Sakura—what the hell do you think you're doing?"

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a/n: My very first fanfic! This is just the first chapter, I'll have lots more coming soon...what do you think so far?

Please be nice. :D