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A/N: Thank you Reflecting, for reading this and editing it. Thank you Nami86.

No thank you Kishi. If I owned Naruto things would have not gone like they are.

And thank you, you guys! Yes you reading this! You reviewing it! (or not)

55

"You belong to me, little blossom…"

Footsteps. There are footsteps coming. I'm exhausted and without any chakra, but I know. They are his footsteps, I can tell. I choke back a sob, the blindfold is damp enough already. The three longest days of my life so far, and he has promised me forever. I don't want forever; I don't want now. I just want to vanish.

The door opens slowly, and there is a subtle shift in the light but it is soon blocked out by his frame. I can barely see his shadowed figure, but as he draws closer I can feel his heat. I've curled into a ball against the wall with my arms tucked into my chest, and my legs folded in front of me. I bow my head and will myself to be in the deepest shadow of the room. He says nothing.

The first time was rough and uncouth and it hurt, it made me afraid of him. Truly afraid. I had looked at him with tears streaming down my face afterwards, and flinched away when he reached for me. Ever since then I have been blind folded. The ropes have always been on, sometimes he'll take them off, but most of the time he pins my arms above my head and I am even more exposed and defenseless. I hate it. And I hate him for it.

But since that first time, he has almost been gentle. He is still rough and cares nothing for me, but he does not hurt me. And I feel like a traitor myself as I respond to him and move with him and gasp with him. My head tells me to fear this man, to hate him – yet my body loves him and what he does to me, and my heart…

He crouches down in front of me and I tuck my chin into my chest and turn my head away. His breath fans out over my cheek and I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. Letting out a small breath he grasps my chin between his forefinger and thumb and turns my head towards him. His thumb moves slowly, and so lightly that it hurts from my chin to my bleeding lip. "You didn't have to do that," he all but whispers. New tears are caught by the blindfold, but a few escape and fall down my cheeks.

He replaces his thumb with his lips in a gentle kiss. I try to pull away, but I am between him and the wall; I've trapped myself in trying to hide. He pulls away from my lips and I can no longer taste the blood in my mouth. His tongue traces the tears from my chin to the blindfold, my breathing has become ragged and I can't think straight anymore.

There is a rustle of fabric and something soft and warm is placed around me. He crosses it over and I grope with my hands until I hold it together around myself. It's long enough to cover me, falling at my mid thigh, and I thank my height for the first time in my life. His arms are moving to envelope me and I try to shrink away but with one arm supporting my back and the other under my knees he picks me up and begins to walk. His chest is a solid blazing heat even through the fabric. I realize that as much as he has done to me, and as much as I don't want to, I almost feel safe as he holds me like this.

We walk for a long time, I can only see the changes in light – we seem to be going through a maze. In this dazed state of mine I have lost count of how many rights and lefts turns we have taken and how many footsteps each hallway is. Sometimes, the hallways are brightly lit and there is a thrum of noise, others are black to me and silent. Never once do we cross paths with another person, but I am still thankful for what ever is covering me. Being stark naked except for ropes and a blindfold is rather unnerving and not something I would ever want anyone to see me in.

He stops for just a moment and turns around, his back opening a door. I glance up at him the best I can, but I wouldn't know if he was looking back at me. He walks in and closes the door in the same fashion, and continues to walk for just a little bit. His weight shifts and he kneels on what I believe is a futon. I quiver in his arms and try to draw the fabric covering me closer. He sets me down on his lap, with his legs crossed underneath my bottom creating a small nest. Keeping one arm around my shoulders, holding me to him, his other hand ghosts my arms and my back.

I whimper and try and hide, but the only place to hide is under his chin. His hand glides down the curve of my spine making me arch forward to get away from his fingers. Through the fabric his touches are too light and they burn my skin. Biting my lip again I try to pull away. "Stop that." He says. Not harshly, but forcefully, and kisses me again. It begins softly and ends just before it becomes passionate. He's holding back, is he's restraining himself? Why, why does it matter to him?

His chin pulls the top of my head to his neck and he kisses my hair, his breath tickling my scalp. So much for hiding under his chin; he wants me there. The hand that had held my shoulders travels up my neck raising and ruffling the sensitive hairs, it takes everything I have not to lean into his neck and enjoy the sensation running down my back. His fingers find the knot of the blindfold and undo it.

I gasp and blink furiously, my eyes lashes brushing the skin of his throat. The room is dimly lit, and all I can see is his chest in front of me. So many things are running through my mind right now that I feel lightheaded. I can't breath, I can't think and my heart whispers to me for just a moment.

"Sakura look at me," he whispers, breath in my ear sending a shiver down my spine. I don't want to. Not after all he's put me through, after what I have just realized. Not with what he has just showed me. I can't. "Sakura," he says again, voice low and hoarse. His hand finds my chin and draws my head up to look at him. But I can't, I know that if I do, I might actually…I look to the side; I will not look at him. His forehead is against mine. In another place, at another time, if we were different people, we would look like lovers. But we are not, we are who we are.

He swallows, I can hear it. I can hear his heartbeat and I'm not even against his chest. Mine must be like thunder, I can't handle this. He kisses me again, and it breaks any sort of stability I had left. I can feel everything, his hands gently uncurling my own from the white haori around me, his hair tickling my face, his lips and his tongue melting me. Yet at the same time, I feel nothing at all. He is pushing me into such a state of absolute heat I can think of so little other than him growing against me, and my own body responding to him. And this time, I don't fear him.

With one hand cradling the back of my head, and the other the small of my back he lowers me to the mattress; never breaking the kiss. My hands have found the back of his neck and wrapped themselves into his hair. The haori is open, and I am exposed to not only the cold of the room, but to the warmth of the man above me.

This is so different, and I find that I like it. He moves down from my mouth to my neck, nuzzling and gently, ever so gently, marks me. His bites haven't faded from before, but this mark means something else. I can't think straight again as his hands begin to explore. Before all his hands were good for was holding me down, never for stroking and caressing me. Now they slowly move from my shoulders down my sides, skimming my breasts, and down to my hips.

There's so much going on; his lips, his fingers, my body pushing against him willing him to…to what? I gaze at him through half closed eyes as a moan builds in the back of my throat. "Sakura," he purrs right onto my breast sending vibrations straight through my core. I pant and throw my head back as his mouth begins to suck on my nipple. All those other times it was about domination and his own pleasure, but right now I can't even see straight because of what he's doing to me.

One of his hands palms out over my stomach and drifts lower until he is cupping me, twisting his wrist his fingers begin to part my folds, and then they are in me. I gasp out, there is no pain, only a pleasure I never expected this man to bring me. Thrashing my head I want to bite my lip but he kisses me again before I can. With one hand on my breast, his mouth over mine, and his fingers stroking me, my eyes roll to the back of my head and I struggle for breath during the first orgasm he has ever allowed me to have. With my eyes closed all my other senses are heightened and I can feel his breath suddenly on my neck, his pants between my legs, his hair tickling my face, his fingers still in me.

I shuddered violently as the last wave of ecstasy leaves my body. With one last shaky breath I try and sit up, he allows it but he does not move. We are nose to nose, so close that I can see myself in his eyes. I lean forward just that little bit more, close my eyes and rest my lips against his. I move slowly and he takes no action, I pull away and gaze down at his pants, obviously straining at holding him in. He is perfectly still when I reach forward and slip my fingers just under the top of his pants at his hips.

Biting my lip, he allows it this time, I begin to drag his pants down, slowly, carefully, but it isn't until I hear him hiss that my resolve is hardened. With that one hiss I finish the job and his pants are at his knees, he kicks them off and I can feel him staring at the top of my head as I stare at him. I have only seen him once before, during that first time. Any air he had in his lungs whooshes out and ruffles my hair when I reach out and grasp him.

I stroke him gently, first with one hand and then two; he's hot and so soft, and I can't put a name to the feeling of him in my hands. He groans into my hair, his breathing is irregular and harsh and his hands are fisted in the blankets by my hips. He tries not to move, not to react, not to groan as my hands continue to tease him. Why hasn't he thrown me down yet, why hasn't he hurt me yet? He begins to move his arms slowly, the feeling of his fingers simultaneously gliding up my sides brings goose bumps to my skin, his arms encircle my hunched shoulders and he leans forward forcing me back.

We lie like that for a moment, my hands have left him and lie gently on the small of his back. He is between my legs, so close to entering me, his arms still around my shoulders cradling me softly against him. He is partially laying on me, supporting his weight on his forearms. We're looking at each other, and seeing clearly for the first time in years, and my heart whispers to me.

He enters me slowly, having had him be so vicious and violent before, there is no pain. There is nothing but pure concentrated pleasure. I shut my eyes tightly and throw my head back, opening my mouth in a silent scream; it feels so good. Writhing and twisting beneath him I want him to begin; to continue this, to make me feel like this, to know that it is really him doing all these wonderful things to me. "Sakura, look at me," he murmurs in my ear, adding to my pleasure, I can't help but look at him. He is beautiful, this man above me, I don't know him at all, and yet I feel so safe with him. "Tell me what you want."

I can barely form a coherent thought; I want everything, I want him moving inside of me, I want him making me gasp and moan, I want him to make love to me. "You," I whisper. I try and move beneath him to show him, I can't say anything more. But he lowers himself onto me just a little more and I am trapped. My hands find their place and rest on his face, they fit perfectly, and I draw him down for a kiss. "I want you," I manage to say against his lips, our breath mingling.

He moves, and I see white. There is so much bliss with each stroke, I try and meet him and to match his rhythm. My hands are on his shoulders helping me match his movements; his head is in the crook of my neck his breath hot on my skin. The feel of his skin all around me, the feel of him inside of me, I quickly begin to climb to another orgasm. "Please," the word barely escapes my mouth before his lips are on mine.

He stills and looks at me and asks against my lips, "who?" The loss of movement is devastating to my body, I had been so close and I writhe beneath him; it will take so little to send me over. I dare to look at his eyes, the Sharingan is there, watching me, memorizing me.

"You," I plead with him. I will not admit that this stranger and the man from before are the same. Never could someone be so different. This man above me is someone I love. But I cannot say his name, I don't even know it. "Please!" I gasp, "I need you!"

He only continues to look at me before lowering his head, "and who am I?" My heart tells me who this man is. My heart tells me I still love this man. This man who hurts me, who kills me, who I fear and yet is the same as the man above me, making love to me, pleasuring me, making me moan and pant; making me love him.

"Sasuke-kun."

And that is all it takes. Now he is both men, he is vicious and tender, he is fast but there is only pleasure. I do not fear him, my heart tells me, I love him. He sends me spiraling over the edge and I gasp; there is no air left in my lungs as my toes curl and my whole body tenses. He follows not long after me and the feeling of him exploding in me only heightens my own bliss.

He lays himself on top of me, almost all of his weight crushing me into the futon below us. I feel as though I will never be cold again. My arms hold him to me as he merely breathes. I close my eyes and do the same, but his voice calls me back to my mind, "Who am I?"

He rolls off me but stays next to me, keeping as much contact between us as possible. I quietly shift so I am on my side and then I slide over to him, tucking myself under his chin. "You are Sasuke-kun." He lets out a sigh, throws the rumpled covers over us and wraps his arms around me.

And my heart says that this is Sasuke-kun, and that I love him.