I don't own.
Five times Sakura kissed Sasuke (and one time she didn't)
i. The roaring in her ears subsides (please, please wake up, don't die) when she feels him move underneath her, groaning under her weight and the dozens of holes the tiny senbon have made in him,
Emerald eyes grow wide and her spine arches and she scrambles to look at him, to make sure he's okay (he's okay, he's okay, he's alive) and all she can see is the tiredness in his too black eyes, the way his face is too pale and how his bruises stand out starkly against it.
Her jaw clenches and she leans over him (all she can feel is the soft sweetness of his breath against her face and a trembling awareness that she's pressed hard against him like its something intrinsic) and suddenly her trembling mouth is pressed firmly to the corner of his mouth.
The roaring begins again, but its almost different, almost like the staccato notes of his fast-beating heart (what is this, its like everything anchoring me is gone, and now the only thing keeping me here---like my gravity is---) and everything falls away at the way her lips pressed against his just seems so right.
ii. The terror she felt before is nothing compared to this.
This is fright (terrorterrorterror) that snakes it's way through her body as she watches him with too wide eyes, and
(no, no, I really love you okay? So don't do this, this--- don't turn into a monster---)
she makes her feet move, pink hair (so short, I thought you loved long hair?) no longer a heavy weight on her back and her arms spin him round and her lips pressed roughly against him
(C'mon, c'mon damn you, respond, don't leave me---)
and maybe that monster is fading, black flames fading from his eyes (still so wide, still maybe insane) and god, was this ever supposed to feel so exhilarating?
(yes of course it was, you've loved him long enough haven't you?)
And as she pulls away, she thinks she can maybe feel the slightest pressure; thinks that maybe his mouth was pressing back, but that can't be right can it?
iii. Maybe that's the effect Ino has on her, to make her a little more reckless, more rash because she's fairly certain she wouldn't have done this otherwise.
Because under the gaze of all, (everyone, god what am I thinking?) she steps closer to Sasuke and smiles at him, green, green saccharine eyes crinkling at the corners and she leans towards him, her lips a ghost against his cheek as she whispers "Good Luck"
And if she didn't know any better she'd swear Sasuke purposely turned his head so that her soft lips press against the cool sweetness of his lips and there's no refuting the firm arm holding her to him and she ignores the cacophony of yells and moans from around them because after all she's just wishing him luck and its not like he likes her that way or anything.
iv. The darkness of the night throws her off momentarily but she really doesn't care because she's running, running to find him.
(don't leave; don't let him leave)
When she finally catches up to him, word are passed and everything they've been through boils down to here and now, where his black, black eyes bore into her, her lip is caught in her teeth and she reaches towards him, pleading, wanting---
(I'm always the one that reaches right? Why is that, why won't he--)
When her lips find his, she's not really surprised at the stumbled apology at his lips; Sasuke's never been comfortable with things like hugs and kisses and to a point, she can understand (its who he is)
She is surprised, however, when his hand reaches to curl into her pink hair, still sheared and she really hasn't done much to it but his hand tugging at the strands makes her think he likes it.
She leans into him, eyes closed and she revels in the warmth of his body pressed firmly against her, in the cool sweetness of his lips moving against hers, of the cool slide of his tongue into her mouth (where did he learn that?)
Her lips quirk into a smile as she kisses him, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt and doesn't even see his hand coming to hit her until its too, too late and its morning and she's curled up on the cold, unforgiving hardness of the bench he must have carefully placed her on.
v. Its been too many years (nearly three remember?) but when she sees him, the flash of desire is still potent and she doesn't hesitate to pursue him, though she doesn't know whether she wants to hit him with a chakra-infused fist or to kiss him stupid.
It's, surprisingly, Sasuke who makes the decision for her.
He whirls around, something like want in his eyes and then he slams her up against the wall.
Acrimonious words drip from his tongue, (I hate you, I hate you) and she can't find it her to care anymore. Her old words of love and forever seem puerile and she's achingly aware of how they would sound in his ears so she spits back words dripping with disdain and somewhere between this, his lips crash on hers.
Then, the slow burn of want begins somewhere in her stomach and ends in a blistering fire between her legs and his tongue's in her mouth and his hand's trailing fire underneath her shirt, blunt nails digging deep when her hips buck against him (it was his fault; he shouldn't be teasing her) and her moans are caught in his mouth.
His hand crept underneath her skirt that time, but he quickly pulled it out when her burst open and she arched her spine and Naruto's voice echoed somewhere near by
(That's the last time, she promises herself as she furiously buries want and need with a slick, sweaty body over her that she found in a bar)
vi. The truth: she never really kisses Sasuke.
She dreamt about it, several times and she makes the mistake of mentioning this to Ino who snorts and tells her its normal, really and you shouldn't worry.
Yes, she wants to yell at her, that's all fine, but I don't want to dream about him, so how do you make it stop?
She's eighteen when she makes it stop.
Here's how it happens: she's at the bar, with Naruto and she might have been a little tipsy but really don't ever tell that to Kakashi. (She swears she's sober the morning after)
There's this thing boiling between her and him and its been building for awhile so its only natural when she gives into impulse and grabs the soft fabric of his shirt (he leaves his vest at home when they go out) to press her lips against his.
Maybe she was tipsy but that doesn't mean he was and he kisses back anyway.
That night, she doesn't dream; she lives them out, mouth on mouth, his hot skin burning over her and she hisses his name when she comes.