"Kakashi-sensei! What are you doing in the hospital? Are you dying?"
"Very funny, Sakura. I'm here to remind you about tomorrow."
"One round at my house. Remember?"
"Oh, yeah. Was that tomorrow?"
"Of course. All day long. You'd better be full of energy. It's gonna be really…dirty."
"As you always are, sensei. Of course I'll be there. I don't back down that easily."
"I know you don't. That's why I've chosen you. And uh…could you stop calling me sensei?"
"You didn't choose me. It just happened. And you are my sensei, so what's wrong with me calling you that?"
"Alright, Sakura. Be there tomorrow."
"I will. Of course I will."
His house was a pigsty.
That was the first thing that came to mind the moment she went in and her eyes became bombarded with a wild, full-pledged mess. Dishes in the sink. Upturned furniture. Mission reports long due spilling from a magazine rack. Clothes everywhere.
The second thing that came to mind was that she should never have taken that bet with him. Or, to be more precise: she should never have lost.
Stupid sparring practice.
Grimacing, Sakura stared around the apartment some more before sighing loudly and marching into the middle of his living room. While they were having the bet, Kakashi had mentioned that Pakkun and his other dog nins had visited his apartment one night, and because it was Pakkun's birthday, he had allowed them to stay there and celebrate as long as they wanted – hence the whole mess. How he worked that into their challenge for the day, she could never comprehend – much less how she let herself get talked into taking it.
If she did not know how neat her sensei was, she would have thought he was lying. The whole thing was ridiculous, to say the least. Who would let their dogs take over their house like that, and not ask them to clean up the mess they made? Who would let their dogs celebrate there in the first place? But alas, she knew the silver-haired jounin was somewhat of a neat freak, based on the missions they took together and the amount of time they had to endure one another during those periods. He stored his weapons in a nice array in his mini pouch, and wrapped his other stuff in separate mini blankets to compartmentalize them in his traveling bag.
And no, he was not gay. She was sure of this, because a gay man would not have been sucking face with a random woman on a bar's dark, deserted back alley three months ago.
A slutty one, to be more precise. She still smarted over how that woman had sucked face with her civilian ex-boyfriend, too, half a year ago. And he and Sakura were still dating that time. Ugh.
But back to the business at hand.
Maybe he's just too lazy to clean up the mess of his canine pals, Inner Sakura grumbled vehemently.
Which was probably why he had challenged her yesterday, so he could place this whole responsibility on her. The smart ass. He had only one instruction, too: clean up every speck of dirt there was – and stay away from his bedroom closet.
Knowing this was probably a blessing (who knew what other disaster of dirty stuff he had in there?), Sakura held up her mop and cleaning solution in determination. She took a deep breath.
Then, realizing it was now or never, she trampled her way into his greasy kitchen and proceeded to make it shine.
It was while she was aligning his shuriken-printed bedsheets over his bed that she noticed his closet door was slightly ajar. Not so noticeable, really, if you only gave it an initial glance. But because she was angled in a way that she was bent over his bed (she was sniffing at his covers to see if it had dog breath or anything like that, and was pleasantly bombarded by scents of pine and healthy male) with her face directly in front of it, she saw it.
And curiosity, devious as it was, got the best of her.
She checked his wall clock (how he had a clock and was still always late, she could never quite figure out). It was still six hours since she came in the house, and judging from that, it was only late afternoon. He was probably still out on a mission, or training, or reading his porn somewhere, and wouldn't be back until late night. Which gave her a lot of time to peek in. Just one little peek to satisfy her nagging curiosity.
No harm done, right?
Arguing with herself while letting her feet travel the small space between his bed and the mysterious place, she quickly tried to get rid of her so-called guilty conscience, her hands going for the little center knobs. She was pretty sure he stored his precious shurikens and kunais in there, along with more clothes – pressed ones, most likely. She almost giggled at the thought. Sakura opened the door—
...and gaped some more.
Oh. My. Kami.
It was a walk-in closet. Filled everywhere with orange.
Icha-Icha orange, to be more precise.
Blinking, making sure she was not dreaming, she swiveled her head to glance back at his room, where a desk sat beside his bed piled sky-high with his orange obsession. Then she looked back inside the closet. Sure enough, it was no dream. There were even more piles of the stuff, stacked neatly where his clothes and shoes should have been. And not only that – there was a feather duster, too, hanging on the wall! He must have lovingly dusted this place up time and again, while completely ignoring the whole mess that was his apartment.
Suddenly she was furious. Her ex-sensei was really a sick man – brilliant, no denying that, and the best in most battles…but just too perverted for his own good. Hell, even Naruto, who had trained with Jiraiya himself, did not have this amount of porn in his house. Sakura was sure of this because she had cleaned up the blond's whole apartment once, too. What was so good about this, anyway? Why couldn't he just find a steady woman in his life and get steady sex (me, me, me! Inner Sakura seemed to shout – to which she totally disagreed in mortification), instead of delving into shameless written smut and giggling about it every once in a while?
She was going to burn it. All of it.
Snarling for reasons she couldn't explain, Sakura stalked inside the closet, slamming it shut behind her before grabbing the first book that came into her hands. She ripped it off, causing a satisfying sound that seemed to echo inside the room long after the action was done. Crazed, her temper acting up, she grabbed another one, ripping it viciously halfway when the cover fell open and the first page came up.
She froze, staring.
It was a colored image of a girl with pink hair, head thrown up, eyes closed and mouth open – bent over a log while a man (a clothed one) with silver hair positioned himself behind her. His belt buckle was on the ground, his zipper half undone, and her skirt was hiked up, revealing a white thong. His hands were on her hips. Above their heads were pop-up balloons, with words inside.
The man's balloon said: You naughty girl.
The girl's balloon said: Only for you…sensei.
The title? Forbidden Paradise.
Sakura squeaked, dropping the book like it was something scalding her hands and backed away, only to bump into a stack of his orange books. And his feather duster. The books promptly fell all over her, the feather duster following along directly towards her head.
The last thing she realized was that the feather duster's handle was made of pure, hard metal.
The last thing she felt was a hot-white pain before darkness overtook her.
When she woke up, she found herself sideways on a bed, her mouth drooling all over a pillow.
Sakura stretched, reveling in the softness of the pillow and its scent. It smelled really clean, almost earthy, with that delicious mix of pine and musk and—
She blinked, finally realizing why it smelled so familiar. Finally realizing what must have happened, the moment the memories came rushing back. She was in Kakashi's bed.
And she had found him stashing porn with an image of two people strikingly resembling them.
Almost as if on cue, the doorknob to his bedroom turned. Too panicked and embarrassed to think about escape, or anything that did not go along the lines of revenge and humiliation and the-floor-opening-up-to-swallow-her, she hurriedly closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
When his call was met with complete silence, she heard him sigh and pad around the room with soft footsteps. It was like that for quite awhile, the footsteps going from here to there, clunking some furniture or object that she couldn't see. It was galling to think that he was disarranging what she had just cleaned up hours ago, and for a minute she was tempted to bolt upright and scream at him to not touch anything at all, or he would die from her wrath. But because her initial temper had vanished and she was more patient now, she opted to keep up her pretense and wait for him to be completely unaware.
Then she would bolt like a madwoman. Or punch him from here to the end of eternity.
When the footsteps stopped, she dared to take a risk and opened one eye cautiously.
…and wished she hadn't.
Kakashi was standing with his back to her – his shirtless, pale back. The muscles stretched wonderfully as he removed the shirt completely, tossing it carelessly on the floor. She would have lectured him for it, she really would have.
If only she wasn't distracted by that very distracting back.
Slowly, his pants went next, revealing short, black boxers nearly hugging a well-rounded rear and emphasizing firm thighs. Why she wasn't closing her eye, she could never understand. She should be disgusted. With him. With herself. She was becoming a peeping tom, and he was providing her a front-seat strip show.
A very nice, very impressive—
His hand stretched up to drag across his hair, corded muscles bunching at the movement. A long gash from his right shoulder down to his waist (disappearing well below his underwear) only emphasized all this.
Her other eye opened.
His boxers went next.
Her mouth went dry at the sight.
Grab it, grab it, Inner Sakura chanted devilishly.
Then he suddenly turned around. Heart beating loudly, she closed her eyes before she could see his very naked front, and pretended to be asleep again. She heard him pad out of her direct line of vision.
She should leave. She should leave before this all got worse. This was not the time for revenge. This was the time for self-preservation and avoiding further humiliation and – and – trying not to imagine her own body plastered all over that naked man's body, damn it. Think sensei. Sensei. SENSEI. Forbidden, forbidden, FORBIDDEN—
The shower turned on from somewhere in his bathroom. Eyes snapping open, realizing this was her chance, Sakura bolted out of the bed. Then, with the speed of lightning, she lunged for the door of her escape—
And was promptly tackled back into the bed by a hard body.
A wet, hard body.
The fast motion jarred her enough to have her bouncing, right into him – and coming in complete contact with the body, from chest to toe, with her legs spread open and her skirt riding up and his oh-so-nakedness sliding slickly all over her. Before she could stop herself, a tingling started down her legs and traveled up, making her bite her lip to avoid making a sound. Whether it was pleasure or indignation, she wasn't sure.
Kakashi stared at her with his mask-less – oh, my Kami, he was not buckteeth or ugly or any of that crap – face completely unamused.
"I knew you weren't her. Sakura always followed my orders," he muttered.
Before she could comprehend what he was saying, he suddenly rolled his hips, rubbing something hard and hot between her legs and sending a jolt of intense pleasure crashing through her center. She thrashed against him in panic, and only managed to rub back. Oh, Kami.
She stopped biting her lip and moaned.
He smirked. "Sakura also wouldn't do that. She would simply punch me." Grabbing her hands and pinning them on top of her head, his mouth – that smooth, surprisingly soft-looking mouth – went to her ear, at the same time one of his hands wandered to her thigh, sliding up to touch what she was wearing under her skirt.
She shivered, nearly whimpered, as his fingers traced.
"She wouldn't wear a thong, either," he whispered.
It didn't matter what he said, as long as he kept touching her like this. As long as that mouth slid away from her ear and up to her mouth, to kiss her no matter how long he wanted, how hard he wanted, how—
Her fantasies were interrupted by his next words.
"Is this you, Anko?" Kakashi asked, rocking against her until she thought her eyes would roll out of their sockets. "Are you disguised again to try to seduce me?"
She tried to talk. "Kakashi-sensei, I – oh!" She ended up gasping in ecstasy as he thrust, his hardness moving over her barely-clothed center.
"Sensei? It's definitely you. You've definitely been a kinky one."
She couldn't help the next moan. Especially when he buried his nose on her neck, and inhaled deeply.
"You even smell like her," he rasped. Abruptly, he removed his weight from her, his fingers replacing it. Slowly, he traced her damp thong, grunting as he felt her vibrate against his thumb. "You're so drenched. So wet pretending to be someone else."
"What – what are you talking – about?" she whispered brokenly, nearly going insane as he deepened the pressure. "Kakashi…why are you doing this?"
"Stop playing, Anko," he groaned harshly, removing his thumb and aligning himself against her once again. She moved against him restlessly, making him grit his teeth. "Did you get off trying to rip that edition, because it looked like her? Will you always make fun of how I can never resist her? How it will always be her I want, not you?" He thrust again, as much pleasure as punishment. The disgust flitted across his expression, mostly for himself, and he stopped what he was doing.
And then, when she felt that she would die from the extreme stimulation, when she would have begged him to stop playing and either let her go or keep on touching her, or to explain what the hell he was talking about, he did the one thing that made her forget everything else.
He kissed her.
All thoughts flew from her head. She kissed him back, reveling in it, wondering why she never realized it would feel this good with him, why—
It ended short as he abruptly pulled back and stood up, staring at her with a mixture of shock and horror.
"…you're not Anko."
Dazed, Sakura blinked. Stared back. Then she sat up, shakily pulled down her skirt, trying to get rid of the throbbing that was still there. Or at least, ignore it.
She stood up.
Then she punched him from here to the end of eternity.
She visited him three days later in the hospital, the moment he was conscious. Marching into his room like a woman out for blood, she stood beside his bed, glared at him ferociously and blurted out the first thing that came out of her jumbled mind.
"You thought you were messing around with Anko? You thought I was Anko?"
He grimaced, as if in pain. Which he probably was, considering the bandages wrapped practically all over him. "Sorry about that."
"How did you know it was me for real, then?" she demanded.
He frowned, avoiding her eyes. "Never mind that."
"Answer me or I will break every bone in your body," she hissed.
He visibly winced. Then he sighed. "The kiss gave you away."
She was expecting that answer, actually. But still…
Her question was met with silence. She glared at him (though he couldn't see it, she was pretty sure he could feel it) until he finally replied.
"Because I kissed Anko before, when she was pretending to be you. When I thought it was you. You taste different."
The anger deflated slightly, as Sakura stared at him, wondering how this was all happening so quickly. She took a slow step forward, as hesitant as he sounded.
"Do you want her, Kakashi? Is this some sick game you two are playing, ridiculing me in a twisted roleplay that you both conjured up?"
"It's nothing like that. It's her game, not mine. I told her to stop. I never slept with her. I don't want to."
She scoffed. "You certainly imitated the act three days ago."
At this, he had the decency to look ashamed. "…your scent was strong. I was weak. I'll apologize for that."
But an apology wasn't enough, in her opinion.
"Do you want me, Kakashi? Is that why you were kissing her when she imitated me?"
"It was just a kiss. I stopped it before it could go any further."
"That wasn't my question."
"I don't want you," he said shortly.
She tilted her head, thinking this over. Then her eyes widened.
"Then…do you love me?"
Only his silence was answer enough.
She staggered back, head reeling. Not knowing how to reply, she stepped backward, muttered a flimsy excuse.
Then she ran away and never visited him again.
A week and a half later, while Kakashi was dreaming in his bed and rain was pouring outside, a body slid beside him, touching his naked chest and kissing his ears and jaw until he woke up. He found himself staring into bottle-green eyes, tousled pink hair and creamy skin.
He sighed, exasperated and tired. "Anko, please. I'm tired of this. Just let it go. Leave me alone. Please."
She ignored him, and brought her mouth to his.
Surprise flitting on his expression, he kissed her back, nipping her lips and tangling his hands through her hair to bring her closer.
"Sakura," he murmured in her mouth. It wasn't a question.
She hummed in approval, and kissed him harder. He hiked up her red skirt, caressing her soft thighs. Impatient, she swatted his hands away, taking hold of his erection and rubbing it rapidly until it ached to the point of madness. He groaned, his tongue delving in to taste her own. Slowly, she aligned the tip of his hard length to her entrance, breath hitching at the heat smoldering. He stopped her.
"Are you sure?" he whispered.
She answered by slipping him inside her.
It was heat and pleasure from there on. She rode him slowly, feeling every stroke and thrust as if she had all the time in the world. He removed her black shirt, staring at her black lacy bra before removing that, too. His hands wandered, touching every bit of skin there was to touch, mouth tasting every bit there was to taste. Her long, broken moan throbbed through him as he flicked one nipple, his mouth sucking the other.
Pleasure became desperation.
"Faster," she begged, voice laced with need.
Impatient, sanity gone, he flipped her over, until her back was on the bed. He ripped her skirt, until only her skin was beneath him. Then he proceeded to thrust inside her faster, harder, as she locked her legs around him, drawing him closer. She moaned out his name, over and over again.
Desperation became an explosion as the orgasm hit them in a mind-numbing mix of fireworks and scorching heat.
Spent, still too shocked from the onslaught of sensations, Kakashi collapsed against her, face buried on her neck and body pinning her completely on the mattress. She didn't seem to mind as she stroked his hair lazily.
"Sorry for being late," she whispered. "I had to do some things first."
He grunted on her neck, voice vibrating through her skin. "Such as?"
"Punching Anko in the gut. Threatening to cut her head off if she dares to seduce you again."
He snorted in surprise and amusement, head finally moving up so he could look down at her. "Really?"
She grinned. "Yeah. Then yelling at Jiraiya's tombstone until the grass growing there withered. Then…visiting him again to bring him flowers."
He smiled. "That's nice."
Her grin softened. "I thanked him, too. For creating that edition and making me realize something."
His smile disappeared, as he stared at her intently. "What's that?"
Slowly, Sakura cupped his face, drawing him closer.
"That the feeling is reciprocated," she whispered.
"Really?" he murmured, lips a breath away.
"Really," she murmured back. Like gravity, their mouths came together once more, keeping the kiss long and very, very sweet.
There was no need for Icha-Icha special editions anymore.
…or maybe there was. Who knew?
They could always reenact the scenes later.
a/n: It's not my usual style, but here goes. I wrote this October of 2010 and kept it in my laptop...then got distracted before I could post. And then I forgot about it until now. XD
I'm missing Naruto, tbh. But I just can't bring myself to watch the anime or read the manga anymore. Maybe when Kishimoto finally decides to finish it - whenever that is.
Happy reading. :)