Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto
Note: Hrrrrr... I didn't want to post this as a story...
When he first met her, he was kindergarten and she was still in pre-school. She was a pretty little thing, with her black hair tied up in a bun and dark locks framing her heart shaped face, still round with her baby cheeks, her dark eyes wide and curious and full of laughter. She was a precious treasure he wanted for himself because he found her first and everyone knew finders keepers. Yes, he can honestly said that he fell in love with her at the tender age of six, and knew that they were meant to be and all that mushy touchy-feely crap. So, he walked up to her, intent on telling her just how he felt about her. But the girl of his dreams squealed in delight upon seeing his soon-to-be rival for her affection. To start off their relationship, he pushed her in the mud, smirking in delight at her cry of outrage.
Yuzuki stood up, covered in mud and glowered at Madara. "I don't like you!" she declared, pulling herself up to her full height. Madara blinked in astonishment, for clearly this wasn't the reaction he wanted from her. He liked her, she was suppose to naturally like him. It was simple as that, just like two plus two equaled for.
"You pushed me in the mud!" Yuzuki cried, tears pricking the corner of her eyes.
"You're such a meanie!" Yuzuki sniffed before running into the arms of Tobirama. Madara watched the girl seek shelter in the Senju's arms and glared at the red-eyed boy. It was that moment, Madara realized he hated Senju Tobirama. Pouting, Madara turned away and walked off, stomping in the mud as he walked pass Yuzuki and Tobirama, until he found his brother playing in the sandbox and joined him, every now and then shooting dark glares at the duo.
By a stroke of luck, she ended up in his fifth grade class. She was still as pretty as ever and he had somehow befriended her best friend's elder brother, Hashirama. Despite Hashirama being a tad bit better than him at like everything Madara still enjoyed the Senju's company and their little competitions kept his academic skills sharp and their uncanny friendship strong. Yet, still he watched her from the back of the class, because he had a reputation as a trouble-maker, which was partly...well mostly true, since his father was the boss of a powerful yakuza gang.
Madara folded a paper airplane and tossed it at Yuzuki, watching with a smirk as the airplane hit her in the head. She winced, rubbing the spot before grabbing the airplane. She huffed in indignation before turning around and looking at him, she pulled her left lower eyelid down and stuck her tongue out. He, to combat her display, turned his eyelids inside out, watching her shutter away in disgust. He chuckled to himself as he fixed their eyelids, growing more sure with each taunt and tease that he loved that pretty little girl in the front of the class.
The class got up for lunch, and he like always, stood in the back of the line, in front of his brother, and Yuzuki stood behind him. She tapped him on the shoulder and he looked at her. "What?" he growled.
"Stop teasing me!"
"I mean it! I will tell Sensei!"
"Hn." A shrug.
"Argh!" Yuzuki placed her hands on her slim hips, yet to grow and curve, but he knew they would and he knew she'd be the most beautiful woman in the world with curves of a goddess; and pouted at him. "You are such a big meanie, Madara! I hate you!"
Madara smirked arrogantly as he held up two fingers marking a cutting motion with them like scissors. "What do scissors do?" he asked cryptically.
"Cut?" Yuzuki blinked.
"Thanks," he slipped in behind her.
"Hey! No cutting in line! Even if you cut backwards!"
"Hn," Madara tugged on a loose bit of hair, delighted in her high pitched yelped, only to swiftly drop her hands when he noticed that the teacher glanced their way and the class began to shuffle out of the hallow halls of learning to the cafeteria.
They ended up once more in the same class in middle school, and Madara couldn't deny the changes taking place in either of their bodies. She only grew more beautiful, her budding breasts destined to become any man's delight, her hips began to curve and she slowly began to gain that hourglass shape. She had lost all of her baby fat and he found himself staring at her in the back of class everyday, competing for top grade with Hashirama long gone. Madara just wanted to see Yuzuki naked.
He of course grew taller and his shoulders broaden and his voice dropped an octave or two, yet sometimes still broke and squeaked as if he was a terrified mouse. At night he was lay in bed, dreaming about her. Some of them were innocent, others more erotic and often times he'd wake the next morning with a sticky mess between his legs and on his bedsheets. And when he found himself growing hard by the mere mention of that girl's name, he knew that he had to tell her and stop being mean to her, before other boys noticed that she was no longer an ugly girl covered with cooties, but a young woman, soon to be ripe for the picking.
Yet, on the day he decided to go up to her and confess that he has liked since he was a stupid six-yea-old, he found that he was too late. She was already taken by another, his hatred rival: Tobirama. Pouting, he turned away and headed home and absorbed himself in his cars, while dreaming of her at night.
Madara knew he shouldn't do it, but he also knew that he didn't care. He was sixteen, able to drive and finally enter in the infamous underground street races of Tokyo's nightlife, all those years of learning about cars since he could walk would finally pay off. He knew this woman...Takara, was bad news, with her slutty dress and her full pouty lips and big breasts. But he was drunk and in his intoxicated mind she was an angel sent from hell or was it a demon sent from heaven? He couldn't remember the saying or his brother's words of warning as he pressed his lips against Takara's, his left hand clutching the neck of the beer bottle, while his right squeezed her comely ass, and she did something scandalous and bold, she slipped her hand down his pants to squeeze his hardening cock.
He liked that. Like it a lot and kissed her neck hungrily while pressing his body against hers. "Let's go to your room," Takara purred in his tear, her hand teasing him, and he drunkenly nodded, his eyes glazed with drink and lust. Takara lead him off, away from the party. His back to the arrival of the girl he dreamed of at night, and maybe if he had known she was there, he would have declined Takara's offer of a causal fuck. But he didn't and made the second worse mistake in his life.
To his great surprise, Madara found out that sex wasn't as awesome as he expected it. Especially, since he was sloppy, drunk and didn't have a fucking clue to what he was doing, only the limited knowledge of his various sex education classes he took at various stages of school. Yet, still, Takara seemed to be fine with that, guiding him through the process, yet despite as he pounded into her, he couldn't get Yuzuki's face out of his head or imagine her lusty cries of want and desire or of her supple body beneath his.
When morning came, he woke up with a headache and no recollection of what had happened last night or why he was in the arms of a woman. Then it all came crashing back to him. Of the party and how he was so drunk to refuse to listen to Izuna and fuck the school's whore. Madara looked at Takara's sleeping face and bit his lip, hating himself but deciding to man up and take care of her, since she did manage to take his virginity. So he dedicated the rest of his days to being Takara's devoted boyfriend, despite the fact that from time to time he would come home to find her fucking one of the boys on one of the various sports teams or her secret crush, Hiroyuki, in the same bed they would spend the nights together on weekends.
They would fight.
They would argue.
And the make-up sex would be excellent and he'd forgive her, yet all the time...he would still dream of Yuzuki. On the sleepless nights alone in his own bed, he was stroke himself lightly, imagining that those gentle sinful caresses were coming from her, that she was taking him to rapture, and that he hadn't been such an idiot.
By stroke of pure luck, Yuzuki and him had ended up in the same college and on a whim he began to befriend her, falling more and more in love with her each conversation, each passing glance and accidental touch.
She was in love.
But not with him.
It would never be with him. She loved Tobirama. That red-eyed boy she ran to on the playground all those years ago when he had pushed her in the mud. Besides, he was in love with Takara right? So, Madara never told her he loved her, and he continued at night to dream of her while fucking his so-called girlfriend.
Then it happened, the day he was unconsciously waiting for when Takara told him she was pregnant. Despite being an aloof and seemingly cold-hearted man, he had always desired a family, and he couldn't believe that he had finally gotten that chance.
Only the dream crashed and burned rapidly, and he found out that he wasn't the father of Takara's baby, that the sire of her child was Hiroyuki. Outraged and hut beyond his wildest dreams, he broke it off with them, despite her repeated threats of calling the cops and screaming rape.
He did the mature thing, the thing he should've done years ago, and simply walked away, knowing he had people that could silence her. People that would make sure nobody ever found her body. And the funny thing was, she knew it too. She knew all too well what type of man he was, what cruelties he was capable off, hell he was Uchiha Madara, leader of one of the most powerful yakuza gangs, the Demon King of the Night, speeding his way to victory after victory in each and every race he ever drove in across the neon lit streets of Tokyo.
So he knew she'll keep her mouth shut. Besides she was just as deep as him in the criminal underworld. She didn't trust cops anymore than he did.
So, he began to pursue in earnest now, the love of his life, but to his dismay she had left him behind, happily showing him the modest yet stunning engagement ring on her finger and cuddling up against Tobirama, batting her beautiful lashes at him.
Madara inwardly sighed, smiling and supporting her nonetheless, because he loved her and wanted to be happy. Regardless if he was in the picture or not. That night he walked home and fell asleep on the floor of his garage, motor oil on his fingers and a wrench in hand. He could fix any car but he couldn't fix his own broken heart.
It was the night before her wedding and she oddly wanted to spend it with him. "Remember when we first met," she asked him, as she curled up next to him on the couch. "You pushed me in the mud and I called you a meanie?"
"Yeah," he agreed, getting lost in her eyes, her smile, her laughter, her everything. What man couldn't help but be amazed by her beauty. He had dreamed of her so many times, of holding her, of fucking her, of growing old with her. Of simply loving all of her.
But she was promised.
To another man.
The red-eyed boy she ran to that day he pushed her in the mud.
On impulse he cupped her cheek and kissed her, one hand resting on her hip rubbing it sensually. She moaned softly, arching against his touch and tangling her fingers in his unruly dark hair. He flicked his tongue across her lower lip, begging to deepen the kiss.
She pulled away, eyes wide with horror and want. "I can't," she whispered sadly, "I can't betray Tobirama."
He looked away, hating that name, that man, that once-upon-a-time red-eyed boy. "Why him?" he growled, trying not to break the nearest object, trying to hold back the emotions he kept bottled up for twenty-six years. "Why him? Why not me! Am I still a big meanie?" he looked at her, shaking her gently.
"N-No..." Yuzuki shook her head. "You aren't a big meanie anymore, Madara."
"Then why won't you love me! I love you! I've loved you since I was six!"
"I love you Yuzuki..." he looked it away, knowing it was hopeless, knowing he'll never have it.
"I...never knew," she whispered softly.
"I never had the courage to tell you, until I'm about to lose you forever," he pressed his forehead against hers, inhaling her scent, wanting to touch her, to hold her, to make her his.
And she kissed him.
Her hands sliding up his shirt, feeling his hard abs, his firm nipples, the lean muscles beneath his milky skin. He groaned and gasped at each sinful touch, and though reason told him to push her away and deny her what she sought, his tired heart couldn't reject her again, couldn't do it. "I've always wanted to tell you," she whispered into his ear, "that...I secretly loved you too."
Madara's eyes grew wide and she kissed her, and he deepened it, undoing her bun and allowing his fingers to weave themselves into her luxurious black hair.
He scooped her up and walked to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind them, before placing her on the bed.
Her hungry lips found his, and his hands made their way up her shirt, undoing her bra and playing with her comely breasts, causing her to moan and gasp as he pinched and squeezed.
Her shirt came off and he touched her soft skin with his lips and tongue, coaxing more lusty sighs from her pale throat and her back arched in an effort to make them closer than physically possible.
His shirt was next, and her mouth attacked his chest, and deep guttural grunts and groans escaped his mouth and his pants became much too tight for his hard cock, and that sinful beautiful woman seem to know it, and rub her hand against his pulsing length.
Before either of them knew it, he was buried deep inside her, his mouth on hers. His hips rocking back and forth in a lusty rhythm, her yelps and squeaks and soft delicate mews, encouraging him, causing his breath to come out in ragged pants, her sweet siren song was his very name.
Her walls clenched around his and he spilled his seed, deep into her womb a short time later. They both sank of sweat and sex, but they didn't care and were content to be in each others arms. But the sort rest didn't last and soon they were at it again. Rougher, faster, harder, then before. All the years of their secret desire coming to a cataclysmic climax and she screamed his name when she came.
Exhausted yet oddly content, they fell into a deep restful slumber, forgotten was the world around them.
Until the next day when Izuna woke them up at three in the afternoon, dressed in a tux, though the bowtie was missing and the first few buttons of the shirt were undone revealing creamy skin. Madara could only groggily remember his brother's words, Tobirama's shouts of outrage and Yuzuki's tears of pleading and choked "but I love him" being repeated over and over like a spirally hellish mantra of sin and betrayal.
Tobirama left her after that, and Izuna refused to speak to him.
It took several months before things could be repaired, but they weren't the same.
Nothing would ever be the same.
Now he was watching her, the woman of his dreams, the very same girl he pushed into the mud when he was only six, rock their little nine month old boy to sleep, the hum of a lullaby in the air.
The baby's thick lashes kissed his rosy chubby cheeks and in his hand he held a stuff car, blissfully unaware of his father's dreams of watching him to grow up to inheritable the racing heritage his father had started.
Madara walked up to her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You're beautiful," he whispered, nuzzling her neck before stroking his son's soft black hair. He kissed his wife and child gently.
"Madara," Yuzuki always was pretty when she blushed and this caused him to chuckle softly and gently lead her away. "His crib is that way," she pointed out.
"Hn," he ignored her, pulling her and their son into his arms before crawling into bed. "Sleep," he whispered, drawing the blanket up around them. Yuzuki laughed as she cradled the sleeping child in her arms and rested her head against Madara's shoulders.
Madara smirked as he pinched her ass.
A swift elbow to the gut.
A delicate whisper: "You big meanie."
Yeah. Stupid FFN. I didn't want to post this. I wanted this to be a DA exlcusive.