Disclaimer: S.O.P etc etc. "Don't own Naruto, or any legal rights involving the characters, trademarks, everything inside it. I have no jurisdiction over Kishi's manga trolling, so it's not my fault if it's all going tits up. The End."
So yeah, I was thinking of this story for a while. I just wanted to make a pairing fic that kind of rubbed itself in Sakura's face for being such a stupid and thick-foreheaded canon cow. Problem? Hope not, since you're reading this...
Anyway, this is just the prologue, it's in first person. Chapter 1 and just about everything onward will be in third person, but uses present tense. 'Post Training Relief' actually came about because I rewrote some aspects of chapter 1, that's why they're both in present tense. I actually like present tense, it allows me to be a lot more metaphorical in my descriptive writing. As well as a shitload more lemony :-3
This prologue looks more at the feeling of connection that Naruto has with his...lover. It's not meant to be a full, run-of-of-the-mill lemon because otherwise you'd fap and then run off. This is a prologue, so expect ambiguity and gaps that will have you coming back to find the answers that fill them. One-shots deal with simple lemons, but this isn't a one-shot, so it's got to have you coming back to find out more.
Enjoy, my fellow pervs!
She Made Him Wait
A Naruto Fan Fiction
Prologue: When Captivation Became Freedom
From the moment I could understand the native language of this continent, I found myself asking the same question over and over: Is fate my overlord?
My life has always been painful. Ever since I could walk, I was looked over as a nothing. Actually, I wasn't a nothing; I was a something, but that 'something' was seen by my own village to be worse than a nothing. For fifteen years, I lived in fear of the people of my home, how they scorned and segregated me, looked down upon me like the disease-ridden excrement that drips from a sewer pipe. For fifteen years, I desperately sought the purpose of my existence. Was I to remain a stain on the history of my home forever, as if it was the grand scheme of the God I often found myself praying to, or was I eventually destined to become something better?
However, it was not just my physical existence that I thought was bound by the supposed precognitive entity. I lived for nine years believing that my life was purpose built to perfectly fit with another, much like a jigsaw piece. I always wished, above just about every single belief that I held, that all of my childhood hardships would be rewarded with a gracious romantic charity.
My belief…was well founded, because I now find myself in the immediate transaction of that charity.
She…she's all can think about now. Why? Because she accepts me, faults, ramen addiction and everything else. She knows who I am, and she has had the will to move on from the past. The latter is a change I had been waiting so long for, and had been begging so hard to see.
The air is musky and humid, and the baking sun only makes it worse. The sweat that it bleeds from my skin mingles with the thick residual smell of pollen and herbs, almost like a horticulturalist's greenhouse in the middle of spring. The heat has not only a stellar source, for the way her body moves in perfect harmony with mine draws yet more moisture from my pores; it's a physical reaction that proves the extent to which I am sacrificing the on-going chase of my dreams, all just to provide to her what she never admits she wants. Deny as she may; I can see it in her eyes, just as well as she can see the same in mine: the raw, physical want of a comforting embrace.
Her silken skin feels like nothing I've ever before grasped between my fingers. There is no 'hers' and 'my' sweat, it's ours, a by-product of the dance we find ourselves performing almost every single moment we meet. Her smooth, perfectly sculptured form somehow feels as if it was solely created to be caressed by my hands and my hands alone, every dip accommodates whatever I think rightfully fits, be it my hands…lips…tongue; every single curve built by her muscles is another flawless purchase that I can grasp and embrace. It's almost as if…fate made her for me.
I'm looking down at her impeccable being, and I can't help but be at her mercy, even when she has no idea she's doing it. I always knew that I was susceptible to such things…but to this effect? I'm no longer so stupid as to give her what I can provide without some sort of return, but there seems to be something inside me that she can unconsciously manipulate. This…force…makes me want to be there for her, whenever and wherever she may need me. Even though I may be called crazy for saying it, I don't think I can have anybody else but her. I fell in love with her…but right now, those are three words I'm afraid to say, all because she's never given a clear indication as to what lies in her own heart other than her desire for my physical being.
She's surrounding me like warm velvet, and the way her back arches up from the floor and her knees support her end of our connection only invites me to indulge her with greater speed and harsher force. Even as her head is turned, making her cheek rub along the tiled floor in synchronicity with my movements, I can tell from her gaping, idle jaw and harsh breaths that she enjoys this even to the extent that I do.
She gasps my name. Not his, mine. That alone makes my blood run with flaming passion and an equally sized inferno of gratitude. It lets me know that her old puppy love no longer exists, and that she's not fantasizing that I'm somebody else. My hands move upwards from the smooth marble of her waist, sampling every goose-bump and miniature scratch that wrote the fable of our last encounter across the gorgeously pale skin of her back.
A gorgeous squeal escapes her lips as I lean forward, pressing my chest into her shoulder blades and replacing the cool floor rubbing against her stony nipples with the seemingly scorching skin of my palms. I want to take every inch of her and in every possible way, which is why I pull her up with me, standing our upper bodies as upright as the metal shelving units cocooning us for a few necessary minutes of privacy. I know she feels the pressure of my hands against the soft, spongy flesh of her chest, but the fact she gasps my name...twice…with renewed desperation tells me it's driving her insane with blissful rapture.
Her once idle hands reach up and cover my own, keeping me tight against her as if she needs my embrace to stay alive; but she doesn't need to worry about that, knowing I can give her this pleasure exclusively only makes me want to come back for more. The faint, almost fruity smell of her hair directly clashes with the heated evaporation of her…no, our sweat; meanwhile, the fragrant taste of her neck as I run my lips along her veins, feeling the small tickle of her galloping pulse and how it tells me her exact level of excitement, pales in comparison to the hot, carnal juices we share when we kiss. I know she wants to do that this very second, based on how she tries to turn her head back to look at me, even though its far beyond what her body will physically allow. Not even I can lean my head forward enough to see to her wish, but I can offer the consolation of the feel of my tongue, letting it sprout from my lips to meet her own halfway.
The searing heat of her breath paints my face, and the temperature goes nowhere but up as I reach the one spot inside her that only our current pose will make susceptible to contact. Her deep moan is nothing but another dozen pieces of coal that keeps my passion alight and twice as large; and I can no longer stand to continue without directly facing the beauty whose whim I can do nothing but surrender to.
The brief reluctance I bottle up at having to release myself from her taut heat is washed away by the look of pure nirvana I witness across her face as I force her to rotate at the hips, her knees quickly following suit. I can't help myself, and my ensuing lunge slams her back down into the porcelain of the floor, but she only moans louder as I graze my teeth against her earlobe in brief substitution of the filling sensation she had begged me for ten minutes earlier. Although she doesn't make as loud a sound as I once again claim position inside the one thing she has never allowed any other man to feel, I'm stung with minor pain as she pulls at my hair and forces my eyes only centimetres away from hers. She gives me only one order, and I would be the world's biggest fool to disobey.
"Fuck me, Naruto." Her voice, ragged and shaky from my previous overabundance of force, sounds like a whisper, but I smile in the knowledge that she is almost out of breath…and that I was the one who had stolen it from her lungs. In return, she immediately steals my own oxygen in a burning unison of our lips. Kami, she's so fervent when we talk through our skin, she can tell me better than any book as to how she wants it and where she needs it. We have a very interesting connection that's almost symbiotic; she can have me at the tips of her fingers without hearing a word of protest, but when we're like this…I'm the one who seems to call the shots…and I can tell from the faces she pulls and the sounds she creates that she absolutely loves it.
I inhale the breath of her most recent moan due to our oral connection, and I revel in how her heels slip against the backs of my thighs as I carry out her near-desperate order. The fluids that she secretes make it so easy for me to stir her sacred channel...it feels as if her body naturally accepts me, further supporting my belief that she was solely made for me, and I for her. I refuse to simply hover above her and move so uniformly, I need to do more…I want her to feel.
Although it's awkward, I strain my left arm to hold the majority of my upper weight as my right hand retreats to her shoulder. But I don't stop there; I keep moving it inward and down, sampling the sudden jumps of her being as it reacts to the way my hips slap against the apex of her legs. I can't help but groan aloud into her ear due to the feeling of being sheathed inside her, and my payments for doing so are numerous lines of red hot pain tracing the curve of my right shoulder blade along with a lithe, slippery hand clasping at my left buttock. I can feel the way her hand pulls against me for every sweeping intrusion I perform…she wants it harder, and I'm not stupid enough to not comply.
Even as her pale breasts dance over her chest from the way I drive against her, I can't help but wrap my free hand around a soft mound and admire how it snugly moulds all the way from the heel of my palm to the tips of my fingers. My forefinger and thumb slide together, sampling the change of texture in her skin as I move from pale skin to a pink areola, and from there to the hard bud of her nipple. A light flick from my thumb earns me a squeal and a harsh pinch forces another loud moan to bounce off the walls of plaster and glass.
"Yes…I love it…" She gasps sharply next to my ear. She says she loves it…but does she love me? She really has no idea what she's doing to me, does she?
Her rate of breathing increases, and even though her natural lubrication has made it harder for me to feel the subtle pressure changes of her opening, my experiences with her thus far have enlightened me as to what her body will do. She's about to find her release…courtesy of me.
"Do you want me, baby?" I can't help it; I know she's losing more of her sanity for the sake of gaining more pleasure in return, so I eagerly growl into her ear a question that I already know the answer to.
"Oh, Kami…yes…" To fully cement her answer in my head, I feel the tell-tale crossing of her legs around the small of my back and palms of her hands firmly pressing into my spine. "Fill me…I want it…" She says inside a heavy exhalation against my ear, reaffirming her wish by violently snapping her head up and capturing my lips again. The simple fact she has requested that of me stirs my insides, it's as if my very bodily functions are at her command…not that I mind when we're in scenarios like this.
My thrusts are making her volume increase for every breath she ejects, and take it me from me…she's breathing really fast right now. It's a sweet melody that chips away at my resistance, and I know from our moments past that I can never last more than a minute once I know she's approaching that orgasmic precipice. I myself head to the exact same precipice every time we do this…hell, I feel myself holding the hand of her ethereal avatar when we make that jump, all because I feel such a powerful connection between us. The advantage of having such an attitude in your imagination is that your partner's actual feelings don't apply. Sadly, I don't know whether this is more than just sex to her, but aren't I allowed to have a small moment in which I can act as if this means as much to her as it does to me?
"Yes! Yes! Naruto!" I don't know if she does it on purpose or whether it's subconscious, but I have yet to witness the moment where my name isn't the very last word she screams at the moment I push her down that cliff of euphoria. I suppose I should savour that little moment of trivia…but I'm worried that it gives me hope when there may be no reason for it. However, now's not the time for thinking about those fleeting thoughts, because I feel the sudden but tell-tale surge below my stomach that tells me I've passed my point of safe return.
The warm, almost syrupy slickness that covers my embedded extremity tells me her barrier of - what was already futile - resistance has evaporated and been lost within the air her half-muffled scream has pulled from her voice box. It's all too much for me now, and my nerves, shredded from feeling every minor fluctuation in her soft but ridged canal, shoot a prickling sensation more powerful than a thousand needles all the way up to my chest like a tide breaking against coastal sand. She's allowed me to know when her lust has overcome her, so I have no problem in repaying the favour.
I've been working my hips so hard for our entire encounter that I have trouble holding my breath, but I try to do so regardless, because I don't moan in short and sharp bursts like she does; no, I give one long and gruff growl, much like when a masseuse presses like a vice onto a long-inconvenient muscle knot. Even though I shut my eyes, the white flash of nirvana blinds me as I force my lower body into her one last time. The sheer amount of leverage I use across my grounded knees and concaved back actually pushes her buttocks off the floor, giving the looped pulses of my liquid desire a direct path to her very core. Every time I feel the tightening of the muscle directly between my legs I eagerly, almost desperately push my pelvis towards her once more…even though everything I can give is already being accommodated. I suppose part of me does it to wordlessly inform her that I'm trying my best to push my gift of fluid to the place she always begs me to deliver it.
With the debauchery's end comes our very brief moment of relaxation, where we caress what we can of each other before we reluctantly, but necessarily have to depart one another's embrace. I know she still has another seven minutes before she has to go back to her work…back to roleplaying blatant inconspicuousness along with myself. We're not ready to let anybody know just yet, and it was all because of fate. Why? Because it changed my lover's hair colour from what I originally desired, and yet I feel that that in itself was intended in the grand scheme of things. For the beauty underneath me, whose lips try to weakly swallow mine in a failed attempt to counteract her body's exhaustion and frigidity, and whose arms tightly circle around my midriff as if I'm the only thing she ever needs in this world…does not have pink hair.
It's actually a glossy, pale blonde.
A/N: What do you think? Good smut or 'meh' smut? I quite like it, to be honest.
How many of you thought that the woman in this was Sakura? Hehe, if you're wondering why I did that, it's because it was my intention to make you think so.
Okay, I'm taking a page out of my 'Face The Music' feedback, and so the chapters for this story will be shorter. I'll probably be aiming my average chapter word count for over 5,000 but under 9,000 (UP YOURS VEGETA!)
Next chapter will be more Sakura-centric, but it'll still have lemony shit going up in this bitch, mkay?
What do you want me to release next? Don't be afraid to vote on the poll on my profile!
Reviews would be greatly appreciated, as long as they're not anonymous (since I've negated them and all that shizz). Say whatever you will, feedback makes me better. If you like it, put it on your alerts list, if you love it, put it on your favourites list.