Clean Through

He pushes her back slowly to look at her—at the front of her, deciding that if he is really going to go through with this, he wants to be able to remember it for later when he is alone. He takes her breasts in his hands gently, exploring the feel of them between his fingers. She closes her eyes, sways a bit under his touch, but somehow he wants her to look at him. He doesn't want to wonder if she's pretending he's Sasuke. But he can't bring himself to say anything so he kisses her neck to keep from having to. She moans softly and slides her palm up his bare arm; her thumb rubs lightly over his shoulder. He loves the taste of her skin even mingled with the bitterness of sweat and blood. He can do this, because he'll do anything for her and as much as he hates to admit it, this might be his only chance. As long as she doesn't speak, as long as she doesn't say Sasuke's name, he knows he can do this.

I've always loved you, he thinks as he lowers her gently to the ground and licks his way down her tummy, fingers tucked into the waistband of her skirt. He's afraid that if he speaks, he'll ruin it for her, so he's silent as he peels the last of her clothing away and stares appreciatively at her naked form. But her eyes are open now, watching his every action, and he blushes slightly despite himself.

He descends on her then, eager to know her taste and touch, a rough palm on each thigh as he spreads her legs slowly to permit him access to her sex. He slides two fingers up and across her opening, but she's dry so he leans in to give her a lick. She squirms beneath him, and he smiles,
holding her down as he thrusts his tongue inside. It isn't the first time he's been with a woman, but it's their first time, and he wants it to be memorable for her. That is, he doesn't want to be forgotten.

She's panting and making all sorts of cute noises that torment him as he continues, one hand on the inside of her thigh, the other gripping her hip. He's straining, nearly throbbing in need, but he ignores it. She's tangy but also slightly sweet, and he's never tasted anything like her.

She's good and wet now so he moves one hand to slip his fingers inside of her, then out of her, then inside again as he runs circles around her clit with the tip of his tongue. She's getting closer, unable to hold still, and he increases the intensity of his fingers, spreading them each time he pulls out before plunging them in together once again. He looks up the length of her body, searing the image into his mind, her breasts free and with the barest sheen of sweat, her throat bared as her head tilted back. She reaches down to fist one hand through his dirty hair and then she screams when she comes. He's surprised at the intensity of her orgasm, rides her body through it, slowing his fingers only when she shudders to a still and then collapses on her, face pressed against the smooth line of her stomach as he wraps his arms around her waist, wanting to hold her before she pulls away forever.

He's grinning, proud of himself, but he's still surprised when she whispers, “Thank you.”

It reminds him that he was merely doing her a favor, cheapens it a little for him, and he frowns when he replies, “You don't—”

But he can't finish because her fingers have started playing through his hair and just find the smooth skin of his ear. She runs the tips of her fingers down the edge of his earlobe but doesn't stop there. He sighs and closes his eyes when she traces over the shortest of his facial markings to continue lightly over his bottom lip. She's feeling generous in the afterglow, and he's not about to correct her.

“Take your pants off.”

His eyes shoot open and he nearly sits up when he sputters, “Wh-what?”

Her fingers have never stopped rubbing through his hair even if her other hand has left his face, and he finds it strangely soothing. It makes him want to close his eyes and just give in so when she says it again, he finds himself nodding.

He rises up slowly, breathing deeply and suddenly terrified at the idea that this whole time he's had a hard on. Was it allowed? Even though it's a ridiculous thought, he can't help but wonder if she'll be angry with him. His hands still over the button to his pants, and he can't bring himself to continue. He stares at the ground, not really seeing, and lets his hands drop to his sides.

She crawls toward him, steadies her hands on his hips as she pulls herself to her knees as well and looks to him questioningly. She can see the sadness in his face, but she doesn't understand.

“Hey,” she whispers into the crook of his neck, but he doesn't answer.

She doesn't know what to say so she shows him what she wants instead. She bumps against the front of him playfully and scrapes her fingernails across a nipple. He jerks under her touch, a small whine catching in his throat, and she continues pinching and twisting the nipple between her fingertips as she bends to suck at his other one. She pulls on it teasingly as she runs circles with her tongue around the other one before pulling away to focus her attention lower. He watches her, half-wanting, half-disbelieving as she slides her fingers across the lip of his waistband, just barely brushing his skin.

“I can't,” he chokes for the second time that night, feeling like he might just kill himself for interfering, for trying to stop it. “I can't unless you say you want me.”

It's a pathetic attempt to protect himself, and really he muses, much too late.

She leans into him once more, wrapping an arm around his neck and with her other hand, brushes the length of him with her palm. His eyes are wide as she whispers against his ear, “I want you inside of me.”

It's not what he meant, but it'll do. He doesn't try to stop her when she slips his pants down over his hips and greedily takes in the sight of him as he spills forth into the night air, hot and ready. He flushes at the look she gives him, the smile that plays at the corner of her lips, and he reaches out to pull her to his mouth.

The kiss is hot and not at all full of love, but he doesn't care because she's biting and sucking at his lips, and he likes the feel of her tongue in his mouth. It doesn't surprise him when she pushes him forcefully to the ground, and he doesn't try to resist when she crawls on top. He loves the sight of her there, leaning over him on hands and knees, breasts so close he could take them in his mouth, and he does as she rubs herself over him, wetting his hardness and teasing him at the same time.

He's glad when she doesn't make him beg because that might be a little too cruel. She's tight and hot and he cries out as she moves back and forth and in little circles because he needs her to move on and off.

“Sakura-chan.” He tried not to say it, tried not to say anything, but he can't stay silent this time as he digs his fingers into the dirt and tosses his head from side to side.

She surprises him by kissing his lips and starting gently, with slow, long pumps.

She pulls away when she finds her rhythm, rides him for her own pleasure, but he doesn't care anymore, can't think anymore and just tries to hold out until she climaxes.

“Sakura-chan, I'm sorry,” he chokes when he thinks he can't hold it anymore, feeling like he's failed her, but she surprises him by calling out his name right before her peak and it sends him over the edge.

It takes him a minute to remember how to breathe as he takes shallow gasps of air; in the meantime she's wilted to his chest, and he rolls her to the side to cradle her against him as he slips out and she falls asleep. He holds her and tries not to think about what it might or might not have meant that it was his name she cried.