Teach Me

Author's Note: I fixed the age difference that someone pointed out in Chapter 1. Thanks for pointing it out!

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Sakura and Gaara ate their lunch mostly in silence once the servants had left. It wasn’t for lack of trying though, Sakura asked him questions, trying to make conversation, but he answered in one or two words and didn’t elaborate. He watched her, though, his dark-rimmed eyes fixed on her in what might have been fascination or predatory hunger, or just his expression of idle interest. She studied his body language, saw the tension in his shoulders and brow, the tendons standing out on his hand as he gripped his chopsticks. He was tense, almost to the point of physical pain.

“So,” she said, “Are you sleeping well?” She knew that Shukaku had a nasty habit of trying to take him over whenever he fell asleep, while that same demon had also given him the energy he needed to go without. It had been hard for him to get back into the habit of sleeping for the first month or so.

“No,” he said, “Not always.” He considered the question. “I still have nightmares sometimes.”

She set down her chopsticks. “About what?”

“My father. My uncle. Death. Slaughter. Enjoying the taste of blood on my tongue.”

“But you’re not like that anymore.”

“No. But I could be.” He glanced pensively at his food. “The tea helps me sleep sometimes.”

Sakura smiled. “That’s good.” She had mixed up special medicinal tea for him to drink when he had trouble sleeping; though he had never before indicated how effective it was, she was pleased to find that it worked. His eyes were back on her again, watchful but unreadable. A servant came in and wordlessly cleared their empty dishes.

Sakura nodded at her as she left, then turned back to Gaara. “What would you like to learn first, Kazekage-sama?”

“First, given the nature of this teaching, I doubt titles will be necessary. Address me as Gaara.”

“Okay… Gaara?”

“That will do.”

“What would you like to learn first?”

“Teach me how to be touched… how I could be touched, in a good way.”

She considered the request, and then nodded. “I can do that.” She saw a hint of an emotion briefly surface in his green eyes: hope. “Um… hold out your hand.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he held out his hand, palm down, looking as though he had every intention of jerking it back away from danger. She reached forward, taking his hand gently in hers. He made a small noise, his breath catching at the contact. After a few seconds, though, he relaxed, deciding to trust her. The tension in his shoulders unknotted slightly. She closed her other hand over the back of his, stroking it gently, soothingly.

“Okay?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed.

“How does that feel?”

He considered the question for several seconds. “Nice. It feels nice.”

“I know you’re nervous,” she said, and his eyes locked on hers like the gaze of an eagle preparing to swoop down on its prey. “It’s okay to be nervous,” she added, “This is new to you.” She offered him a reassuring smile.

He looked at her hands in silence for a few seconds. “My neck hurts,” he said simply.

Well no wonder, Sakura thought, as tense as he is, I would be surprised if his neck *didn’t* hurt.

“I can help with that,” she offered. He glanced up at her questioningly. “Just go over and sit on the bed.” He didn’t move for a few puzzled seconds, and Sakura nearly kicked herself, realizing that he probably wasn’t used to people telling him what to do. “Please,” she added.

He looked at her dubiously but stood, slipping his hand from between hers. Crossing the plush room, he sat on the edge of a bed that was easily three times as large and luxurious as any she’d had in Konoha. She noticed that the giant gourd of sand he’d always worn sat at the head of the bed.

She hesitated only a moment before joining him, sitting cross-legged on the bed behind him. He watched her over his shoulder.

“I’ll, uh, need you to take off your robe, too,” Sakura said, still unused to the idea of commanding the Kazekage, “It works best on bare skin.” When he continued to look at her, she frowned. “We’ll have to address this eventually, you know. Just… just take off your outer robe. Do you have any other clothing under it?”

“Pants,” he summarized, “and sandals.” He unclasped his belt, shrugging out of it and setting it aside.

“Well, those can stay on,” she said quickly, adding with a nervous laugh, “I don’t think we’ll be going quite that far with your first lesson.”

Stop talking, baka! Inner Sakura scolded her, Stop acting like a giggly little schoolgirl! You’re a medic-nin, dammit – act like it!

Sakura shut her mouth, instead watching as he unbuttoned his robe and slid it off his shoulders. She watched his muscles slide past one another under his skin, unmarred by the scars that usually plagued adult ninja. He was lean and toned with, Sakura guessed, very little body fat. She forced herself to focus on the ailment at hand – and saw that the muscles of his neck and shoulders were positively in knots.

“What are you going to do?” he asked once his robe was a pool of dark fabric around his waist.

“Well,” she said, “You’re really tense right now… and this will go so much more easily if you’re relaxed. So… I’m going to give you a back massage.”

There. It was out. A massage was a perfectly valid medical procedure used to treat many different ailments and conditions. It was like acupressure over a wider area, really. In fact, it was hardly ever used as foreplay by any medic-nin worth the title.

He acknowledged her response with a slow blink and turned his head back forward. He had elected to continue trusting her. Sakura relaxed slightly and began the back rub.

Lady Tsunade had taught her these muscle relaxation techniques in between building her strength and confidence while Naruto had been off training. Her fingers slid over his back and shoulders, feeling out knots of tension and working them loose with fingertips or thumbs. His skin was warm under her hands, slightly bronzed from the Suna sun, but not as much as most natives. His head tilted back as she worked at a particularly stubborn spot between his shoulderblades, and his red hair brushed her fingertips. She craned her neck to peek at his face, and she saw that his eyes were closed. When the muscle in question released, he let out a small sigh.

“How does that feel?” Sakura ventured.

“Good,” he said, “It feels good. You will need to teach me this as well.”

“It took me three years to learn this, you know.” She paused. “The techniques you’ll probably want to learn will be different, anyway.”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “How so?”

“This is for relaxing tense muscles – a therapeutic massage. If you’re planning on giving your bride a massage, I suggest, um, sensual massage.”

He watched her expectantly, his green eyes unblinking.

“It’s different,” she assured him, “Gentler.” She recalled what Tsunade had taught her (with much winking and smirking) about sensual massage. “It’s also not just touch – it’s the whole atmosphere. Like sharing a meal by candlelight. Scented oils in the bath. Helping her relax before you even touch her.” She saw doubt flicker across his face. “I know, it’s a lot to remember – but we still have two months, right?”

“I suppose.” He paused. “Shall we continue today’s lesson, then?”

Sakura gave him a small smile of reassurance. “Sure.”

She caressed his arms, feeling the wiry muscles there. He glanced down at one of her hands, then reached over curiously and touched one of them, rubbing his fingertips over the back of her hand.

“That’s good,” she said, “Nice and gentle, see? It’s likely that your bride will be a virgin, so you need to make her feel comfortable. Help her feel like she can rely on you, like she can feel safe.”

“How do I help her feel safe?” Gaara asked, “I’m… not sure what safe feels like.”

“I’ll show you. Here – lean back against me.” He glanced uncertainly back at her. “It’s okay. Just lean back.”

He shifted his position slightly and leaned back against her, resting his head against her shoulder and his shoulders against her chest. She put her arms around him, remembering the many times at the hospital that she had to comfort a terrified youngster who was going to have a painful procedure done, like having a broken bone set. Gaara was larger than a child, though he was thinner than most adults, and it felt strange to hold an adult ninja in this fashion. His chest and stomach were toned and muscular, with the wiriness inherent in most ninja. Kami, he was hot… He shifted in her embrace.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked.

He considered the question. “It feels strange, being held like this.”

“Your mother never held you?” Sakura knew he’d had a difficult childhood, but…

“I never knew my mother,” he said, “she died giving birth to me.”

“Well… a nurse, then?”

His eyes slid half-closed, trying to remember. “Maybe, when I was very small. I do not remember anyone holding me. I do not remember anyone wishing to.”

Sakura glanced down at him in dismay. “Well, what if you woke with a nightmare?”

He closed his eyes. “I had nightmares almost every night. Shukaku would speak to me. I was afraid to sleep. When I cried, nobody came to comfort me.”

“You must have been terrified!”

He shrugged. “I never knew anything else. I thought Shukaku was just an invisible friend at first.” He opened his eyes. “He was the only one who didn’t hate me for who I was.”

She stroked his red hair, her fingertips brushing over the smooth red scar-tattoo reading “love” on his brow. No wonder he’d been as unbalanced as he was at age 12 – if nobody had shown him any affection at all, if everyone he knew had hated and feared him…

“You’re soft,” he said suddenly, “Soft and… warm. Comfortable. I think I like lying here like this. I like being held by you. It feels… safe.” He tilted his head a few inches, so that his brow rested against her neck.

Sakura managed a small smile at his assessment. They were making progress.

“Gaara,” she said, and he opened his eyes, “Now that you have the idea, I would like you to try it out, so that I can guide you.”

He sat up reluctantly, turning back to regard her. “Who will I be holding?”

She shrugged. “Me.”

His eyes widened slightly, and she thought she heard his breath catch, but he said nothing in protest. “What would you have me do?” he asked quietly.

“Let’s pretend that I’m your bride, and I’m far away from home, so I’m scared and kind of lonely, so I come to you, my husband, for comfort.” She paused then, because he had such an expression on his face that she was sure half her work with the back rub was coming undone. “It’s okay! Really! I’ll let you know if you’re holding me too tight or something. Don’t worry about it. Besides – Lady Tsunade trained me. I won’t break.”

“I… suppose,” he said finally, his face returning to its usual impassivity. He stood long enough to shift his robe out of the way and kick off his sandals before returning to the bed, reclining on it whilst propped up on his elbows.

Sakura schooled her expression and posture into that of a submissive and frightened maiden, peering shyly up at Gaara from beneath her pink bangs. His lips parted slightly in an expression she could not immediately read.

“Reassure me,” she prompted quietly

“Come closer,” he said, “I’ll keep you safe.” He lay back, extending an arm to her and beckoning.

She crept closer to him across the coverlet, maintaining her submissive posture, and finally settling, half-curled next to him, her head on his chest. She could hear his heart thudding rapidly in his chest.

“Put your arms around me,” she said, “Gently, though.”

She felt his arm settle across her shoulders, feather-light.

“A bit tighter. Hold me close. Protect me from danger.”

He folded his arms around her then, pulling her close. His instincts were almost r—

“Ow. Don’t squeeze me so hard. I’m not trying to escape. Right now you’re the only safe thing your bride has.”

His grip eased. “Now what?” he asked, after a bit.

“That’s good. You’re doing great.” She put her arm around his waist. “I feel safe now, and not so afraid. Just relax.”

His heartbeat slowed, and the tension in his arms eased slightly, turning a rigid exercise into something approaching a genuine embrace. Then, as if on an impulse, he did something surprising – he started stroking her hair. Sakura figured that it was because she had done so to him; it wasn’t really a conscious decision, just something she had picked up at the hospital for soothing children. She smiled.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “Very good.”

“It helped relax me when you were holding me.” He shrugged. “It seemed right.” He paused. “How long do I need to hold her?”

Generally until she relaxes. If she’s shaking, then until she stops, or pulls away, or even if she falls asleep.”

“Do I make that good a pillow?”

She sat up and smiled. “Well, it’s like any object of comfort. If she feels safe and comforted lying next to you like that, then it’s natural that she might fall asleep. You might consider it a compliment.”

They sat like that for a while, with Sakura trying to figure out what was going on behind those green eyes of his. He was just so hard to read sometimes. In turn, he watched her quietly.

“Well,” she said finally, once the silence had stretched to awkward levels, “I think that’s it for today’s lesson. Tomorrow I think we’ll work on courtship.” She slipped off the bed, but she felt sand encircle her wrist and hold her fast, catching her off-balance. She looked at Gaara, startled.

“Why do I need to learn courtship?” he asked, “We will already be married.”

“Yes, but you want to impress her, right? Let her know that the right decision was made. Let me go, Gaara.”

He didn’t want her to go. This, at least, she could see in his eyes. He had so few friends, even within the palace. Finally his gaze dropped, and the sand slid away. He said nothing to her as she left his room, rubbing her wrist absently.

He rounded a bend in the corridor and nearly collided with Temari, who smirked at her, leaning on her fan.

“So,” she said, “I hear you’re trying to seduce my baby brother.”