Teach Me

The next morning, two notes crossed between Sakura and Gaara.

His read, “The weather is warm today. Please dress accordingly.”

Hers read, “Wear something with short or no sleeves today. It’s important.”

So it was that when Sakura showed up at his room, he wore a sleeveless training tunic and pants, while she wore a tank top and denim cutoffs. Her pink hair was pulled back in a ponytail, exposing her neck, and he was able to get a good look at her legs – muscular and toned, like someone who went running a lot. Her arms, too – they had the firm musculature worthy of someone who built her strength under Lady Tsunade’s careful guidance. But above all, he decided, she had beautiful legs.

“Hi,” she greeted him simply with a smile, scratching the back of her leg with one sandaled foot. Protocol and formality were not needed here. “I hope you have your homework ready for me.”

Gaara nodded. “I have decided on a place to take you. It relaxes me quite a bit during difficult days, and I hope you enjoy it as well.” He took her by the hand and led her through the Palace and up several flights of stairs, ultimately headed swiftly for a brightly-lit archway.

The sunlight blinded her momentarily, but when her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a magnificent rooftop garden. Around them she saw intricate mesh forms draped with dark green ivy and shaggy ferns, clay planters from which exploded brilliant red, blue, or purple flowers, and latticed archways crawling with delicate vines. She hadn’t expected to see so much greenery in the harsh desert of Wind Country. A warm wind sighed through the garden, carrying with it the scent of the flowers.

“Gaara, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.

He offered her a small smile in response to her praise – he was quite proud of this garden, and he had charged the palace servants to make sure it was well-maintained. He was suddenly aware that she had clasped onto his arm.

“Show me around, won’t you?” she asked, leaning close to him in her evident eagerness, “I’ve never seen plants like this in Fire Country.” She smiled. “Your bride will likely want to know about the various wonders on the palace grounds, and it’s good for you to be proud of them.”

It took him a few moments to comprehend her request, so sudden was the contact on his bare arm, but he soon regained his bearings and was soon giving her a tour of the roof garden, pointing out and identifying the various plants. He was aware of the swell of her breast against his arm as she leaned against him (certainly this couldn’t be the reason for her request that he not wear his usual long sleeves?) but he soldiered on valiantly, even when she paused to wrap his arm around her waist. She had a firm, taut waist, as any kunoichi should, and he could feel the gentle sway of her hips as she walked beside him. He was not used to such extended close contact, nor was he used to being able to tell by touch that a) her cutoffs rode on her hips rather than her waist and b) she seemed to be wearing nothing under the tank top. Why hadn’t he seen her in such casual clothing before? Had he just not been looking properly? Well. He'd told her to dress for warm weather - it seldom got very cold in the Land of Wind, even in late winter. Perhaps greater specificity was required in the future.

“What will be today’s lesson?” he asked, as they neared the back of the garden. There waited a small ornamental fountain, with marble benches on three sides.

“I think you’re going to enjoy your lessons today,” Sakura said, “We’ll be covering the hands, arms, shoulders, neck, and mouth.”

“Mouth…?” Gaara echoed, realizing what this meant.

“Try to relax,” she reassured him with a smile, “I’ll go as slow as you need to.”

But that wasn’t the point, he wanted to say, before realizing that he didn’t know what point he actually wanted to make instead. He had decided what feeling it was he had for her, this warm buzz when she came by for his lessons. It was… gratitude. She saw him not as a monster to be feared, or an emotionally broken wretch to be pitied, or even as just the Kazekage, a figurehead to be worshipped from afar. She was not afraid to get close to him – and he was in her debt for this. He always repaid his debts.

“The fingertips are quite sensitive,” she was saying, taking one of his hands in her own and tracing a fingertip across the palm, “but it’s good to attend to other spots. Kissing the back of a lady’s hand is considered a formal greeting in some cultures. Kissing the cup of the palm – here – can be a more romantic version of the same greeting. The pulse point on the inside of the wrist – here – is also a good place to kiss.” He could tell that she was working her way up in the strength of such erogenous zones – he felt a small thrill as she brushed her fingertips over the various key points on his hand. “Watch this,” she said by way of warning, before lightly kissing the inside of his wrist. Gaara felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “It’s also sometimes fun to nip there, but be gentle – the blood flows close to the skin here – see the blood vessels? Then there are simple gestures, like holding hands, that show closeness. Like this,” she said, wrapping her hand around his, “Or like this,” and she shifted her grip so that her fingers were laced between his. “Holding her hand can be a reassuring gesture, to let her know that you are there for her during a difficult time. When I’ve attended birthings, the husband will often hold his wife’s hand during her contractions, and it seems to help the pain. But then, hands are also useful during the conception…”

She smiled at him as she raised his hand to her mouth and took two joints of his index finger into her mouth. His breath caught in his throat, and he could only watch as her pink lips closed around the knuckle and, in a gesture that reminded him of her cleaning chocolate off a strawberry, slid to the tip and off his finger. The thin layer of saliva left on the end of his finger felt cool as the garden breeze swept over it.

“Now,” she said, taking a half-step closer to him and releasing his hand, “The upper arms and shoulders can be an intimate place to touch – again, often as a reassuring gesture. And a good way to relax your bride in the evening is to rub or massage her arms – and this has an added bonus of increasing the blood flow in the muscles, which will warm her as well as relax her.”

“How do I do that?” he asked quietly, having just found his voice after that thing with his finger.

“Oh, it’s fairly easy,” she replied, “You just have to be careful not to squeeze too hard, or else you could hurt her. I’ll show you. Come over here and sit on the end of the bench. Sideways, like this, so I can sit behind you.”


He settled in as she indicated, and she swung a leg over the bench so she sat astride it behind him. He felt the gentle pressure of her knees resting on either side of his buttocks; it was really quite a narrow bench, he considered. She placed her hands on his shoulders, applying firm pressure to his muscles as she slowly slid her hands down towards his elbows. He broke out in goosebumps at her touch.

“Are you cold?” she asked.

“No,” he said, with complete honesty. Quite the opposite, in fact – he felt warm, very warm. He closed his eyes, concentrating on learning her technique, learning how she touched him and how he could use these techniques on his mystery bride. But Sakura was so good at what she did…

“The main purpose of this massage is to increase the blood flow towards the hands and fingers,” she said as she worked, “because it’s no fun for either person if your fingers are cold and numb. It also loosens and relaxes the muscles, because you can’t exactly enjoy yourself if either of you is tense. Remember the back massage from the first day?”

“Yes.” He could hardly forget – it had been the first anyone had touched him like that without fear.

“A similar technique can be used to relax your bride, if you are gentle.” Her hands shifted from his arms to the juncture of his shoulders and neck, working at the cords of muscle there. The pads of her thumbs slid their way up the vertebrae of his neck to the base of his skull.

“I wish to try,” he said suddenly, turning his head to glance back at her, “You said you would teach me this and now I wish to be taught. Please – guide me.”

She considered his request for a few moments, and finally shrugged. “All right. Arms and shoulders then.” She drew up her legs and spun around on the bench so her back was to him, before finally resettling astride the bench again. He stood and likewise reversed his position so that he sat behind her.

Again, his touch was light, as though he feared hurting her. He slid his open palms down her arms, trying to find the same pressure she had used.

“Like this,” she said, closing his fingers more firmly against her arms, “I’ll tell you if you’re doing it too hard, don’t worry. It might help to pay more attention to the chakra flow.”

He tried again, and was rewarded with a smile. He closed his eyes, feeling how his ministrations eased the flow of energy into her arms along with the circulation. It amazed him a bit to gain such pleasure from making someone else feel good. As he fell into the rhythm of the arm massage, he was rewarded with a hum of bliss from Sakura, almost like the purr of a contented cat. His confidence bolstered, he moved up to rub her neck and shoulders, kneading the muscles as she had done.

“You’re doing very well, Gaara,” Sakura said, leaning back slightly into his hands, “This is one of the things I mentioned earlier about setting the mood – getting your bride relaxed – and I know that it’s working.”

“How do you know?” Gaara asked, out of genuine curiosity. He had seen the chakra flow change and ease, using the new flow patterns as a guide, and when he opened his eyes he had seen how it had relaxed her – in much the same way it had relaxed him.

“Because,” she replied, looking over her shoulder at him, “right now I’m going to teach you how to properly kiss a woman, and I intend to make sure you enjoy it.” She took his hands in hers, holding on to them as she stood and reversed her position on the bench. She scooted forward so that her knees rested atop his, and placed her arms around his neck – symbolically trapping him in place. This sudden aggression only piqued his interest in the impending lesson, and he did not resist, closing his eyes in anticipation as she drew him forward. “This will have to be an object lesson,” she breathed, and he could feel her warm breath on his lips, making his heart hammer in his chest as he imagined what was coming. “Therefore, all I can tell you up-front is to put your hands on my waist when you’re ready, and remember what I’ve already taught you. Just follow my lead, and remember not to get too rough. If it helps, pretend I have chocolate on my lips. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, feeling his way up her legs until he found her waist. Once he reached this goal, she pulled his head forward until his lips met hers.

To be fair, she did not taste like chocolate this time – but she was sweet, the sort of flavor he could get lost in. It was only the second time he’d been kissed, ever, let alone by someone not in his family, and the fact that it was Sakura both times made him eager to learn the proper method.

She pulled away briefly, her arms still around him. “Less slobber, please. That’s a bit gross.”

He swallowed the mouthful of saliva that had collected in his mouth from the initial chocolate imagery, and dove back in, taking care not to let himself get overeager, forcing himself to be gentle.

This time he was the one who broke away. “Better?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Sakura affirmed.

“Room for improvement?”

“Just remember that this isn’t just about the mouth. Remember yesterday’s touching exercise.”

“I remember.”

This time through, as she leaned in she felt a ticklish, grainy sensation making its way up her arms, and off his fingertips around her waist, winding around her in particulate tendrils. Her heart leapt into her mouth as she realized what it was – sand! His sand was coming up to surround her!

“Gaara—!” she gasped, and he pulled back slightly, hearing the alarm in her voice. He opened his eyes and saw that she had gone pale and wide-eyed. He remembered long ago, his encounter with her during the Chuunin exams when he was twelve years old, when he had nearly crushed her with a claw of sand. No – that was not quite right. Shukaku had nearly crushed her. It didn’t matter, either way – the sand had clearly alarmed her.

“Try not to be afraid,” he said quietly, trying to find the proper way to calm her, “This is not the Desert Coffin. This is not Shukaku’s sand – it is my sand. I have complete control over it, and it will not hurt you – it is just touching you, as I would touch you.” He looked her in the eye, and Sakura saw a single, desperate emotion there, Please do not leave me. “You have trusted me this far,” he said, “And I am grateful. Can you trust me further?” He reached up and touched her cheek softly, reassuringly.

She felt the sand moving over her like a living thing, an extension of Gaara’s will. It was a strange sensation, feeling it shifting over her arms and shoulders – but at least he was being a gentleman, and keeping it above her clothing. “I'll trust you,” she said firmly, “Can you feel everything it touches?”

“Most things. It is a part of me. I can shape it with a thought, like flexing a muscle. It has protected me in battle, and comforted me in lonely times. I can make it into a shield to protect myself, a blade to defend myself, a pillar to stand on, or a hand to manipulate objects as fragile as an egg. It has taken me a long time to get to this level of control.”

She tried to relax, turning her hand over and watching the sand interlace with her fingers. It gave a comforting squeeze, firm but gentle. She couldn’t help but smile at his delicate display of sand mastery. “It’s… kind of neat,” she said. She’d heard that Shikamaru could do similar things with his shadow binding jutsu, but the only person who would confirm or deny this – Temari, his pseudo-girlfriend (he was rather close-lipped about the whole thing) – refused to say. It was only logical, though – if he could use his shadow to break his finger, certainly a genius like him could master fine manipulations as well. A shadowy shoulder rub wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility.

Gaara regarded her with half-lidded eyes as he arranged a layer of sand across her shoulders like a shawl. With a blink of his eyes, he sent a wave of vibration through the sand, out over her shoulders. She gasped in surprise, but then smiled at the display of skill. Was he showing off for her? The idea surprised her, but… well, of course he was capable of it. Everybody liked to have their talents recognized.

“So,” he said with a curious tilt to his head, “Is today’s lesson concluded, or will you be offering extra credit?” His mouth quirked upward in that curious half-smile he had.

“That depends,” she replied, “Do you think you’ve mastered the art of kissing?”

He raised a thin eyebrow. “Is this a pop quiz?”

“Of course,” she returned, “I wouldn’t be a very good teacher if I didn’t quiz my students!”

“In that case,” he said, “grade this.” With that, he drew her close with his sand and leaned in, fastening his mouth to hers. Her arms slid around him, tightening the embrace, as his hands laced through her hair to cup the back of her head. Sand tendrils gently caressed their way up her arms to settle on her shoulders again. He was certainly learning the proper subtleties of the subject, Sakura decided.

In the end, she decided it was worth a B-minus.