fog

*sigh*

Title: Fog.
Author: myself. Bjorkfan.
Summary: a twisted relationship. if even that.
Rating: yeah i'm gonna say a solid nc-17.
Pairing(s): romantically, Naru/Saku. obviously, Sasu/Saku.
Feedback: Prease.
Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto.
Betas: none.
Author’s notes: it's smut. i suppose this takes place in the naruto universe. they're all a little older. but it's random. none of the actual naruto story is applicable here, other than the fact that i'm using the same characters and the same setting. .. if that.. makes.. sense.

i'm not a huge fan of Sakura/Anybody. actually, i'm not even a small fan. but i suppose there are exceptions for all of us. besides. the human brain can make us do the weirdest things, and it makes everything a bit more interesting.
*Disclaimer: i'm doing this for big amounts of No Money. i don't own naruto or anything related to naruto. if i make any future chapters [i'm fiddling with some ideas], this disclaimer applies to them.

~


He always leaned towards the more spontaneous. Circumstances where I can be caught off guard. French maid dusting the library, unawares. Egyptian slave girl, serving food to the master. Emperor's concubine, pampered only to serve one thing. Blind woman, who knows what'll happen. Mute woman, can't scream. Paralyzed woman, intimate pose-toy. Personal gardener, sweat, dirt, and sunshine. House servant, lost in the dark during a power outage.

Today I am the 'Unsuspecting public bather.' This is new. He rented out the bathhouse for the night to pull this one off. I think this will be the first time it hasn't happened in his estate.

"Go to the baths Thursday night. Late."
"Won't they be closed?"
"No."

He is secretive. I don't question it. I expected it.

I wear loose fitting pants and a baggy T-shirt. They are Naruto's, but I tell myself that's inconsequential. They are to serve a purpose, and are needed. I will undoubtedly be sore, and tight, chafing clothing is a definite no. It's the middle of the night anyway. Who's going to care?

I walk to the public baths. They are deserted. Which is normal, because they should be closed anyway. There is a single lantern lit in the women's changing area. I remove my clothes and shove them in a cubby. The orange tints fade into the shadow of the shelf. I am nervous. But I don't show it. It ruins the illusion if I do.

I wrap a towel around me and walk into the adjoining area. Lanterns dot the ground, giving dim lights that bounce off the water's steaming surface. Skipping the actual cleansing part altogether, I fold my towel and set it near the edge of the water. Then I gingerly step in. I didn't come here for a bath. I had taken one already after... It doesn't matter. Forget it.

I will need my muscles relaxed in the hot water anyway.

I can usually sense him when he's near. Sexual intent is easy to feel. I don't see him anywhere. I relax. Perhaps I am not 'late' enough. I lean on the side of the pool, my head resting on the towel. My mind wanders to the previous few hours. A hot mouth on my neck. Callused hands running down my sides. His groan during orgasm. The squeak of his tiny bed frame. Sharp nails into my hips.

Shit.

I run my hands down my hips. A slight tingle of pain. The scratches are most likely visible. And probably puffy in the warm water. I am marked. He won't like that.

I feel a prickle of sexual intent on the far boundaries of my awareness. I stiffen. He's here. Chances of him not noticing the marks? Slim to none. He won't hurt me because of it. In fact, he'll make the sex better. I still pray.

I can not look like I am aware of his presence. I must play the part. I return my head to the towel and lounge peacefully. I shut my eyes. I wont be able to see him through the steam anyhow. I picture what I must look like. The quarter moon shining down, reflecting off the steam. Furry dim lights from the lanterns, distorting shadows. My breasts above the water's surface. My hair the only color out of place.

I can feel him nearby. But I do not hear him enter the water and wade his way to me. He's creepy like that. His voice is deep. Reverberating off the walls of the pool and the surface of the water, digging its way into my chest.

"I saw you with him."

My eyes open. Goosebumps. Guess it doesn't matter if he saw the marks or not.

"Am I not better than that?" He asks sweetly, if not dangerously. He kisses my left breast tenderly. Moves up to my collar bone. My neck. Sucks there for awhile. He's allowed to mark me. I can't stop my body reacting. It is too good.

He is waiting for my reply.

"You are better," I say plainly to the stars that are hidden from view by the steam.

Somehow his erection is even warmer than the hot water we're immersed in. My legs tingle from its heat in between my thighs, rubbing languidly against my outer folds. I shaved at his request. The sensation is of hot silk.

"Do you not get more pleasure from me?" His voice is low, hungry in my ear. He's on the second mark, just below my jaw. His hands are right on top of the scratches on my hips, applying pressure.

"I get much more pleasure from you."

He growls appreciatively. His body is pressed against mine, his arms now wrapping behind me, hands cradling the base of my skull. He makes me look at him. It is too dark to distinguish his eyes from his hair. He makes me watch him go in for the third mark. Always three. The third is towards the back of my neck, near the nape. It is the most sensitive out of the three spots. I stare over his shoulder, into the steam, shivering.

Against my neck he says, "Do you not enjoy me more than him?"

I say nothing.

Outwardly, he does nothing different. He takes my lower lip into his and gnaws on it slightly with his teeth. He is slow, deliberate. His erection is still rubbing torturously against my crotch. But I sense his sexual intent reach a higher level of ferocity. He is angry. He will make me enjoy it. Enjoy him more than-

"Your mind is wandering, Sakura," he says, icily.

He flips me over, my front facing the edge of the pool. The water sloshes with the movement. The steam makes the air thick, making a simple thing as breathing a more laborious task. I blink my eyes, trying to focus on anything, but the fog doesn't clear. It is like a strange dream. One where I want to escape but wont because of sheer pleasure, in a blank void of gray. I can't see him, only feel him.

Being aroused by a ghost.

Left handed today, Sasuke? He's so full of himself. But I am now, too, as a long finger slips in between my thighs and goes higher. Perfectly timed strokes. Touching that place on my inner wall, rubbing in just the right rhythm, just the right way. It's so calculated. There's a slight pull and then another finger pushes in. His right hand snakes around under my arm, fingers pressing into my lower abdomen, creeping lower, but he cant reach his destination, as I'm pinned to the wall of the pool.

Instead of simply asking me, or even ordering me, to step away from the wall, he probes what I assume is a ring finger, into my ass. Just lightly. Sasuke scissors his two fingers in my sex and brushes against that spot again. So calculated. Choreographed. And like magic I find myself doubling over onto the edge of the bath, my legs spreading, feet floating in the water.

Oh, what I must look like to him. Pasty white ass breaking the surface of the water, right in his face. His fingers doing their scientifically proven dance just under the surface as I shudder and grasp for the towel that's folded underneath me. He pulls that ring finger out of my ass but the right hand has room to snake around my thigh and torture my clitoris; draw it out of its hood.

I breathe raggedly. The air is thick and humid and I can't see a thing. His fingers are silent in the water but my veins are screaming. The water is sloshing more vigorously on the sides of the pool. My voice bounces off water and tile. I'm fisting the towel relentlessly. My legs are ramrod straight and toes are spread. My back is killing me. His fingers reach deeper, impossibly long digits that stretch and twist and then that ring finger digs in again and he tweaks my clit and I come instantly. A disgusting un-feminine groan tramples out my mouth. I shudder with every clench I give his fingers. And they still dance.

Sasuke knows when he should stop. So I can breathe.
But he keeps going anyway.

And it's impossible to think. I can't see anything. I can barely breathe fast enough to scream again as the first orgasm is drawn out, long, longer, frighteningly long until I think I'm going to pass out. But then Sasuke applies even more pressure, with his entire palm on my clit, and I'm rising higher out of the water, practically crawling out of the damn bath. By then I'm high enough out of the water for his mouth and I feel a slow, thick, well-timed lick though I don't know how he could be wrapped around his two hands and reach any part of my crotch, but he does, and I reach a second orgasm, though the first never really ended.

I feel like I'm about to die. I choke loudly, like sobbing and coughing at the same time, a garbled scream somewhere in there. My inner walls spasm so fast that I can only continuously shudder.

He's talking to me like I can hear him or something.
Something about Naruto.
Something about intense pleasure.

Then he's pulling me back into the water, gently, slowly, calculating.

"You belong to me."

And he pulls me onto himself, that impossibly hot organ, warmer than the water, burying itself into me. I hiss loudly. His chest is against my back, smooth, slick. The right hand reaches up to knead my breast. His breath is slightly haggard in my ear.

We are loud. The shallow water splashes with giant waves with every thrust. My arms a form of support with my hands gripping onto the edge of the wall for dear life. He's biting that third spot again, relentless, but mathematical. It will hold me still. It will drive me over the edge. And he knows it.

From this angle every thrust slides over that inner, spongy spot. His hands grip my hips, nails digging in the exact spots where Naruto's hands were only a few hours before- for leverage, for proving a point. My mind gives me random images, and I picture our connected groins in the water, creamy white substances dissolving in the direct vicinity. Or perhaps a side view, Sasuke burying himself to the hilt over and over, his torso gleaming but hidden in the mist, contracting and contorting over my back, his mouth on my neck. All the while my breasts dangling, nipples just skimming the surface with his thrusting. As if he knew this would be the perfect height for the water, for my nipples to be tortured by the almost needle-like sensation of the bath. Mathematically correct.

I'm losing my grip on the floor of the pool. My feet are slipping. It ruins the buildup of pleasure. He growls, flips me over so I'm facing him again, and pins me on the wall of the bath.

This is the roughest he's ever been with me. He's been trying so deliberately to show me that he is nothing like Naruto. That he is more talented. More powerful. More skilled than he. He penetrates abruptly, wrapping my legs around his hips, the friction searing, almost uncomfortable. His hands are on the wall behind me, his forehead pressed against mine. I can finally see some of his facial features. His teeth gritting, eyes screwed shut.

They are so much alike, and he tries so hard to prove the opposite.

My arms are under his, wrapped around his back. This is the first time he's lost control. When he's fucking me because he simply must, not because he can.

I have not said his name once.

We are flush together so much that his body is stimulating my clit. He is breathing heavily, panting even. It is a novelty to hear. His hands go to my hips again and tries to make the thrusting go at a faster pace, faster, harder, deeper- but you can only go so fast in the density of water. He is frustrated. I am almost there. He is frantic- just out of reach of that delicious pinnacle.

I humor him.

This is my reasoning. He's lost control. He must be aware of it. He must be hiding in some corner of his mind, killing himself over the fact that I keep doing this with him and then going back to Naruto. Even though Naruto is far from skilled. Far from mathematically calculating for the sake of my pleasure. It is offensive to Sasuke's pride. It kills him that I have sex with the almighty Uchiha Sasuke and then go back to the Dead Last. And now he's lost control. And now he's no better than Uzumaki. How that idea must kill him.

I press him closer to me, hug him tighter as he pounds into me. I going to come. Now. I'm shivering. I'm calling into his ear.

"Please.. ahn.. Sasuke!"

And it is enough to drive him over the edge. He throws himself into me, stuck in that rigid pose, and my inner walls clench him. Milk him of everything.

One day I gave up on Uchiha Sasuke. And I went out with Naruto.
And Sasuke noticed.

It bothered him somehow. The routine was thrown off. I had stopped perpetually asking him out every morning. Every day at lunch. Every spare moment. I think it stabbed him somewhere that I chose Naruto, his rival, over him.

He didn't do anything at first.

But when he caught me and Naruto in the act.. he snapped. He pulled me from Naruto's bed, carried me like a bride out of Uzumaki's apartment while I was still naked and sweaty and mussed. I remember Naruto running to his door, naked also, yelling at Sasuke. What the fuck was he doing with his girlfriend?
And Sasuke simply said,

"I'm going to fuck her."

Naruto about exploded. Sasuke was carrying me in his arms, and we were both facing him. I didn't move. I thought they were going to kill each other. Naruto looked from me to him and opened his mouth to say something and then... something just.. turned off.

He looked very sad.

Sasuke had turned, with me still in his arms, and walked away. I screamed for Naruto at first...crying for him and for Sasuke to let go, but then I saw that look on his face again over Sasuke's shoulder- that utter look of loss- I stopped.

He hadn't even fought.
He didn't bother trying.
I was out of his league.
He didn't deserve me. That was the look on his face. That Sasuke deserved me more than he did. No questions asked.

No contest.

It shut me up. I didn't struggle.

Naruto knows. He knows that Sasuke fucks me on a regular basis. That I go to him voluntarily. Naruto wont try to stop me. He sees himself as below me. Like he has no right to tell me what to do. It hurts him, but he lives with it. It kills him when he sees Sasuke's marks, so hauntingly reminiscent of the three wheels of Sharingan. But he says nothing, like he deserves it. It stabs me.

But whenever I go back to his little apartment.. and see him smile with relief..

He doesn't even get angry over the fact that I keep leaving him for Sasuke's touch. He doesn't resent Sasuke, either. He thinks he deserves it.. for being our village's demon. And he's so happy to see me when I come back. So grateful.

So thankful that I even think of him after an encounter with Sasuke.

And that fact alone tears Sasuke to pieces. That I keep going back.


His head is resting between my breasts. The water is finally still. Our breathing echoes off the water and the walls of the bath. He looks up at me. Suddenly I am aware that he is still out of control. His emotions are written on his face. He is hurt. He knows that after we leave this bathhouse that I will return to Naruto's tiny apartment, that I will snuggle up next to him, with a smile on both our faces. His eyes ask me why.

Not asking me why I keep going back to naruto. He knows that answer.
I love Naruto.

But he's asking me why I keep doing this with him. With Sasuke.

I think.. it's because I am stuck as Naruto is stuck.
Like some sort of perpetual twisted caste system.
I see Sasuke as someone of higher rank. Someone above me.

I don't think I'm allowed to say 'no' to an Uchiha.

...I don't think I could if I wanted to.