Gaara x Reader: Perverted Moments
AN: MAN THIS TOOK FOR-EVER! Be happy I updated. I was originally supposed to have this up on Friday but it just got SO LONG. I hope you know I love you guys because I finished this despite the fact that it ruined my update schedule and I'll now have to push back two more updates I needed to do for my fanfic account. I may not update next weekend because of that fact.
Depends on how much I can get done before Fri/Sat/Sun.
Thanks to SinfulKissu, You-all-will-burn123, and Bobbiebear523 for commenting. Thanks to Bobbiebear523 for the Llama badge (whatever that does).
Also, thanks to Bobbiebear523, DrunkFrogs, xXUchihaSasukeXx, emotional2, and Santa956 for adding me to their watch list.
Thanks to Bobbiebear523, itasasunaruluwer, xXUchihaSasukeXx. emotional2, Erin-Eliza, MienshaoGirl, SinfulKissu, and nekosamurai123 for putting ‘Perverted Moments: Blackmail’ in their favorites.
I’ll confess: I really didn’t know what to do with this one, but I knew I needed it. Just kind of winging it until I get to the next lemon.
Responses to comments:
Bobbiebear523: I will. That lime was just to test the waters and see whether or not it would get booted. I have something much more graphic (and slightly sadistic, as per Gaara’s personality) planned for “Relaxing”.
You-all-will-burn123: Thank you. I’m flattered.
SinfulKissu: Thank you very much!
1. …Boobies ✔
2. Mornings ✔
3. Routine ✔
4. Blackmail (fantasy/lime) ✔
5. Cooking ✔
6. Relaxing (lemon)
8. Painting (fantasy/lime)
9. Monsters (lemon)
13. Resignations (lemon)
Moment Five – Cooking
“Get up, Yuu.”
Your dreams sounded oddly agitated. And though you had a lucid dream every now and then, this one felt particularly real. Cold morning air just beginning to warm assaulted your body. The comfortable and rumpled sheets were snatched from your fingers. You bolted up at the sudden lack of familiar sheets.
“Ow!” hissed Gaara, lips curling up to bare his teeth. The startle of him being in your room, of snatching the blanket off of you, dulled the pain of your head butt. You hadn’t realized you head butted him until he stabbed you with that usual fiery glare of his. Your dazed stupor and startle intensified when you realized he’d been the one to yank the sheets off of you.
“You…you pervert!” you hollered, kicking your feet at him. He dodged them easily, stepping back a fraction. Furious at his lack of manners and just the overall general treatment of you, you grabbed a pillow. Ribbons of sand wrapped around your redheaded teammate as you fought back with a pillow. The sand occasionally exploded in small clusters, sending grains everywhere until Gaara pulled them back to maintain his defense.
It wasn’t long before your pillow’s feathery entrails were spilled. Your rage died in a snowstorm of feathers. Huffing one from your hair and brushing one from the chest of your tank top, you scowled. Gaara had one perched delicately and precariously atop his head. That made you feel quite satisfied.
“What?” you snarled, blurry vision falling to your clock. It was about an hour before you usually awoke. You gave a groan, not caring that you were half-naked as you sat grumpily on the bed. Your body realized your lack of clothing, be it from the air or just subconsciously, because you soon crossed your legs to hide your (f/c) panties.
Gaara’s lips lifted in the smallest of smirks. “You’re not a morning person.” he mused, “I’d go far enough to say you’re a morning monster.”
“…show you monster!” you grumbled, partially coherent. You inhaled deeply, smiling slightly as parts of your back cracked. You rubbed your eye, waking up your brain and relaxing from the sudden shock. “What do you want, anyways?” you yawned. Gaara was secretly stunned at how fast your rage could abate.
At how fast you could fall into someone who was calm and amiable. He envied that.
“I’m hungry.” he said simply. Gaara blinked slowly at you as if to say you were an idiot. Or that he was peeved with your lack of understanding.
You felt your (e/c) eye twitch. “You’re a bastard.”
“Actually, I’m a legitimately conceived child.” responded Gaara smartly.
“GRAAAHHHH!” you launched yourself at the male. This morning was by far the most energetic one you’d ever had. Gaara half-anticipated you to charge him. He liked purposefully annoying you. It was a side you rarely showed except to him, he noticed.
The genin had dropped his guard as your battle cry started. You two were once again a tangle of limbs. He liked this, too. There was something addictive and heady about the way you struggled valiantly but fruitlessly against him. His nostrils were usually full of the coppery tang of blood, but with you, in situations like these, they were full of you.
Gaara was astounded to note that people could have a smell other than death. They could actually smell…nice. You smelled nice (but he wouldn’t tell you that). His face was a pale smear with two aquamarine dots; you aimed for one of the dots. The youngest Sabaku sibling scoffed as your fist missed him completely.
The next few blows missed him, also. Gaara quickly realized he was fighting an unfair battle. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t have my glasses, you ass!”
“You wear glasses?”
“You probably didn’t notice because you’re always busy being an ass! And a pervert!”
“So you can’t see right now?”
“Not very well.” you admitted softly, highly embarrassed. “Our kekkei genkai really does a number on normal vision.”
Gaara – for his own enjoyment – leaned forward. Your noses touched. “Can you see me now?” his warm breath plumed gently over your face. Your (s/c) cheeks flooded with blood. You did and said nothing for what felt like an eternity, sucker punched by the clarity of his eyes.
Gaara was highly amused. You were speechless. Breathless. He’d inspired those reactions many times in others, out of fear, but this one was different. There was no fear involved.
And yet, despite the lack of fear, you didn’t move. Shit. Did he kill you? That wouldn’t bode well for him during the exams. Gaara cocked his head to the side like that of a confused pup and pressed it gently to your bosom.
Damn bra. What kind of good do those things serve, anyways? he wondered, hairless brows furrowed in concentration as the constant but rapid thump-thump! of your heart echoed in his ear. “You’re alive.” he deduced seconds later, pulling his head back.
“Of course I am.” you came back to yourself, irritated. As with most males, he was pretty heavy. Heavier than you, anyways. “Get off.”
“I don’t think I will.” Gaara mused in a half-hum, setting his feet straight and flat against your floor. He flexed his knees slightly as if to cozy his lower body into your stomach. “I find it amusing that I can pin you by this alone. I’m not even using my hands.” Gaara chuckled. “This is a good skill to have if I’m ever without my sand, you know.”
“And what that really means is: ‘I can’t get up. That ass-shaped gourd has put me on my ass.’” you cackled. It looked like a peanut, truthfully, but at the right angle you supposed it could resemble a very horrendous and odd ass. Gaara grunted, more offended by the Shukaku’s pain-inducing howl of laughter than your actual comment.
When you saw him touch his head you decided to get serious. Headaches could easily be a sign of hunger. Yours usually came from dehydration – or people being annoying – but food sometimes caused it. “Fine. Get up. I’ll cook you something.”
Gaara got up with no issue whatsoever, as you suspected he would. He led you by mere seconds to the kitchen. You used that brief start to put on pants before meeting him in the kitchen.
You showed him what you had in your fridge. Unfortunately, it was of little help. You’d never been to Suna, and as such you weren’t quite sure what they did or didn’t have. Gaara was quick to weed out the unfamiliar items. He was equally quick to tell you that he preferred salty over other tastes and took sweet things with extreme reluctance, if at all. In the end you made him a simple breakfast of egg rice with diced vegetables and meat.
He ate without complaint, something that surprised you. Gaara typically liked to attack your figure, so you assumed your cooking would be on the list, too. “You’re a good wife.” Gaara determined, his mildly thoughtful and close-eyed expression BARELY softened.
That was a first for you. He could be paying me back for that awkward stuff yesterday, you realized.
“You really mean that?” you were honestly stunned.
“For the moment. You’re an interesting person, Umiko. Every biting comment you’ve given me is soothed the next day. You acknowledge me. And I’m still alive after your breakfast. The best thing a wife can do for a husband is keep him alive. Ergo, you’re a good wife.”
“And my hope that you’ve gained a soul, found your kindness, and decided to treat me like an equal is quashed.” you lamented. “Your logic is petty and sad.”
“But honest.” he insisted lazily.
You’d settle for that. You cleared and cleaned the dishes, turning them over to dry. “What now?” you asked after wiping off your hands. Gaara lounged back against the chair thoughtfully, one foot propped up on the top of his gourd.
“You could stand for some training.” he commented. “You’ll need to learn to fight without your glasses. Your aim is terrible without them.”
“I know!” you huffed, feeling his barbed but honest words sink in deeper than expected. “It’s not a weakness, though. My average kill time is eight seconds. Five if I needed it to end quickly.”
A genuine look of interest lifted Gaara’s brows. “Really?” he almost seemed to purr.
I think I’m excited now.
What kind of excited? The excited like yesterday? You can’t do that all the time, you know. One of these days she’ll really cream you, kid.
Not that kind of excited. That DOES apply, though. This is more…I want to hear what she has to say.
A bit gory, but you’re on your way. I’m proud of you.
On my way to WHAT?
That soft type of love I told you about. Love – what’s happening between you two even if you refuse to admit it – isn’t always rough and heated. There are important and smaller things that make it last. Mates aren’t always mating, kid.
You almost sound…knowledgeable about this kind of stuff.
Demons are animals too, kid. We have the basic concepts. How else do you think we learn something like defending our territory when all those villages moved in?
I see. So this ‘soft’ mate stuff is important, too?
Very. Especially to women. You want to keep Umiko, you do soft stuff. Unless she turns out to be one of those weird ones that LIKES the rough stuff. You can’t tell with some of them because they’re like her – inexperienced and unknowing.
So what is ‘soft’?
Mmm…that’s right. You’ve kind of forgotten, haven’t you? cackled Shukaku. Gaara slapped the side of his head. He did this in rare moments of solitude when the beat became mentally annoying. It caught Shukaku’s attention, at least. The light sting in his head was of no consequence.
“Uh…” you blinked, kind of surprised. The guy just hit himself for crying out loud! “You okay?”
“It’s…nothing.” Gaara shook his head. He knew how to explain his predicament, but chose not to. Some people – most people – didn’t look kindly upon Jinchuuriki.
“Right. Well…do you want to train now? I mean, it’ll be a long shot, what with our jutsus being so different, and me not really being able to use mine because I don’t want to kill you—”
“You…don’t?” Gaara stared at you as if you had two heads. “But…why? I’ve been mean to you.”
“Oh, so you’ve noticed!” you teased. He continued to frown at you.
“Look,” you sat down across from him. “I’ve learned that people change. I also know that sometimes there’s layers to people, and that what they show isn’t always who they are. I was one of those people. I think you’re also one of those people.”
“So…you don’t hate me?”
“You make me mad, that I won’t deny. And sometimes I might say I hate you, but that’s in a moment of weakness and anger. But at the end of the day I know you’re just being you. That’s what YOU do.”
Gaara didn’t know what to say or do. Somewhere in him, that was touching. But somewhere in him he realized that was too saccharine, as true as it may be. Is this…a soft moment?
It’s probably as close as you’re going to get right now.
So what now?
Keep it going.
Introduce her to your siblings. They know how to talk to people.
Right… Gaara replied uncertainly. Then, as if to firm himself up in the face of Shukaku’s idea, he added for comfort, I’ll kill them if they screw this up.
“You’re right to think training against me would be hard. Sand absorbs water. I won’t really be an enemy until a later portion of the exams, anyways. My siblings might be better for you.”
While what he said had some merit, Gaara intended to see if your kindness was just for him. At first glance, recalling the way you used that Uchiha brat to puke in Kankuro’s face, he assumed your kindness was indiscriminate.
Something small and fragile – the echo of his old childhood self – hoped and thought that he was a special case. Even if it was on the minutest of levels, he needed it to be true.
If it was half of the problems in his head would go away, he was sure. The situation was unfairly complex. It was worse than the academy’s word problems! He didn’t know how to take the turn of events; it was mostly because he hadn’t been raised in an incredibly interactive environment where these kinds of talks between boys and girls were routine.
Gaara felt very much like he’d fallen from his pedestal of isolation. He was now staggering, utterly confused, towards the first sign of grounding help. That help happened to be you. The redhead felt like he was still waiting for your approval or rejection.
Why did what you would say matter so much? How had he come to fear your words?
He didn’t know, and that truly terrified Sabaku no Gaara.
“I’ve seen the puppet guy in action.” you shook your head positively, recalling his abilities. “What does your sister do?”
“Wind conjuring. Fan-based jutsus.”
“She’ll do a number on the forest then, I’m sure. I have a light base in air manipulation, on account of the bonds in water molecules, but nothing like what your sister can do, I’m sure.”
“Probably not.” Gaara agreed. “They’ll also need to be aware of you being my wife-in-practice so they don’t throw you out of the room.”
He has a good point, you admitted to yourself. “Are they up right now?”
“Yes.” Gaara was a bit too proud to say that. His siblings had learned to get up early lest they be scared awake by him. By age seven he’d run out of personalized, fresh ways to scare them, but it didn’t matter. They were already wired for early mornings.
“Fantastic. Let’s go.” you told him, motioning for him to lead the way. Maybe they can give me tips on how to deal with him, you thought. One day he was…whatever that grabby insistency was, and the next he’s somewhat nice. Where was the real Gaara?
Why were you only getting ‘faces’ or ‘pieces’ of him? It was confusing.
Gaara basically dropped you off at the hotel room. He’d gone to train. You briefly wondered if it was because he was embarrassed to bring you home. When the situation was broken down to its simplest parts Gaara was still a boy and you were still a girl. And, you betted, his siblings would probably love to tease him.
You hoped they didn’t waffle as much as Gaara. Somebody in his family was emotionally stable, right?
“So…wait…” Kankuro shifted in his seat, his eyes slanting analytically as he leaned forward to rest one arm against the table and thoroughly scrutinize you, “You’re Gaara’s practice wife?”
“Yep.” you answered softly and bluntly. His brows rose until his forehead crinkled. The eldest male still looked incredibly confused. You were confused, too. If he was older why did Gaara look like he had all the pull? You mentioned that after bristling in reflex to some lame jokes, but neither sibling had answered you.
“…Why?” Kankuro asked again.
“Because he blackmailed me.” you wanted to say, but didn’t. It was true that he had blackmailed you, but was it so bad now? You still weren’t sure. On the one hand, Gaara was pompous and thoughtlessly crossed several important barriers that no one had before. But…him crossing them felt good.
He made you feel something that no one else ever had. You flew when he touched you. It was inconceivably amazing, what he did to you. Gaara didn’t give you the storybook romance you’d been searching for, but you couldn’t deny that his touch had you hearing cheesy clichés between lovers and unwritten lines of passion that were trapped within you.
You felt like the sand devil had tapped into a heat you’d only recognized through writing. He’d forced it to the surface as if by some cruel jutsu, but the jutsu had no words. Only a conjurer: him.
“We click.” you shrug.
“Well…it makes sense…” Temari shook her head. “The Yuu family is known even in Suna.”
I know…Gaara told me, you wiggled your brows in agreement.
“But you guys get along?” Kankuro was quick to check, his voice cracked lightly in sheer desperation to know. You felt a little put off by how much they were double checking. They asked the same type of questions in different ways and numerous times.
To you, that made Gaara’s act of bringing you home and making you his practice wife very uncommon. It gave you the impression that it was his first time doing such a thing.
Your heart fluttered. Why did that make you feel special? You didn’t know and didn’t care.
“We’re starting to.” you shrugged again. “He and I argued but—“
“You argued with him?” it was Temari’s turn to look at you like you had multiple heads.
“Yeah.” you blinked rather owlishly at her.
Kankuro nudged his sister. She bent down so he could whisper something in her ear. The blonde nodded, mumbling a small ‘I know!’ in return.
“Excuse us for a sec, would you?” Temari grabbed a fistful of Kankuro’s black uniform because he couldn’t swivel and exit the chair fast enough. You stood there, dumbfounded, as they disjointedly ran into the nearest room. They were temporarily stuck in the doorframe, as both tried to enter at the same time, but neither seemed to notice.
Part of you felt bad about dissolving yourself to listen in, but part of you didn’t. They were being strangely secretive.
“…and she’s still alive, Temari!” Kankuro exclaimed.
“I know!” she hissed back at him, “quit repeating that!”
“I still can’t wrap my head around it!” Kankuro defended, “I mean, we’re talking about Gaara here!”
“It surprises me, too.”
“Do you think…he could be going through pu—”
“How the hell should I know? I’m a girl.”
“I think he is.”
“Well if he is, he’s late. Way late.”
“That thing probably messed with his brain.”
“That’s a good possibility, and I mean a good one.”
“Should we tell Umiko?”
“Only if you want to lose your head.” breathed Temari.
“Okay, so we have to pretend this conversation never happened. How are we going to cover this up? Didn’t he say he wanted us to train with her? We could.”
“What, you weren’t planning on it?”
“Um, hello! Wife-in-training? That’s my excuse to be lazy!”
“Yes but she’s not your wife. Gaara would have your head.”
“He’ll have our heads if we actually train with her, too. You know how he is with stuff he likes. Remember that bear?”
“Kami-sama, yes!” Temari gave a weak laugh.
There was a second of silence.
“So what do we do?”
“She’s his wife-in-practice, so we let her be a wife. Gaara may not be so quick to suspect we’re involved if things look normal when he comes home.”
“But a huge meal on the table isn’t normal.”
“It would be for her and this whole ‘practice’ stuff.”
“True. But Umiko doesn’t know anything about Suna food!”
“Which is why I’m here.”
“Kami help her—OW!”
“I highly suggest you get all those jokes out before Gaara comes back.”
“Okay, okay, one more! Looks like more than dinner’s cooking, am I right? Huh, huh?”
“It’s lunch time.” replied Temari dryly, clearly not amused.
“Same concept. Funny, right? OW!”
You canceled the jutsu, reforming yourself in the kitchen as particles of moisture returned to your dark hair. “Sorry about that.” Temari smiled. Did she know about your trick? If she did, she gave no indication. “As Gaara’s sibling I feel it’s my duty to teach you about him.”
“Let’s see what I already know,” you mused, ticking off your fingers, “he likes salty food, hates sweet food but will eat it, loves to scare people, and is kind of childish in his revenge when someone makes fun of him.”
“Sounds like him.” mused Kankuro.
“Knowing his tastes are equally important. You’ve only scratched the surface. It’s another thing entirely to be able to cook them.”
You got a crash course in Suna cuisine. Some of it was nausea-inducing, but overall it wasn’t bad. The shock of using different animals and parts you wouldn’t assume from said animals turned your stomach. But, at the end of the day, it was worth it.
Gaara came in after a long day of training – or whatever it was that he’d been doing – to a full meal of vegetables, gizzard, tongue, and soup waiting on the table. You’d even made a bowl of chilled plum soup (which was like ice cream in your opinion, and your crowning achievement)! A flicker of surprise danced on his face.
His eyes then narrowed. “Did you make this, Temari?”
“Nope.” Temari grinned lightly, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Your wife did.”
“I was wondering why the vegetables didn’t look floppy and shrunken.”
Oh you annoyingly loveable little bastard! Temari let her brow twitch. Something in her had to be angry. It was too stupid of her to open her mouth.
“Shame on you, Gaara!” you chastised with a smirk, knowing he hated to be nagged, “Your siblings worked very hard to teach me how to do this! You should thank them.”
You wiggled your pinky, having subtly performed hand signs as you watched the conversation. A spoon scooped some of the plum soup and flew at Gaara. He dodged it, but not before some smeared beneath his left nostril.
“Don’t you dare—stop!” Gaara bobbed and weaved his head. “Stop! You’re a terrible wi—hykk!” Gaara’s face contorted as the explosion of bittersweet plum hit his tongue. He spit the spoon out, wiping his tongue on his sleeve.
“A good wife knows that she can’t change her husband. Things about the one you love shouldn’t be changed if you truly love them, but a good wife also knows she shouldn’t have to put up with anything needlessly annoying. The way you treat your siblings annoys me.” You stated matter-of-factly.
“Well sweet foods annoy me.” he reminded in a pouty hiss.
“I know. I’ll stop if you stop.”
“How would you know? Have you been looking?” you teased, unfazed by his standard comment.
“What the hell is there to look at?” Gaara crossed his arms, falling into the argument now. Though mildly annoying, he liked this. It allowed him to talk with people like they wouldn’t allow, or were too afraid to do. In some respect, it was a release. He had tons of good comebacks for Temari and Kankuro, but they never dared to challenge him and bring the conversation to a point where he could use them.
It was sad.
“I find myself wondering the same thing.” You let your cheek fall into your palm, other arm crossed supportively beneath the elbow.
Kankuro laughed into his hat as he removed it. Gaara glared at him, soon turning his attention to you. He dropped his gourd. Temari and Kankuro shared a look.
Gaara never did that.
“Hey, Temari…” Kankuro nudged his sister with an elbow.
“What?” she leaned down as you and Gaara locked eyes.
“Does that look bigger than normal to you?”
“I don’t know. Shh! This is gonna be good.”
Gaara lunged at you, bringing you down.
“Get your fat ass off me!” you kicked your legs angrily.
“I’m not fat.” Gaara said monotonously, pinning your shoulders down with his hands. “I just weigh more than you.”
“Because you’re fat!” you cried rather childishly.
“Because I have more muscle!”
“He always was sensitive about his weight,” Temari remarked, rubbing her chin.
“I think that’s why he says he doesn’t like sweets anymore. Remember all those cookies he used to eat?”
“We were running to the store every couple of days.” Temari giggled. That was back when Gaara was harmless and adorable with his chubby cheeks and big eyes.
“Would you two shut up?!” you and Gaara yelled simultaneously, too determined to change or maintain the position you were in. Their idle chatter was highly distracting. You wrapped both of your legs around one of his. Gaara started kicking and trying to free his leg, as you hoped, and lessened his weight on your torso.
You pushed one of his hands off and raised that shoulder to ram into him. He wobbled and arced out to the side, but didn’t fall completely off of you. One of his legs was staked adamantly to the floor beside your hip. Half rolling, half spinning, you crashed atop him like a wave.
Your hands pressed firmly and strongly into his torso. Two (s/c) legs lashed out to pin the fabric of his pants to the floor. “Now stay down!” you commanded, slightly winded.
“Like hell I will!” snarled Gaara. One of your hands quickly moved to the center of his forehead. His cheek was smashed against the floor. You leaned your weight into your other arm that had now come to rest on his collarbone.
“I’ll grab your earrings!” you threatened, tickling one with the hand steadily slipping from the middle of his forehead to the side where his crimson hair met his ear.
“I’d grab something on you if you had anything to grab!” Gaara was tempted to bite your wrist. He could see the blue veins against your (s/c) skin. That would make you let go!
“You know I have stuff to grab!” you reminded him vaguely.
“Wait…he grabbed you?!” Kankuro interrupted.
“SHUT UP!” Gaara let you yell ‘shut up!’, seizing his opportunity. You’d anticipated him using his siblings as a distraction. He’d broken through your nail-studded hold and was swiftly rising up to throw you on your back. Because you’d expected this of him, you’d only admonished Kankuro from the corner of your eye. You turned to look down at Gaara, fixing to purr about how his brother wasn’t that distracting before putting him on his back again, but that didn’t work.
The sand genin had risen faster than you expected. Your faces connected in a mildly painful smack that was probably his revenge for you head butting him earlier that morning.
Temari froze, hand slipping off the edge of the table. She stumbled, catching herself before her chin smacked the corner. Kankuro knocked his chair over trying to crane his neck and see if what he thought he saw actually happened. The tingling belatedly settled on your lips as you and Gaara stared at each other.
Did you just…?
But how—that—what? How?
The mechanics didn’t make sense. You were sure you and Gaara had literally just bumped head-to-head. But you were somewhat turned so…?
Oh god! your first instinct was to run away and think about what had just happened. To try and calm down. Gaara knew this, and clenched a fistful of your (f/c) shirt in an iron hold. “You will not leave me.” you heard him growl out as the sand encircled you two and covered his siblings from your eyes.
You found yourself dumped unceremoniously in the room you assumed he’d claimed for himself. His gourd dropped itself by the door. Gaara managed to work his fingers into the material of your shirt just as you were getting to your feet.
“What the hell was—“
He picked you up, left your feet to dangle, and pushed you hungrily against the nearest wall. Dappled sunlight owed to the trees around the hotel cast his eyes in patchy light. You couldn’t tell whether they were glowing from the sun, or if they were just glowing. The heat of Suna burned in his eyes. His free hand went to massage his heart absently.
“You broke your own rule.” he smiled. Really smiled. You couldn’t tell if he admired the mistake or if he was filing it away to use against you.
“Th-that was—it was an accident! It was your fault!” you claimed. And it was. Had he not risen up to meet you, that wouldn’t have happened!
“I think not.” Gaara shut his eyes, smirking proudly. “It takes two pairs of lips, you see.”
“But I don’t—“
“Stand here and tell me you don’t.” invited Gaara, “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.”
Did you? You were still trying to decide that.
“You can’t know what I want!”
“Did you feel a spark? A bite?” Gaara probed, his voice growing huskier with every word. “A thirst?”
You said nothing, not able to trust yourself.
“Your face tells me ‘yes’.” Gaara smirked. His face hovered before yours, noses able to touch again. Gaara’s aquamarine eyes narrowed, studying the way your (s/c) cheeks heated and the way your mouth trembled. The sting returned to his lips, pulsing strongly.
Yes. He remembered how you tasted, if only for those brief seconds. It was the first time that something within him – something that wasn’t the Shukaku – had woken up and asked for more.
He wanted more. You turned away, out of reflex, as Gaara’s face came too close for comfort. Gaara kissed your cheek with open eyes, watching your pulse thrum wildly in the column of your throat. Your skin smelled sweet.
Maybe I don’t hate ALL sweet things he considered mentally.
“Kiss me again.” Gaara demanded.
“No! That first time was an accident! It will stay that way!”
Your rejection didn’t totally hurt. He knew what to expect after reading that laughable bible your family went by. “Why?” he dared to ask.
“B-Because!” you offered weakly. “I’m supposed to only kiss the one I’ll marry!”
“Who says you won’t marry me?”
“Because I know you! You’re not the marriage type!”
“Then what am I?”
“The ‘take and conquer’ type!”
“I am. So if I kiss you again, no one will blame me. That’s just how I am, right?”
“Yes, that’s how you are! You don’t—“
Gaara crushed his mouth to yours in an insistent kiss. You froze against him, shocked by the direct contact. He pinned you to the wall, free hand coming to rest against your waist. The one buried in your shirt eventually unwound to hold your arm.
What was he waiting for? Why was he staying with you like this? It was just lip-to-lip contact. But he liked it. Gaara lost track of his breathing, and whether or not he actually was, as he listened to your panicked heart slow against his chest.
His was beating just as slow. Your arms, once hurriedly trying to separate you from his searing, sweet mouth had fallen, powerless, by your sides. Gaara’s hands fell back to your hips as he occasionally rubbed your lips with his. The semi-hard rub grounded you. Told you that you were still connected to his mouth.
Gaara had indulged long enough. He needed to breathe. The genin tore his mouth from yours, feeling his cheeks and lip buzz with the taste of you.
Is that what love was? A honeyed, stupefying sting that spread like one of Kankuro’s poison? It was the tastiest poison he’d ever tried. But, unlike the doses Kankuro fed him to keep him immune if fighting with him in battle, he was not prepared for this one.
But…perhaps…that was what made it enjoyable. His lungs burned as his mouth watered – more, more, more! something in him begged – for you. Gaara kissed the corner of your mouth to sate the new and demanding voice.
He couldn’t bear to let you know what power you had over him, intentional or not. People – even you – had come to know him as a quiet but ‘take charge’ kind of guy. Gaara did not disappoint where reputation was concerned. So, acting like he still had control, Gaara smirked against the corner your mouth and said, “I look forward to breaking more rules with you, wife.” he kissed your cheek again and walked out to finish the meal that had been interrupted.
You stood there, dazed. The taste of him still lingered, as did the scorching burn he’d left on your lips and face. You felt dizzyingly short of breath. “Kankuro was right.” you gasped, sinking to sit on your butt against the wall and collect yourself.
Something more was cooking, but would the end result be disastrous or delicious? You did have other suitors, after all. Sabaku no Gaara didn’t seem like the type to burst through the doors and interrupt a ceremony, either. And, as far as you knew, the letter of interest he’d sent to your mother had no formal application attached. No formal papers meant no real chance at him being a suitor.
But…did he want that? Or was he just giving you a fleeting taste at some spiced love you may not be capable of finding with your chosen suitor?
The ingredients for an interesting time were all present. Up until now the two of you had been quietly simmering. You’d soon be boiling, you suspected. Perhaps even overflowing.
In the end someone – your suitor, your mother, Gaara – would be getting a bad taste in their mouth. You just hoped it wasn’t you. The ladle stirring the stew of confusion in your mind was finally taken away. Your mind, and the intense emotions within it, was given time to cool as you sat alone.
Then, like a blind taste test, you realized something: you loved Sabaku no Gaara.