NaruSaku contest piece,
using the keyword "kiss." Completely inspired. Hope y'all
enjoy!
Broken Wings
From a very
early age, Naruto understood what it meant to care for someone. He spent most
of his childhood alone, scorned for a reason he couldn’t begin to guess, yet
still he knew the importance of bonds. Perhaps this knowledge, far beyond his
tender years, came to him because he spent his time in solitude, hoping
for someone, anyone, to acknowledge him, to assure him that he did exist
for a reason.
He started with nothing, so
when he found something, he clung to it. He treasured it. He put all of
his effort into protecting it, nurturing it, watching it grow.
Uzumaki Naruto loved Haruno
Sakura. He loved her with an intensity that transcended words, so much that it
blinded him. He couldn’t see how deeply his feelings were rooted because he
always considered her his main priority. Her happiness was paramount to his
almost as if by instinct. That was why he promised her, without hesitation,
that he’d bring Sasuke back. That was why he smiled for her when he was
heartsick, knowing that she had chosen a path that didn’t lead to him.
That was why he prepared
himself to let her go.
After all, Naruto didn’t
want to be her jailer. He didn’t want to clip her wings and stand idly by as
she floundered and flapped and plummeted to the earth, scattering her
blood-soaked feathers across the ground.
She had been the one to
kiss him first.
“God…why do we keep messing
around? I just…it’s so stupid,” she had declared, and, looking quite
determined, clamped her hand over the back of his neck, drew his face forward,
and pressed her lips to his. Rough. Impulsive. Completely and utterly mind
breaking.
Of course, they were both
dripping sweat, covered in dirt and grime and gore, but that was part and
parcel to the ninja business, particularly when you’re on the run from
Akatsuki. No time was a good time. No place was a good place. You learn to
seize the moments when they come.
Sakura did the seizing, and
lucky thing. Naruto was partially convinced they wouldn’t be together today if
she hadn’t.
She told him later that she
distrusted the future, the supposed inevitability of tomorrow, and she figured
she ought to kiss him at least once before it was too late.
“I’m a kunoichi. We’re
thorough. We don’t let openings slip past us.”
Naruto didn’t buy her
flippant attitude, however. The tears swimming in her eyes were a dead giveaway
of falsehood.
And it had taken that
single kiss to allow Naruto to begin comprehending his love for her. Oh, it was
a slow process, painful and beautiful and frightening, but he wouldn’t have it
any other way. Were it merely handed to them, their relationship would lose
most of its meaning.
They were partners, Naruto
and Sakura. They depended on each other, leaned on each other, complemented
each other. They suffered the same hurt, the same unshakable determination to
bring their fallen comrade home despite the cost.
In a sense, Sasuke was the
bridge, the catalyst that drew them together. By severing his ties to them, he
made theirs stronger. They weren’t a trio anymore; they were a duo sharing a
goal. They were a family missing a brother. They were a man and a woman
searching desperately for a lost little boy, and they wouldn’t stop until they
brought him in, out of the cold, out of the dark.
And through it all, Naruto
loved her.
More kisses followed, as
kisses often do, and every one was different.
---
Heat. Questing fingers,
awkward tongues, primal, basic lust.
They were in a cave. Minimal
lighting, air thick with moisture, a steady drip, drip, drip in the
background.
“We have to—”
“I know.” Drip, drip,
drip.
“Where is he?”
“We’ll find him.” Drip,
drip, drip.
“I’m scared for you.”
He kissed one eyelid, then
the other. “Why? We’re a team. You’re with me.”
She shivered. “That’s not
the issue, Naruto.” His lips were on the curve of her neck. “How can you be
sure we’ll survive? How can you be sure you’ll survive? Akatsuki’s
dangerous, and they’ll stop at nothing to capture you.”
The unspoken words
resonated louder than the spoken ones.
To kill you.
Naruto had seen Gaara’s
body. He understood the relationship between a jinchuuriki and a bijuu. When
one is lost, the other dies. Akatsuki did not want Naruto. They wanted his
bijuu. They wanted Kyuubi.
Drip, drip, drip.
“I can’t be sure,” he
whispered. “So we’ll fight.”
Sasuke was involved in
this, somehow. The lies and the treachery and the deceit were woven as tightly
about him as a shroud. Naruto knew it. He felt it. And he would have to unravel
the threads before they destroyed him. Before they destroyed everything.
Drip, drip, drip.
“Because we’re shinobi,”
Sakura murmured, fingers tangled in his hair.
“Because we’re shinobi,” he
agreed.
---
“You’re hurt,” she
murmured, tracing the pads of her fingers along the edges of raw, puckered
skin. “Idiot.” Her lips replaced her fingers, and his breath hitched.
“Sakura…” He dropped the
“chan” at her insistence, because she claimed it made her feel like a little
girl, especially when he said it. On special occasions, however, she allowed
him to use the suffix, which always made him happy. He liked the way
“Sakura-chan” sounded, for some reason. Sweet, yet containing a hint of
naughtiness—from his perspective, at least, considering the nature of those
special occasions.
The wound was on his lower
abdomen, the result of an unfortunate encounter with the wrong end of a kunai
while he was drugged and flying higher than a kite. He barely remembered how he
got home, or when. All he knew for certain was that the bed she had him spread
out on wasn’t his.
Naruto had a lumpy
mattress. Cottage cheese, practically. It sank when you sat on it, and you had
to lever yourself out like a clam when you wanted to get up. Pain in the ass,
but he’d had the mattress since he was a kid, and he kept it for the
sentimental value.
This mattress was firm
but…springy. It molded to the body without trapping it. Though his head was
stuffed with fuzz and he had trouble focusing his eyes, he could discern that
much.
Kind of nice, really. Sure,
Naruto’s opinion would change later, after the effect of the drugs wore off and
all his aches and pains clambered for attention, but hell, everything was fabulous
right now.
Sakura’s bed. Complete with
Sakura, no extra charge.
Naruto in Sakura’s
bed.
“Ohohoho man…wow…”
She raised her head and
quirked an eyebrow at him, expression bewildered.
“Naruto.”
He blinked slowly.
“Mmmmmm?”
She studied him critically
for a moment, and then groaned. “God help me.”
He blinked again. “Wassamatter?”
“You’re stoned.”
Naruto let out a
semi-conscious giggle. “Okay.” He didn’t care what he was, quite frankly.
But Sakura did.
“I could kill you,” she
grated between clenched teeth. “I should kill you. Irresponsible…you know
better than to accept anything offered to you by an openly hostile enemy!” To
emphasize, she slammed the palm of her hand down over the wound, and he jerked.
Ouch.
“Think that’s funny?” Her
voice had a hard edge to it, and her eyes blazed. “The daimyo and his goons
intended it to be fatal, or they wouldn’t have taken pains to drug the wine.”
His jaw slackened. “How did
you—”
“I can smell it on your
breath,” she snapped.
Ah.
“I’m sorry, Sakura,” he
croaked. “I messed up.”
“No shit.”
Naruto winced. He hated it
when she was angry with him. Of all people he wanted to impress, all people he
wanted to make proud, she ranked at the top. Her opinion held more significance
to him than anyone else’s, partly because they were best friends, and partly
because he respected her. A lot.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t protect you,
Naruto.”
Sakura scooted to the edge
of the bed and climbed off, pausing to smooth a few pieces of bang back from
his face.
“Don’t leave,” Naruto said.
If his reflexes hadn’t been so sluggish, he would’ve grabbed the hem of her
shirt, but all he could manage was a pleading look. “Stay here…”
She snorted.
“I’m just going to get some
stuff to fix you up with.”
“…oh.”
Grinning, Sakura bent over
and brushed her mouth against his.
“Next time, fox, try not to
need a reason to apologize.”
---
Over the years, he learned
the subtleties of her body. He knew the places she liked to have touched, the
places that were the most sensitive, the places that drove her into a frenzy. He
knew what parts she was comfortable with (legs, arms, nose, stomach), and what
parts she despised (butt, hips, forehead).
He also learned, purely by
chance, that the dip on the inside of her left elbow was a fount of boundless
pleasure for both parties.
Sakura had graceful,
dancer’s legs, and Naruto definitely appreciated them, but there was
something…erotic about her arms. They were muscular in a lithe, sleek way as
opposed to visibly bulging, which Naruto found dangerous and sexy all at once. The
girl was a literal powerhouse. She could punch holes through solid rock as if
it were no more than paper. He’d watched her do it. The fact that all that
strength was contained in those smooth planes of muscle never ceased to amaze
him.
Her wrists were dainty and
her hands were small, but they fit her. Big, bulky fingers were a bane rather
than a boon for a medic, and Sakura was a perfectionist to her core.
She always wore a pair of
black gloves in combat, however her knuckles still reflected her profession. They
were littered with tiny scars and indentations, and Naruto thought they gave
her character. No doubt his girl worked for a living.
And the inside of her
elbow…
She had a freckle there. Very
miniscule, of course, but Naruto could be quite observant when he wanted to,
and he ferreted it out rather quickly.
“Did you know you had a
freckle?” He wondered, fascinated, as they lie on the carpet in front of the
fireplace at his apartment. The light from the flames cast flickering
shadows across her skin, and he leaned in to get a closer look. “Aww, that’s
cute!”
She made an exasperated noise, like a breathless whinny, and said, “It’s a freckle,
Naruto. Don’t be such a geek about it.”
Naruto smirked. Despite her effort to appear otherwise, she seemed happy
that he was being a geek about it.
“Why don’t I just…” He planted an open-mouthed kiss over the freckle, her skin
salty to the taste. Before pulling away, he nipped her gently, and she
squeaked.
“I’m not food, you pervert.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Yummy.”
“Naruto!”
The blonde young man cackled. “You’d make a kickass ramen flavor.
‘Sakura-chan ramen.’ ‘Essence of Sakura ramen.’ ‘Ode de—”
She smacked him on the bicep, cheeks flushed. “Shut up already…moron…”
“But you love me.”
Sakura flashed him her own smirk, and, were he a dog, he would’ve been
drooling.
“Kiss me like that again, and we’ll see.”
Naruto couldn’t say no to a
lady.
“Yes ma’am.”
---
Naruto was an emotional
sort of man, and he had done his fair share of crying. He wasn’t afraid to
admit that, either.
Human beings cry. It’s
natural, whether you’re male or female, child or adult.
He cried, yes, but there
was only one shoulder he was brave enough to cry on.
“Come here,” she would say,
her voice so gentle it could have been the wind talking, and then she’d draw
him into an embrace. Sometimes he resisted and she had to coax him, other times
he’d fling himself at her, and the impact was like a bullet. Sometimes he’d cry
immediately upon contact, other times he’d hold it in while she stroked his
back, murmured nonsense in his ear, and the sobs tore out of him, and
afterward, she would trace the whisker marks on his cheeks and shower him in
butterfly kisses.
“My little fox,” she’d say.
“Your spirit is too pure for this world.”
No it wasn’t. Hers was.
She transferred the burden
of his pain onto herself when she didn’t have to. She stuck by him, found room
for him in her heart when she had given so much of it to Sasuke…
“I love you, Naruto.”
---
He didn’t want to be her
jailer, and he wasn’t. He had jailed himself. He had clipped his own wings.
And she had returned them.
Because Haruno Sakura loved
Uzumaki Naruto, and she had been the one to kiss him first.