In 9 Days

chapter 14

Day Eight

Passion

Dreams had always plagued him. They had never left him. It had always been that way, bordering on nightmares most of the time—nightmares that brought him nothing but cold sweat and anger and an empty, aching heart. To kill his brother. To bury the memories.

To have his family back.

They were nightmares, nothing more. Eventually, he had learned how to become unaffected—to put a wall between himself and fear and emotion, because those things had no place in his life. He was a shinobi—highly-skilled, with things to prove and goals to achieve. Emotions were useless, and just a hindrance.

At three o'clock that morning, with the sky still dark and moon shining almost serenely, he dreamed. But not of fearsome things.

He dreamed of bewitching eyes. Light, tangled hair. Lips fused with his own, giving him something that he had never felt in a long, long time. There were feather-light fingers, touching him in the most sensitive of places, and a voice—a lovely, familiar voice that moaned out his name, and moaned it out in pleasure.

Soft, soft skin.

He dreamed of his hands brushing that skin, gliding and shifting and claiming. Touching. He dreamed of his mouth trailing all over, kissing and tasting something delicious and dark and wonderfully, irresistibly forbidden. Her hands would fist on his hair, her cries for him going louder and throatier by the second. He would taste her, all of her, and discover that it was something he'd been missing, for far too long. Something he'd been wanting.

Something he'd been needing.

He dreamed of the wonderful, wonderful taste.

He dreamed of the overwhelming scent.

He dreamed that, as he took her, and filled her, and plunged into her with all the lust and desire and want and need he could never quite hide anymore, she would fill him back, and make them both lose control to the point of madness.

Sasuke dreamed.

And in that dream, all he could see, beyond all the blur, was pink hair.

And green, green eyes.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was already eleven o'clock in the morning—and for the first time in a rather long time (okay, so that was slightly an exaggeration), she was surprised.

Since when did Sasuke ever sleep in this late?

Usually, the guy was already up at dawn—either training or meditating or whatever the heck he did with his time. It was always a fascination, because in truth, Sakura wasn't really an early person—she just woke early most of the time either for a mission, or for hospital duties. Or for training, if it was really, really needed.

Sasuke, in the meantime, treated the morning thing as if it was some kind of obsession.

Except today, that is.

And just when he promised that he would wake up early to do some things.

Like clean up his house, for one thing. His real house.

The Uchiha compound, to be precise.

It had really been an impromptu thing, to be honest. There she was yesterday, preparing them dinner, and just whistling and chatting nonsense and slicing up vegetables in neat, precise movements. At dinner, she had smiled a lot—mostly because she had been feeling very cheerful and refreshed, after such a long afternoon nap. She had tried talking to him—and had not been deterred by his usual responses of 'hn' and 'che' and...well, 'hn'. Generally, she had just been minding her own business.