Fifty Shades of Sasuke [Sasuke Uchiha X Reader]

Chapter Eighteen

"I would have been fine. I was with Rin."
"And the photographer?" he snaps at me.
Hmmm . . . Suigetsu. He has a point. I'll need to talk to him about that sooner or later
"Suigetsu got out of line." I shrug.
"Well, the next time he gets out of line, maybe someone should teach him some manners."
"You're quite the disciplinarian," I comment.
"Oh, [name], you have no idea." His eyes narrow, and then he grins wickedly. It's kind of disarming. I can merely assume this originates from my confusion. One moment, he is stern, intimidating—it angers me to no extent, and I just have the desire to leave; and yet, the next moment, when my eyes trace his face, his dark onyx eyes, his perfectly shaped and full lips—he has a gorgeous smile, which I've witnessed quite rarely; it makes me swoon, and I forget what our topic even is.
"I'm going to take a shower; unless, you'd like to shower first?" He cocks his head to one side, still grinning. My heart races like wild, and I have to remind myself of breathing. God dammit, [name]—oxygen and nitrogen, oxygen and nitrogen. And yet, I'm way too overwhelmed; his grin only widens, and he takes a step forward to me, his thumb brushing against my cheeks, right over to my lips—it comes to a halt, and I can barely watch his face coming closer and closer; Is that it? —his lips are near, and when I am about to close my eyes (like in every standard romance movie and series), they make a turn to my ear, and his teasing voice reminds me yet again: "Breathe, [name]." And just like that, I part my lips and suck in the air through my mouth, and eventually through my nostrils, getting sweetly poisoned by his natural scent.
"Breakfast will be here in fifteen; you must be famished," he says, already back into his casual, standing position; Sasuke begins to head toward the beathroom, opens the door, and closes it right after.
I let out the breath I've been holding ever since his whisper. This is unreal: how can he be this damn attractive? No one should have this effect on the opposite gender, hell, I bet he even has this on the exact same gender. I'm totally in his spell; my mind has revolted itself against what's left of my supposed rationality—I want to join him in the shower. I shake my head furiously; what am I even thinking. My hormones are going crazy, dancing and bouncing around my body, trying to receive entire control of my body. I lift my hand to the space Sasuke has touched me, I, again, expected a kiss. Gosh, I should really get this straight through my head: if he wanted to, he would have. He owns cars over cars, business over business, blondes over blondes—I am not of much value, so he most definitely could have owned me the second I entered his office back then. I close my eyes, seeing him in front of me; my heart picks up speed again—what is this feeling? Desire... It must be desire; this is a first.
I lie back on the soft feather-pillows, letting my thoughts flow through me. It's not like he never mentioned he would not want me.If you were to be mine. Oh, dear—can't he just listen to my silent prayers and make me his already? Would I even want to be his, though? He's the only one to make me react like I was a high school girl, getting asked out by the Prince of the school, the jock, the quarterback—short: the one everyone is after. And yet, he's so antagonizing, too; he's possessive, complex, confusing and difficult. Confusing, yes, that he is the most of all his traits: One minute he rebuffs me and brings me back to reality, and the other; yes the other, he sends me fourteen-thousand-dollar books with a quote, tracks me like a stalker for being drunk—and then teases me like he enjoys myself getting whatever hopes. And for all that matters, I spend the night in his hotel suite, and for some reason I feel safe, protected even. He cares for me enough to maybe even ditch his complex schedule to come to my rescue from some mistakenly perceived danger. He's not a dark knight (despite his love for dark clothing, which just makes him more attractive) but a white knight in shining armor—a classic romantic hero—Sir Lancelot maybe?
I scramble out of his bed frantically searching for my jeans. From the corner of my eyes I perceive him emerging from the bathroom; his form is wet and glistering. Sasuke is yet unshaven, and only a towel is around his waist. I'd be lying if I said that I wouldn't want it to fall off his hips. And there I am, all bare legs and awkward gawkiness; he's surprised to see me out of bed.
"If you're looking for you jeans, I've sent them to the laundry." His gaze is dark. "They were spattered with your vomit." Of course, they had to.
"Oh." I flush deep red. I envy his ability to catch me off guard almost all the time; ah, scratch the almost.
"I sent Kimimaro for another pair and some shoes. They're in the bag on the chair," he informs me, pointing to the bag.
Clean clothes. What an unexpected bonus.
"Um. . .I'll have a shower," I mumble. "Thanks." What else can I say? I grab the bag and dart into the bathroom, away from the unnerving proximity of an almost naked Sasuke Uchiha—how I am even still able to walk is a mystery to me.
In the bathroom, it's all hot and steamy. I strip off my clothes and get into the shower, eager to let the hot water run all over my exposed body. Sighing at the contact, I can only think of three words: I want him. I want him, badly. This is way too much of a first to even endure, but I really want him; I want to go to bed with a man, with the man—short, Sasuke. And the more he comes in dangerously tempting, close proximity to me, I can only desire his mouth on mine; yes, I want that. What I have been questioning myself—and with my eyes him, to an extent—is if he wants me, too.
Didn't he say he likes his women sentient? Aren't I animate, sensible?—at least that must mean he is not celibate. Why hasn't he made a real move on me; sure, Uchiha to the rescue is nice, but there has got to be more, right? He can't be shy, not at all—he is intimidating, leads a huge business, and the attribute shy would not even fit him with eyes closed. I message my temples, this is frustrating. Can't he just be like Suigetsu and give me an actual sign; last week he didn't kiss me, but yesterday he rushed to my side. Sasuke, what even are you? Are you playing some game unbeknownst to me? You've slept in his bed all night, and he's not touched you, [name]. You do the math, my subconscious comments, but I just ignore her.
I extend my arm to grab the body wash, and as I open it, I can only smell Sasuke. The scent is amazing, it's not to strong and chemical, but natural, fresh, captivating...attracting. I close my eyes and oil myself with the body wash, voluntarily fantasizing him to be right next to me—I want him to rub my back, and his long-fingered hand massaging my breasts, thighs, back; oh dear. I have it bad, really bad.
"Breakfast is here." He knocks on the door, startling me; my eyes open and if there would not be so much steam around, I'm sure I'd face a blushing mirrage of myself by now.
"O-okay," I stutter, dragged out of my strangely erotic daydream.
I get out of the shower, drying myself with the soft towel, wrapping another one around my hair. A few drops of water run down my arm, landing on the dark-gray tiles as I approach the bag with clothes. My eyes widen, Kimimaro not simply bought me a new pair of jeans and light-gray Vans, but in fact, also fresh underwear—socks, a bra and panties. Although I raise my eyebrows at his choice of bra (it's a push-up), I am most definitely happy, joyous, ecstatic—I certainly do not deserve this. These are all so expensive, probably the most expensive textiles, which will welcome my closet.
I dress quickly, feeling utterly suspicious that everything fits perfectly. If Sasuke did not touch me, then I fear Kimimaro did. I finish up my hair, towel-drying it and attempting to bend it, but—just as usual—my efforts meet the stubbornness of my hair. The only way to get it under control is probably a hair tie, which—judging by Sasuke's gender—he does not posses, nor have I taken with me to the bathroom; clever of me. I take a deep breath; time to face Mr. Confusing.
Surprising me, he is not in the bedroom. I take that as my cue to hunt for my purse, in which my hair tie is supposed to be in, but I cannot find neither. Screw it. I dismiss my hopes of finding it anytime soon and approach the living area of the suite. It's gigantic. Here is practically everything: bookshelves filled with best-sellers of back and then, and here; a huge plasma tv, the latest iMac, and a corner with a plushee sofa, along with tables. I spot Sasuke sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, the light (which comes through the big windows) shines on him, making him look even more delicate as I kept him in my short-time-memory from when I awoke. Seriously, this suite is huge; I bet not even Rin could effort this—Rin!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Short announcement, I decided to make my main tumblr a writing tumblr. So if you want to request anything, feel free to do so! It would mean a lot haha. My tumblr is pumacchi.tumblr.com (or just type in pumacchi in the search bar if the link does not show)