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F.I.R.S.T.S

This is going to be a series of one-shots exploring the "firsts" in the various relationships of our beloved characters! First kisses, first meetings, first "I love yous" and more. There will be heavy SasuSaku as it is my favourite ship, but also NaruHina, MinaKushi, ShikaTema, InoSai and possibly others. For those who only want to read content from specific couples or skip straight to the steamy stuff, I'll try to keep an updated guide to the chapters on this first page.

Note: feel free to give suggestions or prompts! I can't guarantee I'll write all of them, mostly just the ones that speak to me, but I love hearing ideas.

Table of Contents

1: Our First Fight, SasuSaku, M-rated (SMUT)

2: Hanabi, NaruHina, T-rated

Chapter 1

Our First Fight

It has been two days since they found out. Two mornings ago Sakura woke up feeling immensely ill, squirmed out of her sleeping bag, launched towards the bushes, and promptly threw up the contents of her stomach; a quick-self diagnosis revealed that she was pregnant.

It is a surprise, although neither of them has taken particular care to avoid this eventuality. Sakura is thrilled, but it is hard for her to discern if Sasuke feels likewise. She thinks he might be happy in his own, private way of his, but she notices that his default scowl is somewhat more intense than usual—a persistent fine line shows itself in between his dark brows. She supposes that it is just nerves. On the other hand, she feels only the briefest flutter of anxiety at their unexpected gift but it is largely eclipsed by her delight. All she has ever wanted is to be the person who gives Sasuke all he has ever wanted. She hopes it will be a little boy that looks just like him, but a girl would also be nice. Girls are gentler, she thinks, and less prone to rambunctiousness. The curse of the Uchiha clan doesn't worry her. They will raise their child to know nothing else but love and hope. At last she will have a physical manifestation, a precious symbol of their mutual love. She is an excited mother-to-be.

It has been three months since Sasuke invited her to travel with him. Every day feels like a miracle—a miracle that he is here and she is with him; no longer is he plagued by darkness but a change has stolen over him in the time that he's been away. He's somehow softer than before. But she loves him as much as always, and tells him so.

He returns her affections hesitantly. Tenderness does not come naturally to him, but he is trying, and she appreciates that. She tells him not to push himself; she is comfortable taking it at whatever pace he wishes. Still, sometimes she senses that he is trying too hard. His attempts can be clumsy and unsure. She finds his uncertainty endearing.

It has been six weeks since they started having sex. The first few times were messy and inexperienced, but gradually they are gaining confidence in touching each other. Much to her excitement, he has begun to instigate their intimate encounters on occasion, however he still touches her as though he believes she is fragile. She tells him that she will not break, but he still makes love to her body gently even when she senses that he longs to show more passion and less careful self-restraint. He is always on top and it is always in the missionary position, but she doesn't mind. She is just happy to be close to him.

It is just past noon. They have stopped in a grove to eat their lunch and rest—he is worried about her walking long distances.

He eats the onigiri that she has made for him. In the middle of his lunch, he pauses and says: "Sakura, you need to go back to the village."

"Don't be silly, Sasuke-kun," she rejects him swiftly, "I'm fine." She smiles, but she is disappointed that he is asking her to leave him.

"No." he shakes his head. His eyes pin hers and she doesn't look away, a stubborn mulishness bubbling up inside of her. She has waited so long for this opportunity and she is not about to be parted from him now. At long last they are together, and she can freely express her ardent love for him by remaining at his side. He will not deny her any longer; she will not go back to the village and wait years to see him again. "You can't keep travelling. I'm diverting our course. You'll go back to Konoha, and I'll continue on alone."

"I don't want to!" she retorts, both feeling and sounding childish. "I don't see any reason to go back. I want to stay with you and I am fine. I can handle a little bit of morning sickness, Sasuke-kun. Have you forgotten that I'm a medic? I know my own limitations better than anyone and I know how to take care of myself. I'm staying with you," where I belong, "and that's that."

She feels as though she has made her argument eloquently. It seems Sasuke feels otherwise, as he shuts her down with yet another firm, resolute: "No." Apparently feeling that the conversation is over, he takes another bite of his onigiri, and shudders at the tartness of the pickled plum centre.

The bottom lid of her left eye twitches imperceptibly. She loves Sasuke dearly, but sometime she wishes to throttle him—just a little bit. "Why?" she presses, her smile becoming strained as she struggles to remain amicable. Usually she does not lose her temper with Sasuke, but perhaps her unbalanced hormones are to blame.

"'Not strong enough..." he grumbles, wiping a stray grain of rice away from his cheek.

Her smile is gone along with her appetite. She sits her lunch aside on a stone and stands up, placing her hands on her curvy hips. He is purposely avoiding looking at her, his head lowered, midnight-black hair hiding half of his face as he pretends that he is suddenly fascinated with his lunch. "I beg your pardon?" she demands, her famous temper flaring. She has thought that his willingness to let her accompany him in the first place means that he has accepted her at long last and regards her as an ally and an equal. In what way is she not strong enough? She has been trained by a sannin master, just as he has. She has proven herself invaluable in the war, just as he has. She is not the little, weak girl she once was, and more than anyone else she needs him to know this.

"This is not open for debate, Sakura." he says. "I am taking you back to Konoha, whether you like it or not. I'll put you over my shoulder and drag you there kicking and screaming if I need to."

This is the tipping point; she is now officially angry. Sakura does not like being told what to do, not even by Sasuke-kun. "Go ahead and try." she baits. He lets out a heavy sigh and she scoffs at him, thinking for a moment that his is an empty threat and he intends to do nothing. Instead, he polishes off the last bite of onigiri, wipes his hands on his slacks, and stands.

She holds her ground, undaunted, her eyes daring him to follow through with his threat. He looks angry, too, but she doesn't particularly care if she's upset him. She is being perfectly reasonable. How dare he assume that he could order her around? He does not own her. Just because she loves him does not mean that she is there to answer his every whim. They are about to become parents, and she expects an equal partnership of give and take. She will not back down.

"Fine." he grunts at her. "Fine, I will show you how serious I am. Come here."

She does not listen to this command of his either, side-stepping swiftly as he lunges at her with his arm outstretched. But he is not being serious, and she can tell. He is afraid of hurting her.

He makes a grab for her again. He is faster than her, but she is more determined and he hesitates too often. His hand closes around her forearm only for him to realize as it 'poofs' out of his grasp that she has evaded him with a simple substitution jutsu. She stands up high on a tree branch, looking down at him forbiddingly with her arms folded across her chest. He cracks his neck, and lifts his face to meet her gaze. She sees the sharingan swirl to life in his right eye. Her heart gives a flutter, but not from fear.

Sasuke begins coming after her in earnest. He chases her through the trees, hot in pursuit, but she refuses to relent. "Come back here." he snarls at her. "Stop being ridiculous before you hurt yourself."

"I am not some frail little woman, Sasuke." she bites back, narrowly dodging his fingers which skim the back of her red top as she flees his grasp. "I am not weak."

"Sakura." His hand comes for her again and she kicks out at him reflexively. He hops over her sweeping kick. He's so nimble on his feet; she's always admired that about him. He gets this look in his eyes whenever he's fighting or sparring that's enormously sexy. "Hold still and listen to me a moment."

She turns and begins running back the way she came, towards the clearing where their lunch and gear sits abandoned. There is nowhere in particular that she intends to go—she is merely darting around in circles to prove her point that no man, woman, or beast on earth—not even Uchiha Sasuke—can tell her what to do when she has her mind already set. They are going to have a baby, for godsake, and his first thought is to put her away somewhere where he does not have to deal with her? She wonders if he is unhappy, if he thinks that they have made a mistake, and now all he can do is send her away and pretend it never happened. Perhaps this whole time he has been humouring her; his feather-light touches and his gentle hold, the way he makes love to her like they are on a bed of glass—it is not because he fears hurting her, but because he finds no pleasure in touching her. This conclusion sticks in her mind (even though somewhere in the logical part of her mind she is aware that it is ridiculous) and she feels hurt and rejected anew.

She smacks into something warm and firm. Somehow, Sasuke has gotten in front of her and cut her off. He grabs her by the wrist and drags her towards him with one arm—he's so strong—staring down at her with that cold, hard look he has perfected through years of stoicism.

No, not cold, she corrects herself. His gaze is so hot it sends a potent shot of heat right through her and her core gives an eager throb of anticipation in response. His grip on her is tight, but not painfully so. He reels her in and her breasts brush against his chest, and there is something in his eyes as he continues to glare down at her wordlessly that makes her feel like she is about to be consumed whole and raw. She is suddenly aware of how much bigger he is than her: he towers over her by a full head easily and her petite frame is dwarfed in comparison. But her gaze is unwavering and she does not blink—she will not be cowed by him, no, not this time.

Sakura wants to stay. The past three months have been the happiest of her life, and she is not ready to let them go just yet. She wants more time, more memories—something to keep the longing at bay when they inevitably must part again. She has known since the beginning that his mission will be a long one—taking years—and that he will not be able to come home any time soon. If she could stay with him throughout all of it she would, but she knows that she will be needed in Konoha. It is fine; she can wait. She is a master at waiting.

But not yet. God, not yet.

Sasuke bends. He genuinely means to literally put her over his shoulder, she realizes in a moment of extreme agitation; like she is some doll for him manhandle as he pleases. He reaches to wrap an arm around her thighs and hoist her up, and she acts automatically in a moment of pure anger—and she punches him square in the gut.

She has never hit Sasuke this hard before. He goes flying, head over heels, for some twenty feet before crashing against a heavy tree trunk. The tree trunk groans, threatening to splinter and shaking a rain of leaves down on his head, and he sits there, stunned but seemingly still in one piece (which is more than she can say of many others who have had the misfortune of being hit by her fists).

She feels only the mildest flicker of guilt. Sasuke is made of sterner stuff, and if she has hurt him then she can patch him up again just as easily. She saunters towards him, coming to a stop just in front of him and dropping so that she is at his level. Sakura must admit that there is something about the sight of him breathless, speechless, covered in leaves and staring up at her with a look of mild terror that is a huge turn on (this might also be blamed on her imbalanced hormones). She grabs the front of his vest and glowers meaningfully before crashing her lips fervently to his. It is not like their other kisses: gentle, sweet, and hesitant; instead it is rough and demanding, fuelled by intermingling anger and arousal. He gasps against her mouth and she seizes the opportunity to push her tongue past his lips, sweeping into his mouth and coaxing his to dance with her. She is on fire, the quiet flame of her lust surging into a roaring blaze. Her skin feels too hot and too tight. She wants him now and she wants him badly.

Finally he responds, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her into his lap. She grinds her pelvis against him and finds him hard and they break apart for air, staring at each other through heavy lidded eyes. Gods, he is beautiful like this: flushed and aroused, his gaze dark and heady with sexual need. She shivers and her hands slide down to his chest, gripping his vest before ripping it open impatiently. He growls, the guttural sound reverberating deeply in his chest, and shifts to press his erection against her more firmly.

"Does it seem like I am 'not strong enough' to you now?" she asks him, making quick work of his shirt. Her palms slide down his hard-sculpted chest and she enjoys the feeling of his abs tensing under her touch. She suspects he might be ticklish.

"Sakura," he says her name, taking in a sharp inhale as she brings her lips to his ear and bites down not-too-gently. "You're not listening to me."

"No, I'm not." she agrees. She does not want to listen to him when he is spouting nonsense. The time for talking is over. If he can not be persuaded with words than she will give him a demonstration; that she is strong (which she believes she has at least partially established already) and that he will sorely miss the things which she can offer him. She will happily take care of all his needs and sate her own at the same time. How she longed for him all those years, as her feelings of affection developed into sexual curiosity, desire and then outright lusty fantasy. Never does she feel more like a woman than when he touches her—never has she felt more sensual, more feminine, more alive. She craves that feeling again; who says that she cannot be feminine but also sexual, confident, and strong?

He tries speaking again, but she quickly silences him with her mouth, biting down on his bottom lip and thrusting her hips once more against his, earning a low groan. The sounds he makes are maddeningly erotic, the deep baritone of his voice tense with excitement; it only fans the flames of her desire and makes her more urgent and desperate to have him. His resistance is slackening as he gives in to the wildness of the moment, and his hand slides down her back and firmly grasps her supple ass. She arches into him, her nails raking against his chest. This rushed, hurried pawing is so unlike them—she loves it.

Her hand sneaks down the waistband of his pants, moving between them to find his shaft and grip it in her soft, determined fingers, pumping him with her fist. She is fascinated by the way he feels: rock hard and velvety at the same time. Her thumb traces along a bulging vein, and he bucks his hips and hisses her name. "Sakura, fuck."

He pulls her closer and tries to encourage her beneath him, leaning forward, but she gives her head a firm shake and shoves him back with her free hand. She pulls his thick member free of his trousers and he trembles as it comes into contact with the afternoon breeze. "I'm not leaving you, Sasuke-kun." she purrs at him, nipping at his neck, her teeth scraping there as she reaches in between them to slip off her tights. She can feel that she is already wet, her core pulsing and aching to be filled, to have him inside of her. He pants harshly, his head falling back against the tree trunk, and his eyes are unfocused and glazed from the intensity of his desire. As she poises her entrance over the broad head of his erection, she goes on: "I need you, and you need me. Just let me take care of you and everything will be fine."

"Sakura, slow-"

Without waiting for him to finish his thought, she takes him inside of her in a hard, downwards thrust. She moans throatily, the sensation tingling up her spine and sending stars dancing in front of her eyes. Sasuke, her lover and the father of her soon to be child, makes a strangled, pleasured noise at their rough joining. That is all the encouragement she needs to continue. She rides him hard and fast, crashing her hips down on his and taking him in deeper with every strong stroke. It feels so good like this, better than she had imagined—the friction is so great that the pleasure borders on pain but she does not stop or let up in the slightest. Her thighs grip him tightly and her fingers slide into his dark, pretty, silken hair.

"Oh! Ah!" with every ragged breath she lets out a little cry, squeezing him tighter. He rocks his hips up to meet her thrusts and already she can feel the tension coiling low in the pit of her belly, taut as a piano wire, threatening to snap at any moment.

Sasuke's moans are growing louder and infinitely more thrilling. His knees are shaking hard as she bounces up and down on his shaft, tight and needy, her heightening state of arousal growing to a fever pitch. His expression is glorious: sweat beads along his brow, face flushed, eyes pinched as she fucks him so furiously that she swears she can feel her own sanity wearing thin.

He comes undone so quickly it surprises her. "Sa-aaah... Sakura!" he attempts to warn her, putting his hand on her waist in a futile attempt to still her, but she is too far gone in the momentum and she continues crashing down on him, feeling him reach her so deeply and intimately. "Stop, stop, staa-aaa-AAAAA...aa..."

The sound he makes is unlike anything she's ever heard before, a choked yell of half surprise and half ecstasy. She forces him to ride out his orgasm, pushing him hard as he shakes and quivers, his shaft twitching inside of her as his warmth spills and he seems to die a little, euphoric death with her every continued movement. With a final jerk she takes her pleasure, her walls clamping down on him and squeezing greedily. She whimpers as the waves of pleasure roll through her, every muscle in her body seizing and then relaxing all at once, and comes down off her high with a sigh of pure bliss.

Sasuke looks dazed and dumb with pleasure. He blinks at her, then mutters, "S-sorry."

He sounds so sheepish. She giggles and kisses him, less aggressive and more sweet this time. He responds languidly. "Not so weak after all, am I?"

"That's not what I meant." he replies, panting and out of breath. He looks away. "I meant ... I meant that I am not strong enough—to handle it, if anything were to happen to you."

He reaches up and touches her stomach tenderly.

"Either of you."

Now she feels very guilty and embarrassed, her face flushing pink to match the colour of her hair. "Oh." she says. She shifts and he takes in a sharp breath. "Oh. I ... I thought ... still, Sasuke-kun. Nothing is going to happen. We'll be just fine, the three of us. But I want to stay with you. I need to stay with you. I'm not ready to let you go just yet."

He looks uneasy. She presses a soothing kiss to one cheek, and then the other. "I'm sorry I hit you." she says.

"It's fine." he grunts.

She smiles brightly and her fingers slip out of his hair and wrap around his neck. She squeezes him tightly and as she shifts she hears him take in a sharp breath; already he is growing hard again.

Secretly, she suspects that he might have liked getting hit—just a little.

Sorry if that fizzles out weirdly at the end there. Tacocat is getting sleepeh. D:

Review, review, review! Makes me full of joy. Also I'm compiling a sasusaku playlist to listen to when I write. What are some of your guy's favourite songs or suggestions that just scream 'SasuSaku'?