Chapter 6:

The truth was, I was starting to think that maybe he was right.

It had been a week since the little make-out session. A week since Gaara last looked at me. A week and what had I learned from the whole scenario? A whole lot of nothing.

It was better if he wasn't kissing me, or touching me, or making me forget my purpose for being here. I was a lot stronger than what the situation entailed, and I would make my village proud if I could keep my head on straight.

Just that, for some strange reason, it felt like a loss.

I suppose it wasn't helping that I'd been assigned to paperwork and minimal tasks. I was rarely ever away from the small desk he had set up for me in the main office, and though I had mentioned on more than one occasion that I had been interested in mission work, he didn't respond. He just kept working, leading, avoiding me like the plague.

And here I was, living up to my 'full potential' while watching the clock tick.

Today was an especially boring day. I had been tasked with requests. Sorting out the important ballads from the blanks and jokes, trying to keep my anger from boiling. Gaara was across the room, reading through a rather thick folder. By reading, it seemed more of an attempt at skimming, seeing as he flipped through each page at rapid speed, facial features not reflecting whether the task displeased him or not. He looked tired, though. If anything, he seemed downright exhausted.

Finally, and with some surprise, he slammed the folder down. "Fuck this."

I stared, wide-eyed, as he stood, sliding the chair out noisily behind him. There was a heavy frustration creasing his brow as he shoved his arms behind his back before beginning a rather jagged pace. I counted his footfalls, keeping my shoulders tight as his fury emanated.

"You okay?"

"No."

I stacked the papers in front of me, trying to keep as cool as possible. "Do you need to take a break?"

"I am taking a break," he said, the sound a hiss.

I eyed him. "You're sleeping, right?"

He grimaced, but didn't slow his pace.

"I'm not going to mother you, but maybe you should go take a nap," I said, keeping my eyes low.

"You don't get it," he grumbled, continuing in the same sporadic rage-walk.

"What don't I get?"

"It," he growled, stopping in front of my desk. His hands slammed into the glossy mahogany, aqua eyes meeting mine with a certain amount of ferocity. "I can't sleep."

My stomach knotted, eyes wide. "Kazekage-sama…"

"Just don't. You're dismissed," he said, and with that he stormed out of the office.

The feeling of loss seemed to double in that moment.

(break)

"Just fuck her," Temari said, sighing with a certain amount of impatience as she slouched against the countertop in the ample kitchen of their home outside the Kazekage tower. "You're never going to give it a rest until you stick it in her and end this, for your own sake as well as mine."

"And mine!" Kankuro added from the living room, where he'd been reading some rather racy magazines. "Damn, your mood swings are starting to kill my mojo, bro."

"I didn't come here for advice," I grumbled, face buried in my hands. I was at that point where everything pissed me off. Small things too, like the fact that Temari left her empty glass unwashed in the sink, or how there was a scuff on the linoleum that I couldn't manage to fix. Even the uneven swing of the ceiling fan sent my nerves over the edge, and I couldn't manage to breathe it out long enough to find peace.

"We weren't offering advice," she said. "You're going to fuck her."

"That's not an option."

"Of course it's an option!" Kankuro called. "You're the Kazekage. If she's not waiting in your office with her legs spread, you can color me surprised."

"You're both disgusting."

Temari rolled her eyes, placing the small fan on the counter before pulling herself up away from the countertop. Her hand grasped my shoulder in a way that should have symbolized some form of a sisterly affection, if she hadn't dug her nails in. "You need to get some sleep, bro. Fuck her and our problems are solved."

"I'm not going to sleep with her."

She sighed even louder than the first time, placing herself back against the countertop. "Then run yourself to death. Either or, you're going to have to stop one of those days, and the sooner might be the better. After all, you're starting to freak people out."

"By people, she means us," Kankuro added.

"No, fucktard, I mean people," she hissed. "His people. People in general. If he fucks her, we might actually manage to find a way of repairing the damage he's managed to cause in disrupting the very fabric of Suna itself. You know how freaked out you've made everyone?"

"They'll survive."

"You're their Kazekage, douche," she shoved me, eyes narrowing. "Now stop being a douche and fuck that Hyuuga slut so we can all get some peace and quiet-."

I boiled over.

I suppose it wasn't all that great of a shock I had pinned her head against the countertop, hands encasing her throat in a wild, uncontrollable rage. I was angry, and she made me furious to a point that I could see red in my pupils. The kind of rage I hadn't felt since Shukaku burned my veins coarse.

It was an instantaneous thing, the way Kankuro came and pulled my hands away from her, and the yelling and screeching that ensued seemed mutely and contrite. I wasn't listening. I was barely paying any attention at all. I was just too tired, and too angry to cool down from the state I was mangled in.

And then, all the sudden, I was back.

"Don't you ever fucking call her a slut again or I will kill you!" I growled, feeling Kankuro's hand against my chest as he stood between her and I, the look on her surprised face filled with confusion and hurt and, worst of all, anger. She was livid.

"You better get your shit together, brother," she responded, teeth clenched. And with that she stormed off.

"Nice going, Gaara," Kankuro shoved me off, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Real fucking smooth."

"I won't have her talking about Hinata like that," I stated. No shame. I was not going to regret my actions. "And you better keep your sly thoughts to yourself, too. I am in no mood for your stale commentaries."

Kankuro just shook his head and walked off, too. I sat back down, resting my head against the palms of my hands once more, trying desperately to keep my thoughts away from how utterly annoying everything was.

Unfortunately, my efforts were quite in vain.

(break)

He was angry. Angrier than I had ever seen him before, and I had been a cause for it. At least, I felt there had to be some kind of connection between my presence and his lack of sleep. Had he not spent the first night with me for those very reasons?

I had been pacing – a similar frustration walk as the one Gaara had been portraying earlier – trying to understand how or why he wasn't sleeping, and if there was anything I could do to help. Not that there was, really. He had riled me up and denied me quite as quickly, and I had been the one patiently waiting for him to say something to me.

But he wasn't going to say anything to me. He made that quite clear at the spring.

I sighed, flopping myself at the end of my bed with a certain amount of annoyance. This was definitely not what I wanted when I first heard of the exchange program. I had hoped for culture, and strain, and difficulty. I had hoped to improve, and yet the only thing I had managed to do was develop a mild crush on the very leader who was supposed to be training me. A mild crush that had appeared to get me into some rather ridiculous difficulties over the first little while that it was becoming more and more obvious that maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

And I liked Gaara. In a way. I liked the way he saw things, and spoke, and the naivety of things that I was also rather naïve about, but not to such a degree. And, I thought, maybe it was good that he reciprocated, or that, if he had been so mild on the subject before, maybe he could simply return back to the state of which I had idolized him, to some certain degree. But this didn't happen. Not even a little bit.

All the while, I would sit and wait and hope that maybe, just maybe, things could find some semblance of normality. If we were friends, or even just boss and employee, I would still get more out of it than this passive aggressive behavior he brought on himself.

The more I thought about it, the more it made me angry.

I wasn't really an angry person by nature. I was shy, and this was not altogether a good thing either, but people amazed me in their bluntness. How they could depict the things that made them tick by just screwing up their face and letting a torrent of words out of their lips. Why couldn't I do this? Why couldn't I tell the ones who made me angry that I was angry?

I dug my face in the pillow, wanting to scream but not having even the nature enough to do that. Instead, I defaulted to my second favourite thing. The tears starting spilling over, and I began sobbing like a child.

The knocks resounding only a few moments later. I responded as a moody teenage girl might, with a loud and unfortunately whiny 'leave me alone' that came out muffled by the pillow I face-planted. After a good thirty seconds or so, a few more knocks resounded. This time, I didn't respond. I ignored it and waited for the perpetrator to leave.

When the door opened, I felt a sigh pass through my lips, pulling my face from the white fabric just to meet with the very rampant and very needy eyes of the Kazekage-sama himself.

"I want you," he said, voice exasperated. "I need you and I want you."

I rolled over, turning away from him. "Go away, Gaara. I don't want to see you."

There was a pause. A silence where neither of us moved or said a thing. And, for that moment, I felt a certain amount of regret. This quickly changed.

"I can't eat, can't sleep," he said, breaking this silence by pacing. His footfalls were heavy, and his voice sporadic. "I can't think without something annoying me to the point of rage. I even tried to strangle my sister this afternoon and all because I can't handle not having you."

He stopped, and I could feel his stare, hard and penetrating.

"I want you and the more I think about having you, the more frustrated I get." His breathing was jagged. It sounded dangerous. "And I can't justify it because you're good, and good things shouldn't be possessed. But God damn, your very presence is driving me mad."

I stared at him, wide-eyed. The way he spoke was frightening, and for the first time, I felt scared of him. Scared of what he could do. The turmoil was there, and the frustration was there, and the more it built up, the more chance things could go sour quickly. I was testing the patience of an ex serial killer. I was playing with fire.

"Gaara, you need to calm down."

"I can't calm down," he said, pacing again.

"I need you to calm down," I said. "You're scaring me."

He stopped, turning his eyes towards me, brows furrowed. It was just enough of a statement to stop him in his tracks. I was afraid it would have the opposite effect, but apparently my spur of the moment seemed to have spurred in my favor.

"I would never hurt you," he said, brows furrowing. "I'm angry and frustrated and annoyed because I don't want to hurt you. I want you but I don't want what I could do to you."

"What could you do to me?" I asked. I could feel the tremor in my voice. "Could you kill me."

"No," he shook his head. "No, never. I couldn't… I couldn't live with myself."

"You could injure me?"

He paused, the pain there now. Physical pain that was viable and real. He pinched the bridge of his nose before responding with a somber, "yes."

I bit my lip, turning my eyes away from the confusing mess in front of me, not knowing how or where or why. And how I could have gotten myself into this situation. I thought he was beautiful, but until this very moment, I was never afraid of him.

"You need to sleep," I said, then reluctantly patted the space beside me. "You can sleep when you're next to me?"

"Yes," he said.

"Then come here," I murmured, shuffling over to give him more room. It was awkward, and I was frightened, but sleep would calm him. Cure him. He would be okay if only he could calm down. "We'll take a nice long nap, okay?"

He nodded this time, and the vulnerable Gaara I saw in by the spring seemed to have emerged underneath the darker, angrier version. I was surprised, and almost enchanted by the look of defeat as he untied the Kazekage robes and slid in under the sheets in a t-shirt and briefs. His eyes closed the moment his head hit the pillow, though his brows were furrowed.

I slipped my socks off and removed my lilac jacket before curling in, a good foot away from him. This didn't appear to do, though, as he shuffled about, rolling this way and that for the first little while. I wasn't tired, which made the whole thing very strange and odd, and I couldn't help but watch him with a certain amount of misery.

Finally his eyes opened, the confusion and pain so clouded and in brief intervals that it was hard to catch a reading on how he was coping. When he spoke, he sounded exhausted. "Can I hold you?"

I nodded hesitantly, before inching a little bit closer to him. He followed suit, wrapping his free arm around my waist, my fingers clutching at the base of his collarbone. It was strange, and I felt odd watching his half-lidded eyes finally close, and his sallow breaths even. For some strange, ridiculous reason, this seemed to be enough.

He was asleep, and nothing but a child was left when he departed in dreams. A vulnerable thing that breathed deep and looked so carefree. So without fear or hesitation. It was disconcerting to look at, but warming also, and if I hadn't feared waking him from the sleep he desperately needed, I might have convinced myself to touch his face.

Instead, I turned over, now clasping that draped hand in mine, and willed myself to sleep.

(break)

Sleep. It was as if the world became clear again. I could feel heat and it didn't bother me. The sound of the clock ticking didn't cause my anger to become rampant. Her breathing was a calming sedative as I held close, pressing my face against the back of her neck, palm being gently squeezed by her sleep-ridden hands. How long had I been like this? How long had I let myself sleep?

But I did. And I felt, for the first time since the night I had slipped into her room unannounced, that I was at peace with myself again.

She warmed me. Cured me. An ordinary, clumsy, childish Chunin who couldn't even make Jonin with the rest of her age group. There was nothing special about her. Nothing overly interesting in retrospect to some of the women Shukaku would have had me bed. She was everything. And for what, I couldn't understand.

But one thing I did know was that, though she turned out to be the exact thing I needed, I was the polar opposite of what she wanted. As much as I should have liked to curl in next to her and feel her against me as someone who would want to be close, I could sense her fear, and it was as if nothing good could ever happen again.

I made her fear me.

"I'm so sorry, Hinata," I murmured, pressing my lips against the skin of her throat. "I wish I knew how to be enough for you."

And with that I fell asleep again. Just a quick slip into unconsciousness, so that I could pretend that these things last. Even just for a moment.

(break)

We had slept till morning. Sixteen hours of pure, uninterrupted sleep, and though I hadn't been tired in the first place, I couldn't help but feel a bit grateful for the excess of sleep.

Waking up was difficult, though.

I didn't want to move in case Gaara needed more sleep, and though sixteen hours had passed, I was still unsure of how much sleep he would need, or if he needed anymore. He had been out cold for hours, but the thought of waking him absolutely killed me, so I stayed still and counted ceiling tiles.

By the forth time counting, I was bored. I elected for the first option.

"Gaara?" I murmured, turning to face him once more. There was that childish face of his. Just much closer as he'd been leaning into the back of my neck. I felt suddenly very aware of the fact that he was so close, and it made my stomach knot with fear and excitement. I had never been this close to anyone before, not even in the tent when he played that cruel joke on me.

He didn't flinch at the sound of his name, nor the sudden movement. He just stayed still and lifeless as a ragdoll might, which brought me to a very interesting though, and one I was a bit embarrassed to follow through on. I reached up slowly, but surely, letting the beds of my fingers press against the curve of his jaw, then up along the sallow of his cheekbone. I felt a sense of giddiness well within me as I followed suit, now running them along the dark purple bruise-like bags under his eyes to the smooth bridge of his nose. The confident brow, and then the symbol.

Love. I murmured it to myself as I traced the intricate kanji. Ai.

His eyes opened slowly.

Realizing I'd been caught, I felt the blood rush up to my cheeks. He was staring at me with a certain direct intensity that was hard to break, and in that moment I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I was stuck, caught like a deer in headlights, as the alertness came back to his eyes.

"I'm dreaming," he murmured. "Touch me again."

I don't know why, but I did, and nervously. I cupped his cheek within my hand, running my thumb underneath his eye as if wiping away nonexistent tears. He seemed to purr deep within his chest, which made the nerves more attuned. I was a mess. A fragile thing.

But I wasn't afraid.

"I have wanted this," he said. "I didn't know it till now, but this is what I craved."

"Affection?"

He nodded, pressing his lips against my forehead. "Closeness. I have never been close with anyone."

I blanched, retracting my hand. This gesture was new. Bold, just like the kiss by the spring, but not passionate and needy. This was a mark of affection. Of tenderness that I didn't think he had the capability of bestowing. In his world, there was no black and white. No 'this is how it is', because he didn't know what was what. Just that he needed to figure it out. He had no idea what he wanted, just that he wanted it.

"I want to kiss you," he said. A soft reminder of his inner needs.

"Then kiss me."

He smiled, eyes closed. "I can't. Not even if I'm dreaming."

In an act of boldness on my part – which was far beyond anything I would have ever considered to be something I would do – I took his chin in my fingers, tilted his head down, and pressed my lips against his. A brief, chaste kiss, that felt real, and light, and good. When I pulled back, his eyes caught mine, and I felt stuck again.

"Tell me no," he said, eyes pleading. "Hinata, I don't want obligation. I don't want you to feel you need to do this to keep me sane. That's not fair to you."

I kissed him again. A little more strongly this time, and though there was some deep, hidden spot within me that was frightened by the words, I ignored them. If things were going to be okay for the next couple months, I had to play a much safer game. By being what he needed, I could keep him from falling apart, and in turn, keep him from losing it.

"Tell me no," he said again, this time moving quick, he managed to pull himself up and over me, trapping me in between his arms. His lips pressed against mine again, this time deeply. A strong ache of a kiss. "Tell me to stop."

My heart race accelerated, the fight or flight instinct taking hold of me. I was scared. Scared that I wouldn't get out of this one if I didn't say something, and I was starting to feel the thin control I had gained slipping away from me. He was towering over me. He was in control of me now.

"I will stop if you tell me to stop," he said, brows furrowed. "Just do it before I lose control. Don't be prideful."

But I was prideful. Even a shy Chunin could have their own hubris. After all, I was a Hyuuga. The stop never came for him, and with that, his control waned.

Gaara kissed my harder. A deeper, more passionate kiss as his arms repositioned, hands searching for anything worth touching. My hips, my torso, my arms. When he'd managed to get his fill of those parts of me, they found their way to the my thighs, then back up towards my chest. All the while, I couldn't fight him. I was losing a battle as his tongue found entrance into my mouth, breath becoming heavier.

I groaned as his left hand slipped under my bra, my own hands grasping at sheets, or his chest, or whatever seemed like a viable option. I was scared, and I couldn't move. I was a lost cause and I had lost my chance of escape.

"I want this," he huffed, moving his lips to my neck now. He licked and sucked and left red marks along the frail collarbone with his teeth that made me gasp, fear curdling my stomach and making it pool with heat. "God, I want this so bad."

He was grasping at the shirt now, trying to pull it up over my head, but us both being under the covers, and his still being on top of me made it a difficult feat. He managed, though. With effort and impatience, he got it off, and started kissing down my chest.

"G-Gaara," I mumbled, grasping at his hair now. A fine tuft of red silk that I tugged at. He was kissing the tops of my breasts, before tugging down the cups to reveal hardened nipples. I was embarrassed, the heart turning my cheeks and chest a bright red.

"I want these," he said, taking one of the pert nipples between his thumb and index finger. The other, he took in his mouth, suckling which made me squirm. It felt strange, and exciting, and embarrassing, and I couldn't escape the torrent of insecurity that held me still and silent.

It wasn't until his free hand started drifting towards my navel that the real panic kicked in.

"G-Gaara, wait," I sputtered, head arched back and lips quivering. "D-don't."

But his fingers had already slipped under the elastic waist of my panties, running along the tuft of hair before submerging between my thighs. My mouth gaped, eyes wide.

"I want this," he murmured in my ear. "I want it the most of all."

I clawed at his back then, tearing at the white t-shirt, confused as his fingers played along my inner folds. And he knew what he was doing. Shukaku had taught him a great many things about lust that I couldn't possibly understand, though I felt. I felt it deep within my core as his fingers indirectly stimulated the little pearl of nerves.

"Touch me," he pleaded. "Please, touch me."

At first, I didn't respond. I was too nervous and embarrassed to move my hands away from his back, but as his fingers probed around my inner folds, he whispered and begged and pleaded, and when at last I felt I needed to, his middle finger slid into my core. I crooned, grasping at him. At his body. At his chest and hips and stomach. I reached into his briefs, feeling for the thing I knew of but had never seen, and there it was, alive and in earnest. It was hot, and it was large.

"Damn," he groaned, resting his head against my neck. The finger within me pulled out slowly, then sunk back in, followed by a second which made the sensations become rampant.

I inched the waistband of his boxers down, grasping at the hot root with both hands. It was strange. Hard. I could feel my body yearn for it, though I was deeply afraid of it going in. Afraid of how large it was, and fearful that it would hurt. He was moaning, pumping the two fingers as I started to touch him where I had never touched anyone before. I was making him vulnerable. I had the piece that made him dangerous in my very hands and it made him weak.

"Pump me," he said, bucking his hips. "I want inside of you."

I did as was told, though a little sloppily. I could barely see it under the blankets, and my inexperience didn't make things much better, but he didn't seem to care. I pulled him and rubbed the tip and ran my fingers down to where the sac was. When I grasped this, his eyes widened.

"God damn, I'm going to cum in my boxers at this rate."

He removed his briefs completely then, followed shortly after by my own, which took him a bit longer than his own. As soon as this was done, though, he inched his knee between my thighs, and began positioning himself.

"Gaara," I gasped, feeling something hot rub my inner folds. "Ah, Gaara, hngg."

"This may hurt," he murmured, and with that, began a slow but smooth thrust inside.

At first, the feeling of being filled was odd, but satiating, as if I was finally being completed, but when he tore through the barrier, a sharp pain took away the feelings of being fulfilled. I was wide-eyed, tears springing up and over, and I couldn't hold back the feeling of confusion as he continued pushing in until fully sheathed. At this point, he didn't move.

"I'm sorry," he said, wide-eyed. He was panting, and his arms were shaking.

The pain dissipated, and with it, so did his self control. After a certain point, he started pulling out, and the feeling began to well up dangerously. In fact, it was so strong I could feel moans passing my lips as he dug himself back in. And then out, and then in. He was panting, and I was being filled again and again.

"H-Harder," I said, my hips bucking now. "Fuck, go harder!"

It didn't take much for his thrusts to become sharp and deep. I was no longer moaning, but staunching shouts by covering my mouth with my wrist. He was moving, and I was taking, and the world started turning as it had never turned before. I clutched at his back, his ass, his powerful thighs. I clawed at flesh and watching as his eyes harden and his body convulse.

"I'm going to cum," he sputtered, slamming in again. "God, I need to cum."

And I was, too. I was there, at the pinnacle of climax, riding it higher and higher. Just a little bit more and I would be done. Just a little…

"Cum for me," he murmured. "Hinata, cum for me."

I let it go. A wild, frenzied orgasm that left me reeling, and my body shaking with excitement and pleasure and so many things I had never experienced before. He was about to cum, too, and was grunting and moaning and making his way to that moment.

"I want this," I murmured, meeting his thrusts. "I want you to cum."

And he did to. A loud, guttural moan before he collapsed on top of me.

Suddenly I knew things couldn't be the same.

Right, so yeah. I'm back, and with a rather steamy chapter of steaminess. I don't know what brought me to continue on with this one, but I felt it would be the perfect time for something ridiculously smutty. So, yeah, a little smutty goodness for your Gaahina hearts.

R&R my lovelies. I'll be back in a week or two with an update so enjoy!

Sabaku-Kazekage