Naruto and Sakura had been sleeping together—that is sharing a bed together—for two weeks when Sakura awoke to the sensation of Naruto's hand between her thighs. There was a moment of disappointment when she opened her eyes to see him peering down at her, watching her face in concentration as he slipped his fingers in and out of her, squirmed them inside of her—for she had been dreaming of Sasuke and making love, but she simply closed her eyes and let herself pretend.
Naruto's efforts were fumbled in his inexperience, but the dream had been good enough, felt real enough, brought her close enough, that her mouth parted in a surprised "O" and her back arched clear off the bed when she came.
Sakura re-opened her eyes when her muscles stopped clenching just in time to glimpse Naruto's triumphant half-smile. His arms were on either side of her now where he propped himself up, and when he leaned down to kiss her, she turned her face away. He paused, inches from her skin, mouth winced to keep from crying and silently slid off the side of the bed. Sakura continued to stare to the side, unseeing, until she heard the bathroom door slam shut.
He wasn't sure what had woken him so early in the morning, but something was definitely different. He could feel it—the familiar tingling beneath his skin as he lay awake, unmoving in the darkness, but he hadn't been dreaming about—and then he heard it. Soft, and lightly, almost breathless. Sakura was moaning. His eyes widened in shock, the realization both exciting and terrifying at the same instant. Suddenly his mouth was dry. Was she—? He dared a glimpse to his right, hands gripping the sheets on either side of him, feeling enthralled and guilty at the thought and half expecting her instantaneous wrath for peeking, and was surprised to find her still asleep. It was then that she rolled over with a throaty groan, one hand gripping the front of his shirt, the other buried beneath the pillow. Somehow her legs had become tangled in his, the heat of her pressed against his thigh, and her breath—oh god her breath—was coming out in hot, quick pants against his neck. When had he leaned into her? His hand was cradling the small of her back, and he knew he shouldn't but her knee bumped between his legs and her lips brushed over his skin and she whined, "Sasuke-kun."
He bit down on his lip, suddenly tasting blood, to hold back his sob. "Sakura-chan. That's too much."
He was throbbing and sweating and starting to pant himself. If she kept writhing against him like this . . . He closed his eyes, willing his heart beat to slow. She didn't want him. She . . . was sucking on his earlobe, whispering naughty things that made his breath hitch in his throat. Things he never imagined she would say to him. Or anyone else for that matter. If he could untangle himself and get to the bathroom—
And then she did it. The one thing he couldn't deny. She begged him.
The next night Naruto lies still as Sakura slides into place against him, because even though it hurts him, he'll take what he can get when it comes to her. He lies awake long after she has fallen asleep, blue eyes wide and unblinking, right arm cramped under the weight of her body, because he can't stop remembering the night after their fourth date (they weren't really dates except that he'd pay and sometimes she'd relent to his pestering and give him a kiss on the cheek) when after walking her home she had with a slight blush first asked him to stay. He felt his face grow hot at the implication of her words, and was barely able to stop grinning long enough to beam, "Saaakura-chan! I knew it." He was mid-'heehee' when her fist connected to his face and his feet left the ground. She had stormed inside the empty house leaving him to cradle his bruised jaw, but the door was open so he picked himself up and followed her in. When her parents returned a few days later, she made the seamless transition to his apartment and had remained ever since. She's never talked about it, and he doesn't ask.
But the truth is, Sakura didn't start sleeping with Naruto because he returned after two long years, though she had missed him terribly. She started shortly after their last attempt at rescuing Sasuke. Because once again she had failed to save someone she loved. Because she was left hurting and lonely. And because ultimately he was the only one who could understand that pain. Even still, the fact that their bodies fit perfectly together—her forehead resting in the crook of his neck, her breath tickling his collar bone as he nearly crushes her against him in need—hasn't managed to escaped her. He's larger than he used to be—nearly a foot taller, shoulders and back broader, arms stronger. His skin is surprisingly warm to the touch. Why then does she feel so cold at his side? He's the only teammate she has left, but does she even know him anymore? Somewhere along the way, she thinks she's lost herself as well.
The next morning, he's already awake when she sits up to rub the sleep from her eyes. It's not like him to wake before her, and he has yet to greet her with his usual, "Good morning, Saaakura-chan!" so she glances over her shoulder in slight concern. He's just lying there, the same as always except maybe a little paler and watching her with that wounded expression he can never really hide. She rakes her hand through tangled, pink hair with a sigh. "Naruto—" His eyes lock with hers, and she can't help but think how blue they really are. And somehow constant.
They both know what she's going to say. Maybe I should just go back home.
"I'm sorry, Sakura-chan; I shouldn't have done that." The words sound hollow and forced, but those blue eyes assure her it won't happen again.
She looks away, and the issue is settled. She doesn't want to think on it again.
Only now Sakura can't stop watching him. She finds the fluid way he moves when he fights captivating and focuses on the movement of his lips when he forms words. He twirls the kunai idly around his finger between throws, always fidgeting, comfortable with a deadly weapon. He's energetic and raw, loud, and full of wide smiles when he looks at her. She's taken to following Naruto around during the day which both surprises and delights him. She sits in the grass while he trains and plucks countless blades between her fingers. Afterwards, he flops down beside her, arms spread wide and stares at the endless sky. When she's not looking, he watches her out of the corner of his eye. Somehow it always amazes him to watch her pick wild flowers delicately with hands strong enough to crush boulders. She twirls tiny stems between fingertips and sticks them in her hair.
"Sakura-chan?"
She looks to him half-heartedly, still occupied by her flowers. "Hmm?"
I love you.
He only smiles, and after a moment she looks away.
Now she meets him for lunch in between her time at the hospital and has him shop at the grocery store with her for dinner. When she lets him, he holds her hand. Somewhere along the way he's started referring to his apartment as theirs.
It's one night several months later when he whispers in her ear, "I promise, I'll bring him back for you," that she knows. She crawls on top of his bare chest, and he watches her in wonder but doesn't dare speak to ruin the moment. She rakes her fingernails lightly over his soft skin as she pushes his arms up over his head and presses his wrists into the mattress with her weight.
She leans down and whispers against his lips, "I know," before kissing him.
His mouth is warm and somehow tastes familiar.
Afterwards he says, "I don't want to be second best," and she says, "I know."
There is no best in her triangle, only other.