[returns 30 minutes late to the fandom with Starbucks]

Chapter 1: In This Chapter We Learn Why It's Called a Hot House

The first time was a shock to both of them. It happened, as shocking things often do, in a greenhouse in the middle of a desert.

After Gaara's little kidnapping and minor death incident came to a satisfying close-a reinstatement of Gaara's Kazekage powers here, greatly exaggerated rumors of his death suppressed there, a bit of insurrection by an overeager council quashed all round-the Kazekage had taken it upon himself to thank Sakura personally, in private. He found her cleaning up after herself in the greenhouse she had used to create the antidote.

Sakura deflected, modestly. It's my job, she insisted, gathering up the last of her supplies, subtly scanning her tools to determine which had been examined by curious Sand medics. She would do the same for anyone, she said, as would any medic.

She turned to face him and lost her balance on the uneven, mulchy surface of the greenhouse. Gaara reached his hands out instinctively to help her at the same time as Sakura's arms whipped out to catch herself. Because the universe hated her, her overcorrection set her left boob on an unavoidable collision course with Gaara's hand, who didn't have one goddamn thing in his small-but-growing arsenal of social niceties to fix this situation. Sakura watched the color drain from Gaara's face. There was nothing in his siblings' well-meaning crash course of Normal Human Interactions to fall back on here.

But in Sakura's mind, something just clicked.

Consider: she had, in less than one week, saved a puppet man from certain death, fought and killed an additional puppet man, shown up a rival hidden village's entire team of medics, and faced off against her old teammate's brother.

Sakura knew, from both experience and medical training, that everyone had a point of emotional overload. She'd experienced her own overload quite a few times, and, since becoming a medic-in-training, experienced others' hundreds of times.

There were other things, too. Naruto's return, which she'd been happy about, had been startling as the two of them tried to figure out how they fit together with a Sasuke-shaped piece missing in the middle. She'd also come home one evening two weeks ago to find that all of her plants had died, which was an embarrassing wakeup call heralding her overworked exhaustion. Kakashi-sensei, who Sakura had tried to reconnect with six weeks ago after bitterly ignoring for months, had forgotten their brunch date and never apologized. She'd also finally made it to third base with that chuunin from T&I and then felt conflicted for days afterward, feeling like she was letting people "steal" something that belonged to Sasuke. Oh, and she'd had to switch birth control for the fourth time after this last one made her throw up for the first week of every month.

So by this point, she knew she hadn't so much as reached a point of emotional breakage as she had smashed through it with a chakra-laden fist.

But life must go on. It wouldn't do to embarrass the Kazekage over this mammary mistake.

She'd seen the type of person he'd become over the past few months, catching him in corridors and in Tsunade's office, the two of them delicately reconstructing the building blocks of their alliance. He would never have groped her on purpose, and now she would deftly back away, assure him no harm was done, and they would both go on with their lives.

"You can keep going if you want," her mouth said instead. Oh my fucking god.

With infinite slowness, Gaara's eyes crawled from her breast up to the neckline of her shirt, meandering across her throat before finally meeting her own. As she watched, the haunted look of a kid watching his life flash before him gave way to the knife-sharp stare of a person who just realized they might get to smash some puss today. It was unsettling on his face.

Completely and utterly without permission, it also made her a little wet.

"...Okay."

They come together like novices learning how to ballroom dance: there was much confusion at first, but eventually the order of things was figured out through halting forward advances and awkward repositioning of limbs.

The anxiety keeping her alert for the past few days imploded hard, leaving Sakura light-headed. Her body took over where her mind failed her and she reached for his face to draw him in for a chaste kiss, palms running down the lines of his body like this was what she was made for.

When was the last time she touched someone like this? Gaara held his hands in front of him, not defensive but unsure and vulnerable in a way she'd never imagined he could be. His shyness emboldened her, made her want to perform and take charge.

"It's okay, you can touch me."

And then Gaara's hands were everywhere, seeking out every bit of her exposed skin, leaving behind goosebumps and tremors in his wake. His hands were softer than she would have thought. A memory came, unbidden: Ino blabbering away about the exfoliating benefits of her many jars of perfumed grit. It was hard not to giggle at the thought of Gaara exfoliating with sand every morning, hawking his unique and deadly spa services on street corners in Sand.

She anchored her own hands on his hips and pushed up, testing the limits of his patience as she stroked wiry, taut muscles shivering underneath her fingertips.

When was the last time anyone touched him at all?

They boiled down their combined frustration into unsatisfied tugging and pulling of clothing. Sex was new to both (she assumed) so her expectations were nice and low. Sakura knew, from conversations with Shizune, that first-time vaginal sex was an adjustment even under the best of circumstances; spectacular orgasms enjoyed by lusty virgins in romance novels were a bit of an exaggeration, but so too was the intense pain that so many girls feared even from masturbation. Her arousal would help, she knew, and the rest was just a matter of slow deliberation.

They were patient with each other. He didn't seem to mind when she grabbed certain sensitive things too hard, and she didn't mind patiently explaining the geographic location of her various holes.

In the end she decided getting on top offered the best control for discomfort or pleasure. There was a bit of a sting at first, a bit of uncomfortable friction, but after a few moments of deep breathing she calmed her pelvic muscles to the point of cooperation. She felt giddy, almost high. Actually, she probably was a little high from all the stims she'd been railing for the past three days.

She was nailing the Kazekage on the floor of a greenhouse.

She was nailing the Kazekage on the floor of a greenhouse that smelled like dangerous plants and cactus blossoms and there was no time for regrets, buddy, not in this emotional economy.

The sex was not mind-blowing. It wasn't awful, either.

She knew vaginal orgasms didn't happen to everyone and almost certainly not with a brand-new partner. Plus, while desperation made for the hottest steamiest sex in the Icha Icha novels (Sakura will never admit to reading them), in the real world all desperation did was chafe.

Sakura suddenly regretted not considering pocket lube as a legitimate candidate for her medic pouch. She made a mental note to shop at her local sex store at the earliest convenience to design an Unexpected Sex Kit. It should have lube. And condoms. And maybe a vibrating cock ring. Oh, but there would also have to be many types of sex pouches, to account for different fetishes, the quirks of biology, sexualities... could vibrators be solar powered? Could you make chakra-operated sex toys?

When Sakura forced herself back to the present and away from small business schemes, she looked down at him to make a terrible botanist joke involving stamens. Her heart almost stopped, her casual silliness humbled by the way he looked up at her.

There were few words she could dredge up to describe his expression, but she tried anyway: hungry, gentle, wild, frantic, defenseless, shocked. Distantly she registered sand undulating in frenzied ropes in the air around them, not seeking but madly gesticulating in rough, manic spirals.

She wondered what that meant.

When he screwed his eyes shut and gripped her waist for dear life, taking control of her pace, she knew he was close, and arched down to brace on his shoulders as she sped up in turn.

He looked at her with that same curious expression after he finished, wide-eyed and panting. She wondered what he thought of her as she pulled away and cleaned herself off with a discarded rag.

She had no idea that in a few weeks he would read the entirety of Jiraya's published works with an earnest determination that would make Lee cry, and he would feel no more certain about sex than he did a month ago.

He would have a lot of new questions, in fact. Some about the safety of putting fruits into interesting places. A few about the realism of "just shoving it in there." One about power bottoms, whatever those were.

For now, she felt content simply with putting her clothes back on, turning around while he did the same. She felt shy watching him button his shirt back up, the act feeling intimate of all things. She had seen him destructive, murderous, psychotic, and she had seen him collected, polite, reserved. Always untouchable.

To think that he buttoned his shirt up just like everyone else sent her unbuckling and rebuckling straps to ensure he would finish redressing before she had to pull her head back up again to see.

Sakura shoved the remainder of her supplies, some of which now covered on the floor, back into her pouch and steeled herself for what was certain to be an awkward goodbye.

She didn't regret it, but she didn't know what It meant to her yet. Who knew what his standards for normal relationships were, sex or no sex.

She pondered handshakes and hugs and bows before settling on the worst possible thing.

"Um. Thanks."

He just looked at her, covered now but exposed in ways that he couldn't try to hide anymore. The politely distant mask was back, but now she could see where its edges ended. If you knew to search for them, you could see a tiny twig he missed now lodged between folds of cloth. His face was slightly flushed. His hair was completely wild from where she'd furiously clung to it.

A small hickey poked out from his high collar, and she felt torn between embarrassment on his behalf and intense pride at having stolen Gaara's virginity from his local harem of horny fangirls.

The shame she expected to creep up miraculously didn't. In the moment, this lack of shame merely delighted her. Later, she would realize she hadn't thought of Sasuke in days. Not in the chaos of healing Kankuro, not during adult hug time with Gaara, and not until three weeks later when the mention of an Uchiha in an old textbook jogged her memory. She will wonder what this means, also.

Now, she watched Gaara's face carefully and felt rewarded by the light blush dusting his cheekbones as he turned to escort her to the gates. She paid only cursory attention as Naruto said some nonsense about goodbyes and Gaara held his hand out for Naruto to take.

Sakura thought, I really hope this doesn't bite me in the ass, unconcerned by whatever monumental political shifts were being realized before her very eyes. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not knowing what would be worse: if he looked at her one more time before she left, or if he didn't look at her then or ever again.

Their eyes locked a split second before Gaara shook Naruto's sand-assisted hand and she quickly glanced away, counting holes in a fascinating specimen of petrified sponge near her feet.

After, she held his stare for what felt like an eternity. Long enough for his siblings to look at her, him, and then each other. Long enough for Baki to see the hickey on Gaara's neck and think 'we knew this day would come.'

As Sakura turned to head home, she met Kakashi's curious gaze, trying and almost certainly failing not to let everything show on her face. Kakashi-sensei hummed thoughtfully and said nothing. Oh, well.

"Hey Sakura, I think your shirt is on inside-out."

"Shut the hell up, Naruto."

Author's Notes

You should know that I do not give one single shit about Naruto canon. I barely read the Wiki entries for relevant locations and canon arcs, just enough so that I could slap up a cardboard backdrop to accent this sparkling pornography. I'd always liked GaaSaku but was afraid that if I tried I wouldn't "do it right." But with the way Naruto ended I think we all know that even the series creator wasn't doing it right. We should all have more confidence in ourselves.

Hello to any old readers who forgot they were still subscribed to my fanfiction account. How is your dog? Your kids? You got a mortgage?

This will also be cross-posted at my Ao3 account of the same name. I will be starting fresh over there and likely won't upload any old stuff. If I do it'll be heavily edited.

Hello to any new readers! I have been wallowing in the Naruto dumpster fire since the mid 2000s.

And a final note: this story is finished in its entirety at 41,000 words and six chapters. So much for a writing exercise. Comments will be used to resurrect the soul of my love for writing. Many thanks to mouseymightymarvellous (tumblr) for agreeing to beta this story after I contacted them completely out of the blue.