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31_days2005-12-30 11:32 pm
go-hifreann-lea.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-12-30 11:32 pm
[Dec. 30] [Naruto] In Too Deep
Title: In Too Deep
Day/Theme: December 30th / your lips are like a crimson thread
Series: Naruto
Character/Pairing: onesided Gaara/Tema, onesided Gaara/Kank. AKA Sandcest
Rating: PG15. mentions of sex.
Gaara had always been attracted to blood, whether it was because of Shukaku or his painful childhood or just . . . how he was. It didn’t really matter, though, did it? He liked blood—and occasionally ached for it with a hunger so strong he had to bite through his lip and taste his own before he could control himself—and that was all there was to it.
He didn’t draw blood anymore, though. He no longer took knives and kunai to the people of Sunagakure for his enjoyment and made shallow cuts up their arms and watched the—
Best not to remember, lest the hunger come back.
Those lips didn’t help, though. Not when they were painted that deep, deep red for the parties she was forced to attend as the princess of Suna. He could only gaze at them in awe as they pulled at him from across the room. She’d lick them with a quick flick of her tongue but the color wouldn’t fade.
Gaara wanted those lips.
But she was . . . out of his reach. Uncomfortably so. So he would convince a young blonde into a quiet part of the house and touch her, and tell her to make her voice huskier. Then he’d screw her and pretend it was Temari.
He might have been able to put up with it, push it away harshly like he’d done with his morals for years before, except that—
Temari was gone half the time, anyway, wasting her months in that cold, rainy hell called Konohagakure.
No, there was another problem. He was rowdy and loud and dangerous, and . . . it was horrible. There was nothing blood-like about this one, so there wasn’t an excuse for the attraction.
Except for that simple thread that pushed them together. Sometimes they were so close that he could feel that brisk scent of wood, and even though by this time Kankurou was only a few inches taller and somewhat broader, he seemed to be surrounding him completely.
Whenever Gaara had to leave the village on business, and he’d find lovers that were nothing like them. He’d find girls pale and weak and nervous, and he’d tell them to be soft and warm and quiet, everything Temari would never be. He’d find boys lanky and smiling, with their playful lips and scratching nails, and he’d screw them within an inch of their lives. He knew Kankurou would never let him do that. These boys and these girls were as far from those two as he could get. That’s why he wanted them.
And there was no rest, no shut eye for Gaara. There was no respite for the desire, and despite her absences and the occasion cool way his brother could sometimes treat him, it never waned.
And love like this, forbidden like the blood he so yearned for, was impossible.
So he kept his mouth shut and admired from afar. His thoughts never slipped to maybe. He never wondered what if. He kept his hands in his lap and smiled gratefully whenever they did him a favor. That was his place, after all. No need to overstep his boundaries.
Instead, his mind wondered if he was being punished.
If this was hell.
Whenever Temari spoke energetically of the boy from Konohagakure or Kankurou raged on about his newest boyfriend, Gaara knew it was.
Day/Theme: December 30th / your lips are like a crimson thread
Series: Naruto
Character/Pairing: onesided Gaara/Tema, onesided Gaara/Kank. AKA Sandcest
Rating: PG15. mentions of sex.
Gaara had always been attracted to blood, whether it was because of Shukaku or his painful childhood or just . . . how he was. It didn’t really matter, though, did it? He liked blood—and occasionally ached for it with a hunger so strong he had to bite through his lip and taste his own before he could control himself—and that was all there was to it.
He didn’t draw blood anymore, though. He no longer took knives and kunai to the people of Sunagakure for his enjoyment and made shallow cuts up their arms and watched the—
Best not to remember, lest the hunger come back.
Those lips didn’t help, though. Not when they were painted that deep, deep red for the parties she was forced to attend as the princess of Suna. He could only gaze at them in awe as they pulled at him from across the room. She’d lick them with a quick flick of her tongue but the color wouldn’t fade.
Gaara wanted those lips.
But she was . . . out of his reach. Uncomfortably so. So he would convince a young blonde into a quiet part of the house and touch her, and tell her to make her voice huskier. Then he’d screw her and pretend it was Temari.
He might have been able to put up with it, push it away harshly like he’d done with his morals for years before, except that—
Temari was gone half the time, anyway, wasting her months in that cold, rainy hell called Konohagakure.
No, there was another problem. He was rowdy and loud and dangerous, and . . . it was horrible. There was nothing blood-like about this one, so there wasn’t an excuse for the attraction.
Except for that simple thread that pushed them together. Sometimes they were so close that he could feel that brisk scent of wood, and even though by this time Kankurou was only a few inches taller and somewhat broader, he seemed to be surrounding him completely.
Whenever Gaara had to leave the village on business, and he’d find lovers that were nothing like them. He’d find girls pale and weak and nervous, and he’d tell them to be soft and warm and quiet, everything Temari would never be. He’d find boys lanky and smiling, with their playful lips and scratching nails, and he’d screw them within an inch of their lives. He knew Kankurou would never let him do that. These boys and these girls were as far from those two as he could get. That’s why he wanted them.
And there was no rest, no shut eye for Gaara. There was no respite for the desire, and despite her absences and the occasion cool way his brother could sometimes treat him, it never waned.
And love like this, forbidden like the blood he so yearned for, was impossible.
So he kept his mouth shut and admired from afar. His thoughts never slipped to maybe. He never wondered what if. He kept his hands in his lap and smiled gratefully whenever they did him a favor. That was his place, after all. No need to overstep his boundaries.
Instead, his mind wondered if he was being punished.
If this was hell.
Whenever Temari spoke energetically of the boy from Konohagakure or Kankurou raged on about his newest boyfriend, Gaara knew it was.