Older [Naruto fic]
May. 9th, 2011 11:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blackestfaery*coughs*
Please ignore the pervert standing in the corner.
Written on the spur of the moment for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nimblnymph's birthday. And because I miss writing KakaSaku still.
Older
Series: Naruto
Pairing: Kakashi/Sakura
Rating: PG for innuendo
Word Count: 181
Summary:
It is two in the morning, but the knock on his door is expected.
Something wicked, Kakashi thinks, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The bed sheets pool in his lap as he waits, not bothering to call out. They both know he never locks the door.
The hinges groan a low protest but he barely hears the sound over the rush of his blood in his ears. He has been waiting for this moment.
She stands just inside his apartment now, one hand still grasping the doorknob behind her. She smells like sake and smoke, the remnants of the pub lingering in the folds of her clothes. Her eyes take him in.
“I’m eighteen now, sensei.” She says it like it explains her presence.
Like it is permission.
His fingers twitch against his thighs before he leans back against his headboard. The sheets slip even more, and he is savagely pleased when her eyes drop. Sakura’s tongue darts out to the corner of her mouth, and she steps forward like she cannot help herself.
“And I want my present.”
Happy birthday, Nims. It's not much, I know, but I hope you like it anyways.
Please ignore the pervert standing in the corner.
Written on the spur of the moment for
nimblnymph's birthday. And because I miss writing KakaSaku still.Older
Series: Naruto
Pairing: Kakashi/Sakura
Rating: PG for innuendo
Word Count: 181
Summary:
It is two in the morning, but the knock on his door is expected.
Something wicked, Kakashi thinks, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The bed sheets pool in his lap as he waits, not bothering to call out. They both know he never locks the door.
The hinges groan a low protest but he barely hears the sound over the rush of his blood in his ears. He has been waiting for this moment.
She stands just inside his apartment now, one hand still grasping the doorknob behind her. She smells like sake and smoke, the remnants of the pub lingering in the folds of her clothes. Her eyes take him in.
“I’m eighteen now, sensei.” She says it like it explains her presence.
Like it is permission.
His fingers twitch against his thighs before he leans back against his headboard. The sheets slip even more, and he is savagely pleased when her eyes drop. Sakura’s tongue darts out to the corner of her mouth, and she steps forward like she cannot help herself.
“And I want my present.”
Happy birthday, Nims. It's not much, I know, but I hope you like it anyways.
