Saki-chan Universe

For Askerian, because she unofficially owns my soul. It was supposed to just be a drabble, but it evolved. I hate SasuSaku with a passion, but Lolita!Saki and Tomboy!Sakura makes me purr happily. Go figure. It doesn’t make sense to me, either.
Pairings: SakiSaku, one-sided SasuSaku, possible NaruSakuSaki?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yuri! Het! OOCness! Saki (yes, that deserves a warning all its own)!

Getting Looks

When Naruto first introduced Saki-chan to Sakura, she had laughed. The pink-haired shinobi had burst into uncontrollable giggles, her eyes huge, at the sight of Sasuke---was that Sasuke?---in a neat little dress, slender ankles crossed, dark eyes demurely downcast. He was almost bizarrely beautiful, in that fragile way of geisha and dolls, and a salty little voice in the back of Sakura’s head registered jealousy at the not-boy’s slightly parted, glossed lips. Those lips were meant to be kissed, and Naruto---was that Naruto?---had no problem with stealing a soft kiss as Sakura watched, baffled.

Naruto was kissing Sasuke. Sasuke was in a dress. Sakura felt, oddly enough, as if she’d missed something very, very important.

Saki-chan had flushed with embarrassment at Sakura’s laughter, looking fit to cry at her blatant disbelief, and Naruto had yelled at his teammate---geez, Sakura-chan; what are you, blind? Stop hurting Saki-chan’s feelings! She doesn’t get along that good with Sasuke-bastard, y’know, and it’s not nice to remind her how mean he is! C’mon, babe, don’t cry…

This last bit had been directed at the dark-haired boy in the dress, who had curled to his chest with a muffled sob of “I told you she’d hate me…”.

Sakura learned very quickly that that was not Sasuke in the corset and lace. That was Saki-chan, who did not acknowledge nor respond to the name Sasuke-kun. That was Saki-chan, who had a sweet gardening hobby, and who was always sure to compliment Sakura on her outfit or hair whenever she walked out of the apartment Naruto and Sasuke shared. Saki-chan, who wasn’t precisely chatty, but who answered posed questions freely and who smiled with genuine warmth.

Sakura did not precisely like Saki-chan, and made efforts to skirt her. Saki-chan, being as astute as Sasuke-kun, that bastard whose name made her flush and twist her long, manicured fingers together in nervous knots---realized the change in Sakura. Curiously, shyly, Saki had brought it up with the other girl, hovering as Sakura had furiously scrubbed dishes. She’d lost a bet with Naruto---yes, Saki-chan was scared of spiders, unlike Sasuke, who squished them unrepentantly and with smirks---and had to clean his apartment as a result.

Saki-chan lingered in the doorway, a slight frown on her face. She stood there a bit, tottering uncertainly on her obscenely high heels---she had a bit of a fondness for boots, Sakura had found, especially ones with more buckles and straps than were necessary to keep a boot together---until she seemed to gather her sweetly demure self enough to pose a quiet question.

“Are you busy, Sakura-chan?”

Sakura looked up from her brutal scrubbing of the pans, scowling. She dearly wanted to say yes. She wanted to launch into an explanation of exactly how much she was bothering her---and on how many levels. She wanted to start a loud argument that would include the name Sasuke shouted in imperious tones, possibly while waving the soapy scrub brush for needed emphasis.

She didn’t start the argument, though, because it was ultimately futile.

Sakura, defeated, just summed it all up in a sigh of: “No, Saki-chan. I’m not.” It was all she could muster, because last time she had demanded what he thought he was doing from Saki, the girl had fallen to pieces, establishing that she was only prettier when crying and distraught. When Sasuke had reappeared for their B-rank mission the next day, he had refused to talk to Sakura, favoring a thick black glare as his mode of communication. That had proved that some character correlation did exist, though it was rare and altogether negligible.

Saki took this answer with a slight nod, going back into silent mode until she could re-gather herself for another timid question. She waited for another long moment before speaking up again, taking a slow, deliberate step nearer.

“Um, Sakura-chan? I’d like you to do a favor for me,” Saki said, bowing her head slightly so that curls of dark hair fell into her face, sweet and girlish. They nearly demanded to be brushed away by gentle hands, just as her lips nearly demanded to be kissed. “I’ve been working on a sewing project, but I don’t have a mannequin, and I can’t hem the skirt when it’s on me. Could I ask you to wear it while I straighten the hem? We’re about the same size, you and I, though you have a nicer bustline and I’m slightly taller, but---but it would be very helpful to me, if you wouldn’t mind it.” She twined her fingers together---a familiar Saki nervous habit that Sakura had not seen Sasuke replicate even once---smiling shyly. “Please?”

Sakura dropped the scrubber into a particularly corroded pan, wiping her pruned-up fingers on her apron. Yes, that was right; Saki-chan made most of his---her, she reminded herself forcefully---wardrobe herself. Like everything else, it seemed, Saki was an adept seamstress, and she spent long hours with needle and thread while Naruto brushed out her hair or lounged out at her feet with one of Kakashi’s smut books. Sakura scowled to herself, Naruto’s recent admonition of at least try to be nice to her; she’s my girlfriend, and she only has good things to say about you, believe me, ringing ominously in her head.

She nodded without thinking---if she thought about it, she’d talk herself out of it; she knew that much for certain---and peeled off the suds-soaked apron. Saki clasped her hands together excitedly, her smile widening. It reached her dark eyes, warming them. The effect was somewhat surreal.

“No, I wouldn’t mind, but I hope you don’t expect me to squeeze into one of those damn corsets of yours.”

“Oh no, of course not,” she laughed. “Although one does get used to them fairly easily.”

“I don’t see how you can even breathe in that thing,” Sakura replied darkly, following the other girl to her and Naruto’s shared room, though it made the pink-haired ninja snort to in disgust. Naruto had moved in with Sasuke, not Saki, and the room reflected it. The walls were white and unadorned, dirty laundry belonging to both boys lying scattered over the desks and floor. They had separate futons that stayed firmly on opposite sides of the room when Sasuke was in residence, though they magically slid together whenever Saki appeared. She had to wonder how Naruto managed to live with not knowing who he’d wake up to---a shyly smiling bundle of honey and lacey skirts, or a scowling teammate whose entire wardrobe consisted of blue, black, and blatant masculinity.

“Want to try one on?” Saki asked with a devilish smirk curling her glossy lips. “It would complete the ensemble I want you to help me with.”

Naruto really had asked nicely. Sakura’s scowl only deepened as the kinder portion of her mind caught Inner Sakura in a headlock, unwilling to allow her to go against Naruto’s wishes.

Take a deep breath. Smile. Play nice, even if that means going along with Sasuke-kun’s sudden schizophrenia. It won’t kill you to put on one of his---her---lolita getups for a bit.

Inner Sakura added right, let’s play dress-up. Sounds like fuuuuuun. in a flat tone that Outer Sakura ignored entirely.

“Fine,” she said shortly, flopping down on the edge of Saki’s neatly-made futon as the dark-haired girl started to lay out articles of clothing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Saki said, blinking. She suddenly seemed a bit put off, sucking on her lower lip as if she feared Sakura was going to snap at her at any moment. “I…simply thought that since you don’t really do this sort of thing often, you might like to try.”

“What?” Sakura growled, giving the hand-made plushie reclining on Saki’s pillow a murderous look. “By ‘this sort of thing’ you mean girly shit, don’t you? Yes, you’re right; you’re obviously a better girl than I am, Saki-chan, since you’re the one with the adoring boyfriend and ogling fanboys. You can’t go two feet without incurring a nosebleed in some unsuspecting male, can you?” She sighed. “Men don’t look at me like that.”

Sakura rested her chin on her crossed arms, drawing her knees up. They were knobby knees, as Ino had so kindly pointed out on multiple occasions, which went right along with her too-generous thighs and abysmally small breasts. Every girl had her woes, and Sakura had hers listed in numerical order.

It just wasn’t fair. Sasuke was the perfect man, and Saki was the perfect woman. She could neither have him nor best her, and it wasn’t any surprise that she felt a little threatened.

Saki, her arms full of bundles of lace and dark fabric, felt her stomach knot with sympathy. Things, she decided, suddenly made a lot of sense.

“You’re very silly, do you know that, Sakura-chan?” said Saki in a light tone, dropping the skirt in her lap. “Men are simple. It takes very little to set them off, and since we girls usually can’t top them in ninjutsu---seeing as our bodies really aren’t built for that sort of thing---we can at least best them here, taunting them with something they can only have if we allow them that conquest: ourselves. Really, the only reason they don’t look at you like they do me is because you don’t give them opportunity to.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Sakura woodenly.

“Have you ever tried dressing up to get attention?”


“Then don’t knock it,” Saki advised, glaring briefly.

Sakura gauged the dark-haired girl’s expression with blank green eyes; mental battle of wills over, she shook her head.

“I---I used to, though. Ino and I used to play dress-up when we were little, but I heard that y---“ She bit her lower lip. “---Sasuke-kun didn’t like girls who wore too much makeup, so I never even learned how to do it for real. After---after he left, I spent all my time working at being a shinobi, so that I could impress him and maybe win him---“ Ha ha, Inner Sakura deadpanned. What a monumental waste of time, eh? “---and the rest got shoved off to the side. Lip gloss goes on the lips, eye shadow on the eyes. That’s about as far as I know.”

Hands on her slender hips, Saki smiled. Her eyes danced when she smiled like that, wholly and genuinely, and Sakura wished with sudden intensity that Sasuke would smile like that. Just once. His muscles obviously were capable of that kind of manipulation, so why was it that he had to roll on stockings and wriggle into a corset for that smile to leak out?

“With your permission, Sakura-chan, I’d like to make you my doll this afternoon.”

Sakura colored.

“D-doll?” She spluttered, incredulous. “I only agreed to helping you hem your skirt! I have to clean the kitchen by the time Naruto comes back, or I have to cook for him for another week---“

“It’ll just take an hour or so,” said Saki. “And I’ll help you with the kitchen afterwards.”

“Alright,” Sakura muttered, knowing that Saki would not give up on the matter now that she’d latched onto the idea of having a human doll for the afternoon. Some stray portion of Uchiha tenacity had bled into the girl’s personality. “It’ll be…educational. Where do we start?”

Smiling beatifically, Saki disappeared into the closet, a blizzard of tossed clothes flying in her wake. Sakura ducked the assault---most of it was unfolded and very orange, so Saki’s outfits probably were tucked away into Naruto’s side of the closet as opposed to Sasuke’s---and wondered what she had gotten herself into. After a moment of intense burrowing, Saki resurfaced with an armload of skirts, blouses, corsets, and what Sakura only could hope were garters.

“Here,” Saki, grinning, tossed a wad of slithery fabric at Sakura, and she caught it on instinct. Once she realized that she’d just been given a pair of peach-colored panties, she flushed instantly. “You start at the bottom, obviously.”

“Are you serious?” Sakura asked, staring at the silk panties. The front was lined with a row of tiny, utterly useless little bows; it was so far from the sort of underwear she usually went for it was almost humorous because of that. Sensible gray cotton panties, unattractive in every way, shape, and form? Hardly. “These are---these are ridiculous!”

“It’s important to start right,” Saki explained calmly, and tossed her a loose peachy camisole smattered with just as many redundant bows. It also had lace. A great deal of itchy, itchy lace. “If you don’t start with something that both feels and looks good underneath, the outer layers won’t mean anything.”

Sakura stared at the underthings uncertainly, pinching them between two fingers as if they carried some sort of virulent disease. “You sure?”


“Are you really---“

“Yes, Sakura-chan,” said Saki, rolling her eyes. “Put them on.”

Ah, borrowing her silky underwear? Gross? Slightly. Creepy? Definitely. Naruto, you don’t even know what I go through for the sake of our team, you idiot…

Halfway through taking off her over-skirt and shorts, Sakura paused.

Saki was watching her. Beadily. Her expression was impossible to gauge, but she thought it lingered somewhere between surprise and wary curiosity. Either option was baffling to Sakura; surprise? Why surprise? Yes, she had small breasts and calloused hands. And curiosity? That one was even harder to wrap her mind around or explain away…

“Could you…” the pink-haired shinobi said, blushing slightly as she wriggled down her shorts. “…turn the other way?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Saki said, and her tone forbade negotiation on the matter. “We’re both girls here.”

“Yes, but I’m just---shy,” Sakura argued weakly, pausing in unbuttoning her shirt.

---shy, and utterly creeped out by stripping in front of a man-girl who I used to have a hell of a crush on, and---and---and I’m putting on his UNDERWEAR.

Forcibly ignoring Saki, Sakura wriggled out of her loose, comfortable clothing. Not thinking that she would be dolled up due to Saki’s sweet whims, she’d chosen her usual around-the-house clothing---hand-me-down khaki shorts from Sasuke (who had been about to throw them away, but the fangirl in Sakura had never really died) and a plain, button up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. She really didn’t have time to be pretty anymore---between internship at the Konoha hospital and the sporadic missions Tsunade still say fit to send her on, she was almost constantly busy and on her feet. When she was twelve, ‘daring’ had been pulling her long hair back into a knot and applying lip gloss with a pout. Nowadays, ‘daring’ was unbuttoning her shirts one notch further, showing a hint of cleavage when she leaned over. That was the absolute zenith of her current sexuality.

And she actually wondered why she didn’t have a boyfriend---overworked, overtired, and a fashion frump at seventeen. The guys who did ask her out on dates (read: when Lee dropped in for his weekly pleading session), she usually had a pre-made excuse to dish out, be it that she had to work overtime, or that she had to wash her hair.

Maybe Saki was right. Maybe she should try to be pretty once in a while.

Sakura stepped out of her tattered khakis, setting them aside to be quickly donned the moment the dress-up session was over. Hooking her thumbs in her nice, practical gray underwear, she slipped them off and quickly replaced them with the silky peach ones. The fabric was cool, liquid-like, and more than a little sensual; Sakura suddenly had leagues of insight into what Saki had meant by ‘feeling good underneath’. Before her blush betrayed her, Sakura quickly slid on the camisole as well, her nipples hardening at the caress of slippery material. Since its usual wearer had no bust to speak of, the camisole didn’t offer and kind of support---Sakura was a little glad to be small and perky.

Saki took in the new outfit, or the lack thereof---Sakura shivered a bit at that; the strength of that pitchy gaze didn’t change between names, even if the mannerisms did---and gave a short, appreciative nod.

“I didn’t think peach would look so good with the already red-based tones in your hair and skin, but it looks nice,” Saki said. “Very cute. Here, put this on. It’s the next layer.”

Sakura sighed and looked at the ceiling. The only person left in the world who called her cute was Lee. And Kakashi. But only when he was drunk. She took the next layer---a stiff, short skirt that was gauzy and damn near see-through---and obediently pulled it up past her thighs. It stuck out awkwardly, brushing just above anything that could’ve been called decent. When Saki handed her the other layers---a filmy, ruffled thing that was just as see-through as it’s predecessor, and a top skirt of milky yellow fabric that weighed the whole ensemble down and caused the other two tiers to peek out in adorable swatches of gauze and frill---she put them on quickly, feeling her face burn.

How could Saki-chan go out in public like this, with only a ruffly thing just barely a skirt acting as her only mode of decency? One stray gust of wind or twisted ankle and everyone would be seeing those lovely peach panties---which, she realized ruefully, was probably the point. Either Saki liked that danger, or she was finessed enough due to a discarded shinobi alter-ego to not have a problem with her exaggerated boots. She frowned momentarily at the skirt---it was short enough that Saki should have had no trouble at all hemming it herself. It wasn't even a skirt, really---just a wide, fluffy belt.

Sakura pulled the blouse---a yellow affair with a deeply scooped neck and bell-shaped sleeves---over her head and smoothed the skirt down in an effort to make it less…poofy. On her, the blouse showed the suggestion of breasts, but on Saki, it only exposed her sharp, fragile collarbone. Sakura found that when looked down, she could see breasts, of all things.

Noticing her examination of the shirtfront, Saki held up a monstrosity of cords and ties. “It fits better with the corset,” she offered, and slid in behind the girl before Sakura had a chance to disagree. Saki pulled it on over her head, and just as Sakura found herself thinking gee, this isn’t so bad, I guess, she began pulling on the crisscrossed cords, drawing them tight.

Sakura gasped aloud as she tugged again, which made Saki laugh.

“I won’t pull it very tight,” she said, though Sakura---had she been able to eek out a breath past her constricted lungs---would have screeched that it was tight enough, thanks. “Did you know it used to be fashionable for a girl’s waist to be only as wide as her boyfriend’s hands could encircle?”

“I’d better get…a guy…with…really, really big…” unable to finish her sentence past her sudden dizziness, Sakura leaned back into Saki as the room spun. It wasn’t an entirely bad feeling, really, to float surreally over her body as her mind reeled from lack of oxygen. It was oddly euphoric, though the dancing black spots in her vision were a keen reminder that one can only go without oxygen for so long.

“Sakura-chan? Sakura-chan, answer me---alright, it’s too tight; hold on---“

Saki undid the ties with nimble fingers, giving Sakura’s tight ribcage a much-needed release. Her gasp of relief was loud, her fingers twitching as oxygen rushed in to assuage her screaming lungs.

“Better?” Saki asked worriedly, her lower lip jutting slightly as she frowned.

“Yeah,” Sakura breathed woozily. “The things you do for beauty…”

Saki laughed again, drawing the wavering girl into a sitting position. “Speaking of which, we’re not finished yet. I’d give you a pair of wench-boots to complete the ensemble, but I think my feet are bigger than yours. They’re difficult enough to walk in without your feet sliding about in them.”

She fished a lacquered box out from a pile of stockings, carefully opening it. She gestured for Sakura to lean back a bit as she settled in behind her, brushing out her short pink hair like an older sister might.

“Why did you cut your hair this short, Sakura-chan?” Saki asked in a carefully vague tone, as if she had no investment in the answer either way.

“I don’t know,” Sakura admitted, and found that she really didn’t.

It’d been an impulse, a need. After two weeks of overtime and surviving on less than four hours of sleep nightly, she’d looked at her reflection in the mirror and found that she hated the person looking back who was trying to be sweet and yet failing miserably. Sakura had taken one of the kunai from her thigh-pouch as if in a trance, curling a long strand of cherry bangs between her thumb and forefinger, smoothing it gently before cutting it off. It had slithered into the sink bowl like a ripped ribbon. She had stared at it for a moment, transfixed, before her fingers tangled around another hank of hair, snipping it off three inches from her scalp. Something in her chest had loosened unexpectedly, and she sighed a little.

Curl, stroke, cut. Twenty minutes later, the sink bowl sported a tangled nest of pink hair, and Sakura felt considerably lighter. The urge had been satisfied, and she was able to turn out the light, crawl into bed, and sleep easily for the first time in weeks. Maybe the short, bedraggled hair meant that she could just stop pretending. It didn’t get in her way anymore, at least. It was as short as Naruto’s hair now, if not shorter.

Ino had screamed outright at the mess that her haphazard cut-job had left, locking Sakura in the bathroom until she could even out the pink haystack on her friend’s head, cursing all the while.

Naruto had laughed. Sasuke had not said anything. Saki had nearly cried.

“It looks good this way,” Saki said diplomatically, dipping into her lacquered box to pull out some sort of hair goo. It smelled like lavender, and she tugged her calloused fingers through the back of her hair, spiking it in the back. Like Sasuke’s hair, Sakura realized as she inhaled the heady scent from the pomade. Sasuke’s was naturally unruly, but this pomade probably helped it fashionably along.

“Thank you,” Sakura murmured, hanging her head slightly. Between the pomade and the corset, her head was heavy, spinning. She barely reacted when Saki slid around front so that their knees touched, her cosmetics box in her lap. One hand steadying her chin, Saki applied a light coating of makeup, commenting softly on small things, like Sakura’s eyes, or her long, spicy red lashes, or her clear complexion.

Saki tilted her chin this way and that, her gaze strangely calculating.

“You don’t need cosmetics,” she decided finally, and fished out a tube of peach lip gloss. It was only half-full. “Purse your lips, Sakura-chan.”

Saki slowly and deliberately applied the gloss, instructing her to rub her lips together to smooth it evenly. Sakura tested the gloss with the tip of her tongue---it was strangely sweet, making her lips feel heavy and sticky.

Saki didn’t smile as blindingly as she had before. She pulled a small hand-mirror from her box and offered it to Sakura.

She blinked down at the face that looked back at her, not fully recognizing the face that blinked back. The green eyes seemed bigger somehow, rounder, and her lips---those were Saki’s kissable lips, plush, sparkly, and utterly inviting. She ran a hand through her stiff hair, patting down the birdlike spikiness, and couldn’t help but exhale a soft sigh.

Her hair felt like Sasuke’s, smelt like Sasuke’s. The lines were starting to blur.

“See what I mean?” Saki asked gently, playing with a stray lock of stiff pink hair. “I’d dare any man not to give you a second look now.”

“Thank you, Saki-chan…” she said softly, looking down at herself---all creamy golden fabric, gauze, and lace---and realized that she looked exactly like Saki had initially joked. She looked like a china doll, dainty and perfect.

If not for the mirror and her own eyes, she wouldn’t have thought it possible. The overworked medic-nin in frumpy hand-me-downs, suddenly and unexpectedly beautiful? Kakashi-sensei wouldn’t have had to be drunk to call her cute now. She was cute. She was more than cute.

Saki rubbed the captured lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger, her eyes hazy and dim. She licked her lips nervously.

“M-may I kiss you, Sakura-chan?” Saki whispered, barely a breath.


Oh---well that was just dandy, wasn’t it? For six years she fought to get Sasuke to look at her, to notice her, to say something like that, and here SAKI was, nervous and shy and clad lace and hosiery. The person before her should have been Sasuke, but she wasn’t. She was Saki, and Saki didn’t sound, look, feel, or sound anything like the boy she had hounded after for so long. She almost wanted to laugh. How vastly, horrifically unfair. This was some kind of sick joke.

Sakura drew away, glad that she had denied the offer of wench-boots---she was shaking enough with only bare feet. Saki winced at the physical refusal, her face speaking sheer volumes of emotion that Sasuke could have never matched. Her dark eyes misted with tears. Her lower lip quivered until she caught it between her teeth, looking away so she didn’t have to meet Sakura’s fiery jade gaze.

“Don’t touch me,” Sakura snapped, her fingers going to her back in order to undo the corset. They shook too badly to do anything but fumble with the knotted tie. She flushed, feeling close to tears herself.

It was all so unfair. Why did those words have to come from Saki’s beautifully glossed lips, and not the mouth of her male counterpart?

“I just---“ Saki blushed prettily, looking down at her boots so that her expressive dark eyes were masked by her thick fringe of black lashes. “---I’d like to know what it’s like…to kiss another girl. You are a strong shinobi, Sakura-chan, and---and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so beautiful. Please don’t hold it against me.”

“I’m not another girl,” said Sakura, hearing the flatness to her own voice. It was almost cold, and it made Saki’s bare shoulders flinch and curl in slightly.

“If I were him,” Saki said softly, and she didn’t have to clarify who ‘him’ was. They both knew; the intangible third entity of Uchiha Sasuke clung to her forcibly blank, mournful features, now. “You would kiss me gladly.”

“You,” Sakura said in a wintry tone. “Are not Sasuke.”

“But---but you don’t understand!” The doll-like girl burst out, her tears spilling over. Her mascara ran with gray tears, ruining her makeup. For once, Saki didn’t seem to notice or mind. “Sasuke-kun doesn’t care for you, nor anyone else for that matter. Because of his status as avenger, he won’t allow himself such attachments. Sasuke can’t love Naruto-kun or you, or see you as anything but his teammates.” She stared at her entwined fingers, solemn again. “But I do.”

“Oh,” said Sakura. She looked down at Saki’s fingers, too, watching them tremble.

She didn’t need to say yes or no; Saki probably knew that she wouldn’t say yes or no. Sakura could’ve spoken volumes on her love of Sasuke, but she could never be anything firm with Saki. Saki was not Sasuke, so Sakura wouldn’t allow it.

When Saki leaned in for a kiss, Sakura didn’t push her away. She closed her eyes and took the kiss, tasting the salt from her brief tears, and marveled at the person touching her.

Saki was Saki. Saki was not Sasuke. Saki was gentle, pushing her tongue in for exploration only once she felt Sakura melt into her, limp and ready beneath her fingers. Sakura didn’t taste as sweet as she looked---she tasted of mint, medicinally clean and just a little bitter. Saki’s hands were larger than Sakura’s, rougher; Sasuke’s calluses didn’t disappear as easily as other things that were tucked away and forgotten. Sakura winced as her rough fingers danced over the nape of her neck, the soft swells of her uplifted breasts, her half-bared thighs…Saki roved in a way Sasuke wouldn’t have. He would have darted in for a brief, hard kiss, and then would’ve snorted and looked away.

Saki liked flesh. She liked to touch, liked to explore, liked to rub. She was not Sasuke.

“Daaaaaaamn,” drawled a deep, appreciative voice, and Sakura jerked up to see Naruto slouched in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. Her first panicky thought was that Naruto would pitch a fit---crap, I’m locking lips with his boy---girl---friend---and I know how possessive he is. He’s going to kill me---but his smirk was wide and playful, showing the tips of sharp canines.

“You’re back early, Naruto-kun,” Saki said, perfectly unruffled. She carefully wiped a bead of saliva from her lower lip.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure Sakura-chan hadn’t taunted you with more spiders. Ehehe, I knew you two would eventually start getting along!” Naruto said proudly, which made Sakura goggle all the more.

They were nuts, she decided, looking from grinning boy to smirking girl with huge green eyes. Both of them.

Saki smirked at Sakura, and she knew that expression: it was Sasuke’s look of ‘I Win’, a brief upturn of one corner of his mouth, slow and satisfied in a purely catlike way. Her dark eyes traveled over her boyfriend---deliberately, catching his eye so that she was sure he was watching---before she ran one hand over Sakura’s ass, smoothing down the stiff fabric of her skirt’s upper-layer to conform to the curve. Naruto’s grin only widened as Sakura mumbled something incoherent, flushing as Saki’s curious fingers traveled up the short hem, momentarily rubbing the tiny, silly bows on her panties before sliding in between silk and flesh. The pink-haired girl whimpered softly, bending slightly at the knees and leaning into Saki.

Naruto relaxed back into the doorframe, obviously drinking in this spectacle.

“He’s looking at you, Sakura-chan,” Saki whispered hoarsely, and tangled her free fingers in the lacing of Sakura’s corset before pulling it loose. “I told you dressing up works.”


Probably a bit OOC; this Saki seems a bit girlier and chattier than the other Sakis in the drabbles I’ve read, but oh well. Characterizations are far from being my strong point.

I think this thing is almost long enough to call it a one-shot. Damn. On the bright side, now maybe Saki-chan will get out of my head and leave me alone...