Umm... I wrote het.
You know how sometimes, something just comes to you, and you can't get it out of your head? You just have to write it. Even if it is something you never, ever thought you'd write about.
Title: Remember
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kankurou/Temari, implied Kankurou/Gaara, hinted Gaara/Naruto, hinted Temari/Shikamaru
Warnings: Incest, Het, Implied Yaoi, Angst, Graphic Sex, a little foreskin play
Spoiler Warning: Takes place after Episode 8 of Shippuuden
Summary: Of course he couldn't sleep, knowing Gaara was lost... and knowing Temari was here, her weight sinking softly into the mattress beside him.
for julis, who wondered if I'd ever write about Kankurou ^_^
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Remember
Temari walked down the hall of her family's residence, her arms laden with a tray of food. The smells of green tea and vegetable soup drifted up from under the cloth, and her stomach growled; she had been on patrol all day, with only a brief stop for lunch six or seven hours ago, and she was famished. Wanting to see her brother before he fell asleep again for the night, she had taken only a quick shower to wash off the grime and grit of the desert before gathering a light meal to share with him.
"Kankurou?" she asked, standing outside his bedroom.
"I'm awake," she heard, and slid the door open with her foot, careful not to spill any of the steaming liquid balanced carefully on the small tray. She walked into his room, carefully stepping toward his bed. She nodded at the medical ninja who looked a question her way, and he walked out quietly, leaving her alone with her brother in his large, dimly lit room. The only light came from a wide gap in his curtains, and the daylight was almost over. She put the tray down on the table beside his bed and grabbed the chair from his desk, observing him as she did so. They had moved him in here, considering him recovered enough to sleep in his own bed, as long as he had someone with him to keep watch over him.
He smiled sadly at her, grateful for familiar company. She looked tired, he thought, but beautiful, her thick blonde hair damp around her face, wearing a dark belted robe. Today had been a long, lonely day, nothing to do but listen to the med-nin ramble on about everything from his family to the weather to the price of grain in the Wind Country, touching occasionally on Gaara's disappearance until the look on Kankurou's face made him change the subject. The puppet-user knew that the Kazekage's kidnapping was on everyone's mind... but he didn't want to be reminded of it every half-hour.
He already thought about it enough, as it was, his chest aching every time Gaara's name passed through his mind.
Sighing, he sat up and reached for his soup, balancing it on his fingertips as he sipped at the broth. Temari watched him do this with a grin... on anything other than the most formal of occasions, Kankurou had always eaten soup this way, refusing to use the spoon until nothing was left of the juice.
They ate and drank in silence, Kankurou slowly, thoughtfully; his sister quickly, efficiently, feeling much better now, less shaky, now that she had food going into her stomach.
...But she was still shaking. Her thoughts and emotions had been in utter turmoil these past two days. Coming home after a nerve-wrenching journey to find one brother gone, the other dying, had shaken her to her core.
Kankurou, Kankurou... they hadn't been together for more than a year, hadn't touched each other, hadn't kissed. He had promised, and he had held up his promise, to the letter if not the spirit... but that hadn't stopped him from asking her to change her mind at first. It hadn't stopped his hints later, when asking outright got him ignored for days at a time. And it hadn't stopped the guilt she felt at seeing his pain, when he stopped doing even that.
She had been trying to ignore him, to stay out of his way, for the past few months, wanting to let him get over the hurt. But now, she couldn't stay away. He had almost died, and she couldn't stand it. Lover or not, hurt or not, he was still her brother, had once been her best friend, maybe still was. She wasn't going to ignore him anymore.
He sighed and placed his empty bowl and cup back on the tray, then lay on his back and rested his hands on his stomach. They sat in silence for a long while, lost in their own thoughts as the sun went down, and the room was incrementally plunged into a troubled half-darkness. The moon was just two days past full, still tinted green, and that bright, eerie moonlight streamed in through his window, painting everything in a strange and sickly hue. Kankurou knew that the color of the moon had a rational explanation; there must be a big sandstorm close by - those always did strange things to the moon - but he chose to see it as an omen. The color of the light reminded him of Gaara's eyes... as long as that green moon held, Gaara must still be alive, somewhere.
He wished he could truly believe that.
"Are you feeling better?" Temari asked, putting her own cup, empty and long-forgotten in her hand, on the tray.
"Yes," he said quietly, glancing at her. Her face was drawn, tired, troubled, and it made him hurt even more to see her like that. So he smiled wide, closing one eye.
"Maybe Sakura isn't useless after all," he joked, referring to a long-standing in-joke between them about the pink-haired kunoichi. No, she wasn't useless, though it had seemed that way at first. A lot of things can change in three years, he thought. She let out a short, harsh laugh, and he felt his heart lighten.
"Do you need your bandages changed, or anything?" his sister asked, a small smirk still playing around the corners of her mouth. It felt good to laugh, even if she knew she was just whistling in the dark; it felt good to laugh with Kankurou again.
"They took care of that about an hour ago. I don't really need them any more, anyway... Sakura really is very good. My wound is almost completely healed."
"Good," Temari said, with a nod of her head, loose, drying hair brushing against her cheeks, beginning to curl unevenly.
"They gave me a bath, too. It's just too bad we don't have cute med-nins like Konoha does... "
At that, she snorted. Kankurou had never expressed interest in women like the Haruna girl... hearing him call her 'cute' was unexpected. They sat without speaking for a while longer, the quiet less heavy this time, watching those strangely tinted clouds skim over the sky. After counting fifteen clouds, one for every year of Gaara's life, he could no longer keep his fears hidden behind this softly smiling mask. He hesitantly broke the silence.
"Do you remember..."
Temari's eyes tightened, knowing what these words always led up to, hating the fact that this new, easy comraderie was being threatened. Do you remember the first time we kissed? Kankurou would ask, or Do you remember that time in Baki's office? Trying to excite her, trying to make her feel guilty, trying to change her mind.
"Do you remember when we were really little... " her brother began quietly, and Temari's eyes widened in surprise. That wasn't at all what she expected.
"We used to hide from Father in the cupboard," he continued, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you remember the time Gaara found us?"
Temari did remember - she smiled slowly at the recollection. They were sitting quietly in the dark, cramped cupboard in their kitchen, when suddenly, they were blinded as the heavy doors were pulled open. Gaara stared at them, shocked surprise making him look so cute, those big, dark-ringed aqua eyes confused. He had lost his teddy bear that day, and Kankurou and Temari were enlisted to help him in his search.
This was two years or so before they first discovered what their bodies could do together, how delightfully sinful, how obscenely right it felt to touch, to kiss, to give pleasure to your own blood.
"Gaara... " Kankurou sighed, closing his eyes as tears made silvery tracks down his temples. Gaara was gone, gone, gone... he hadn't been able to save him, had almost died in addition to his failure. And the chance to save him was taken from Temari, as well.
Those Konoha shinobi... he was utterly conflicted in his feelings toward them. They saved his life when everyone else thought there was no chance, they were going after Gaara and his captors... and they were slowly stealing away the two people he loved. He knew why Temari had stopped letting him touch her, over a year ago, and he knew why a few months ago Gaara had stopped slipping into his bedroom late at night. He could count the months as well as anyone else; he knew when Naruto was due to return.
He had been the one to show his brother how to kiss, how to touch, how to fuck... but someone else had taught Gaara how to love. He knew Gaara loved that blond ninja fiercely... hopelessly, he had thought; that is, until he saw the look on Naruto's face when he said Gaara's name, so similar to the one his beautiful brother wore when speaking of Naruto. And he was glad that they had made that connection, glad that Gaara now had a heart in that baby-smooth, nearly unscarred chest, a soul in those striking green eyes.
He wanted that heart, that soul, to belong to him.
He knew that it never would.
He felt Temari's hand come to rest gently on his arm, the kunoichi's lightly calloused palm squeezing softly, and he opened his eyes. His sister was watching him with stark pain in her eyes, and he wanted more than anything to grab her, to hold her, to kiss that pain away.
He couldn't. He had made a promise to Temari... and every time she was close, he regretted it.
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"I can't do this anymore," Temari said quietly into the night, gazing out from her balcony, looking over the domed buildings of Sunagakure. Dry sheet lightning flashed across the sky to the east, followed a few seconds later by a long, low rumble of thunder.
"What?" Kankurou asked, uncomprehending, shock chilling his blood. He grasped the railing, hardly able to feel his hands, hoping, praying she didn't mean what he thought she meant.
"I want a normal life, Kankurou. I don't want to feel guilty all the time. I want to have a lover that doesn't have to be a secret. I don't want to fear that, someday, someone will catch us... "
His heart thudding painfully in his chest, he stared at her, pleading silently, No, don't leave me, my sister, I need you...
"And now, more than ever, we can't be found out. We have Gaara to think of, too," she said firmly as she turned to face him. Another jag of lightning lit up the darkness, illuminating for a split second her fierce and hawklike gaze.
Gaara... Their brother was well on his way to becoming Kazekage, and if their secret were to come to light, it might well mean the end of his chances. Kankurou swallowed hard, that tiny sound lost in the deep basso roll of thunder.
"I can't tell you to stop what you're doing with him... I think you should, but that's his decision, and yours. I just know I can't do this with you anymore."
"There's someone else, isn't there?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the rising wind, the soft susurrations of airborne sand rasping against the sides of buildings. It's him, I knew it, it's him.
"No... Maybe... I don't know," the sandy-haired kunoichi said. Then she stood straighter and said, "There's a chance. And I want to be able to take it, without having to worry about what happens when he finds out. Because he will, you know, if we keep this up. He sees too much."
"But Temari, I love you. You know that," he insisted, his voice coming out louder now, raw with anger, with jealousy, with fear of losing one half of his soul. "I can't just stop. I need you."
"No. You don't need me. I want you to promise me, Kankurou," Temari said firmly, taking a step back when he reached for her. "I'm not doing this any more. Promise me you won't try to touch me any more."
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"They'll bring him back. I know they will," she whispered, sliding her warm palm down his arm to squeeze his hand. He held on to her hand, smaller than his, but strong; he held on tightly, his shattered nerves grateful for this small contact. Half his soul here, but closed off to him... and the other half missing, stolen away, pieces breaking off and crumbling across the desert.
"Kankurou..." she whispered, and the love and concern in her voice warmed him, caused more wetness to blur his vision.
...Maybe she wasn't so closed to him tonight.
"Don't leave me, Temari," he whispered, not looking at her face, not willing to see any rejection that might cross her features. "I can't stand to be alone tonight."
She closed her own eyes then, taking a deep breath. Oh, Kankurou... I shouldn't, but, oh, how I want to...
Thhirteen months it had been since last he had touched her, thirteen months since last she had been touched at all. She still wanted him, had still wanted him all this time, but as much as he had made a promise to her, she had made a promise to herself. It was for Gaara, and for herself, and for Shikamaru that she had ended their immoral relationship. It was for Kankurou, as well; as long as he was obsessed with her, he would never be able to find love, real love - not this twisted, guilty, helpless love that they shared.
And she had been so afraid for him, so terrified when they said he couldn't be saved, and then so grateful when he was. Seeing him sit up in what was supposed to be his deathbed and smile at her so sweetly had just added to her confusion.
I love him... I want him... it's so wrong, so dangerous... I miss him. I miss him.
And she did miss him, terribly. Her body longed for him at night, ached for the feel of his large, nimble hands smoothing over her skin, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. She missed the way he looked at her in the hushed darkness, his bare face dear and worshipful as he gazed down at her. When she was with Shikamaru, she could forget him for a while, could lose herself in witty banter and subtle flirting and the excitement of someone new, even if they hadn't actually reached any point where their friendship could actually be called a relationship.
But now, but now, here was Kankurou, nearly naked under his blankets, just barely saved from death, devastated at the events of the past few days, just as she was. Unbelievably, Gaara of the Sand was defeated, was taken, was gone, and there was nothing they could to but wait. And Kankurou, her brother - and as much as she wanted to deny it to herself, her lover, her love - was here, and in great need of comfort.
"Oh, Kankurou," she sighed, squeezing down on the hand that was nearly crushing hers. "I can't stand it either."
He turned his head to look at her, and they studied each other for a few seconds in the eerie light bathing the room in cool underwater tones. He breathed in deeply, the bandages swathing his chest creaking quietly when his lungs were full. Will she... Hope hammered against his ribs and he loosened his viselike grip on her hand.
"Stay with me tonight?" he asked quietly. She nodded, dark green eyes trained sharp and steady on his face, and his pulse escalated, pumping blood out through his body, endorphins and adrenaline sparking through his veins. That look... that look couldn't be mistaken.
She still loves me.
"But..." she started, pulling her hand away. "We're just sleeping, Kankurou."
"I know," he said solemnly, not smiling, knowing how inappropriate it would be to celebrate with Gaara lost as he was. But, oh god, that look, those words; they had played this game out scores of times, Temari denying him intimacy, her brother honestly accepting her limits... and usually, not an hour would pass before they were sweating, shaking, panting into each other's mouths as Kankurou slid into her body.
"I'll go change," she said, patting his forearm. "I'll be back soon."
She pushed the chair back into place, then pulled the curtains together so that only a sliver of light passed through. Pausing at the door to look back at Kankurou's sturdy, shadowed form, she walked quickly through the halls of their residence, pausing only to inform the medical ninja stationed in a room at the end of the hall that she would be watching her brother that night, and they wouldn't need his services. He smiled at her, grateful that he wouldn't be required to pull an all-nighter, and nodded, and she was away before he could notice the redness on her cheeks.
Tugging her clothes off, slipping into her pajamas, she paused, resting a hand against the wall. She was flushing and her fingers were shaking, warm waves rolling through her body. I can't... I can't let myself feel this way again. I'm not going to meet my lover this time, I'm going to comfort my brother. He needs me to be there tonight. That's all.
Still her nipples were tight, hard as rocks when she pulled her soft cotton shirt down over her torso; her lower belly was tingling with the anticipation she denied she was feeling.
She paused for a moment outside Kankurou's door, taking a deep breath to strengthen her resolve. He's my brother, she thought, but those words had never stopped her before, had never calmed the churning in the pit of her stomach when his strong, solid body was only inches away.
We made a promise, she thought, and that did cool her confused ardor. For me, for him, for Shikamaru. For Gaara.
Gaara...
All the warm anticipation soured in her veins when Gaara's face crossed her mind, and her purpose here was solidified.
I'm here for Kankurou, she thought, not able to fathom how he must be feeling right now. She loved Gaara... but not like her brother did. Nowhere close. I'm not here to satisfy my own twisted longing.
She gritted her teeth, arranged her features.
I have to be strong. For all of us.
She opened the door.
Kankurou's breath stilled in his throat at the sight of his sister standing just inside his doorway, ready for bed, her thick hair floating around her face, dark pajamas making the rest of her melt into the shadows. She walked forward and he moved wordlessly to give her room on the bed.
She slipped under the covers and lay down on her side, facing him. At least this isn't too familiar, she thought. He almost always came to me.
He stared back at her, laying on his back, with his hands laced over his bandaged stomach.
"They'll get him back," she whispered, reaching a hand out to feel his forehead for fever. He was a little warm, but nothing to be alarmed about... just the aftereffects of the poison that had ravaged his body, his immune system fighting its way back to normalcy.
He caught her hand gently in his and turned on his side to face her, pillowing an arm under his head.
"Thank you," he whispered, pressing her fingers to his lips and kissing them.
"You need to get some sleep," Temari said in a quiet voice, carefully pulling her hand away before she thought too much about those lips.
"Okay," he said. And so he closed his eyes, glad he didn't have to be alone tonight, glad that if he woke up shaking his big sister was there, right there.
But of course he couldn't sleep after he'd been sleeping for most of the day. Of course he couldn't sleep, knowing Gaara was lost... and knowing Temari was here, her weight sinking softly into the mattress beside him.
Nor could Temari sleep. Her face went alternately warm and cold as her two brothers drifted through her thoughts... And Kankurou was so close, close enough that she could feel his steady respiration stirring the hair around her face, close enough to smell him: the cool sting of antiseptic, the harsh discord of lingering illness, and underneath it, Kankurou's own dry, hot, masculine scent.
No, he couldn't sleep, but he could pretend to. He could pretend to be sleeping as he casually slung a heavy arm around her waist, tilted his head forward so that their noses were nearly touching, breathing in every time she breathed out, filling his lungs with Temari.
Just as she could pretend to be asleep when she let him do this, not willing to push him away when it was just this, nothing sexual, just human contact. And she could pretend to be asleep when she wrapped her own arm around his waist, rough bandages shocking under her fingertips, flesh underneath hot and solid just like she remembered.
He forced himself to keep his breath steady when he felt her arm circle around him, not sure if she was playing at the same thing as he; but it wasn't cruelty, or trickery that caused him to slowly pull her closer so that their hips were almost touching, so that the soft point of her breast was just a hair's-breadth away from his chest. It was simply the need for comfort, to hold, to be held.
But still... his mouth went dry when her thigh brushed against his, when the tip of her nose grazed his upper lip. The smell of her shampoo was thick in his nose; an herbal, slightly spicy aroma that brought memories of pleasure, and love, sometimes pain, and an excitement that began as confusing and over time became right, became even necessary. He didn't know how he had managed these past months, denied the taste of her lips, the feel of her body.
His cock swelling heavy in his thin linen shorts, his heartbeat pounding in his lips and temples, he smoothly tilted his head down, willing muscles not to shake as he let his mouth rest gently against her upper lip. He paused like that, listening to the wind outside, listening to his swiftly beating heart. And then, ever so slowly, he moved just his smallest finger on her back, flexing it downwards until it hooked under the hem of her shirt, curling it to pull the fabric up, exposing an inch of skin.
Temari couldn't hide the way her breath sped up at the feel of her brother's large, capable hand slowly slipping under the back of her shirt, couldn't hide the barest shiver that passed through her when those slightly overwarm fingers inched smoothly up her spine to flatten between her shoulder blades, pulling the hem of her shirt up to her ribs.
Kankurou heard, he felt, but he didn't say a word, allowing her to keep up the pretense of sleep. If that was what she needed to be alright with this, then he would give it to her, just as he had many times before, when her conscience troubled her too much to let her enjoy his touch openly.
That would come later... it always did.
Kankurou's conscience had never bothered him; one of the only concessions he made, an acknowledgment that their situation was taboo, was that of silence - once the touching began, they never spoke in more than a whisper, never moaned, never cried out. The sounds of their passion were muted hisses, indrawn breaths, skin slapping wetly together.
With one last thought for his brother - more than a hope, nearly a prayer to deities he didn't even believe in - Kankurou cleared his mind of all but that which was stretched out on his bed.
Temari. ...Finally.
With infinite patience, he moved smoothly, pressing his fingers against her supple, muscular back, pulling her against his body. He didn't groan as his cloth-covered erection nestled into the gentle swell of her uncovered belly, only breathed in deeply, his expanding chest pressing against her soft breasts.
Holding her like that, he dipped his head, nuzzling her nose with his, letting their lips brush, close breath mingling moist and hot. He felt like every nerve in his mouth was alive when he took her upper lip between his.
He felt the muscles in her back and thighs tremble, then she pulled her face away.
"Kankurou," she whispered, "Don't."
"Temari..." he breathed, putting all the love and longing he felt into those three syllables. He knew she had to resist, had to say no, to satisfy her conscience. She wouldn't let herself give in until it was unavoidable. He stroked her back gently, leaning his forehead against hers.
Temari kept her eyes closed, her nerves still on the fritz from feeling her brother's lips against hers. She pushed with the arm trapped between their bodies, getting a little more space. She couldn't think with that hot hardness pressing against her stomach, couldn't help but to remember what it looked like, what it tasted like, felt like. Her mind was in turmoil; she had expected this, really, but had forgotten how quickly it got out of control, had forgotten how his simple proximity submerged her senses in desire before his hands even came close to her.
And there was desire, there was no doubt about that; her body tingled everywhere he touched her, and in some places he didn't. And that half-kiss... she had wanted, so badly, to just crush her mouth against his, to grip his thick hair in her fists and suck his tongue into her mouth.
The way he whispered her name brought back so many memories, of when it was them against the world, their mother dead, their father an intolerable tyrant, Gaara a frightening monster, even to them. They would huddle together, whispering, taking comfort in each other, finding shelter in each other's arms... finding fire and desire and satisfaction in silent touches, in the muted violence of their lovemaking. They never left marks; no love bites to claim, no scratches to prove that the other was there, hidden under their clothes. The only proof lay in the fading ache between her legs, the soreness in his nipples and scalp and hips when she was feeling cruel.
The memory of those days made her heart ache now. They were so young, so stupid to think that they could always have each other like that.
So she pulled away, putting space between their lips, putting space between their bodies. Kankurou petted her gently, understanding better than she did that this was just a lull, just a pause before she let herself be pulled under. So he stroked her spine lovingly, adding a light press of fingertips on the small of her back, a soft caress over her tense shoulder blade, a smooth palmstroke over the swell of her hip just above the waistband her pants.
Soon she was breathing deeply, relaxing the arm that she had raised as a wall between them, and he moved in closer. He stroked his hand over her hip, rubbing the outside of her thigh as he pressed his hips forward slowly, letting his persistent erection brush against her stomach again. He felt the subtle tensing of muscles in her lower body, and knew what that signalled. His blood raced when her scent drifted up to his nostrils, heady and rich and musky and female.
"Kankurou, stop..." she whispered, and so he moved his roaming caresses back to her spine, his fingers insistent and soothing, skilfully siphoning away her resistance. It was working; Temari could feel her arousal blooming wet and warm between her thighs, the gentle throb of relaxing muscle, membranes slicking themselves in anticipation. And she felt it then, his excitement leaking though his thin shorts, smearing sticky on her stomach. At that, her muscles clenched involuntarily, inner walls trying to close painfully on nothing.
"Stop," she whispered again, a token resistance, and this time she knew it, knew it was too late. Now she wanted to touch him, wanted to run her fingers over his muscular torso, wanted to pluck at his nipples to make him throw his head back in the pleasure at the overwhelming sensitivity, wanted to peel back his fleshy hood and wet her fingertips with his need. She tightened the hand on his back, digging her fingers into bandages, and with one last, fading surge of guilt, gave in.
The arm between them moved down, forearm bumping his linen-covered tip, and he stiffened, a quiet gasp disturbing the air between their mouths. She opened her eyes to look at his face in the dim, strange light filtering in through the gap in his curtains, and he met her eyes with his own, half-lidded and intense. Shaking with adrenaline, shaking with need, longing, and the utter wrongness of doing this - after they had promised, while Gaara was lost, less than three days after saying goodbye to Shikamaru - she craned her neck forward and kissed her brother.
It started soft; it always had, on nights like this. Affectionate, loving, tongue-tips brushing between slightly parted lips, steady and soft to counterpoint the tremors shaking both of their frames. She could taste the green tea and vegetable soup from the dinner they had shared. Then he was pressing his tongue into her mouth, and she sucked softly on it, prompting a quick indrawing of breath and a half-thrust against her stomach. She sighed, scraping her teeth over that invading muscle, and shifted her body. The hand pressed between them slid lower, twisting, so that she could run a thumb over his stony hardness.
"Temari-- " he breathed, leaning into the touch, his hand moving to her waist, around front, up to her ribs.
"Just tonight, Kankurou," she whispered, and he nodded, closing his eyes.
She kissed him again and pressed him onto his back, then straddled his waist, her weight slightly painful but welcome over his stiff length. She ran rough hands over his torso, frustrated by those bandages. Now that she was going to do this, she wanted to do it all the way; she wanted to touch him, wanted to feel that hot skin under her palms. She found the end of the bandage and he sat up, sliding his hands up her thighs as she unwrapped him. Tangled in thin strips of fabric, she kissed him deeply, pressing her hips down when he squeezed her buttocks, sighing as that movement of his hands tugged at the delicate skin at the join of her legs, parting her gently, causing the seam of her pajama bottoms to press into her.
"Let me get these off," she whispered harshly, shaking off the distraction. He moved his hands back to her thighs as she finished unwinding him, and when she was done, and had thrown the pile of twisted dressing to the side, his hands moved back to her ass, slid up her back, pressed her chest against his as he rotated his hips forward. His heat pressed up against hers, and he wanted to groan out loud when she pressed back, harder, swiveling her hips to rub her warm softness against his shaft.
She pushed his shoulders back and he complied with her silent instruction, laying back against the mattress. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Temari kneeling over him, grinding on him slowly, her face darkened and almost predatory in her lust. Then her hands were on his stomach, spreading over his chest, light and careful over the healing scar under his ribs, but rough everywhere else. Fingertips brushed over his nipples and he bit his lip, then threw his head back as she pinched them. He thrust up against her needily while she plucked at his hardened nubs, and then her hands moved back down his stomach, and he relaxed again.
"I want to see you, Temari," he whispered, his voice thick and shaking with the feel of her wetness finally soaking through completely, slippery and warm on the skin of his shaft. He thrust his hips helplessly, that added slickness bringing him close to the edge as he watched her pull her shirt over her head.
"Oh, Temari," he rasped, his hands tightening on her hips, bringing their movement to a stop. "I'm too close."
"Don't you dare," Temari hissed, narrowing her eyes, and there was that cruelty that he remembered, the cruelty that he loved just as much as her kindness. She stiffened her thighs, lessening the contact between their bodies, and he reached for her, sliding his hands up her stomach, eyes fixed on those pale, firm breasts capped with soft pink nipples. She had grown since last time... it was to be expected, but still, seeing that familiar, beautiful skin bared for him, but so much fuller, so much more lush than he remembered...
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his fingertips caressing the heavy swell underneath, moving up to brush against the bottoms of her nipples. She drew a breath in sharply when he took her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, pulling on them lightly, caressing them until they stood out sharply, dark and fully erect, against the softness of her light pink areola.
"Beautiful," he repeated, taking in her face, those dark green eyes shaded by thick eyelashes, the deep flush running over her cheeks, down her throat, blooming over the lightly freckled tops of her breasts. His eyes moved down to her firm, curved waist, the dip of her navel, her hipbones peeking out over the waistband of her pants, and his hands followed.
He caressed her hips roughly, squeezing, and rubbed down her thighs, then back up, his thumbs brushing the dampness between her thighs, the soft warmth underneath that thin fabric.
"Kankurou..." she whispered airily, canting her hips forward. His heart thrummed loudly in his ears at hearing his name whispered from those lips again, when he had feared he never would again. Obsessed, she had accused him of being, and he was, he was, and there was nothing he could do about it. Temari would always be his first love, would always be the woman he wanted above all others.
"I love you," he whispered, and she leaned down to kiss him, her hands on his cheeks, running down his neck, spreading over his shoulders. And then she moved one hand lightly down his torso, snaking it under his shorts, closing her fist over his shaft. He gasped into her mouth and thrust up, desire flaring hot and painful in his groin and swirling outward through his limbs.
"Oh, Kankurou," she breathed against the corner of his mouth, drunk with the feel of him, aroused past the point of coherence.
He shuddered and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hard, and then they were both tugging at Temari's pants. Once she kicked them away, she pulled his shorts down, and he lifted his hips to help. Heat flared in her face, flared between her legs when his cock sprang free from its confines, long and thick, the tip peeking out from his foreskin. As soon as his shorts were gone, she knelt over his knees, and her hands were on his stomach, rubbing over his thighs, circling his arousal, closing in.
Kankurou... he was so solid, so alive... she paused to study his body in the dim light, watched the way his muscles contracted under slighty feverish skin in the wake of her touch. When they were little, he had tended toward plumpness, but once they started training with Baki, he had worked them mercilessly, and now her brother's large frame was covered in thick muscle and sinew. She ran her fingers over his cleanly defined, rounded abdominal muscles, and then through the soft hair trailing down from his navel; much more than she remembered.
She cupped his heavy balls, sighing at the way they shifted under the soft skin of his sack. He flexed his hips, breathing out harshly, and she wrapped her hand around his shaft again, her own breath coming short when he pulsed in her hand. She watched, engrossed, as she pulled down slowly on the skin of his shaft, and his foreskin peeled back to reveal his dark red, glistening glans. He gasped, and she stroked back up, allowing the hood to roll up, to hide that beautiful crown again. She slid her other finger inside that fleshy aperture and swirled it wetly around his hidden head, spreading his copious pre-ejaculate, knowing how crazy with want that would make him.
"God, Temari..." he whispered roughly, bucking his hips up when she removed her finger and stroked down slowly, his foreskin caressing his swollen crown as it rolled down to reveal his tip again. She groaned softly, voicelessly, at feeling her own excitement spread through the pit of her stomach, trickling down to add to the burning need between her thighs.
"I need you," he panted, thrusting into her hand, reaching for her. She met his eyes and crawled over him, leaning forward to kiss him, pressing her hips down, bringing her aching heat into contact with his. He gripped her hips and ground against her, panting into her mouth, his shaft sliding against her wetness. She shuddered and pressed down harder, feverishly rubbing her fleshy bud against the ridge of his leaking glans.
"Kankurou-- " she gasped, short of breath, feeling waves of weakness radiate out from her center from that small bundle of nerves that was beginning to throb rhythmically. He surprised her by squeezing hard on her hips, lifting them, and pressing his tip against her slick opening.
He sucked breath in between clenched teeth when he thrust up into her, shuddering at the feel of taut muscles contracting around him, the feel of her overwhelming heat. His whole being shook at the feel of finally, finally being inside her again, inside his beautiful sister... It had been so long, and she was so tight around him he wanted to scream.
"Oh, Temari," he breathed harshly when she ground her hips against his. "This... this is... ahhh..."
"So good... " she finished for him, loving the feel of his thickness gliding inside her, his pubic bone kissing hers every time she slid down his length. So perfect to have his hands on her, so delicious to have him inside her again... where he belonged. She knew it now, she loved him, she wanted him, she had tried to forget him, but this, this couldn't be forgotten... This feeling of perfection, this feeling of rightness was overwhelming.
"Oh, Kankurou," she whispered, kissing him softly before pushing herself up. Kneeling upright over him, she rode him, felt him stroke fluidly inside her, watched his face and body as he made love to her. And then his hands were on her breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing soft pants from her lips. Her whole body flushing with pleasure, she reached for his nipples again, pinching them gently just to see him squirm. And squirm he did, bucking up into her roughly, his mouth contorting with unvoiced cries of pleasure. She tilted her hips forward and circled them, rubbing her swollen bud over his fleshy pubic mound, feeling the pulsing heat that signalled she was close to her precipice. She lowered darkened eyes to his, ground down against him once more, and then slowed almost to a stop, holding him deep within her body, rocking steadily against him. His thick, rigid length throbbed inside her, and his quick, shallow pants echoed loud in her ears.
"Temari... " he mouthed, and a shudder ran through her, and then she was coming, and it ripped through her body in waves, whipping her head back, cracking her jaw wide open. Now she was moving again, slamming her hips down onto his as she shattered above him, swinging her head to the side, gasping frantically for air. Only habit kept him from groaning aloud when as he felt her contracting muscles clamp down on his length.
"Oh, fuck," he gasped, feeling his own end coming. Not yet, not yet, not so soon... but it was unavoidable. He grabbed her by the arms and flipped them over, hooking her knees over his elbows, putting his hands to either side of her shoulders so that her legs were bent back, so that her body was almost bent double. He pressed his mouth against the side of her face and rammed into her, his voice an unsteady murmur in her ear as he approached his climax.
"I love you... you feel so good, so perfect-- God-- don't leave me again, stay with me... Ahh--- I love you, I love you, oh, oh yes, oh God I'm there, Temari-- "
Temari clutched at his back, her whole body shaking with the force of his thrusts. And she loved it, loved the way he filled her so completely, loved the way he thrust into her so hard, God, it was so perfect...
"Oh, Kankurou, I love you-- " she whispered, and had to bite back a scream as he drilled into her harder than ever, his breath uneven and shaking in her ear, all words lost, all rhythm gone. He kissed her hard, teeth and lips clashing, and groaned softly into her mouth as he felt a steady tingle in his balls, a tightening in his stomach, and then, Oh, Temari, he was falling, falling into her, seed gushing out hot inside her body, breath coming hard and fast through his nose. He kept kissing her all the way through to the end, wishing that could be the last thing she said tonight, wanting to believe it for a little while longer.
After a minute or so, when their breath was almost normal and the kiss had slowed to a sweet, gentle caress of lips and tongues, he thought that maybe she meant it after all.
She was still holding him tightly against her body when normally, on nights like these, she would be climbing out of bed by now, hastily pulling on her clothes. She was still kissing him back, still here, and he picked up his arms one by one to let her lower her legs. He propped himself up on his elbows and broke their kiss to pull his head back and look at her.
And she was something to look at... her sandy hair spread out over the sheets, her face flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her eyes, oh, her eyes were still focused on him, not darting away, not closing in guilt.
She stared up at her brother, her sweet, dear brother, taking in his face, his honest, open love for her obvious in the brightness of his eyes. The thought of leaving him again tore at her heart. No, she couldn't stand to make him promise to her again. She had seen the pain he had been in - when she let herself notice - and she couldn't put him through that again.
So. Come what may, I love him. Nothing else makes sense to me anymore.
"Temari?" he asked quietly, haltingly, as if unsure whether or not it was okay to speak now.
"I told you I'd stay tonight, Kankurou," she answered. He nodded slowly, still looking at her with a touch of confusion coloring his gaze.
"I don't want to leave you again," she continued, drawing a deep breath. He smiled slightly, the corners of his lips quirking up, hoping she meant what he thought she meant.
"I'm sorry, Kankurou. I'm sorry I left you. I love you," she whispered, knowing that there would be problems, knowing that it would still be secret, that she would still be bothered by guilt, by questions... but knowing that the rightness she felt when she was with him would always outweigh that.
"I love you so much... " he whispered back, pulling her close, holding her so tightly she almost couldn't breathe. And she wrapped her arms around his wide back again, and held him just as closely. After a long moment, they separated, rolling onto their sides to watch each other. Sadness seemed to settle over them as thoughts of Gaara resurfaced, now that their passion had run its course.
But it was a sadness they shared, a sadness that was made almost bearable now by the simple fact that they were together.
"They'll bring him back," she said, knowing deep in her heart that it was true.
"I know," he said, remembering the serious look on Naruto's face, the confidence in his voice. For the first time, he really believed it.
Title: Remember
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kankurou/Temari, implied Kankurou/Gaara, hinted Gaara/Naruto, hinted Temari/Shikamaru
Warnings: Incest, Het, Implied Yaoi, Angst, Graphic Sex, a little foreskin play
Spoiler Warning: Takes place after Episode 8 of Shippuuden
Summary: Of course he couldn't sleep, knowing Gaara was lost... and knowing Temari was here, her weight sinking softly into the mattress beside him.
for julis, who wondered if I'd ever write about Kankurou ^_^
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Remember
Temari walked down the hall of her family's residence, her arms laden with a tray of food. The smells of green tea and vegetable soup drifted up from under the cloth, and her stomach growled; she had been on patrol all day, with only a brief stop for lunch six or seven hours ago, and she was famished. Wanting to see her brother before he fell asleep again for the night, she had taken only a quick shower to wash off the grime and grit of the desert before gathering a light meal to share with him.
"Kankurou?" she asked, standing outside his bedroom.
"I'm awake," she heard, and slid the door open with her foot, careful not to spill any of the steaming liquid balanced carefully on the small tray. She walked into his room, carefully stepping toward his bed. She nodded at the medical ninja who looked a question her way, and he walked out quietly, leaving her alone with her brother in his large, dimly lit room. The only light came from a wide gap in his curtains, and the daylight was almost over. She put the tray down on the table beside his bed and grabbed the chair from his desk, observing him as she did so. They had moved him in here, considering him recovered enough to sleep in his own bed, as long as he had someone with him to keep watch over him.
He smiled sadly at her, grateful for familiar company. She looked tired, he thought, but beautiful, her thick blonde hair damp around her face, wearing a dark belted robe. Today had been a long, lonely day, nothing to do but listen to the med-nin ramble on about everything from his family to the weather to the price of grain in the Wind Country, touching occasionally on Gaara's disappearance until the look on Kankurou's face made him change the subject. The puppet-user knew that the Kazekage's kidnapping was on everyone's mind... but he didn't want to be reminded of it every half-hour.
He already thought about it enough, as it was, his chest aching every time Gaara's name passed through his mind.
Sighing, he sat up and reached for his soup, balancing it on his fingertips as he sipped at the broth. Temari watched him do this with a grin... on anything other than the most formal of occasions, Kankurou had always eaten soup this way, refusing to use the spoon until nothing was left of the juice.
They ate and drank in silence, Kankurou slowly, thoughtfully; his sister quickly, efficiently, feeling much better now, less shaky, now that she had food going into her stomach.
...But she was still shaking. Her thoughts and emotions had been in utter turmoil these past two days. Coming home after a nerve-wrenching journey to find one brother gone, the other dying, had shaken her to her core.
Kankurou, Kankurou... they hadn't been together for more than a year, hadn't touched each other, hadn't kissed. He had promised, and he had held up his promise, to the letter if not the spirit... but that hadn't stopped him from asking her to change her mind at first. It hadn't stopped his hints later, when asking outright got him ignored for days at a time. And it hadn't stopped the guilt she felt at seeing his pain, when he stopped doing even that.
She had been trying to ignore him, to stay out of his way, for the past few months, wanting to let him get over the hurt. But now, she couldn't stay away. He had almost died, and she couldn't stand it. Lover or not, hurt or not, he was still her brother, had once been her best friend, maybe still was. She wasn't going to ignore him anymore.
He sighed and placed his empty bowl and cup back on the tray, then lay on his back and rested his hands on his stomach. They sat in silence for a long while, lost in their own thoughts as the sun went down, and the room was incrementally plunged into a troubled half-darkness. The moon was just two days past full, still tinted green, and that bright, eerie moonlight streamed in through his window, painting everything in a strange and sickly hue. Kankurou knew that the color of the moon had a rational explanation; there must be a big sandstorm close by - those always did strange things to the moon - but he chose to see it as an omen. The color of the light reminded him of Gaara's eyes... as long as that green moon held, Gaara must still be alive, somewhere.
He wished he could truly believe that.
"Are you feeling better?" Temari asked, putting her own cup, empty and long-forgotten in her hand, on the tray.
"Yes," he said quietly, glancing at her. Her face was drawn, tired, troubled, and it made him hurt even more to see her like that. So he smiled wide, closing one eye.
"Maybe Sakura isn't useless after all," he joked, referring to a long-standing in-joke between them about the pink-haired kunoichi. No, she wasn't useless, though it had seemed that way at first. A lot of things can change in three years, he thought. She let out a short, harsh laugh, and he felt his heart lighten.
"Do you need your bandages changed, or anything?" his sister asked, a small smirk still playing around the corners of her mouth. It felt good to laugh, even if she knew she was just whistling in the dark; it felt good to laugh with Kankurou again.
"They took care of that about an hour ago. I don't really need them any more, anyway... Sakura really is very good. My wound is almost completely healed."
"Good," Temari said, with a nod of her head, loose, drying hair brushing against her cheeks, beginning to curl unevenly.
"They gave me a bath, too. It's just too bad we don't have cute med-nins like Konoha does... "
At that, she snorted. Kankurou had never expressed interest in women like the Haruna girl... hearing him call her 'cute' was unexpected. They sat without speaking for a while longer, the quiet less heavy this time, watching those strangely tinted clouds skim over the sky. After counting fifteen clouds, one for every year of Gaara's life, he could no longer keep his fears hidden behind this softly smiling mask. He hesitantly broke the silence.
"Do you remember..."
Temari's eyes tightened, knowing what these words always led up to, hating the fact that this new, easy comraderie was being threatened. Do you remember the first time we kissed? Kankurou would ask, or Do you remember that time in Baki's office? Trying to excite her, trying to make her feel guilty, trying to change her mind.
"Do you remember when we were really little... " her brother began quietly, and Temari's eyes widened in surprise. That wasn't at all what she expected.
"We used to hide from Father in the cupboard," he continued, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you remember the time Gaara found us?"
Temari did remember - she smiled slowly at the recollection. They were sitting quietly in the dark, cramped cupboard in their kitchen, when suddenly, they were blinded as the heavy doors were pulled open. Gaara stared at them, shocked surprise making him look so cute, those big, dark-ringed aqua eyes confused. He had lost his teddy bear that day, and Kankurou and Temari were enlisted to help him in his search.
This was two years or so before they first discovered what their bodies could do together, how delightfully sinful, how obscenely right it felt to touch, to kiss, to give pleasure to your own blood.
"Gaara... " Kankurou sighed, closing his eyes as tears made silvery tracks down his temples. Gaara was gone, gone, gone... he hadn't been able to save him, had almost died in addition to his failure. And the chance to save him was taken from Temari, as well.
Those Konoha shinobi... he was utterly conflicted in his feelings toward them. They saved his life when everyone else thought there was no chance, they were going after Gaara and his captors... and they were slowly stealing away the two people he loved. He knew why Temari had stopped letting him touch her, over a year ago, and he knew why a few months ago Gaara had stopped slipping into his bedroom late at night. He could count the months as well as anyone else; he knew when Naruto was due to return.
He had been the one to show his brother how to kiss, how to touch, how to fuck... but someone else had taught Gaara how to love. He knew Gaara loved that blond ninja fiercely... hopelessly, he had thought; that is, until he saw the look on Naruto's face when he said Gaara's name, so similar to the one his beautiful brother wore when speaking of Naruto. And he was glad that they had made that connection, glad that Gaara now had a heart in that baby-smooth, nearly unscarred chest, a soul in those striking green eyes.
He wanted that heart, that soul, to belong to him.
He knew that it never would.
He felt Temari's hand come to rest gently on his arm, the kunoichi's lightly calloused palm squeezing softly, and he opened his eyes. His sister was watching him with stark pain in her eyes, and he wanted more than anything to grab her, to hold her, to kiss that pain away.
He couldn't. He had made a promise to Temari... and every time she was close, he regretted it.
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"I can't do this anymore," Temari said quietly into the night, gazing out from her balcony, looking over the domed buildings of Sunagakure. Dry sheet lightning flashed across the sky to the east, followed a few seconds later by a long, low rumble of thunder.
"What?" Kankurou asked, uncomprehending, shock chilling his blood. He grasped the railing, hardly able to feel his hands, hoping, praying she didn't mean what he thought she meant.
"I want a normal life, Kankurou. I don't want to feel guilty all the time. I want to have a lover that doesn't have to be a secret. I don't want to fear that, someday, someone will catch us... "
His heart thudding painfully in his chest, he stared at her, pleading silently, No, don't leave me, my sister, I need you...
"And now, more than ever, we can't be found out. We have Gaara to think of, too," she said firmly as she turned to face him. Another jag of lightning lit up the darkness, illuminating for a split second her fierce and hawklike gaze.
Gaara... Their brother was well on his way to becoming Kazekage, and if their secret were to come to light, it might well mean the end of his chances. Kankurou swallowed hard, that tiny sound lost in the deep basso roll of thunder.
"I can't tell you to stop what you're doing with him... I think you should, but that's his decision, and yours. I just know I can't do this with you anymore."
"There's someone else, isn't there?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the rising wind, the soft susurrations of airborne sand rasping against the sides of buildings. It's him, I knew it, it's him.
"No... Maybe... I don't know," the sandy-haired kunoichi said. Then she stood straighter and said, "There's a chance. And I want to be able to take it, without having to worry about what happens when he finds out. Because he will, you know, if we keep this up. He sees too much."
"But Temari, I love you. You know that," he insisted, his voice coming out louder now, raw with anger, with jealousy, with fear of losing one half of his soul. "I can't just stop. I need you."
"No. You don't need me. I want you to promise me, Kankurou," Temari said firmly, taking a step back when he reached for her. "I'm not doing this any more. Promise me you won't try to touch me any more."
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"They'll bring him back. I know they will," she whispered, sliding her warm palm down his arm to squeeze his hand. He held on to her hand, smaller than his, but strong; he held on tightly, his shattered nerves grateful for this small contact. Half his soul here, but closed off to him... and the other half missing, stolen away, pieces breaking off and crumbling across the desert.
"Kankurou..." she whispered, and the love and concern in her voice warmed him, caused more wetness to blur his vision.
...Maybe she wasn't so closed to him tonight.
"Don't leave me, Temari," he whispered, not looking at her face, not willing to see any rejection that might cross her features. "I can't stand to be alone tonight."
She closed her own eyes then, taking a deep breath. Oh, Kankurou... I shouldn't, but, oh, how I want to...
Thhirteen months it had been since last he had touched her, thirteen months since last she had been touched at all. She still wanted him, had still wanted him all this time, but as much as he had made a promise to her, she had made a promise to herself. It was for Gaara, and for herself, and for Shikamaru that she had ended their immoral relationship. It was for Kankurou, as well; as long as he was obsessed with her, he would never be able to find love, real love - not this twisted, guilty, helpless love that they shared.
And she had been so afraid for him, so terrified when they said he couldn't be saved, and then so grateful when he was. Seeing him sit up in what was supposed to be his deathbed and smile at her so sweetly had just added to her confusion.
I love him... I want him... it's so wrong, so dangerous... I miss him. I miss him.
And she did miss him, terribly. Her body longed for him at night, ached for the feel of his large, nimble hands smoothing over her skin, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. She missed the way he looked at her in the hushed darkness, his bare face dear and worshipful as he gazed down at her. When she was with Shikamaru, she could forget him for a while, could lose herself in witty banter and subtle flirting and the excitement of someone new, even if they hadn't actually reached any point where their friendship could actually be called a relationship.
But now, but now, here was Kankurou, nearly naked under his blankets, just barely saved from death, devastated at the events of the past few days, just as she was. Unbelievably, Gaara of the Sand was defeated, was taken, was gone, and there was nothing they could to but wait. And Kankurou, her brother - and as much as she wanted to deny it to herself, her lover, her love - was here, and in great need of comfort.
"Oh, Kankurou," she sighed, squeezing down on the hand that was nearly crushing hers. "I can't stand it either."
He turned his head to look at her, and they studied each other for a few seconds in the eerie light bathing the room in cool underwater tones. He breathed in deeply, the bandages swathing his chest creaking quietly when his lungs were full. Will she... Hope hammered against his ribs and he loosened his viselike grip on her hand.
"Stay with me tonight?" he asked quietly. She nodded, dark green eyes trained sharp and steady on his face, and his pulse escalated, pumping blood out through his body, endorphins and adrenaline sparking through his veins. That look... that look couldn't be mistaken.
She still loves me.
"But..." she started, pulling her hand away. "We're just sleeping, Kankurou."
"I know," he said solemnly, not smiling, knowing how inappropriate it would be to celebrate with Gaara lost as he was. But, oh god, that look, those words; they had played this game out scores of times, Temari denying him intimacy, her brother honestly accepting her limits... and usually, not an hour would pass before they were sweating, shaking, panting into each other's mouths as Kankurou slid into her body.
"I'll go change," she said, patting his forearm. "I'll be back soon."
She pushed the chair back into place, then pulled the curtains together so that only a sliver of light passed through. Pausing at the door to look back at Kankurou's sturdy, shadowed form, she walked quickly through the halls of their residence, pausing only to inform the medical ninja stationed in a room at the end of the hall that she would be watching her brother that night, and they wouldn't need his services. He smiled at her, grateful that he wouldn't be required to pull an all-nighter, and nodded, and she was away before he could notice the redness on her cheeks.
Tugging her clothes off, slipping into her pajamas, she paused, resting a hand against the wall. She was flushing and her fingers were shaking, warm waves rolling through her body. I can't... I can't let myself feel this way again. I'm not going to meet my lover this time, I'm going to comfort my brother. He needs me to be there tonight. That's all.
Still her nipples were tight, hard as rocks when she pulled her soft cotton shirt down over her torso; her lower belly was tingling with the anticipation she denied she was feeling.
She paused for a moment outside Kankurou's door, taking a deep breath to strengthen her resolve. He's my brother, she thought, but those words had never stopped her before, had never calmed the churning in the pit of her stomach when his strong, solid body was only inches away.
We made a promise, she thought, and that did cool her confused ardor. For me, for him, for Shikamaru. For Gaara.
Gaara...
All the warm anticipation soured in her veins when Gaara's face crossed her mind, and her purpose here was solidified.
I'm here for Kankurou, she thought, not able to fathom how he must be feeling right now. She loved Gaara... but not like her brother did. Nowhere close. I'm not here to satisfy my own twisted longing.
She gritted her teeth, arranged her features.
I have to be strong. For all of us.
She opened the door.
Kankurou's breath stilled in his throat at the sight of his sister standing just inside his doorway, ready for bed, her thick hair floating around her face, dark pajamas making the rest of her melt into the shadows. She walked forward and he moved wordlessly to give her room on the bed.
She slipped under the covers and lay down on her side, facing him. At least this isn't too familiar, she thought. He almost always came to me.
He stared back at her, laying on his back, with his hands laced over his bandaged stomach.
"They'll get him back," she whispered, reaching a hand out to feel his forehead for fever. He was a little warm, but nothing to be alarmed about... just the aftereffects of the poison that had ravaged his body, his immune system fighting its way back to normalcy.
He caught her hand gently in his and turned on his side to face her, pillowing an arm under his head.
"Thank you," he whispered, pressing her fingers to his lips and kissing them.
"You need to get some sleep," Temari said in a quiet voice, carefully pulling her hand away before she thought too much about those lips.
"Okay," he said. And so he closed his eyes, glad he didn't have to be alone tonight, glad that if he woke up shaking his big sister was there, right there.
But of course he couldn't sleep after he'd been sleeping for most of the day. Of course he couldn't sleep, knowing Gaara was lost... and knowing Temari was here, her weight sinking softly into the mattress beside him.
Nor could Temari sleep. Her face went alternately warm and cold as her two brothers drifted through her thoughts... And Kankurou was so close, close enough that she could feel his steady respiration stirring the hair around her face, close enough to smell him: the cool sting of antiseptic, the harsh discord of lingering illness, and underneath it, Kankurou's own dry, hot, masculine scent.
No, he couldn't sleep, but he could pretend to. He could pretend to be sleeping as he casually slung a heavy arm around her waist, tilted his head forward so that their noses were nearly touching, breathing in every time she breathed out, filling his lungs with Temari.
Just as she could pretend to be asleep when she let him do this, not willing to push him away when it was just this, nothing sexual, just human contact. And she could pretend to be asleep when she wrapped her own arm around his waist, rough bandages shocking under her fingertips, flesh underneath hot and solid just like she remembered.
He forced himself to keep his breath steady when he felt her arm circle around him, not sure if she was playing at the same thing as he; but it wasn't cruelty, or trickery that caused him to slowly pull her closer so that their hips were almost touching, so that the soft point of her breast was just a hair's-breadth away from his chest. It was simply the need for comfort, to hold, to be held.
But still... his mouth went dry when her thigh brushed against his, when the tip of her nose grazed his upper lip. The smell of her shampoo was thick in his nose; an herbal, slightly spicy aroma that brought memories of pleasure, and love, sometimes pain, and an excitement that began as confusing and over time became right, became even necessary. He didn't know how he had managed these past months, denied the taste of her lips, the feel of her body.
His cock swelling heavy in his thin linen shorts, his heartbeat pounding in his lips and temples, he smoothly tilted his head down, willing muscles not to shake as he let his mouth rest gently against her upper lip. He paused like that, listening to the wind outside, listening to his swiftly beating heart. And then, ever so slowly, he moved just his smallest finger on her back, flexing it downwards until it hooked under the hem of her shirt, curling it to pull the fabric up, exposing an inch of skin.
Temari couldn't hide the way her breath sped up at the feel of her brother's large, capable hand slowly slipping under the back of her shirt, couldn't hide the barest shiver that passed through her when those slightly overwarm fingers inched smoothly up her spine to flatten between her shoulder blades, pulling the hem of her shirt up to her ribs.
Kankurou heard, he felt, but he didn't say a word, allowing her to keep up the pretense of sleep. If that was what she needed to be alright with this, then he would give it to her, just as he had many times before, when her conscience troubled her too much to let her enjoy his touch openly.
That would come later... it always did.
Kankurou's conscience had never bothered him; one of the only concessions he made, an acknowledgment that their situation was taboo, was that of silence - once the touching began, they never spoke in more than a whisper, never moaned, never cried out. The sounds of their passion were muted hisses, indrawn breaths, skin slapping wetly together.
With one last thought for his brother - more than a hope, nearly a prayer to deities he didn't even believe in - Kankurou cleared his mind of all but that which was stretched out on his bed.
Temari. ...Finally.
With infinite patience, he moved smoothly, pressing his fingers against her supple, muscular back, pulling her against his body. He didn't groan as his cloth-covered erection nestled into the gentle swell of her uncovered belly, only breathed in deeply, his expanding chest pressing against her soft breasts.
Holding her like that, he dipped his head, nuzzling her nose with his, letting their lips brush, close breath mingling moist and hot. He felt like every nerve in his mouth was alive when he took her upper lip between his.
He felt the muscles in her back and thighs tremble, then she pulled her face away.
"Kankurou," she whispered, "Don't."
"Temari..." he breathed, putting all the love and longing he felt into those three syllables. He knew she had to resist, had to say no, to satisfy her conscience. She wouldn't let herself give in until it was unavoidable. He stroked her back gently, leaning his forehead against hers.
Temari kept her eyes closed, her nerves still on the fritz from feeling her brother's lips against hers. She pushed with the arm trapped between their bodies, getting a little more space. She couldn't think with that hot hardness pressing against her stomach, couldn't help but to remember what it looked like, what it tasted like, felt like. Her mind was in turmoil; she had expected this, really, but had forgotten how quickly it got out of control, had forgotten how his simple proximity submerged her senses in desire before his hands even came close to her.
And there was desire, there was no doubt about that; her body tingled everywhere he touched her, and in some places he didn't. And that half-kiss... she had wanted, so badly, to just crush her mouth against his, to grip his thick hair in her fists and suck his tongue into her mouth.
The way he whispered her name brought back so many memories, of when it was them against the world, their mother dead, their father an intolerable tyrant, Gaara a frightening monster, even to them. They would huddle together, whispering, taking comfort in each other, finding shelter in each other's arms... finding fire and desire and satisfaction in silent touches, in the muted violence of their lovemaking. They never left marks; no love bites to claim, no scratches to prove that the other was there, hidden under their clothes. The only proof lay in the fading ache between her legs, the soreness in his nipples and scalp and hips when she was feeling cruel.
The memory of those days made her heart ache now. They were so young, so stupid to think that they could always have each other like that.
So she pulled away, putting space between their lips, putting space between their bodies. Kankurou petted her gently, understanding better than she did that this was just a lull, just a pause before she let herself be pulled under. So he stroked her spine lovingly, adding a light press of fingertips on the small of her back, a soft caress over her tense shoulder blade, a smooth palmstroke over the swell of her hip just above the waistband her pants.
Soon she was breathing deeply, relaxing the arm that she had raised as a wall between them, and he moved in closer. He stroked his hand over her hip, rubbing the outside of her thigh as he pressed his hips forward slowly, letting his persistent erection brush against her stomach again. He felt the subtle tensing of muscles in her lower body, and knew what that signalled. His blood raced when her scent drifted up to his nostrils, heady and rich and musky and female.
"Kankurou, stop..." she whispered, and so he moved his roaming caresses back to her spine, his fingers insistent and soothing, skilfully siphoning away her resistance. It was working; Temari could feel her arousal blooming wet and warm between her thighs, the gentle throb of relaxing muscle, membranes slicking themselves in anticipation. And she felt it then, his excitement leaking though his thin shorts, smearing sticky on her stomach. At that, her muscles clenched involuntarily, inner walls trying to close painfully on nothing.
"Stop," she whispered again, a token resistance, and this time she knew it, knew it was too late. Now she wanted to touch him, wanted to run her fingers over his muscular torso, wanted to pluck at his nipples to make him throw his head back in the pleasure at the overwhelming sensitivity, wanted to peel back his fleshy hood and wet her fingertips with his need. She tightened the hand on his back, digging her fingers into bandages, and with one last, fading surge of guilt, gave in.
The arm between them moved down, forearm bumping his linen-covered tip, and he stiffened, a quiet gasp disturbing the air between their mouths. She opened her eyes to look at his face in the dim, strange light filtering in through the gap in his curtains, and he met her eyes with his own, half-lidded and intense. Shaking with adrenaline, shaking with need, longing, and the utter wrongness of doing this - after they had promised, while Gaara was lost, less than three days after saying goodbye to Shikamaru - she craned her neck forward and kissed her brother.
It started soft; it always had, on nights like this. Affectionate, loving, tongue-tips brushing between slightly parted lips, steady and soft to counterpoint the tremors shaking both of their frames. She could taste the green tea and vegetable soup from the dinner they had shared. Then he was pressing his tongue into her mouth, and she sucked softly on it, prompting a quick indrawing of breath and a half-thrust against her stomach. She sighed, scraping her teeth over that invading muscle, and shifted her body. The hand pressed between them slid lower, twisting, so that she could run a thumb over his stony hardness.
"Temari-- " he breathed, leaning into the touch, his hand moving to her waist, around front, up to her ribs.
"Just tonight, Kankurou," she whispered, and he nodded, closing his eyes.
She kissed him again and pressed him onto his back, then straddled his waist, her weight slightly painful but welcome over his stiff length. She ran rough hands over his torso, frustrated by those bandages. Now that she was going to do this, she wanted to do it all the way; she wanted to touch him, wanted to feel that hot skin under her palms. She found the end of the bandage and he sat up, sliding his hands up her thighs as she unwrapped him. Tangled in thin strips of fabric, she kissed him deeply, pressing her hips down when he squeezed her buttocks, sighing as that movement of his hands tugged at the delicate skin at the join of her legs, parting her gently, causing the seam of her pajama bottoms to press into her.
"Let me get these off," she whispered harshly, shaking off the distraction. He moved his hands back to her thighs as she finished unwinding him, and when she was done, and had thrown the pile of twisted dressing to the side, his hands moved back to her ass, slid up her back, pressed her chest against his as he rotated his hips forward. His heat pressed up against hers, and he wanted to groan out loud when she pressed back, harder, swiveling her hips to rub her warm softness against his shaft.
She pushed his shoulders back and he complied with her silent instruction, laying back against the mattress. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Temari kneeling over him, grinding on him slowly, her face darkened and almost predatory in her lust. Then her hands were on his stomach, spreading over his chest, light and careful over the healing scar under his ribs, but rough everywhere else. Fingertips brushed over his nipples and he bit his lip, then threw his head back as she pinched them. He thrust up against her needily while she plucked at his hardened nubs, and then her hands moved back down his stomach, and he relaxed again.
"I want to see you, Temari," he whispered, his voice thick and shaking with the feel of her wetness finally soaking through completely, slippery and warm on the skin of his shaft. He thrust his hips helplessly, that added slickness bringing him close to the edge as he watched her pull her shirt over her head.
"Oh, Temari," he rasped, his hands tightening on her hips, bringing their movement to a stop. "I'm too close."
"Don't you dare," Temari hissed, narrowing her eyes, and there was that cruelty that he remembered, the cruelty that he loved just as much as her kindness. She stiffened her thighs, lessening the contact between their bodies, and he reached for her, sliding his hands up her stomach, eyes fixed on those pale, firm breasts capped with soft pink nipples. She had grown since last time... it was to be expected, but still, seeing that familiar, beautiful skin bared for him, but so much fuller, so much more lush than he remembered...
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his fingertips caressing the heavy swell underneath, moving up to brush against the bottoms of her nipples. She drew a breath in sharply when he took her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, pulling on them lightly, caressing them until they stood out sharply, dark and fully erect, against the softness of her light pink areola.
"Beautiful," he repeated, taking in her face, those dark green eyes shaded by thick eyelashes, the deep flush running over her cheeks, down her throat, blooming over the lightly freckled tops of her breasts. His eyes moved down to her firm, curved waist, the dip of her navel, her hipbones peeking out over the waistband of her pants, and his hands followed.
He caressed her hips roughly, squeezing, and rubbed down her thighs, then back up, his thumbs brushing the dampness between her thighs, the soft warmth underneath that thin fabric.
"Kankurou..." she whispered airily, canting her hips forward. His heart thrummed loudly in his ears at hearing his name whispered from those lips again, when he had feared he never would again. Obsessed, she had accused him of being, and he was, he was, and there was nothing he could do about it. Temari would always be his first love, would always be the woman he wanted above all others.
"I love you," he whispered, and she leaned down to kiss him, her hands on his cheeks, running down his neck, spreading over his shoulders. And then she moved one hand lightly down his torso, snaking it under his shorts, closing her fist over his shaft. He gasped into her mouth and thrust up, desire flaring hot and painful in his groin and swirling outward through his limbs.
"Oh, Kankurou," she breathed against the corner of his mouth, drunk with the feel of him, aroused past the point of coherence.
He shuddered and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hard, and then they were both tugging at Temari's pants. Once she kicked them away, she pulled his shorts down, and he lifted his hips to help. Heat flared in her face, flared between her legs when his cock sprang free from its confines, long and thick, the tip peeking out from his foreskin. As soon as his shorts were gone, she knelt over his knees, and her hands were on his stomach, rubbing over his thighs, circling his arousal, closing in.
Kankurou... he was so solid, so alive... she paused to study his body in the dim light, watched the way his muscles contracted under slighty feverish skin in the wake of her touch. When they were little, he had tended toward plumpness, but once they started training with Baki, he had worked them mercilessly, and now her brother's large frame was covered in thick muscle and sinew. She ran her fingers over his cleanly defined, rounded abdominal muscles, and then through the soft hair trailing down from his navel; much more than she remembered.
She cupped his heavy balls, sighing at the way they shifted under the soft skin of his sack. He flexed his hips, breathing out harshly, and she wrapped her hand around his shaft again, her own breath coming short when he pulsed in her hand. She watched, engrossed, as she pulled down slowly on the skin of his shaft, and his foreskin peeled back to reveal his dark red, glistening glans. He gasped, and she stroked back up, allowing the hood to roll up, to hide that beautiful crown again. She slid her other finger inside that fleshy aperture and swirled it wetly around his hidden head, spreading his copious pre-ejaculate, knowing how crazy with want that would make him.
"God, Temari..." he whispered roughly, bucking his hips up when she removed her finger and stroked down slowly, his foreskin caressing his swollen crown as it rolled down to reveal his tip again. She groaned softly, voicelessly, at feeling her own excitement spread through the pit of her stomach, trickling down to add to the burning need between her thighs.
"I need you," he panted, thrusting into her hand, reaching for her. She met his eyes and crawled over him, leaning forward to kiss him, pressing her hips down, bringing her aching heat into contact with his. He gripped her hips and ground against her, panting into her mouth, his shaft sliding against her wetness. She shuddered and pressed down harder, feverishly rubbing her fleshy bud against the ridge of his leaking glans.
"Kankurou-- " she gasped, short of breath, feeling waves of weakness radiate out from her center from that small bundle of nerves that was beginning to throb rhythmically. He surprised her by squeezing hard on her hips, lifting them, and pressing his tip against her slick opening.
He sucked breath in between clenched teeth when he thrust up into her, shuddering at the feel of taut muscles contracting around him, the feel of her overwhelming heat. His whole being shook at the feel of finally, finally being inside her again, inside his beautiful sister... It had been so long, and she was so tight around him he wanted to scream.
"Oh, Temari," he breathed harshly when she ground her hips against his. "This... this is... ahhh..."
"So good... " she finished for him, loving the feel of his thickness gliding inside her, his pubic bone kissing hers every time she slid down his length. So perfect to have his hands on her, so delicious to have him inside her again... where he belonged. She knew it now, she loved him, she wanted him, she had tried to forget him, but this, this couldn't be forgotten... This feeling of perfection, this feeling of rightness was overwhelming.
"Oh, Kankurou," she whispered, kissing him softly before pushing herself up. Kneeling upright over him, she rode him, felt him stroke fluidly inside her, watched his face and body as he made love to her. And then his hands were on her breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing soft pants from her lips. Her whole body flushing with pleasure, she reached for his nipples again, pinching them gently just to see him squirm. And squirm he did, bucking up into her roughly, his mouth contorting with unvoiced cries of pleasure. She tilted her hips forward and circled them, rubbing her swollen bud over his fleshy pubic mound, feeling the pulsing heat that signalled she was close to her precipice. She lowered darkened eyes to his, ground down against him once more, and then slowed almost to a stop, holding him deep within her body, rocking steadily against him. His thick, rigid length throbbed inside her, and his quick, shallow pants echoed loud in her ears.
"Temari... " he mouthed, and a shudder ran through her, and then she was coming, and it ripped through her body in waves, whipping her head back, cracking her jaw wide open. Now she was moving again, slamming her hips down onto his as she shattered above him, swinging her head to the side, gasping frantically for air. Only habit kept him from groaning aloud when as he felt her contracting muscles clamp down on his length.
"Oh, fuck," he gasped, feeling his own end coming. Not yet, not yet, not so soon... but it was unavoidable. He grabbed her by the arms and flipped them over, hooking her knees over his elbows, putting his hands to either side of her shoulders so that her legs were bent back, so that her body was almost bent double. He pressed his mouth against the side of her face and rammed into her, his voice an unsteady murmur in her ear as he approached his climax.
"I love you... you feel so good, so perfect-- God-- don't leave me again, stay with me... Ahh--- I love you, I love you, oh, oh yes, oh God I'm there, Temari-- "
Temari clutched at his back, her whole body shaking with the force of his thrusts. And she loved it, loved the way he filled her so completely, loved the way he thrust into her so hard, God, it was so perfect...
"Oh, Kankurou, I love you-- " she whispered, and had to bite back a scream as he drilled into her harder than ever, his breath uneven and shaking in her ear, all words lost, all rhythm gone. He kissed her hard, teeth and lips clashing, and groaned softly into her mouth as he felt a steady tingle in his balls, a tightening in his stomach, and then, Oh, Temari, he was falling, falling into her, seed gushing out hot inside her body, breath coming hard and fast through his nose. He kept kissing her all the way through to the end, wishing that could be the last thing she said tonight, wanting to believe it for a little while longer.
After a minute or so, when their breath was almost normal and the kiss had slowed to a sweet, gentle caress of lips and tongues, he thought that maybe she meant it after all.
She was still holding him tightly against her body when normally, on nights like these, she would be climbing out of bed by now, hastily pulling on her clothes. She was still kissing him back, still here, and he picked up his arms one by one to let her lower her legs. He propped himself up on his elbows and broke their kiss to pull his head back and look at her.
And she was something to look at... her sandy hair spread out over the sheets, her face flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her eyes, oh, her eyes were still focused on him, not darting away, not closing in guilt.
She stared up at her brother, her sweet, dear brother, taking in his face, his honest, open love for her obvious in the brightness of his eyes. The thought of leaving him again tore at her heart. No, she couldn't stand to make him promise to her again. She had seen the pain he had been in - when she let herself notice - and she couldn't put him through that again.
So. Come what may, I love him. Nothing else makes sense to me anymore.
"Temari?" he asked quietly, haltingly, as if unsure whether or not it was okay to speak now.
"I told you I'd stay tonight, Kankurou," she answered. He nodded slowly, still looking at her with a touch of confusion coloring his gaze.
"I don't want to leave you again," she continued, drawing a deep breath. He smiled slightly, the corners of his lips quirking up, hoping she meant what he thought she meant.
"I'm sorry, Kankurou. I'm sorry I left you. I love you," she whispered, knowing that there would be problems, knowing that it would still be secret, that she would still be bothered by guilt, by questions... but knowing that the rightness she felt when she was with him would always outweigh that.
"I love you so much... " he whispered back, pulling her close, holding her so tightly she almost couldn't breathe. And she wrapped her arms around his wide back again, and held him just as closely. After a long moment, they separated, rolling onto their sides to watch each other. Sadness seemed to settle over them as thoughts of Gaara resurfaced, now that their passion had run its course.
But it was a sadness they shared, a sadness that was made almost bearable now by the simple fact that they were together.
"They'll bring him back," she said, knowing deep in her heart that it was true.
"I know," he said, remembering the serious look on Naruto's face, the confidence in his voice. For the first time, he really believed it.