Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Porcelain ❯ Porcelain ( Chapter 1 )

 

 

Saki-chan sits on the velvet stool, hands clasped demurely in her lap, head bent, biting on her lip. Where Sasuke wouldn't have been, Saki-chan was allowed to be nervous, she allows herself to be nervous. But you couldn't exactly call Saki-chan exuberant, so the only outward projection of her apprehension was the slight twisting of her fingers and the teeth shaped indentations on her lower lip.

 

She hears the knocking of the door, and stands, walking calmly towards it, still belying none of her underlying tension. She pulls open the door and stills, gazing at her boyfriend leaning against the wall. As her eyes sweep him up and down, she takes in that he has made an effort, that he isn't in garish orange for once, that he looks handsome.

 

“Naru-kun” she whispers politely in greeting, a light blush spreading across her face. Hands still jammed in his pockets, her boyfriend leans over and kisses her gently on the cheek. He doesn't indulge in anything else, even though the way his eyes flicker down her body implies different wants, but they both know there will be time for that later.

 

“Lets go babe” he grins, and holds out an arm to escort her with. She accepts it and they slowly make their way out of the small apartment. Feeling the slight tension in her body, he wraps his arm around her waist and she allows him to grasp her hand, to comfort her.

 

Anniversaries are special to Saki-chan, and she has dressed in accordance. A lace corset which is tied with ribbon binds her upper body. The resulting silk bow is something for Naruto's hand to play with and he strokes it lightly, his hand occasionally slipping ad causing a greater force to be applied on her bottom. It makes her breath hitch.

Long sleeves hide unfeminine arms, the one aspect Saki-chan cannot stand about her body. But Naruto's whispers that they allow her to grasp something and withstand the pressure from when he slams into her from behind, make her feel slightly more appreciative.

Her skirt is all lacy and puffy and short, and Naruto's eyes keep slipping to it and she feels his gaze grow hot. She has purposely worn it so it allows an inch or two of bared, pale skin to appear before her legs are covered by the black netted garter.

 

All of the village know now of Saki-chan, they know of that porcelain doll. They know she is only to be touched by Naruto and no one else. The last time someone had tried to put forth a slightly less than friendly advance, Naruto had kicked the shit out of them. And Saki-chan had leaned against the wall, staring at him doing it through hooded eyes, becoming more and more aroused at the sight of him protecting her. Afterwards, he had taken her right there, her arms pushing against the wall, hips thrust back as he rammed into her, a hand reaching forward and rubbing at her against the tented silk of her underwear. Their pants and groans had ghosted over the unconscious man lying near them on the ground, and it had only caused her pleasure to heighten, knowing that he could awaken.

 

They are celebrating the third year of their involvement. Sasuke is around less and less as he cannot stand to be touched by Naruto, and Saki-chan knows that she exists only so Naruto can touch her and that something in her, craves and demands that he touch her. All of the getting ready, the clothes, the mannerisms, the persona, is so after the quiet dinner, after the walk back, sweetly holding hands and after the soft glances and whispers that tell her she is desired, he'll show her. She'll allow him to possess her and push her fluffy skirt out of the way and over her back. She'll moan as he'll grind his erection against her bottom and start pumping her own. And she'll come violently, on her hands and knees, staining the floor and her pretty blue skirt, loving the domination, loving the fact that he can dominate because of her vulnerability.

 

These thoughts of what will happen later make her shudder slightly, which causes her boyfriend to glance over at her. As he helps seat her later on at the restaurant, the hand guiding her on the small of her back, slips and squeezes. Her short gasp causes him to smirk but she pays that no more heed until later and they sit there, the perfect couple.

The broad shouldered boyfriend, and the slim, obedient, desired girlfriend. She is the portrait of perfection, head bent ever so slightly, obsidian hair spilling around her face, and hands, clasped demurely in her lap.