I Hate Parties by Sophade

I hate parties. It’s loud, you get drunk, then what? You try to get yourself home and the morning after is even worse. But I can’t say this anymore, really.


I met him in a party. He was completely drunk. He was handsome. As I was bored and on the way to be drunk too, I asked him if he wanted me to ride him home. He looked at me, surprised, then he approched, so near me, that I could smell his parfum. He said that if I could show him what wamth was, yes he would like me to ride him home. I didn’t quiet understood at that moment, but I brought him to my apartement. The moment we stepped in, he pushed me up against the wall, kissing me senseless. He asked where was my bedroom, I showed him. He took me into his arms and when we entered the bedroom, he let me fall onto my bed, following suit, between my legs. He seemed as frustrated as I was, so I let him make love to me the whole night. It was hot, intense, and I had never felt so much sensations in one night. He made my heart beat go so fast… When we finally stopped, completely exhausted, he pulled me against him, then whispered into my ear “thank you”. There again I didn’t understand why he said that.

Morning came, and he was gone. He just left a note, saying he loved last night, and that if he had the chance, he would like to meet me again.
Monthes passed, and I never heard of him. I thought it was over, I tried to forget him, but I kept hearing his voice whispering my name as he did when he was about to climax. I couldn’t stop thinking of him. One day, as I made my way into a shop to buy somethings for dinner, I ran into someone. As I looked up, that person was giving me a hand to help me stand up. I blushed and when I was about to go my way, he kept his hand on my arm. I turned to him and reconized him immediately. After that event, we met once a week, he’d come to my apartement, we’d ate together and he would make love to me again, a he always did. It was almost the same each time, hot and intense. I couldn’t get enough of it, I needed more. He’d never say a word the morning after that and he’d leave through th door. Each time he looked very sad, but he wouldn’t say why.
One day, when he entered my apartement, I wasn’t in my bedroom. (he always came by my bedroom window). He was intrigued, why wasn’t I here to welcome him, as I usually did?
He walked into my livingroom and found me crying, onto my couch. The tv was on, but I wasn’t watching it. How would I be able to do something like that, when my eyes were full of tears?
He ran to me and sat beside me. Then, I don’t really know why, he hugged me. He pressed me so much against him that I couldn’t breathe.
Why? He asked, looking into my eyes. He kissed my cheek and I told him. My last relative was dead, and I had no one else besides my friends, but it wasn’t the same. Now I was alone to live. Had no one to live for. No one needed me.
Just when I said that, I looked into his eyes. They were so angry I was efraid he wass going to kill me. He pushed me against my couch, not letting me a say in this. And there he made love to me again. But it wasn’t the same. He was so gentle, so tender, I couldn’t believe my senses. He never stopped kissing me, tenderly. He whispered, each time he thrusted into me, that it would be okay and soothing things like that. As I whimpered, I asked him why. Why was he being so gentle with me? I didn’t deserve it! I was nothing more then a piece of shit! That instant, he thrusted hard, making me cry out in pleasure, and, succesfully shutting me up.
Then I came, hard between our bodies. I was so tight for him he came to and there, he hugged me tightly against him and whispered into my ear: I love you.
As I descended my high I was pulled on his chest, his arms around my waist. He kissed everywhere he could atain and seeing my look, he repeated himself, making sure I had understood his words. I was so stunned, and surprised I didn’t say anything, it didn’t seem to bother him so we drifted to sleep together.
That morning, was different, it was the morning that changed everything else.
He was still here.
There wasn’t a note saying he’d come back again, no breakfast on my desk.
Only him. He was here, in my bed, sleeping. He looked exhausted. And he looked like and angel, the complete opposite of what he looked like when we made love. At time like that, he looked like a demon, ready to make to you the greatest sins he knew and make you beg for it.

Then, I saw him open his eyes. As he saw me, he pulled me more against him and smiled at me. I blushed and he nuzzled my neck. He began to say things like how many hickeys were still there, and how many he would make next time. He was taller then me, so the blanket couldn’t cover his feets. He put them on mine and as I screamed he was too cold, he retorted I was warm, and that he loved my warmth.
Then I remembered his words, those he whispered into my ear, the moment he climaxed into me. And I understood. He had searched fo a warmth. And I was what he had looked for that night, at the party. That’s why he thanked me, that night too…
He sensed I had stopped moving so he stopped too and he met my eyes. I encircled his neck with my arms and pulled him into a kiss, chaste and gentle. He kept it at this, not questionning. That was, before I sobbed into his neck and he started soothing circles on my back ith his left hand, asking what was wrong. I told him that nothing was wrong, that I had just realized I loved him too. He kissed my temple and hugged me again. Saying it took me a lot of time and that I was an idiot. I punched him playfully in the shoulder with my right fist and he erased my tears with his inch before kissing me again. He straddled me and, as he was on top of me, said it again, just so I could say it back: I love you, Naru-chan.
I blushed, red like a tomato, and said it to him too : I love you too, Sasuke…
I can’t really explain what happened next, since he pounced on me and didn’t let me out of my bed, since five in the evening. He made me food, we ate it and he brought me with him to the city. We had a drink with my friends and his, he even presented me as his lover. I blushed again, he smirked, pretty happy with himself. My friends were surprised but were, too, happy for me. I cried again against my new boyfriend, lover. I’m not used to call someone like this but hey, there is a first time for everything. One thing I didn’t tell him before he invited me to a restaurant for our anniversary (six monthes). He was, my first time. Kissing, making love, or love, as simple as that. When he knew that, he told me he was very happy about that and that he was going to send flowers to the girl who invited us two to that party, eight monthes ago.


Now I think I’ll never say again that I hate parties… And certainly not the morning after…
*laugh*

- hehe! Hey!! Sasuke stop! …I… No! mmmh… stop it damn pervert!… Not in front of them!!!