Work Text:
Desert Remedy
The heat of Sunagakure was oppressive even as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. Sakura Haruno adjusted the strap of her medical bag as she walked through the Kazekage's tower, her footsteps echoing in the cool stone corridors. She'd been summoned specifically—a request from the Fifth Kazekage himself for assistance with a medical matter he preferred to keep private.
When she entered his office, Gaara stood by the window, his arms crossed, silhouetted against the orange sky. He turned to face her, and she was struck, as always, by the intensity of his pale green eyes rimmed with dark circles.
"Haruno-san," he said, his voice low and measured. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course, Kazekage-sama." She bowed respectfully. "Your message said you needed medical consultation?"
He gestured to a seating area away from his desk—two chairs facing each other with a low table between them. More intimate than a formal consultation, but still professional. "Please, sit."
Once they were both seated, Gaara seemed to struggle with where to begin. His fingers drummed once against his knee before he stilled them. "I have difficulty sleeping," he finally said. "It's been... a persistent problem."
Sakura pulled out a notebook, slipping into her clinical mindset. "How long has this been an issue?"
"Years. Since childhood, actually, though for different reasons then." His jaw tightened slightly. "Now it's simply that my mind won't quiet. I lie awake for hours. When I do sleep, it's restless."
"How many hours of sleep would you say you get per night?"
"Three. Four at most."
Sakura's brow furrowed with concern. That was dangerously insufficient, especially for someone with his responsibilities. "And you've tried traditional remedies? Meditation, herbal teas, adjusting your evening routine?"
"All of it." There was a thread of frustration in his voice. "Nothing works for more than a night or two."
She made notes, then looked up at him. "I'd like to try a therapeutic approach—a combination of medical chakra treatment and behavioral therapy. It will require multiple sessions, probably over several weeks."
"I can make myself available."
"Good. We'll start with twice a week and adjust as needed." She met his eyes directly. "This will require you to be open with me about your thoughts, your stress, your daily patterns. It can be uncomfortable."
Something flickered in his expression—vulnerability, perhaps, quickly masked. "I understand."
Session Two
A week later, Sakura returned to find Gaara's office transformed. He'd had a treatment room prepared—a comfortable reclining chair, soft lighting, and privacy screens. It was thoughtful, and it told her he was taking this seriously.
"How did you sleep this week?" she asked as he settled into the chair.
"Marginally better. Four hours most nights."
"That's progress." She moved behind him, placing her hands near his temples. "I'm going to use medical chakra to help relax your nervous system. You might feel warmth, tingling. Just breathe normally."
As her chakra flowed through her palms, she felt the tension in him—layers of it, wound tight. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw clenched even in this supposedly relaxed position.
"Tell me about your day," she said softly. "Walk me through it."
His voice rumbled in response, and she noticed for the first time how deep it was, how it seemed to resonate in the quiet room. "I wake at dawn. Paperwork until mid-morning. Meetings with the council. Training with the ANBU. More paperwork. Diplomatic correspondence. By the time I finish, it's usually past midnight."
"When do you eat?"
A pause. "When I remember."
"Gaara-sama," she said, allowing a note of reproach into her voice. "You can't expect your body to rest if you don't fuel it properly."
"I know." He sounded almost sheepish. "I get... absorbed in work."
As she worked, her fingers occasionally brushed against his hair, his neck. She tried to ignore how soft his red hair was, how warm his skin felt beneath her hands. This was professional. Clinical.
But when he let out a low sigh of relief as her chakra eased a particularly tight knot of tension, she felt something flutter in her stomach.
Focus, she told herself firmly.
"Better?" she asked.
"Yes." His voice had gone even lower, almost drowsy. "Significantly."
Session Four
By their fourth session, something had shifted between them. Gaara was more relaxed in her presence, occasionally offering dry observations that might have been humor. Sakura found herself looking forward to these appointments more than she should.
Tonight, he'd actually smiled—a small thing, barely a curve of his lips—when she'd told him about a mishap in the hospital back in Konoha. It transformed his face, softened the hard edges.
"You're sleeping better," she observed as she worked. "Five to six hours most nights now, according to your log."
"Yes. Your treatments help." He was quiet for a moment. "As does... talking. I don't often have someone to simply talk to."
Her hands stilled briefly on his shoulders. "You can talk to me about anything, you know. This is a safe space."
"Anything?" There was something in his tone she couldn't quite identify.
"Anything," she confirmed.
He was silent for a long moment. "There are factors we haven't discussed. Things that might be contributing to the insomnia."
Sakura moved to sit in the chair facing him, giving him her full attention. "What kind of factors?"
His eyes met hers, and she saw something vulnerable there, something almost embarrassed. "Physical needs. Tension that doesn't release through training or meditation."
It took her a moment to understand what he was implying. When she did, she felt heat rise to her cheeks but kept her expression professional. "Sexual health can absolutely impact sleep quality," she said clinically. "Lack of physical release can cause restlessness, muscle tension, difficulty relaxing. It's a legitimate medical concern."
"I see." He looked away, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
"Do you... address those needs?" she asked carefully.
"Occasionally. Alone." His voice was tight. "It doesn't seem to help."
Sakura took a breath, making a decision. If she wanted him to open up, she needed to meet him halfway. "I understand. I've... had similar issues, actually. After my last relationship ended, I found that taking care of things myself didn't really satisfy the underlying need. The intimacy, the connection—that's what the body craves, not just the physical release."
His eyes snapped back to her, intense and searching. "Your last relationship?"
"It ended about six months ago." She wasn't sure why she was telling him this. "We wanted different things. He wanted someone who would stay home, be available. I wanted to focus on my medical career."
"He was a fool."
The words were said with such quiet conviction that her breath caught. "Thank you," she managed.
The air between them felt charged suddenly, heavy with something unspoken.
"These needs you mentioned," Gaara said slowly. "The connection, the intimacy. What does that look like for you?"
It was an inappropriate question. She should redirect, maintain professional boundaries.
Instead, she found herself answering. "Trust, I think. Feeling safe enough to be vulnerable. Someone who pays attention, who notices what I respond to." She paused. "What about you?"
His gaze was unwavering. "I don't know. I've never had that kind of intimacy with anyone."
"Never?"
"Never." He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me more. What do you respond to?"
This was dangerous territory. But something in his voice, in the way he looked at her with such focused intensity, made her want to answer.
"Confidence," she heard herself say. "Someone who knows what they want and isn't afraid to take it. A commanding presence." She swallowed. "Control."
The word hung between them.
"Control," he repeated, his voice dropping even lower. "You like to surrender control?"
"In the right circumstances. With the right person." Her heart was racing now. "Someone I trust completely."
His eyes darkened. "And how does someone earn that trust?"
"By paying attention. By learning what I need, sometimes before I know it myself." She couldn't seem to look away from him. "By being patient."
"I can be patient." It sounded almost like a promise.
Session Seven
The sessions had become something else entirely, though they maintained the pretense of medical treatment. Sakura would perform her chakra therapy while they talked—about everything and nothing. His childhood, her training, their fears and hopes.
And increasingly, about desire.
"Tell me something you've never told anyone," Gaara said during one session, his eyes closed as she worked.
"I think about you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Between sessions. More than I should."
His eyes opened, pinning her in place. "What do you think about?"
"Your voice. The way you look at me like you're seeing through to my bones. Your hands." She was trembling slightly. "I wonder what they would feel like on my skin."
"Sakura." Her name in his deep voice sent shivers down her spine. "We shouldn't—"
"I know." She didn't move her hands from where they rested on his shoulders. "But I can't stop."
"Neither can I." His hand came up to cover one of hers. His palm was warm, slightly calloused. "I think about you constantly. Your laugh. Your competence. The way you bite your lip when you're concentrating." His thumb stroked over her knuckles. "The things you told me you want. I think about giving them to you."
Her breath hitched. "Gaara—"
"I think about using my sand to hold you exactly where I want you. About making you surrender every bit of that control you carry so carefully." His eyes burned into hers. "About learning every sound you make, every way to make you come undone."
Heat pooled low in her belly. "We can't. It's not professional."
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
But neither of them moved away.
Session Nine
The tension had become unbearable. Every session was torture—sitting so close, talking about increasingly intimate things, wanting and not having.
Sakura noticed everything about him now. The elegant strength in his hands. The way his voice dropped when he was aroused—and he was aroused often now, she could see it in the darkening of his eyes, the tension in his body. The commanding presence he carried, the way people instinctively obeyed when he spoke.
She wanted to obey him too. Wanted to kneel for him, to let him take control, to surrender everything.
It was maddening.
"You're tense tonight," Gaara observed as she worked. "More than usual."
"I'm fine."
"Liar." His hand caught her wrist gently. "Talk to me."
"I can't." She tried to pull away but he held firm.
"Why not?"
"Because if I start talking about what I'm feeling right now, I won't stop. And we'll cross a line we can't uncross."
"Maybe that line needs to be crossed." He tugged her wrist, pulling her around to face him. "Maybe we've been dancing around it for too long."
"You're my patient—"
"I'm a man who wants you so badly I can barely think straight. Who lies awake at night imagining all the ways I want to touch you, taste you, make you mine." His voice was rough with need. "Tell me you don't feel the same."
"I can't." Her voice broke. "I do feel the same. But—"
"No buts. Not tonight." He stood, still holding her wrist, and stepped closer. "Tonight, I want the truth. Do you want me?"
"Yes." The word escaped like a confession.
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then stay." His free hand came up to cup her face. "Stay with me tonight. Let me give you what you need."
She should say no. Should maintain boundaries, be professional.
Instead, she whispered, "Yes."
The kiss, when it came, was devastating. Gaara kissed like he did everything else—with complete focus and intensity. His mouth claimed hers, demanding and thorough, and Sakura melted into it with a soft moan.
His hands moved to her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she could feel the hard length of his arousal against her stomach. It sent a bolt of heat straight through her.
"I've wanted this," he murmured against her lips. "Wanted you. For weeks now."
"Me too." She kissed him again, desperate and hungry.
He walked her backward until her legs hit the treatment chair. "Sit," he commanded, and the authority in his voice made her knees weak.
She sat.
Gaara knelt before her, his hands sliding up her thighs. "I'm going to undress you now. Slowly. And you're going to sit still and let me." His eyes met hers. "Understand?"
"Yes." Her voice was breathless.
He started with her boots, removing them with careful attention. Then her socks. His hands slid up to the waistband of her pants, and she lifted her hips to let him pull them down. The cool air on her bare legs made her shiver.
"Cold?" he asked.
"No. Nervous. Excited."
"Good." He stood, offering his hand. "Come with me."
He led her through a door she'd never noticed before—his private quarters, attached to the office. The bedroom was sparse but comfortable, dominated by a large bed with dark sheets.
"Take off your shirt," he said, his voice dropping into that commanding register that made her core clench.
She obeyed, pulling her top over her head and dropping it to the floor. She stood before him in just her bra and underwear, feeling exposed and vulnerable and incredibly aroused.
Gaara circled her slowly, his gaze traveling over every inch of her body. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Even more than I imagined."
"You're still dressed," she pointed out, her voice shaking slightly.
"I know." He stopped in front of her. "I want to look at you first. Want to see you like this—waiting for me, trusting me." His hand came up to trace the curve of her breast through the fabric of her bra. "Tell me your safe word."
The clinical part of her brain approved of his caution even as the rest of her trembled with need. "Jasmine."
"Good girl." The praise sent a shiver through her. "Now, I'm going to use my sand. It won't hurt, but it will hold you exactly where I want you. If it's too much, use your word. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
Her breath caught. "Yes, Gaara-sama."
His eyes darkened with approval. "Perfect."
The sand rose from the gourd he'd set aside earlier, swirling around her ankles first. It was warm and surprisingly soft, wrapping around her like silk. It climbed higher, circling her calves, her thighs, her waist.
"Arms up," he instructed.
She raised her arms, and the sand wrapped around her wrists, pulling them gently above her head. More sand supported her back, her legs, until she was suspended in the air, held completely immobile in whatever position he desired.
"How does that feel?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Incredible." She tested the bonds and found them unyielding. She was completely at his mercy, and the realization sent a wave of arousal through her so intense she gasped.
"I can smell how wet you are," Gaara said, moving closer. "Can see it soaking through your underwear." His hand traced up her inner thigh, stopping just short of where she needed him most. "Is this what you wanted? To be helpless? To surrender?"
"Yes." She was panting now. "Please, Gaara—"
"Please what?"
"Touch me. Please."
"Where?" His fingers danced along the edge of her underwear. "Here?"
"Yes. Please."
He hooked his fingers in the fabric and tore it away, the sound of ripping cloth obscenely loud in the quiet room. Then his fingers were on her, sliding through her wetness, and she cried out.
"So wet," he murmured, almost reverent. "All this for me?"
"Yes. All for you."
He circled her clit with maddening lightness, never quite giving her the pressure she needed. "I'm going to learn everything about your body tonight. Every spot that makes you gasp. Every touch that makes you beg." He slid one finger inside her, and she moaned. "I'm going to take you apart piece by piece and put you back together again."
"Please." She was beyond pride now, beyond anything but need.
He added a second finger, curling them to stroke that perfect spot inside her while his thumb worked her clit. The sand adjusted her position, spreading her legs wider, tilting her hips to give him better access.
"That's it," he encouraged as she began to shake. "Let go. Give me everything."
The orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing through her body with devastating intensity. She cried out his name, her body convulsing in the sand's embrace as pleasure rolled through her in pulses.
He worked her through it, his fingers gentling as she came down. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Absolutely beautiful."
When she could focus again, she found him watching her with dark, hungry eyes. He was still fully clothed, and the contrast between them—her naked and suspended, him dressed and in control—sent another bolt of arousal through her.
"More," she whispered.
"Greedy." But he smiled as he said it. "I like that."
He finally began to undress, and she watched hungrily as each piece of clothing was removed. His body was lean and strong, marked with scars that told stories of battles survived. When he pushed down his pants, his cock sprang free, hard and thick and perfect.
"See what you do to me?" He wrapped his hand around himself, stroking slowly. "I've been hard for you for weeks. Aching for you."
"Then take me." She pulled against the sand, wanting to touch him. "Please, I need you."
He moved between her spread legs, the head of his cock nudging against her entrance. "Look at me," he commanded.
She met his eyes as he pushed inside, filling her inch by inch. The stretch was intense, almost too much, but perfect. When he was fully seated, they both groaned.
"You feel incredible," he gritted out. "So tight. So perfect."
He started to move, slow and deep, and the sand adjusted her position with each thrust, angling her exactly where he wanted her. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced—the complete surrender of control, the way he could position her perfectly, the intensity of his focus on her pleasure.
"Harder," she begged. "Please, harder."
He obliged, his hips snapping forward with more force. The sand held her steady, let him take her exactly how he wanted. One tendril of sand snaked between them to circle her clit, and she nearly screamed.
"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you. Let everyone in this tower know who's making you feel this good."
She was babbling now, incoherent pleas and praise spilling from her lips. The pleasure was building again, tighter and more intense than before.
"Come for me," Gaara commanded, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. "Come on my cock. Now."
The orgasm tore through her, more intense than the first. She screamed his name as her body clenched around him, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her.
He followed her over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside her. The sand held them both as they shook with the aftershocks, supporting their weight as they came down from the high.
Finally, gently, the sand lowered her to the bed and released her. Gaara collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms.
For a long moment, they just breathed together, hearts racing in tandem.
"That was..." Sakura started, then laughed breathlessly. "I don't have words."
"Neither do I." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Are you alright? Was it too much?"
"It was perfect." She turned to face him, cupping his cheek. "You were perfect."
Something vulnerable flickered in his eyes. "I've never... I didn't know it could be like that."
"Neither did I." She kissed him softly. "The control, the way you paid attention to every response—it was exactly what I needed."
"I liked it too." His hand traced patterns on her back. "Seeing you surrender, watching you come apart for me. It was..." He paused, searching for words. "Powerful. Intoxicating."
"We should probably talk about what this means," Sakura said, though she was reluctant to break the spell of the moment.
"Tomorrow." He pulled her closer. "Tonight, just stay with me. Sleep with me."
She settled against his chest, feeling more relaxed than she had in months. "I can do that."
As her eyes drifted closed, she felt his breathing slow and deepen. Within minutes, he was asleep—truly, deeply asleep in a way she suspected he hadn't been in years.
She smiled against his skin. It seemed they'd found the cure for his insomnia after all.
When Sakura woke, dawn light was filtering through the windows. Gaara was still asleep beside her, his face peaceful in a way she'd never seen. The dark circles under his eyes seemed less pronounced already.
She watched him for a moment, marveling at how much had changed in just a few weeks. What had started as a clinical consultation had become something profound—a connection she hadn't expected but desperately needed.
His eyes opened slowly, focusing on her. "Good morning."
"Good morning." She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "How did you sleep?"
"I've never slept so good." Wonder colored his voice as his eyes swept to a nearby clock and widened. "I slept for eight hours straight..."
"That's wonderful." She couldn't help her pleased smile. "How do you feel?"
"Rested. Satisfied. Happy." He pulled her closer, his voice taking on that low, commanding tone that made her pulse quicken. "Though I think we'll need to increase the frequency of our sessions. For my health, of course."
The corner of her mouth lifted at his barely-concealed meaning. "Of course. Strictly therapeutic."
"Exactly." His fingers traced idle patterns on her bare shoulder. "How long can you stay in Suna?"
She met his intense gaze, seeing the question beneath the question—the hope, the want, the need for more than just a few weeks. "As long as you need me."
Something fierce and possessive flashed in his eyes, and she watched his expression transform with pure, unguarded happiness.
His smile was radiant, transforming his entire face. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until they were both breathless.
"I should warn you," he murmured against her lips. "Now that I know how much I enjoy having you at my mercy, I'm going to want you like that often."
Heat pooled in her belly. "I think I can live with that."
"Good." His hand slid down her body possessively. "Because I'm nowhere near done exploring all the ways I can make you surrender."
As his sand began to swirl around them again and his mouth found her throat, Sakura thought that perhaps some medical treatments were more effective than others. And this one—this perfect combination of trust, desire, and connection—was exactly what they'd both needed all along.