Parallel's Playground

Fic Title: Parallel's Playground

Chapter Title: Miles High (3/?)

Fic Rating: NC17

Chapter Rating: PG13/Rish

Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura

Pairing: Sakura Kinomoto X Fujitaka Kinomoto (Sakura Avalon X Aiden Avalon)

Word Count: 3,869

Notes: yay!! THIRD chapter! *gasp* impressive, no? Again, I struggle with multichapter things DX I hope it's okay. Also, self spell checked, please forgive me.

Thank you so SO much to Snifflepepper!!! Your review was so lovely and made me smile, and I was inspired to sit down and write this chapter all in one day! I hope you enjoy it dear, and thanks again for such a wonderful review!

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money, just playing with them for fun~


Sleep for her had been a hot hazy blur, in which she was hardly aware she was asleep at all, thinking instead she was merely stalling from thinking on the pressing matter of the approaching morning. She had, unknowingly, drifted off to this state of uneasy rest on the couch, curled up into a tiny tense little ball, the light from the television pressing strange shapes of light behind her closed eyes. She flinched in her sleep, cheeks pinked, letting out a long shaky sigh. Her mind buzzed dully even as she slumbered.

Sakura resented all the nervous fear, all the things Tomoyo had said with her sad distrusting eyes. She had made it hard for Sakura to pretend things were less then they were, made it difficult for her to try and keep herself calm.

She knew her father was a good man. She knew he would not hurt her.

It was Tomoyo’s fault for making her so frightened. It couldn’t be Fujitaka’s fault, it simply couldn’t.

Sakura woke mentally thumbing through the Clow cards in her mind, thinking which ones she had changed to Sakura Cards, which ones she had not. What card could possibly make someone act the way Fujitaka did?

Kiro would know, but by the time he arrived home, Sakura would be in South America.

The couch gave a sleepy resentful groan as Sakura pushed her curled hands against the cushion, easing her stiff body up, blinking sleepily into the nonsense blur that was the buzzing television. A man on TV was holding hands with a very small girl. They were skipping, their shapes cut out from the night sky around them by a flurry of fireworks.

Sakura blinked sleepily, letting the image lure her into a more alert state of mind. Slowly she became aware of ticking, and then the concept of time, her eyes drifting to the clock.

Six thirty. They would need to leave soon.

Briefly, she toyed with the idea of calling Tomoyo. But what would come of that? Tomoyo would want Sakura to stay, to stay with her and let Fujitaka venture to South America all on his own.

Something inside Sakura went cold at the thought. She had never had an opportunity to go somewhere so exotic, so special with her father, and she didn’t want to let something she was positive wasn’t his fault ruin it.

Sakura hopped clumsily to her feet, her muscles still too warm and stiff to work properly, and scampered quietly down the hall. The blue colored darkness made the hardwood floors of the hallway look polished, almost smooth as ice. The light pouring from under Fujitaka’s office door was the color of firelight, tarring the shadows away from his doorway. Sakura slid silently past. She was into her room and rummaging through a drawer under her bed, until she found it. A pink phone with gold details, and a book decorated with the picture of a winged lion. Smiling softly, nervously to herself, she placed the phone on the desk, as well as the book, and began to change. The warmth of her long unsettling nap nestled in her wrinkled clothes and made her feel sticky; unclean.

She pulled from her drawer a long smooth blue dress, holding in before herself and letting it pour down before, smooth as water. Only a small ribbon of light from the hall managed to break through the tiny crack between her door and the frame, so Sakura held the fabric before it, watching the way the dull fire-colored light slid over the creaseless expanse of the dress. She peeled off her clothes, sighing in relief as the cool air brushed across her skin. Then, she slipped into the dress, a pair of blue and white stripped stockings, and a pair of polished blue shoes, Sakura then floated toward her vanity table, perching on the seat and pulling a brush through her hair.

Her eyes flickered to the almost gaudy pink phone. She’d bring it with her, as well as the Clow Cards, and call Kiro once her and her father were safely on the plane. Kiro would be able to solve her problem, she was sure of it; Kiro would tell her Tomoyo was overreacting.

Suddenly, Sakura’s heart leapt into her throat, throbbed painfully as she caught sight of a single honey brown eye watching her through the cracked door.

“D-Dad? What is it?” She turned, suddenly feeling to warm all over again. He had been so silent; she hadn’t even noticed when he came up to the door.

When had he come up to the door?

“I…” he pushed the door open, a soft meek smile on his lips, guilt written across his face. “I came to tell you the taxi will be here in five minutes, so make sure you’re ready to go, okay?”

“Kay,” she fiddled nervously with her brush. Fujitaka lingered in the doorway, gently removing his glasses, breathing on them and cleaning away a few imaginary smudges. Sakura watched him intently, feeling her heart throb faster with each slowly passing second.

“… Just, come down when you’re ready,” he murmured without looking at her, then disappearing into the murky dimness of the hall.

~*~*~*~

Sakura had slept for most of the taxi ride to the airport, a deep and consuming sleep that made the long ride to the airport to feel as if it went by in the blink of an eye.

The floors of the airport were so polished they looked to be mirrors, and the ceilings either were mirrors or windows. All the reflections didn’t compute well in Sakura’s sluggish sleepy mind. Her feet felt heavy, determined to tangle together, and without thinking about it she grasped Fujitaka’s hand, leaning into his arm for support. His smile, so warm and soft, made Sakura feel as if she had just been in a horribly dark room, and someone had opened the blinds, letting the sunlight spill in. Some of her nervousness evaporated.

Checking bags was long and tedious, even though Fujitaka had done all the work carrying the bags in, Sakura still had to stand and wait in the short line that moved stubbornly slow. She sighed and shifted her weight from foot to foot, looking longingly at the airport shops as they just began to open their doors, and counted how many other people had the same suitcase as her father.

Twenty Three.

Her feet began to ache. Someone stepped out of the line. Someone at the counter seemed positively unsure if they had left their bag unattended or not. Sakura sighed, giving a long tired groan.

“Something the matter?” there was gentle, harmless humor in Fujitaka’s eyes. His fingers felt warm –but a clean type of warm- clutched snuggly around her hand.

“This is… taking a really long time,” she said with a sheepish smile, shuffling on her feet, hating to complain when her father seemed to have the sweetest disposition at all times.

“Are you getting tired, waiting in line?” his eyebrows drifted up and his lips flattened slightly in concern. He released his hold on their bags, nudging them forward with his feet as the line shuffled forward a few steps.

“Little bit, I don’t think I slept very good…” Sakura admitted, her hands folding meekly behind her back, a somewhat embarrassed smile touching her lips.

“Well, I didn’t think you would, sleeping on the couch like that…” he teased gently, reaching out and softly sweeping her bangs from her eyes. Sakura had never quite managed to properly fix her hair. “… Come here,” he said in a quiet, feathery voice, opening his arms.

It was too much of a habit, and she was far to tired to hesitate. Wrapping her arms about his neck, Sakura allowed herself to be lifted, linking her legs loosely around her father’s waist. He gave a comfortable sigh, his hands a soothing warmth on the backs of her thighs. His breath smelled of weak coffee and his clothes of dusty books.

Sakura let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, letting her head rest on Fujitaka’s shoulder, her hands clip gently onto his shoulders. She smiled helplessly as he began to rock her, fingers stroking gently at her hair. Her body pressed to his chest, she would feel no nervous tension tightening his form, only the steady rhythmic beating of his heart, the easy relaxed tide of his breath somewhere to the left of her face.

“Were you in your office all night?” she asked, wanting to savor this sudden comfort, wanting to speak while her tongue felt loose.

“Yes, just taking care of some last minute arrangements, and doing some review on the areas I’ll be studying…” he explained, his fingers dipping down her neck, crawling back up under the curtain of her hair. A long comfortable sigh slipped past Sakura’s lips.

“What are you going to be studying…?”

“The Mayas. We think we know where some new temples might be, and perhaps even a whole village.”

“Oh… what are the Mayas?”

The light conversation carried them all the way to the front desk, where Fujitaka had their bags checked and sent off to be loaded onto the plane. He had placed Sakura down to speak with the women behind the counter, and she was so relaxed it was all she could do not to simply crumple to her knees.

“So… now that that is all taken care of, what would you like to do while we wait for our plane? We have an hour or so before they’re boarding,” Fujitaka explained, gently taking Sakura’s hand in his own, wrapping his strong fingers around her. He shouldered both their carry-on bags with his free hand, carrying them as if they weighed nothing at all.

“Uhm… could we look around at the stores?” she swung their linked hands between them as the strolled leisurely away from the bag checking counter.

“Of course…” he gave the same soft sunny smile, giving her hand a tug, leading them in the direction of the shops. There was all sorts of fascinating things to look at, shelves of stuffed animals, books, jewelry, candy, shoes, stationary… Sakura watched her father flip a brown leather bound journal in his hands, admiring the decorative gold stitches. She herself found a beautiful pink and gold stationary set, and wished she would have more of a reason to use such a thing. She supposed if she traveled more she might find a reason, but this trip was one of the very few she had taken where she would find a reason to mail home. Sighing, she replaced the stationary kit, drifting over to the wrack of stuffed animals. Soon, Fujitaka was at her side, standing by her with a faint little smile while her fingers brushed across the various stuffed animals.

“Do you like any of them?” he questioned.

“They’re all cute… but I have too many stuffed animals already, I don’t need anything else.”

“Is that what you think? Then it’s a pity I got you something.”

“Dad!” she turned to face him, a slight bit of blush turning her cheeks rosy, “You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” from a small plastic beg he had been concealing behind his back, he pulled a dainty blue headband. Tiny white daisies decorated the side. “You were in such a rush to leave; you didn’t do anything with your hair.” Kneeling, he gently slid the headband behind Sakura’s ears, pushing it up to hold back her bangs. “There… now you can see, and I can see you.”

“Thank you…” she responded, shyly toeing the ground, “You really didn’t have to…”

“But do you like it, Sakura?” his eyebrows knit up as he stood, his fingers strumming nervously over his chin.

“Yes, I do! It’s very pretty, thank you!”

“Well, good then,” he smiled once more, taking her hand. “Come on, we should probably start boarding the plane now…”

~*~*~*~

She hadn’t been so much asleep, as just very comfortable, when the high jingling ringing of her phone brought her attention fully to the space around her. The heavy constant buzz of the plane as it skimmed through the air made for pleasant white noise, mingled with the whispery lull of the nearby headphones the passengers wore as they watched the in-flight movie. The seats were plushy and soft, the taste of simulated barbeque chicken and freeze dried corn still lingering in Sakura’s mouth. A warm heavy arm was thrown across her shoulders from the seat to her left. Fujitaka was propped up against the wall to the left of his seat, glasses hanging off one ear as he slumbered peacefully.

Suddenly realizing just what had grabbed her attention in the first place, Sakura fumbled through her carry-on bag, fishing out the flashing pink and gold phone.

“Hello?” she whispered, rubbing her heavy eyes.

“Sakura! Where are you? What happened?” Tomoyo’s panicked voice said on the other end of the line. Sakura’s stomach twisted nervously. For a moment, she very seriously considered hanging up, and not letting Tomoyo make a big deal out of things all over again. Things had been fine, things were fine.

“I’m… on a plane, Dad’s taking me to South America.”

“What!?” Tomoyo’s voice became a shrill panicked whisper. “W-what- why?”

“Touya is out this week, and Dad couldn’t leave me home alone, the trip is for his work.”

“But Sakura, you could have stayed here! Do you really think it’s a good idea going so far away alone with him when-”

“Tomoyo,” Sakura made sure her voice stayed quiet, her eyes slipping to her father’s face. His eyes were lightly shut, a placid expression on his face. He murmured softly in his sleep.

Sakura smiled. “It’s okay, really. Things are fine. He hasn’t been acting funny all day… I think whatever it was-”

“Sakura… when I couldn’t find you, I got worried, so I called Kiro back. He’s here now… and he says… that it couldn’t be a Clow Card that made your father… do those things to you.”

The silence lingered long, heavy and deep enough to drown out the comfortable white noise of the plane.

“He… are you sure?”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“N-no, no, I believe you…” Sakura’s stomach twisted painfully, her eyes rushing back to her father’s face. He looked just as peaceful as he had moments ago.

“So… you know what that means don’t you?” Sakura sunk back nervously into her seat; Tomoyo’s voice was unsettling. Her pulse throbbed painfully against her ribs, her mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“Tomoyo, listen-” she wasn’t sure how she was going to get her friend to stop talking, but she had to try. She didn’t want to spend the next few hours seeing things that weren’t there; picking apart their time at the airport, overanalyzing until everything seemed wrong.

“Sakura, it means whatever he did, he did of his own free will. And now you’re-”

“Then what do you want me to do about it? I’m already on the plane, so nothing can be done now. Tomoyo, please, you’re making me scared,” she finally forced out, hands shaking as he clutched the phone a little too tightly. Another long spell of heavy silence unfurled between them.

“I-I’m sorry Sakura, I’m just worried about you… I wouldn’t have let you leave with him, but now… just, promise me you’ll be careful, and then you wont let him-”

“Tomoyo!” Sakura really couldn’t stand to hear what she knew was about to come next. “Please, I-I can’t… I know you’re just worried… but I felt fine before you called. N-now I’m so scared…” her insides felt heavy with guilt, her stomach tangled into a painful knot. “Listen… I promise I’ll be careful… please try not to worry. If anything… bad happens, I promise to contact you right away, okay?”

But already, Sakura was flipping through the Clow deck in her mind.

Stormy, Windy, Sand…

“… O-okay Sakura,” Tomoyo said in a meek, defeated voice.

Mirror, Flower, Fly…

“Okay… now I have to go. See you in a week, Tomoyo.” The click the phone made as she hung up was about the loudest most unsettling sound she could fathom.

Jump, Big, Sweet…

None of them made any sense, she couldn’t imagine how any of the cards could make her father…

She cut off the thought, getting the feeling she was suddenly venturing into waters to deep for herself. She couldn’t handle thinking of it, not now. Quite suddenly, the whole day seemed to be in tatters, the carefully cultivated comfort all drained away, the kindness of her father put in a new unsettling light.

“Sakura… are you alright…?” Fujitaka murmured, half asleep. His fingers found her hair and wove gently through her locks, giving her a few soothing strokes.

Suddenly her mind was full to bursting with the memory of those very same fingers skating up her belly.

“M-my stomach hurts… I-I think I need to go to the bathroom…” she shrugged her shoulders, pushing off her father’s arm. She climbed ungracefully from the seat, the absence of her warmth at his side pulling Fujitaka awake.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to come with you?” The night sky behind his window was bright as day, overflowing with brash silver moonlight. But below, just under the belly of the plane, the clouds were deep grays and blacks, stirring in an unsettling, sinister manor. It jarred Sakura so much she suddenly reached across his chest, shutting the window with a violent snap. “S-Sakura, are you alright?”

Warm hands came up to brace her shoulders, fingers curled gently around her. She looked meekly into his eyes, becoming aware little by little of everywhere they touched; her legs to his thigh, her side to his chest. Their noses were just before touching, and Fujitaka had suddenly become so unnaturally still. Sakura imagined she could see terrifying, thrilling thoughts whipping behind his eyes, dark like the storm clouds had been.

“I-I’m fine,” she finally managed, pulling away just as Fujitaka had moved to guide her hand from where it sat -shaking and bone white- clutched onto the window-shade. “I just… I’ll be right back…”

Sakura muttered, moving in a panicked flurry down the narrow hallway between the seats. The door slammed with a sharp snap behind her as she darted into the bathroom. Her hands shook as she clutched the small stainless steal countertop. The girl in the mirror looked unfamiliar to her, with her pale skin and flushed cheeks, wide strange looking green eyes. She could hardly read the expression they held.

Sucking in a few greedy uneven breaths, Sakura watched her reflection as the long painful moments passed. She wanted to go back and yet she couldn’t, not to question why her father’s hand would be on her shoulder, not to imagine what things she supposed he would be thinking.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she thought of how the trip had been so perfect, and now it was all put in question, all from a single phone call. Her reflection blurred before her, her eyes glossed with unshed tears. Her fingers ached horribly as she clutched the small countertop too tightly.

Worst of all, was that lurking dusty burn, the inconsolable ache that settled below her belly whenever she couldn’t escape thinking about just how it felt when he touched her those ways.

Sakura fell back against the door, limp as a rag doll, unable to take the look of bewilderment her reflection wore. Her knees rested bent, one leg against the floor, the other propped stiffly before her. Smooth watery folds of blue cupped her finely curving hips, showed a whisper of white between her legs as her legs hung apart. Her stockings and shoes had been removed, stuffed hastily into her bag so she would be comfortable for the lengthy plane ride. She mused throwing the phone out the window might have been more effective in making herself comfortable.

Her head fell against her chest, shaking the headband from her hair. Her bangs spilled unrestrained across her cheeks as a shuddering breath passed her lips.

Sakura’s eyes widened, appearing as two polished jade disks set in a frighteningly bright light. With her skirt sitting in such narrow folds about her waist, she could see clearly a small spot of dampness on her panties; the fabric clinging in a slight crease.

For a long few moments she starred, biting nervously on her bottom lip, breath snared stubbornly in her throat.

She throbbed.

Then, slowly, meek little fingers drifted down, dipped between her legs. She shut her eyes tightly, tilting her head. Her cheek pressed against the cool plastic of the door, her legs shuffling apart awkwardly in the small cramped space.

The pads of her fingers traced along the damp crease of her panties, pushing all the breath from her lungs in a quick helpless hiss. A shiver crept hot down to the tip of every single nerve. Sakura’s hand shook as she drew it up, feeling the unpleasant stickiness that caused the thin fabric to cling so snugly to her skin. She squirmed, sweeping her fingers again long the crease, her body winding up tightly. Behind her shut eyes she could see the murky silhouette of her father, and how his body moved as he gently thrust against her, pressing something hard between her legs. Her fingers felt so small and cool, compared to that.

“Oh…” the softest, frailest moan quivered past her lips, as her fingers touched to a small little bump between her swollen, sensitive lips. The sensation of the clinging wet fabric against herself was almost maddening. Tilting her head back against the hard uncomfortable plastic, her hips began to rock uneasily against the gentle stroke of her fingers.

“Sakura?” Fujitaka’s muffled sleepy voice filtered through the thin door. She knew she should stop, but there was this building sort of pressure, this throbbing demanding burn that urged her on. Something told her that she needed just a little more.

“Nn… nn?” she managed, trying desperately to keep her voice from breaking.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yes Daddy,” her voice echoed over and over inside her head. ‘Yes daddy, yes daddy, yes…’ her hips gave a needy jolt.

“Are you sure? Do you need me to come in there?”

‘Yes daddy…’

“N-no, I-I’m fine…”

“Are you sure?”

But suddenly, Sakura couldn’t speak, a strong almost painful shiver burning down her body. She was shaking helplessly, fingers stroking fast at that one sweet spot.

“O-ohh…” a tiny mew managed to crawl out from her clamped lips.

“Sakura?”

“I-I’m… okay…” she marveled at how breathless she sounded, at how her whole body buzzed warmly. “I-I’ll be out… in a minute…” she felt horribly wet between her legs.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Y-yes.” Sakura listened carefully, until she heard the muffled fading footsteps as Fujitaka returned to his seat. She dared not move again until the pulsating heat faded from her body.

Until she washed her hands enough to make the sweet-musty smell fade from her fingers.