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His favorite bar is on the outskirts of town, far away from the bustle of the civilians. The bar, kept afloat by its loyal patrons, is unknown to most shinobi. The tavern is small and easily forgettable. Kakashi likes it that way. He’s not a recluse, but yes, a majority of his time does happen to be alone. However the bar was the least depressing of his usual haunts.
Except it is less hidden than he thought, as he spots a flash of pink while nursing his third drink.
“Kakashi-sensei, what a surprise.” Her voice is filled with excitement, the same softness she carried as of late seeping into her words.
“Sakura. You know, I haven’t been your teacher for quite some time. You don’t have to call me that.” He wishes she wouldn't. Since the ending of his career as a Sensei (he figured one disastrous, flaming failure was enough thank-you-very-much) Kakashi’s life revolved around pretending it never happened.
“Ne, Sensei, it’s part of the fun,” she added with a wink, “but enough of that, what’re you drinking? I could use a nice warm-up.”
He hopes his silence says enough. But she is one of the few people who is patient enough to read his moods.
She ends up ordering a shot of “whatever the hell is cheapest” before turning her attention to him again. Kakashi begins to regret not being shitfaced.
To say he was avoiding his last remaining student in the village is a stretch, but he wasn’t actively seeking her out either. The turmoil he felt (still feels in the deepest parts of his traitorous mind) weighs heavily on him.
Sakura, however, still looks at him with the same gleam in her eye as all those years ago. One of the strongest women in the nation and she still looks up to him. How odd.
The more shots she takes, the looser her posture.
The more time he spends around her, the looser he becomes.
Time passes, and various alcohols pass between their respective lips.
“Hey, Kakashi, do you think I’m too much? Like, people love Ino, but most men avoid me. Why do you think that is?” Her speech is beginning to slur, and he would bet that her vision is unfocused. He would also bet that she is far too drunk to walk home given that she entrusted him with this question.
God, he would rather be anywhere but here. Literally anywhere else. But he can’t help but feel some resemblance of responsibility for how her life turned out. With a sigh, he finished his drink before reaching over. Now pressing her head to the cool wood of the bar, Kakashi could finally fully take in her appearance. Her hair was still the same shade of pink as ever, but now held in a high bun. She smelled of antiseptic and hospital, and the circles under her eyes were worse than ever. She looked pale. And honestly, she looked almost as terrible as when Sasuke left. He knew she was pulling too many shifts at the hospital, trying to instate a new medic program. But he had no idea it was this bad.
Leaning over, he slides a hand over her shoulder, shaking lightly as he begins to lift her to her feet. She groans, lifting a hand to cover her face while stumbling. The bar stool slides, one leg tipping above the ground before coming down with a clatter. The few patrons left paid no attention, all focused on nursing their own problems.
The walk back, as uneventful as it was, allowed Kakashi to relax. The cold air did little to sober him up, but he was awake enough to lead Sakura through the streets to her apartment. It gives him time to study her, catalog the new muscles and scars from her days before being a jonin. At this point, he is more carrying her than walking, but it relaxes him. It lets him know she still trusts him enough to do this, even after so long.
When he arrives at her apartment - the one he does not know from snooping through her files - she stirs. Her breath smells of sake and spices. The smell of her hair (cinnamon and fresh shampoo) cuts through the night air. However, she mostly smells like a bar. So, he sets her down, helps her unlock her door, and walks in.
Kakashi doesn’t know why, but when she slurs out a soft “thank you” he can’t help but want to stay.
He doesn't.
When he returns to his own apartment, lackluster and dark, he imagines pink lips and cinnamon as his eyes close.
.
Eyes heavy with sleep, Kakashi blinks them open. Sunlight flows through the cracks in the window coverings, and he truly wants to die. He is sweaty, and hungover, and far too tired to even begin to think of the images his brain conjured in his sleep. Soft green, muscular curves, body marred with scars. He refuses to think of it.
He ends up at the hospital two weeks later. A mission gone wrong, he stupid, and too tired from the images plaguing his dreams for the past two weeks. His mission - classified- ended with dead and wounded on both sides.
He is carried unconscious into the hospital by his teammate. He remembers flashes of bright lights and the smell of antiseptic.
He wakes up in a week, stomach wrapped and in pain, but he’s alive. He decides then to take the preferred way out of this hell, and promptly goes unconscious.
When he returns to the land of the living, he notices a very dirty and very much asleep Sakura by his bedside. Kakashi is a proud man, no doubt. Even with his hidden sorrows and bottles of sake, there are moments in his life he is fond of. However, they are often outweighed by those he is more pleased to forget. His running from the hospital - and his student - is one he would rather forget. Internally, blames it on the sedative (really? That’s supposed to stop your movements) and whiplash of awakening in every shinobi’s hellish nightmare. Except, most don’t have someone who cares waiting by their bed. But then again, most don’t lust over a previous student too young to even know.
.
He takes to hiding from her. Constantly. His dreams are full of her image, often sultry and wanting. Her power is intoxicating for him. He remembers the timid genin under his care, and cannot fathom the transformation into who she is today.If he is honest, most of his life has passed in a blur too quick to form lasting memories. Sakura, however, is a constant in recent years. So he does the only rational thing in this situation. He hides. His days are spent predicting and avoiding her. He is exhausted. Kakashi is a brave man, and his reputation shows this. At least until it comes to one girl turned woman.
Sakura is well aware that Kakashi has been avoiding her since her embarrassing drunken night. Even after a grueling surgery where she saved his life he had taken to playing a very annoying, unsaid game of hide-and-seek. Honestly, it is exhausting. She is well aware she was never his favorite, but she never expected him to stoop this low.
Things for her have been different lately for her. The night she went to the bar, one of her patients had died. A boy, only six, who had been sick for months. His bones were weakened by cancer, too strong for his body to take. She needed to blow off steam, to forget about her god awful day. The night came in flashes - the burn of the liquor, a kind smile, more sake, and the warm smokey smell of man.
That night, Sakura woke with her thighs wet and her mouth dry. The image of her former teacher branded into her eyelids. His body, lithe and muscular, pinned beneath her own. The image of his face moaning quietly as she moves above him. The thought still gets to her days later. It begins to take up her every waking moment - in between her shifts at the hospital, while eating, before she falls asleep. She craves the feeling of him between her legs.
Sakura loves to see strong men bow beneath her. The look on their faces at the ecstasy she brings them. Her, little Sakura who was always ignored in favor of others. Her, the genin weakling who no one spared a glance at. She loved the feeling of power she had with every stroke of her hand, the tremble in their hips as they beg to cum. The adrenaline rush she gained with every begging word leaving their lips. Sakura loved having power over strong men. And Kakashi was a strong man indeed.
.
When Sakura makes her mind up, very little can stop her. And her mind is set on Kakashi.
.
Kakashi is never so thankful to get an extended ANBU mission. At minimum he will be out of the village for a month, which means a month of no longer having to hide from his student. He can’t help himself. He caught a flash of her pink out of the corner of his eye and ran off to hide. Like a child. He hates himself for this. But he hates his attraction to her even more. He has had an integral part in her life since she was a child, and now here he is, fantasizing about her. He had a reputation as a pervert, but he refuses to stoop this low. Even if it means the coil in his chest continued to tighten with every day he avoided her.
He returns on a Thursday evening, two months from when he left. The sky is tinged purple, and the air is cool. The atmosphere is calm and relaxed. Kakashi is not. His thoughts are racing, wondering where to find her. After this mission, he needs her.
It was a simple honey-pot infiltration, nothing new to him. But throughout the entirety of building trust with the lord’s daughter, he thought of nothing but Sakura. He imagines pink where black hair lays. Green eyes over blue. A brash personality over the daughter’s subservient ways. He wants and he craves.
His troubles are not eased on the way home, in fact, they worsen. His assigned teammate - Genma of all people - told him about the “greatest lover” in Konoha one night. They had set up a small fire, taking a risk of being found. But with their proximity to the village, and the skillset of their team, they truly weren’t worried. Genma, a sebon in his mouth, begins recanting “the best night he ever had” to Kakashi, who promptly tuned him out. Until, well, he heard that name. Sakura. Genma was talking about Sakura. Without showing, Kakashi begins to listen in. Apparently “as brutal as she is on the battlefield is nothing in comparison.” He tries to stop listening, he really does. He wants to respect her privacy, but he can’t help himself. His dreams of her that night begin to show her true form.
.
She ties him up in his dream. They both know he can escape, but he is beginning to wonder if he would ever really want to. She teases him, caressing him slowly while whispering in his ears. His hands strain against the ties, but he craves her touch. He wants to be what she needs, so he stays still. Every moan and gasp that escapes him seems to please her, a smile never drifting from her face. She moans when he kisses her - no mask he realizes - and suddenly his hands are on her perky breasts, thumbing at the nipple. His vision shifts, and he is on a bed, with her hovering above him. She eases down, and right before he can taste her on his lips, he wakes up. Disgust rolls over him, but he can’t help but wonder how she tastes.
He returns on a Thursday, and heads straight to the bar. He needs liquid courage.
For once, he does not hide from her, simply stays put and allows her to find him if she wishes. She strolls into the bar two hours after he arrives back in the village, orders a shot, and proceeds to down it in one go. Then another. And a third. Finally, she looks over at him, face blank, before offering a small smile.
“Ne, Sensei, been hiding from me, huh?” she all but whispers, so unlike herself in this moment.
“Of course not, my little blossom. Just a long, boring mission. Nothing to worry yourself about.” Another sip, the burn starts to ease with each drink. “Say, I recently read in Ic-” she holds up a hand, stopping his nonsensical rambling.
“Kakashi,” oh Kami, she never calls him just that, “you know that isn’t what I meant. Even before, you were avoiding me. Why? I deserve to know why my favorite teacher can no longer look at me.”
There's a forced mirth in her tone, but her eyes show a sadness he hasn’t seen in a long time. A deep breath in. And out. And in, before he leans over and gulps down the remainder of his drink. He can’t think while she looks so sad. He reaches over, placing a hand on hers.
Sakura is rarely surprised anymore. With all of the absurd things she has dealt with, Kakashi voluntarily touching her in a non-combat situation was the strangest. She was thrown off, and wondering just how much he had to drink, and if he had sustained a head injury on his mission. Reaching over, she places her free hand on his temple. Ignore the surprised look, she sends out healing chakra, searching for whatever is making Kakashi not act like himself. She finishes her search and finds nothing, not even a slight fever. Her emotions, not beginning to whirl around inside of her, settle on confused. Looking over to him, she notices his eyes are trained on her face, and his mouth slightly ajar.
Kakashi had never associated healing chakra with anything other than resentment and pain. A lifetime of being forced into hospitals will do that. But Sakura’s chakra, surprisingly warm and calming, had an effect on him unlike any other. His breathing was constricted, and if he was honest, so were his pants. His eyes finally focused again, and saw her - saw the genuine caring on her face, and decided to change scenery.
One minute, Sakura is in the bar, dirty stool beneath her, and the next she is at an apartment - one she assumed belongs to her former teacher. He was always so secretive about his home, to the point where her team would speculate how he lived during their genin days. Honestly, he was much like Sasuke was. Clean, but not meticulously so. A small futon in the corner of the room, with folded clothing atop it. A small cactus on the windowsill, and a bowl on the floor (which she can only assume belongs to Pakkun). She takes these in with stride, storing them in the back of her mind. First, she has to figure out why she was brought here.
Kakashi is oddly silent, even for himself. He knows the minute he opens his mouth he will lose all control. He doesn’t know if he can let himself. But here she is, in his home. That he brought her to. But can’t explain why. To either of them.
She isn’t sure of what she expects next, but it isn’t him pulling her into his living room and onto his couch. It also isn’t him grabbing her hand once more. And it sure as hell isn’t him, head tilted down to stare at her, eyes unwavering and unsure.
“Sakura, please, tell me if you don’t want this. I’ll leave and we can pretend this never happened.” There are no signs of the usual joking tone in his voice. All she sees is his eye - pupil dilated and sincere - as she stares back. She wonders what he sees in her face, the one currently staring up at him in shock.
Sakura’s life has been full of tough decisions, but this is not one. She removes her hand from his, seeing the flash of rejection under his mask, before moving it to his cheek. She leans in, pressing her lips to his ever so gently. A wisp of her hair falls out of place, onto his face, before he moves it back into place. A gesture so simple, yet so gentle. At that moment, all she wanted was to see him wrecked, crying beneath her.
She leans in, firmly placing her lips on his, breathing in his scent through her nose. She relishes the look of shock, now on his face as opposed to her’s, before removing her hand from his face. She twists it into his hair, loving the grunt he gives in return. She moves to straddle him, sitting firmly in his lap before ending their kiss.
With a sigh, she begins to stroke his hair. “I’m not what most expect, or even want, in bed. I don’t want to ruin my place in your life -” he begins to speak, before she holds up her hand. Continuing, she says, “but I do want this. I want you. I want you under me, begging while I control you. I want to see you cry from pleasure, and I want to ruin you. If you can’t handle that, or me, please, tell me and I will go. And tomorrow this will have never happened.”
Silence fills the room, and Sakura understands his answer. Just like that of most before him, he cannot (or will not) be a part of this. She moves to get off of him, breath trembling as it escapes her mouth. She loves him almost too much to regret their shared minutes together. But she still does. She wonders if he will too; if he will share who she is with others, laughing at how foolish and rash she was to believe she could be with him. Finally removing herself from his lap, she looks down. One last look at him, she promises to herself, before we go back to being strangers. He is looking at his lap, probably processing his mistake. She leaves in a flurry of petals.
Kakashi is processing. He has never been confused by much, often making split second decisions on the battlefield with no problem. But Sakura isn’t a split second decision, not in the slightest. He knows he should have spoken sooner, but the thought that she actually wanted him short circuited his brain. He also knows he majorly fucked up the minute she left, and has no idea how to even begin to go from here. How is he going to win back her trust after he let her bare her soul? The rejection she must be feeling is immense, and he can’t bear to imagine the pain she is in. But he assumes its similar to what he is feeling too.
She doesn’t see him for a week. She supposes it’s for the best. Her routine consists of : hospital, avoiding anywhere he may be, home, food, avoiding her urge to visit that bar, sleep, repeat. Nothing much has changed from before, except for being on high alert constantly. It’s exhausting. She wonders briefly if he felt the same way before during their hide-and-seek. Except now it was official, all parties invited and unwilling to lose.
She thinks she sees him, two days in, before realizing it was a child’s gray kite stuck in a tree. Really, who gives a child a gray kite, of all things.
Eight days in, she stumbles through the door of her apartment. She’s dead tired, hungry, and had a shit day. Nothing could make it worse. Except, however, if her former teacher was sitting on her couch, thumbing through his damn orange book. Not knowing how to react, she goes to make tea. Her brain finally catches up to her when she is pouring tea into two cups. She might as well humor him. Walking into her living room, she is surprised to see he is still there. Handing him a cup, she finally asks,
“As much as I love the surprise visit, is there any reason you’re here?” He doesn’t answer because that would be too fucking easy, wouldn’t it? Instead he inhales the scent of his tea, before turning to her.. He pats the couch, and she sits next to him, albeit hesitantly. Still silent, he places his cup on her table, before she does the same.
“Sakura,” he begins, clearing his throat awkwardly, “I want it too. I want you to use me to your will. I trust you, trust you to listen to my limits and to follow my safe-word. Which is ‘Ramen’ by the way.” Her mouth had fallen open, gaze confused but unwavering towards him. He continued, “I don’t want lasting marks of any kind. I want to be able to speak whenever I choose, and I don’t want any sharp objects near me - especially my friend. Now, are you going to speak, Sakura-chan, or just catch flies?”
Snapping out of her stupor, Sakura leans forward, placing a hand on his forehead. Mumbling, she looks towards him, muttering a quick “You don’t have a fever.” Laughing, he leans forward, and his eye crinkles. He grabs her, faster than she was expecting, and places her in his lap. She can feel him, feel the heat and strength of his body beneath her. God, she wants him so bad.
“Are you sure?” She needs the final confirmation, needs to hear it before she can even believe this is happening.
“Yes.” he murmurs. In a flash, her lips are on his. The skin of her legs sliding against fabric has never been this enticing. She grinds down, feeling his hardness between her thighs. Kami, this is perfect. She twines her hand in his hair, pulling until she hears a moan. She catches his lip between her teeth, tonguing over the cloth of his mask. He stands up, holding her to his waist.
“Bedroom.” he all but growls out. Her fingers point down her hallway, too preoccupied to even speak. They make it to her bed (after a few stops on the walls of her hallway). He falls, his back landing on her futon with her above him.
“Strip,” she all but commands, getting up to walk to her dresser. “and make it pretty.” He hurries, tries to be graceful, even with her back turned to him. He hesitates, mind debating, before removing his mask. If he trusts anyone, it’s her.
She turns around, doing fairly well at hiding the surprise when seeing his mask on her floor. He nods, silently showing her is okay with this. She walks back, and he sees what she was looking for. Rope, a cockring ( Kami he’s only read of those in Jiraiya’s novels), and a blindfold. He was already hard, precum leaking into his pants. And then she goes and grabs those. Kami, she is going to kill him.
“Now, you mentioned earlier what you didn’t like. If at any time something gets to be too much, tell me. Otherwise, I will stop if I can tell something is bothering you. That being said, not everything is going to be a cakewalk. “ She grinned, wickedly. On his back, Kakashi lifted his arms above his head, shifting so that if she wanted, he could easily be tied to the headboard. Instead, she motioned to a chair in the corner of the room.
“Ne, sensei, don’t bother trying to predict, just do what I say and enjoy.” She caressed his body, gentle finger hovering just above his skin from thigh to shoulder, stopping only to avoid his member. His cock began to leak even more, enjoying the way his honorific rolled off of her tongue.
“You’re so sensitive, I wonder just how much.” With that, she pinched a nipple, rolling the nub between her fingers. A gasp escapes him, so unprepared for her touch, and she flicks it with her finger. His hips thrust, coming into contact with only air. Sakura moves back, once again motioning for him to crawl off the futon and into the chair. He stumbles once he starts walking, lightheaded and too aroused to care. He all but throws himself into the chair, before she follows, taking the rope with her. She leans down, taking his other nipple into her mouth. She licks until he is writhing, then bites down. A strangled version of her name falls from his lips, before he begins to beg.
“So soon, Kakashi? Are you already that needy?” She taunts him, sunlight glinting off of the green of her eyes. He briefly wonders how many others have seen this side of her - the sadism she holds outside of the battlefield. He pushes it away, not ready to face her other conquests - not yet. As she advances, rope skillfully running through her fingers, he holds up a hand.
She stops immediately, moving to the side to place down her toys. He can see the swirling concerns and feelings of rejection already forming in her mind.
“I don’t want to be blindfolded - not today. I want to see.” The following “you, this, us” goes unsaid. As his eye connects with hers, he removes his Hitai-ate, his sharingan spinning lazily.
With a nod, she places it on the bed, slowly moving towards him once again. They both know what his action means.
Sakura has grown to love this part, the stalking of her prey. The power that arises from their heart beating a little quicker and the way their legs tremble with desire. Kakashi is no different. And yet he is. Yes, she wants to ruin him, but she also wants to put him back together.
As she reaches the chair, she leans down, slowly placing her mouth onto his. A subtle reminder that he can end this whenever he chooses. He kisses back fiercely, nipping at her bottom lip. With a dry laugh, Sakura pulls back, a smirk on her face. Here he is, uncovered and at her mercy. And yet, even in her hospital uniform, she felt like a queen.
While he may have forgotten about the rope, she most certainly did not. Sliding to straddle him, she moves him hands behind the chair, leaving a loose tie - an invitation in self-control, she explains. “If you happen to move, or break free of these ropes, well then the game is over and I punish you as I see fit.” His head, shaking in acknowledgement, was met with a tight grip on his chin.
“See, out there, you can be as aloof and silent as you like. But in here, with me, I need words, baby boy.”
Oh god he was going to cum without even being touched.
“Yes, Sa-ku-ra” her name dripping off of his tongue like honey. If it’s a game he wants, she will show him who has the upper hand. Continuing with her rope, she ties the remainder from his joined hands, to his thighs, spreading them open. Avoiding his cock still, she moves, her breath a ghost on his collarbone. “I only play to win, Kakashi. Don’t tempt me.”
Fluidly moving, she flits out of her hospital issued clothing, and lets down her hair. Her chest bindings - shinobi standard - hid her body from him, and he hated it. Hated the powerless situation he thrust himself into. And craved it all the same. Her panties, a soft blue, gave away her own arousal - a small patch of wetness at her center. But he knew, it would be long before he even had a taste of her. He was her pawn right now, and he had to play his part.
Grabbing the cock ring, she slides behind him. Fingers, soft for someone with her history of fights, run down his chest and briefly skim his nipples. He still cries out, a moan fighting its way out of his throat.
“Hm, you sound so pretty like this Kakashi, but I wonder . . . next time I might punish you for every sound you make. You’re so vocal, you know. I wonder how many times I would have to remind you to be quiet. But you’re lucky that today, I want to hear you. “
With that, her hands finally, finally slide down towards his member. With a quick movement, she flicks her wrist over the head of his cock, and slides on the cockring. Moving to the front of the chair, she faces him. His face, so open and yearning, stirs something in her. Most of her fucks are to relieve steam, and yet with him, it's different.
She leans down for another kiss, a simple slide of lip on lip, and yet it has her arousal building. Never has she lusted after a man in such a way. Regardless, it was time to show him what she did, who she was.
Falling to her knees, she comes to look at his member. The vein, throbbing with need - even after being left alone for so long - looked lonely, she decided. Running a finger up and down his cock, soft hands glowing with healing chakra.
“Ne, sensei, I learned this a while back,” jealousy spikes in Kakashi, “I use it on myself a lot. I’ve been thinking of you mostly, of how I wanted to do this for so long.” His jealousy subsides, in its place a burning passion bubbles to the surface.
Her chakra, as warm and calming as it was at the bar, floods his nerves. He thrust his hips, hoping to fully feel her hand. With a tsk, she stops.
“Please, Sakura. I need to feet you.”
“Oh, baby boy, you will. I won't keep you waiting for long”
There was that name again, the one that made him ache even further.
With the ring at the base of his cock, and her hands a wisp of what they could be, he was going mad. He needed her, had been dreaming of her for months.
“Hey, Kaka-sensei, let’s play a game. I’ll touch you, however you want, but you can’t cum. If you do, the game is over, and I’ll simply go to bed. But, if you’re good, I’ll give you a treat.”
With that, she moves her hand to her core, the patch on her underwear significantly larger than before. Reaching to caress herself, she returns with fingers wet. He all but lunges, taking her fingers into his mouth without a second thought. She tastes so much sweeter than he could ever imagine.
“I. . . I need you. I need you to touch me, please Sakura.” With that, her hand begins to move, slowly tracing his vein once more, before encircling his cock with her hands. Hands so powerful, yet so small. She looked beautiful. It was intoxicating. She begins to squeeze, tightening her grip, before moving up and down his shaft. His eyes open, sharingan swirling to remember every moment, every feeling. What he didn’t expect, because one should always stay on their toes with her, was a warm soft mouth leaning down to suckle his head. Her tongue flicked at his slit, before she took him down, sheathing his cock in her mouth. Her hand on his hip a subtle reminder of his place. She continued, a fast past that would slow, bringing him close without the relief.
“I need to touch you, please.” Kakashi was not a man to beg, and yet here he was, at her feet like a stray dog. A small hum as his only reply, she moves to stand. She straddles the chair, crouching over him before grinding her wet center onto him. He moves, desperate and fast, grinding against her core. Slowly, he can feel it build.
“Sakura, I don’t mean to disappoint,” in his ever so dry voice,” but I may be close to cumming, and I seem to recall a game that I don’t intend to lose.”
Moving away, she circles behind him once again, with one last slide of her soaked fabric against him. Suddenly his bonds are free, and he waits. Does he stand? Or wait for her instructions? His brain was suddenly filled with too many thoughts at once, until her hand enlaced itself with his, leading to the futon in the middle of the room.
“You were so good, baby boy. You deserve a treat. Go on, you can taste.” With a realization, he moves above her, stealing a kiss before he moves down between her legs. Her blue cotton was not stained, and it pleased him. Pleased him to know she wanted this, enjoyed this (and him). He smiles into her, not yet removing the fabric. Simply running his fingers up and down her, before finding her clit. With a yelp, he covered it with his mouth, fabric be damned. He needed her, now. Moving away, he suddenly hoped she didn’t like this pair, as he ripped them off. He knew he would be punished, but he didn’t care. He was like a man in a dessert, and she was the only source of water.
He looked, studying with a calculating gaze before running a finger up and down her outer lips. Her hips wriggled, and he caught his cue. She was impatient, and he was too. In a swift moment, his tongue was lapping at her center, occasionally moving to flick her clit with his tongue. She was so wet, and getting wetter as he fucked her with his tongue.
He could continue forever, lapping between her legs until his dying breath. But she apparently had other plans. Grabbing his hair with her hand, gentle at first, she increased pressure until he was being pulled to her face, scalp aching much like his own cock.
Her lips entwined with his, tasting her - all of her. And yet, he had no illusions of who was in control. She allowed him this, but he was hers. As she reached down and stroked him, a gleam caught her eye.
“Well, you’ve been good so far. Just one more game, I promise.” It was amazing how she could bring him to his knees in an instant, no questions asked.
“You can come today,” oh thank Kami yes, “but,” oh no, “if you want. But only if you deserve it. Are you gonna prove you deserve it?” A whimper was all that could fall from his lips. Moving forward, he attempted to nuzzle her breast, wanting nothing more than to touch. With a refined power only a shinobi can possess, she lifts him, legs wrapping around to pull him to her level. Rubbing her core against him, he pulls him in, allowing only his tip to rub against her folds. His pants fill the air, and as much as he wants to please her, his selfishness comes through, demanding he fall into the ecstasy of her embrace. As she moves him forward, her legs wrapped around him controlling his movements, she snaps his hips into hers.
“Oh Sakura, you’re . . . you’re so tight.” He whispered, breathing in pants. With a grin, she grinds her hips, his thighs trembling.
“Now baby, you wanted to cum for me, but you’ve got to earn it, remember?” Her voice was liquid lust. “Now, I’ll let you do what you want, but I cum first. Then I’ll consider you.”
He needed to prove he was worth her time, mind consumed with making it good for her. His first thrust was shaky, her tight cunt making it difficult to keep his thoughts together. And yet, with her impatience growing, her hips began to thrust against his.
He turns, flipping her over, before slamming into her. He knew gentle, he knew loving - but this was not the time. His hips, erratic and hard, slammed into her. He knew his fingers would leave a lasting mark on her hips, and he couldn’t help but grin. She was his as much as he was hers.
Below him, Sakura was glistening in sweat - grinding on his cock like she needed it. He needed it too. Reaching down he moves her hair from her shoulder, leaning down to place a kiss on her back, before slowing his thrusts. He reached, his hand swirling around her clit, before thrusting again, deep and slow. He couldn’t see her face, but from her moans she was close. The pitch in her voice raised, octaves above where it had been when she was in control - when she was on top. But now, no matter how close he was, this was about her. Leaning into her, hand now fervorously circling her clit, he bit her shoulder. His instinctual need to claim, to not lose her. Judging by the tightening of her core, and the loader her moans, she was close. Hopefully closer than her was - he needs to win her game. He needs this. His pace, slow and torturous, suddenly speeds up, his hips thrusting against hers, the burning desire within his closing in. He pulls out, and flips her. He needs to see her face. Leaning in, he kisses her as he sheathes himself within her, the tight heat coiling in both of them. She leans in, nipping at his lips. Her hands move between them, slithering up his body before holding onto his face. She arches, and his lips wrap around her nipple, tongue flicking around the nub. She reaches up, hand winding itself into his hair once again. Pulling, she says, “You’re doing so good, I’m almost there. Just a little more.” His thrusts continue, his body aching and covered in sweat. But this wasn't about it - it was for her. A hand sliding back down to her clit, and then she all but explodes. Her voice, so steady and calm during the entire process, comes with a shout. Her grip in his hair tightens to the point of pain, as she spasms around him.
“Please, Sakura, please,” he begs, “I need it - I need to cum, please let me.” For a man of few words, he still couldn’t show how much he needed this.
“Oh baby, you’ve been so good. You played all my games. You deserve it, you can cum for me.” With one last thrust, his own body spasms, reaching the euphoria of an orgasm that can only be described as pure bliss.
Pulling away, he falls over to the side of her futon closest to the window - well prepared to escape once she realizes what happened. But instead, she turns, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Stay” she asks, no longer the demanding voice used only moments ago. All at once, he sees her. All of her. The shy genin that grew into an adult that finally showed him who she truly is. “Of course” is his only reply, arm encircling her.
“So,” she asks, “was it too much?” With a laugh, he shakes his head. “Good.” is her only reply. “I’ve got more plans for the future.”