When the goddess was unaware, the god would protect her from harm.

Sakura reclined on her sofa, nursing her cold. She wasn't aware that she had fallen asleep after Naruto and Sasuke left to train. That is, until she awoke sometime later with a dry mouth and an even more severely sore head. Looking around her apartment, she wondered if she had turned off the lights before she fell asleep. A blanket fell from her as she sat up. Startled, she jumped.

She definitely didn't have a blanket before.

Trying not to feel violated by the mysterious presence of the blanket, she pulled it off and slowly rose. Her head spun and clenched in disapproval from her rising, but she set her mind to examine her apartment. The thought of someone coming and going without her knowledge disturbed her, though she knew it must have been with benign intent. She stumbled to the bathroom, eyeing it. Seeing nothing out of place, she made her way to the small kitchen. There, nothing lay amiss.

Her brows furrowed together in confusion. Maybe she had placed that blanket on herself after all?

Shaking her head, she opened the refrigerator for juice. Her busy schedule and current illness had prevented her from going shopping lately, but she hoped that she had at least something to drink. Due to the scarce nature of her food supply, something new inside the refrigerator quickly caught her eye. Sitting alone was a container of what appeared to be soup.

Pulling the container out, she looked it over with wide-eyed surprise. On top lay a note with heating instructions. The handwriting was concise, clear, and extremely familiar.

Apparently, inspired by Naruto's suggestion, Sasuke had delivered homemade soup.

A shiver of delight passed through her as a small smile tickled her face. Her breath caught in her chest as her heart began to patter faster.

Despite what had recently transpired between them, Sakura couldn't help but feel that Sasuke's intentions came from a good place.


Shortly after consuming a bowl of the absolutely delicious soup—blushing when she thought of Sasuke making it just for her—she drifted back to her bedroom. Fuzzy from the kind gesture and groggy from her cold, she instantly fell into a comfortable position. When her thoughts dwelled on Sasuke, a sweet coating covered her awareness. For the first time in a long time, thoughts of him did not bring even a hint of anxiety—only pleasure and giddiness.

Whether or not Naruto had been involved in the cooking and delivery of the soup was irrelevant—the fact that he had prepared her a meal overwhelmed her. He must have eased himself into her house quietly, so as not to wake her. After he put her soup away, he must have looked for her. Checked up on her.

She tucked her knees close at the thought and nearly squealed to herself.

Then, he must have seen her sleeping on the couch and covered her with the blanket.

Her heart fluttered as she imagined him bent over her sleeping frame. How his hands would have been so close as he tucked the blanket over her. If only she had been awake!

Feeling soothed and cared for, her eyelids grew heavy. Despite her excitement and thrill from his kind gesture, she fell into a contented and deep sleep. She slept longer than she had in months. She didn't stir for hours. When her body finally felt refreshed, her eyes fluttered open slowly. Her cold was still thick and burdensome, but she managed to ease herself out of bed. Remembering her failure to clean up after her midnight snack, she prepared herself for the inevitable mess she had made in her absentminded glee.

Her jaw dropped ever so slightly when she entered the kitchen. Everything had been cleaned and organized with such precision. In addition to the flawless state of purity, there was a new bowl on her kitchen counter. Shyly, she padded her way to the bowl. Inside, there were several robust, rounded tomatoes. Her breath fluttering into a giggle, she picked one up. She squeezed the plump fruit in her hands as her heart raced.

Sasuke's favorite.

She looked around her kitchen, wondering if any other foods had made their way into her home. Continuing to lovingly squeeze the tomato in her hand, she opened her refrigerator. When she looked inside, her breath caught immediately and she swore her heart stopped.

It was filled to the brim with fresh groceries.

He must have checked in on her this morning while she slept, or maybe he noted the barren state of her kitchen last night. Either way, he noticed the lack of food. He went completely out of his way and purchased groceries for her.

A hot blush rushed across her face when she realized to what extent he'd taken care of her. Not only were there staple food items in her refrigerator, but they were food items she tended to favor. A wide smile possessed her before her jaw dropped.

He got her anko dumplings! He sought out and bought her one of her favorite foods. Not only that, but it was a food that made his nose scrunch up in distaste. He must have gone out of his way to be sure she would have what she wanted.

Her favorite.

Her knees went weak with the gesture.


Waiting to get better from an illness is horrendous, and Sakura felt this tenfold due to her naturally hectic schedule. A few days managed to crawl by as she lay around her apartment drinking various kinds of fruit juices and stretching. The only physical training she could manage for those few days were light yoga stretches.

She officially hated stretching now. It was boring, and not nearly enough action for her inner destructive self.

So, when an evening finally came where she didn't feel horrid, she nearly leaped through her apartment door. She intended to go on a light jog, but found herself itching for real physical action. When she flung open her front door and tried to rush outside, she crashed into a warm, solid wall which knocked the breath right out of her.

Before she could realize she had run into Sasuke head on, two hands firmly clasped her upper arms. He pulled her away, keeping her restrained. Temporarily, she was distracted by the firm grip of his hands on her arms. She knew he was trying to keep her put, but the feeling of his warm hands on her created a whisper of excitement. He was touching her, and not even attempting to withdraw.

"What the hell are you doing?" he interrogated.

"Training," she beamed. She really didn't mean to smile at him. He certainly didn't deserve a smile since he was holding her down, but her excitement to be free from her home filled her. Her exhilaration from his touch added an extra bounce of joy to her tone, along with the memory of his gestures of kindness while she was ill.


Her eyebrows immediately shot up. He met her gaze with a solid stare. Any warm, fuzzy feelings were put on hold for a moment.

"I'll do what I want." She tried to shake his grasp.

"What you want is stupid." He gripped her more firmly. "Last time I let you do as you pleased, you got sick."

A huff escaped her, despite her urge to stay aloof. She tapped her food in annoyance, considering her options.

Option number one, she could argue with him. Result, he'd ignore her.

Option number two, she could reason with him. Result, he'd ignore her.

Option number three, she could try to beat his face in. Result, he'd probably see it coming and he was already holding her still.

Frustrated, she let out a growl and stomped her foot.

"Look," she babbled in a heated flush. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Naruto and I suspected you'd continue this poor routine, despite the obvious need to give it up."

Her face continued to flush in an erratic medley of confusion, embarrassment, and rage. She figured that the pair must have devised some kind of meddlesome plan involving taking turns to make sure she didn't leave at night. Even more than their bothersome interference, she was enraged that they assumed they could control her so easily.

Now, she just really, really, really wanted to hit something. Her hand curled into a fist.

"You two are assholes," she grumbled.


Their eyes met, and for the briefest of moments, she saw his face soften a little. His hold on her loosened somewhat, so that his touch was not forceful or dominant. His fingers loosened to a gentle hold on her. For a second, he almost looked a little concerned. But in the next breath, his stone mask slipped back into place…as always. However, his grip on her remained docile.

"Why?" he interrogated her suddenly. There was a loaded intensity to the question, but she wasn't certain what he was asking. Her eyebrows drew together as her eyes widened in confusion.

"Are you training for revenge?" he continued to pry, his grip slowly starting to restrain her again.

"What? No," she babbled, continually growing hotter. "Who would I want revenge on?"


"I don't."

"Then why all this effort to improve battle techniques?"

"I…" Her mouth fell slightly ajar.

"Explain yourself," he demanded intently.

"I shouldn't have to! You don't understand anything anyway!" she argued.

He analyzed her with a glare, but his thoughts began to betray him as they ran wickedly through his mind. He found himself attracted to how redness glowed across her cheeks. How she huffed in a barely controlled anger and stomped her foot. How passionately her eyes burned into him.

How he secretly liked bossing her around for her own good—looking after her.

He tried to contain his thoughts, but no control was to be found.

He wondered what it would have been like if he hadn't rejected her. What it would have been like to continue his evening time alone with her. Maybe…if he didn't only spend time with her when they trained…if they were together in more domestic situations…maybe...

Why had he stopped bonding with her again?

His lips set into a grimace.

She. Was. So. Annoying.

"I don't care what you do," he seethed before suddenly releasing her from his grasp. She blinked and in the next moment, he was gone.


The other gods continued to beg for the god's attention. He was roused from his meditation, making him agitated. When they were not begging for his attention, the essence of the goddess would tickle at him and rouse him. When her essence wasn't awakening him, he awoke on his own. He could not detach or remain distant any longer. He approached her finally, asking what she desired from him.

As he stormed away from Sakura, he came to realize he was shaking. Not from the chill of nightfall, but from a fiery, confrontational rage. Her constant defiance made him insane.

He knew that foolish woman had run off into the night to train, despite his obvious disdain for her choice. Despite the fact that he had strictly told her not to—but Sakura had a mind of her own. He knew she loved pleasing him, but that desire took second place to something burning inside of her. Whatever it was, he loathed anything that made her rebel against him—anything that placed them into conflict.

He could have wrestled her down to the ground right outside of her apartment. He could have forced her down, but he resisted controlling her so crudely. Now, as he shook with rage, he wished he had.

However, he knew the truth. He knew that some wicked, horrid, undesirable piece of him that was slowly consuming him wanted to pull her close. He knew the second he wrestled her down, he'd try to hold her in a different way. A troublesome way.

He liked her too much.

A growl erupted from his lips. His heart rate increased as he thought about holding her—it was pounding in his ears. How his fingers were so tight against her arms—how he could feel her pulse race in his grip.

He huffed heatedly, his fists clenching in his erratic fever of anger and longing. He knew where she was, and he was going to make her accountable for all the fiery torture he endured when he thought of her.

She would be in the spot—their usual spot.


As she trained, he approached her. His movements were rapid, uncontrolled—the person once in control, long gone. Instead, his muscles coiled in anticipation of a fight.

"Spar," he ordered, his tone deep and agitated.

She turned to face him. She blinked twice before a small, ironic smile broke across her face.

"Don't smile at me," he seethed.

She should have been intimidated, but excitement kept fluttering through her.

Tonight could be the night. Tonight she might win against him.

A certain aura surrounding her gave her the feeling that she would win. Tonight would be the night she proved herself equal in a rough, primal fashion.

"I don't want to spar all the time anymore," she answered, suddenly forceful. Her intentions began to gush from her, and she couldn't deny them any longer.

He raised a brow.

"Tonight's the last night," she affirmed. "I don't like the way we do things."

His gaze lowered, something of a glare, but not quite. He peered into her, trying to pry her intentions from her.

"So, let's make tonight special, since it's our last," she smiled, a hint of inappropriate teasing escaping her. "If I win tonight, you grant me a request."

His gaze intensified, but he said nothing—his stance pure stone.

He unsheathed his sword slowly, apparently willing to accept the terms. She noted he made no terms for his victory. Apparently, he wanted nothing from her.

The tactics of their battle fell into patterns and styles. First, their battle was distant. They kept their bodies far from each other, long range attacks falling into favor. Once all kunai were missing from their fingertips and he realized just how much she had mastered evasion, he charged closer.

With light, mysterious feet, she kept stepping from her bounds. When she charged at him with a chakra-filled punch, he evaded her. Her strike fell to the earth, but her body did not. Her hands caught her fall, and she flipped herself over. She eluded him again and again, landing on her feet each time.

With time, he managed to land a deep slice into the flesh of her abdomen. Blood gushed over her splayed fingers, seeping easily onto her clothes. This should have slowed her down. Instead, he watched as she stepped away from view.

By the time he found her, her fingers were glowing green. She was mending herself.

The tone became sadistically playful. He'd move rapidly, inflicting harm. He cringed time and time again, dreading the sight of her blood. He repressed his self-disgust, trying to rush the battle to its end. Once they were finished, he wouldn't have to look at her blood anymore. But she kept moving rapidly away, healing herself. No matter how many times he cut her, she'd mend herself back together. Her true advantage in battle was this technique. Speed, flexibility, strength… none of that mattered as long as she could maintain herself.

The tone between them changed. He activated his Sharingan, a clear advantage. A mantra continuously struck through her mind—she needed to focus. His blazing red eyes made her heart race. Whether this was from his blatant display that he was challenged or her own excitement from battle, she could not know. She needed to focus. They were less hesitant now. Focus!

Passion burned between the pair. Deflection of complex jutsu. Implementation of complex jutsu. They saw through each other's different deception techniques. They could only see the truth. Intricate battle tactics fell apart.

He had to admit, despite her assurances of victory over him, he didn't think she'd give it her all. He smiled bitterly. She was more than adept at hurting him. Maybe some part of her secretly liked to hurt him. The multiple bruises and cuts that currently peppered his skin supported his theory. Of course, her healing talent kept her from having a similar appearance. Only a few deep wounds marked her skin—the kind of injuries she could ignore as she pursued to defeat him.

Things turned raw the moment he tackled her to the ground. Her body slammed to the earth, dirt ingrained into her skin. He expected to pin her down, but her knee came up and forced itself into his stomach. He recoiled from her and she managed to edge slightly away. His fingers grabbed her shoulders, flipping her onto her stomach. Her hands braced her frame as he forced her face into the earth.

Vaguely, she realized he was straddling her backside.

"I've got you," he taunted. The sound was huskier than she had ever heard before. Her chest heaved and a fluttering sensation ran through her. The pit of her stomach grew warm as she instantly found stimulation in their position.

But she wasn't going to be held down. Her desire for him wasn't about to overwhelm her chance. She was so close to winning. A gasp of pain escaped her mouth. Tonight she would win. Commitment and strength rushed through her, numbing any pain or thoughts of submission.

Ignoring the sensation of his proximity, she was able to slightly edge out her hands which had been trapped under her stomach. Grunting from the pain in her wrists, she forced chakra through them. A burst of strength allowed her some leverage between him and the ground. She arched her foot from underneath him. She pushed a surge of chakra through the leg, allowing her to throw him off balance and flip him backward. Remembering her training with Ino, Sakura's legs raised into the air and her ankles locked around Sasuke's neck. With grace born of months of training, she flipped him into the air and slammed him onto the earth. Eager for the opportunity, she straddled him and punched his chest to guarantee submission from him.

He gave a grunt of pain, temporarily disoriented by the force of her attack and the graceful sight of her soaring through the air. While he was dazed, she straddled him and held him in place using the strength in her thighs. Her fingers reached for a nearby fallen kunai.

When he became aware seconds later, he felt the cold metal on his throat. His eyes flicked upward, meeting hers.

The sensation of victory tickled and shined in her viridian eyes, but a smile did not play on her face. Instead, she remained completely serious in expression. It seemed as if she was anticipating a surprise move on his part—as if the moment was too purely good to be true.

Her hair was mussed with grass and leaves. Her usually glowing, pinkened skin was smeared with sweat, dirt and dried blood. Despite her wild appearance, she managed to stop the breath inside of him.

"I've got you," she murmured softly, her voice vaguely reminding him of a flute. "I win."

There was no reality for the briefest of moments for Uchiha Sasuke. He was dazed and began to drown within himself. Her victory was not the source of the severe pausing of his world, but he couldn't place what was. It was as if reality was no longer harsh. No cruelty. No pain.

She blinked down at him, curious as to why he had not reacted or spoken.

"Are you okay?" she asked, leaning in closer. The kunai remained at his neck. As she leaned, her bangs fell forward. With her legs straddling his waist, he felt as if he was dominated by a lover and not an opponent. His lips twitched, remembering the sensation of her tongue against his mouth.

His fingers edged to the kunai. Slowly, he slipped the weapon from her hands. He threw the weapon, hearing a thunk as it landed in a tree. He eased himself up, but did not push her off. Nor did she make a move to get off of him. As he sat up, she fell onto his lap. Her legs wrapped behind him.

Her breath hitched. He could see he was making her nervous, but her eyes did not waver from him.

The goddess left him no choice. He offered to grant her a boon.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone still unfamiliarly husky. Excitement began to flutter through her body. He was so close. His hands were placed at the small of her back, supporting her. Dizzy and dazed with desire, she answered by pressing her forehead on his.

"I want to be close again," she whispered.

In this boon, she demanded that he no longer neglect her love and acknowledge the love he held for her.

He raised a brow at her. Answering him definitively, she pressed her lips lightly against his. Trembles of delicate pleasure spread between them with each slight movement of her lips in the light kiss…with each slight movement of his.

She pulled away slowly, her eyes half-lidded.

"No," he answered soundly. He roused slightly, preparing to stand. Before he rose, slender fingers curled around his neck.

"Why?" she asked. No anger or malice reflected in her tone. Instead, her voice held only curiosity. Her wide-open eyes kept him from pushing her away with hurtful words. Meeting her eyes, he became keenly aware of her thoughts…her feelings.

"I can't take care of you," he answered honestly. He tried to ignore warm heat gathering in his veins as her fingers began to stroke gently at his neck.

"I can take care of you," she countered, a hint of mischief escaping her. Dipping her head into his neck, she laid light kisses against his salty, sweaty skin.

"Don't you want to be together?" she murmured against his skin as she kissed under his ear.

"N-no," he stammered. Why was his heart beating so wildly? She giggled slightly at his neck, all too aware of his stammering. Agitation crept through him vaguely, but he struggled to focus on himself. Instead, he only managed to focus on her.

"Don't you need to be together?" she asked, nibbling at his earlobe. "Because it's so unlike you to be defenseless."

She was right. She was on his lap, kissing him and he had done nothing to pull her off. Effectively, she'd managed to sneak past his guard. And he had the nerve to scold her for being unaware of what was going on around her.

She pulled away from him, her eyes blazing. So were his. His hands remained at her back, holding her in affection, even if he was unaware of it. She felt his fingers twitch ever so slightly as she held him with her eyes. Her strong, steady gaze pushed words from his lips, even if he didn't want them to escape. Sure, his thoughts were allowed to run rampant within him, but the fact that he formed sentences from his wild thoughts drove him mad.

"I refuse to share you," he murmured, his voice low but all too real. Unable to resist reaction, she pressed her forehead against his. One of his hands moved up her back to her shoulder.

"It's always been like that," she answered. He applied pressure to her shoulders, forcing her down into a kiss.

How he kissed so roughly when he initiated kisses!

"I don't care what you want from me," he murmured in hot confession against her skin. "I just want to be with you. I need you in my life."

His kissed her possessively. He pressed into her lips so soundly, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from her. Sasuke pushed his tongue through her lips, prying her mouth open so that he could kiss her more openly. As he pushed at her mouth, her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders—her grip tight, almost afraid that he'd slip away from her. He ravaged her mouth, enticing pants of pleasure from her and making her fingers curl.

His hands began to slip from her shoulders, wandering. He hungrily tore at her mouth, his hands instinctively moving and meeting at her waist. Too long had he denied himself her affection. Too long had he denied his desire for her affection. Giving in to her, he impatiently refused to wait to touch her again. He scolded himself—he was stupid to think he should stop touching her.


He had enough. He had limits. After too much time and too many pent up emotions, the want and raw need for her had gone far too neglected. Once he finally accepted his desire to be with her, he felt himself fall into a frenzy.

His fingers slid to her hips, forcing her to press closer into him. She obeyed, colliding against him delightfully.

She moaned softly against his mouth.

His hands began to wander north, sliding trickily under her shirt. His fingers edged upward, brushing across her toned form. She arched her back and pressed her flesh further into his calloused fingers. His rough fingers slid past her bra, fondling the warm, supple flesh beneath. He squeezed her, making her gasp away from his lips. Air wouldn't collect into her. Her reflexive breathing disobeyed her, so consumed her body was with lust and absorbing his every touch. His thumbs flicked across her and suddenly she was able to gasp in pleasure—she found herself able to maintain semi-functional breathing.

Her head fell backwards as he continued to tease her, making raw desire ache between her legs. As her head tilted backwards, she exposed her neck. Immediately, she was lost in sensations from his teasing fingers and mouth that played against her neck. He kissed her, his tongue occasionally flicking against the vulnerable skin. When he found a particular spot that made her throatily moan his name, he nibbled lightly.

He always knew if he started touching her, he wouldn't be able to stop.

One of his hands fell to his waist, the other remained cupping her. He began to lower his pants, before he was alerted by a gasp.

"Here?" she murmured, her hands burrowing into the dark strands of his hair. His eyes flicked upward at her, observing how flushed her cheeks were. Her lips looked puffy from his previously rough kisses. "Now?"

"Now," he grunted, roughly. A shiver trembled in the aching spot between her legs. He pulled her to his lips again, dissatisfied with the distance between them. He kissed her passionately again, her fingers curling and scratching lightly against his scalp in pleasure.

She had intended to seduce him a little, but she had not realized how she brought him to the point of no return.

Her fingers scratched from his scalp, down his neck, and down his back. Her hands met briefly, finding the hem of his shirt. Forcefully tugging, she pulled his shirt from his chest. Made eager by the sight of his bare chest, her mind whispered wicked ideas to her. How hot would it feel to press her bare chest against his?

Her fingers flung to her shirt and worked rapidly to remove all clothes from her upper half. Bare and exposed to the chilly night breeze, she shivered and pressed against him for warmth. A grunt escaped his lips from the sensation. Forgetting his previous attempt to remove his pants, his hand dipped into hers. He found the hem of her panties and lightly fingered a lace edge.

With the slightest tilt and bend of her head, they both leaned in for a kiss. Slow…sensual...agonizing. Nerve endings of pleasure vibrating in places neither knew were asleep.

His fingers dipped past her panties, edging between her legs. Her hips bucked against him instinctively. Despite the constraint of her panties on his hand, he managed to slowly rub her. Wet moisture began to coat his fingers. She whimpered against his lips repeatedly, her hips rubbing and hunting for friction.

"Feels so good," she purred against his lips. "I've always want you to do this."

How often had he imagined it himself? How many sleepless nights had he spent imagining her reaction? How she would feel under his fingers? His tongue? He remembered how he couldn't calm himself after their heated first kiss. How even thinking of their kiss would drive him into a frenzy.

She moaned as he continued to stroke her. She hated that she was wearing pants at that moment. Absolutely hated it.

Her hands moved to her hips, trying to slide her clothing off so his movements would no longer be restricted. He chuckled darkly at her desperate need to be touched more freely. His eyes explored her entire form—the curvature of her skin in the most delightful of places.

She pressed against his chest for warmth again, her skin puckering from the cold. He admired the sensation of her body pressed to his. As he continually teased her using his fingers, she began to kiss at the corner of his mouth. She edged herself, using light kisses across his cheeks, to his neck. Sucking on the flesh she found there, she began to groan again.

"Mmm…Sasuke-kun?" she nuzzled against his neck. "Did you ever think of me like this?"

"Every night," he croaked honestly. He felt her lips curve into a smile. Pulling away from his neck, she looked into his eyes.

"Can I touch you?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

Did she even have to ask?

Her hands made their way to his pants—her breath caught as she placed her palm over the fabric. A warm rush flooded through her as she felt him through his clothes. So hard…and pulsating. Feeling him, even with his clothing as a barrier, aroused her further—made her heart beat all the wilder. She squeezed him lightly, fulfillment and wonder glinting in her eyes.

To think he was so aroused by her. That he wanted her so desperately. That he wanted only her. That he needed her. That he trusted her

She leaned forward pressing a loving kiss against his lips, making him shiver from the sincerity of it. His hand withdrew from her, making her whimper in disappointment. Her displeasure was momentarily softened as she watched him remove his pants for her. She groaned in satisfaction, staring at his form.

Her eyes raked over his body slowly, admiring him. She didn't only gaze at him in admiration, but in pure, unfiltered affection. There he was, completely bare and honest before her. Her breath caught slightly in her chest as she stared at him. He was perfect, almost surreally so. His alabaster skin was peppered with old scars and fresh wounds; nevertheless, he was perfect. Her heart swelled as she pressed her skin against his. The warmth that was exchanged—so delightfully true and real.

He eased his hand into hers, pulling her hand to cover the length of him. Guiding her, he wrapped her fingers around him. The sensation of her touch felt so good—he felt his temperature rise as his head spun. Experimenting with different pressures, he groaned as she perfected touching him. Her fingers pumped him slowly, agonizingly, almost satisfying him, but also making his desire and need grow stronger. Throbbing with need, he found he could not function enough to even breathe right. Only gasps of air managed to reach him for moments.

"Like this?" she asked breathlessly. All he could do was open his mouth in a silent moan and nod.

So affecting it was to feel him against her fist. So heavy and hot. She longed to keep jolting pleasure through him, hearing him grunt in satisfaction from her movements, but she could hardly stand it. She was growing so restless with an intense desire.

"I need you, Sasuke-kun," she whimpered in craving. "I need you inside me."

Roughly he altered the angle of his hips, allowing her the opportunity to move atop him. Seeing him so willing, so needy in compliance, she let out a groan. She positioned herself above him, nervous, yet excited to be filled by him. His hands moved, one to her cheek, the other to her hip. Holding her hips in place, his thumb brushed against her cheek as he pulled her lips to his in a smooth, sensual kiss.

His hips bucked upward reflexively, plunging into her in one swift motion. She yelped in surprise against his mouth. She gasped, a mix of pleasure and pain—pleasure from the intimacy of his closeness, pain from being filled so suddenly and so completely.

He withdrew, plunging into her again. She gasped again, holding onto his shoulders for support. He moved roughly, hungrily…starved to death for her affection and touch. She moaned against his mouth, continually leaning in and demanding kisses from him. Her fingernails puncturing his skin whenever he bucked his hips caused him to drive in particularly deep.

How chaotically blissful it all felt. The angle he kept hitting her at, rubbing her all the right ways. Her body had adjusted to the size of him, allowing her to react in completely pure ecstasy from his intense actions. In her hazy, lustful state of mind, she moaned his name in a continuous mantra.

Her hips arched rhythmically, continuously meeting his. He felt like she was teasing him with her hips, purposely driving him mad.

"Sakura," he panted. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, making her whimper.

He couldn't handle the pressure bubbling in him much longer—too much intensity. It felt so damn good. The tempo between them became crazed, uneven. They thrust harder…and harder. He watched, in the fervor of their lovemaking, the way her body moved—her breasts bouncing, her hair falling into her face. He tucked the sweaty locks back with his hand.

Her whimpers grew more and more intense. The calling of his name. Everything coiled within her, more than desperately ready to spring and fall apart. He was panting harder now. She knew his climax was rising. She knew he had to feel how tight she was growing—how all of her muscles clamped around him.

And even as she drew close, closer, closer…she observed how his face looked contorted in pleasure. His usual scowl softened into something somehow innocent, despite the sinful way he pumped his hips.

"Sakura," he panted again. His heavily lidded eyes looked into hers. His eyes turned red, the wheels of his Sharingan hypnotically spinning. So consumed and lost he was in passion—he couldn't control himself. Seeing him so vulnerable…so close to her…feeling him continually spike pleasure into her…

The coil within her sprang.

Her hips moved furiously, riding out her orgasm. Her lips trembled, trying to cry out for him.


But it was too intense. Too much. Her body lost control so utterly and completely that words could not escape her. Her hands on his shoulders grasping, holding onto him. The vibrations of her gasps and struggles made him see white for a moment. A throaty cry wrenched from her lips.

Everything about her…the way she couldn't even cry out his name at her peak…how honestly and completely she lost herself to him. It was all too much.

And so very Sakura that he exploded. His eyes rolled back into his head, his jaw clenched as his body sprang apart in pure rapture. His groin clenched, his back arching. Violent spasms so intense racked his body. His hips slowed from the rough, vicious thrusts as he calmed.

His eyes fluttered open, meeting a pair of emerald. Immediately, instinctively, he pressed a warm kiss to her mouth. Sighing, she collapsed completely into his arms.

For a precious moment, all was still. He held her gently as his fingers softly touched and explored in affection—her smooth rounded cheeks, the column of her neck, her delicate ribcage…

She shivered against him. Apparently, that tickled. She mewled against his chest. Vaguely, he wondered if she was trying to form some words, but couldn't quite collect herself yet. He didn't speak, letting the moment lay still—watching her…

"Sasuke-kun?" she finally managed to purr against him. "Will you carry me home?"

He nodded, his mouth pressed against her forehead. He felt her smile against his skin, but he didn't move to gather them both up yet. He was too tired to even begin dressing.

"When we get home," she continued to murmur. "We'll shower."

After the battle and the sex, could he manage to even stand? Long enough to get her home and shower?

He knew he'd somehow manage to get it together.

"Then, when we go to bed," she continued to plan aloud. "I want to tell you this old folktale I heard a while ago. I think you'll like it."

He nodded at her, wondering why her mind moved in such mysterious ways.

And the goddess soothed the once enraged god. As she learned the way of the warrior, he learned the way of the householder.

Whenever the god was tempted into the dance of destruction, he would be calmed by the creative, nurturing steps of his wife. By making him attached to this world and whole, balance has been restored.


A final thank you for Sakura's Indecision. ^_^ She's an amazing beta, as well as an amazing author. Be sure to read her stuff!