Chapter Text
Light crept under her lashes, dim glow, morning mauves and greys. Sakura flexed her muscles, hissed. Burning sensations, nerves coming awake, legion pinpricks of lust-pain. A grunt filtered in her ears, another body half-beneath hers, sleek muscle and skin-heat, sinews and smoke-scent, cock hard and rubbing high against the inside of her thigh.
One flutter of lashes, one slant of her head, and she was staring into Itachi's eyes, glazed black, lethargic. He was still half-asleep, smoother edge, quieter. It was unguarded and arousing and she pressed herself against him. A moan thrummed low in her throat, spilled out on a question.
"What time is it?"
"Still early."
His voice was nothing but a rasp, raw accent and fire. It spawned sinful urges, and she bit her lip, gave in to their pull. Spine arching, tongue darting out, one languorous drag on the underside of his jaw, lapping up to his chin, his mouth. Teeth nibbled his bottom lip but she didn't demand his kiss, didn't seek his tongue, merely teased and chuckled, thighs straddling his waist. One grinding of hips and slick flesh, muscles rippling under the sound he made, a hiss of a groan. She did it again. Itachi laughed then, gripped her hips and pushed her down on him as he surged up. So hard, so hot. Gods, Itachi…so good.
Sakura loved the way his cock stroked her just right, back and forth and so good, and she wanted him inside. In her mouth. Her lips latched onto his neck, sucking the skin under his jaw down to the hollow of his neck, tongue pressing there, spurring his vocals cords to give her more of those sounds. More groans, more laughter. Tongue and teeth slid across the jut of his collarbone, tasting, biting, and lower. Sakura took one turgid nipple between her teeth, one playful nip, not too hard, not too light. Another thrust, laughter huskier, groan deeper, flesh harder.
Itachi was making it excruciating to enjoy what she was doing to him. Damn it, Itachi. Let me have this. Sakura growled against his abdomen, nails raking his chest, red-thin lines and frustration, the tip of her tongue circling his navel and dipping inside. One hand trailed lower, fingers wrapping around his cock, moving along the length of his erection. He was smooth under her fingertips, wet and rigid, pulsing hotly inside her grasp. Sakura raised her gaze to his level, eyes boring, awareness and something else, instinct dark and primal. Intense, waiting, provocation.
One swirl of tongue, lips closing, sucking, swallowing. Deep, and deeper. Her grip sank down to the base of his cock the more she took into her mouth, tongue coiling and licking as she rose. Another swirl around the head of his cock, then down again. Again. And again. Itachi wasn't laughing now. He was watching her with eyes glinting and sharp, bright gleam, shadow of hunger. Nails on sinuous bones, blood-red welts and his taste wet fire on her tongue, she gave him heat and suction and throat-hums. Sakura wanted him in her mouth – wanted to see him come.
Soft grazing of teeth, more stimulation, more pressure, sultry drops, potent with arousal, drenching her tongue. Sakura heard that hissed groan, one long indrawn breath, skin red-slick and burning under her nails, hips thrusting with each push and pull, cock surging inside her grip, coming close, closer with each twist and lap. Muscles clenched, vibrations and spasms – that fire built and blazed, streaming into her mouth and down her throat, hotter, wetter. Sakura drank every drop, watching, savoring. He was lust and animal litheness, chest rising and falling, ragged breaths and perspiration on lean muscle – and he was hers. Satisfaction swelled in her veins, seethed low in her stomach, oversaturation and needy purrs, soaking the juncture of her hips and thighs and dripping wet.
"Sakura."
Her name seeped into her ears sizzling and vinous, white-hot intoxication. Itachi had only ever spoken her name once – the day he had made her taste how a man felt.
She stared at him. Bewildered, lust-ridden. Mad with love…and a little terrified.
"Come here." Hypnotic – eyes, voice, man.
Slowly, warily, she crawled over him on hands and knees, melted against his body. No inch of skin untouched, breath hitched and lips on lips.
"I – love you."
Perhaps it was that he had spoken her name, or perhaps her cureless malady, the intrinsic need to give and give and give – Sakura didn't care if it was selfish and cunning because Itachi couldn't reject her after last night, couldn't pretend he never heard her. What she said, she felt. She meant.
Itachi stayed quiet for long seconds. His eyes were pure black, and inside them, a slow pulse, alive with veins of blood-heat; the heart of fire. He kissed her. Deep and insatiate and full of tongue. No breath, no end, nothing but tongue and the beat of that heart, fingers between her thighs, soft-stroking and slipping inside. When she came out of that kiss, Sakura was breathless and madly in love and saying it again.
"Itachi – love you – love –"
Itachi kissed her again.
The Suna coliseum was a ring of enthused roars and turban-clad heads, infused with the zest of competition and pandemonium. It throbbed in tandem with Tsunade's hangover, splitting her mind asunder. A film of murderous impulses flashed beneath her lids, barely contained and only by her reluctance to open her eyes and face the glaring sun. The rich metal of the Kazekage's voice and Naruto's laughing binge slithered into her ears. Tsunade cracked open one lid, one brief shift in their direction, then one croak of miff and confusion at Sakura.
"What's up with that?"
Sakura leaned down over Tsunade's shoulder to whisper in her ear.
"I made the introductions. Seems like they have a lot in common."
If Tsunade wasn't suffering the seven hells of doom, she'd have been intrigued by this development, but as it was, only a grunt came forth. And curiosity. Sakura sounded too…satisfied, radiating pleasure in nauseating waves. It was too much for Tsunade's current state to handle.
"You don't say." She shook her head, wincing with the movement, then prodded her brat of a disciple to share the reason for her goddamn ebullience. "How was your night?"
"Perfect." A smile touched the skin around the curve of Tsunade's ear. Sakura was…humming. "Just like my morning."
"Heh." No wonder…lucky brat. Tsunade gave in to a low chuckle. Very low. "About damn time."
Sakura leaned closer, but whatever she was about to share, was suffocated under the Kazekage's voice.
"They are here."
Tsunade sobered up in an instant. Jaw hard-set, eyes wide open, she nodded.
"Take them down."
There was a blur of motions and sounds, eruptions of chakra and metal clashing, then ANBU shinobi leaping down into the center of the arena and fierce battle. Silence dominated the stadium in the tense moment, but after the Kazekage's speech, loud cheers and frenzy. Tsunade observed them with amusement and a pint of headache.
"Well then." Even before the confrontation ended with the capture of the assailants, Tsunade deemed the matter concluded. She turned to the Kazekage with a half-smirk. "That's over and done with. We'll be taking our leave today, Kazekage."
The Kazekage tilted his chin in accord. "You have my gratitude for your cooperation."
"Don't mention it." One wave of her wrist, and the petulance of a sigh. Back to fucking tea and Shizune's nagging… She clicked her tongue, sighed again. "I'm going to miss Suna."
"You are welcome to visit again."
If the Kazekage noticed her depression, it didn't show. Tsunade knew the brat was too courteous and tight-lipped to comment on it anyway. A smirk crooked her lips, an upturn of slyness, and she glanced at his ever-present sentinel.
"Am I?"
Baki went rigid under that glance and smirk, the merest twitch of lips and perseverance.
"Of course, Hokage-sama."
Laughter tickled her throat. "We had some good times. Eh, Baki?"
More rigidness, more twitching. "Good times...yes."
Her smirk grew to a visceral grin. "Expect me again soon."
The journey back to Konoha had been humdrum, if Sakura excluded Tsunade's shameless intrusion into her personal affairs, her griping about sake and the depravity she had indulged in Suna, and Shizune's dark scowls. But all that changed once they passed the threshold of Konoha's gates. Itachi spoke three sentences – three sentences that made her skin crawl with correlating sensations of dread and exhilaration.
"Dinner tonight. Seven o'clock. My house." And he was gone.
Sakura spent the entire day gripped by those sensations, lips chewed raw and clothes littering her bedroom floor. Her last foray into the Uchiha district had taught her that they were traditional folk, so it should be a yukata at the very least, but she found them impractical and only owned one. Black cotton, peony pattern with white cranes, cherry blossom pink obi and quiet color. Hair gathered on a low bun at the nape of her neck and below her left ear, two brushes of ink on her lashes and one gloss of cerise on her lips. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A woman was all she saw. Beautiful and in love and filled with anxiety. Her clock rang six. Sakura inhaled deeply – and left her flat.
Despite that her steps were short and languid, courtesy of her impractical apparel, Sakura could neither appreciate the quaint loveliness of the place nor take heed of the stares and murmurs her presence elicited. It wasn't anything unusual. She wasn't anything unusual. But here…she was.
The gates of Itachi's home came in her line of sight, and her spine became stiffer, straighter. One clacking step, and another, then the backs of her fingers were tapping on the old wood, dreading, exhilarating. Waiting. No more than seconds later, the gates were being slid inward with a creaking hiss. Sakura stilled.
"Sakura…"
Sasuke's voice was tangible shock and bemusement. He hadn't expected her to come – Sakura could hear it in the sibilance of his breath, see it in the marginal widening of his eyes. It was…awkward. Still, she smiled.
"Hey, Sasuke."
He didn't return the greeting, or move to let her pass, merely stood there for long seconds.
Staring.
Scrutinizing.
Dissecting.
Sakura cleared her throat, and that seemed to startle him out of whatever stasis he was submerged in. The question that slipped past his mouth confirmed her guess.
"You are the guest?"
Teeth sank into her lip. Sakura nodded once, uncomfortable for reasons unknown.
"I assumed you'd…know."
Sasuke knew about her and Itachi. He knew. Sakura had told him herself. This unease was exaggerated, unneeded. But maybe it was the fact that this was his home, where he felt at ease, and she was a disruption. If Sakura studied him more closely, more carefully, she could detect traces of something vulnerable and open, insouciant and unpretentious. His posture was less steely, his shoulders less hard, his features less tight. Sasuke was…different. Here. She didn't know this side of him.
"Look, Sakura." Sasuke rubbed the base of his neck casually, habitually. Another thing Sakura hadn't known about him. "It doesn't matter."
A stutter was all that came out of her lips.
"What…are you –"
He cut her off with a shake of his head.
"If he invited you over for dinner…it doesn't matter. Just come in."
Sasuke was stepping back, and Sakura found herself walking inside. Mechanically, nerve-racked. No other words were exchanged as he led her to the main house, but just before they reached the entrance, Sakura cracked. She just had to ask.
"Sasuke."
His eyes flitted down to hers, one curious gaze of dark eyes and silence.
"Is there anything I should know? Like…things I shouldn't say and such?"
A chuckle stroked her ears, throaty and more genuine than she'd ever heard from him. Sasuke was…amused. It reminded her of the boy that girl had fallen for such a long time ago. Nostalgia suffused her core. It was far too late now. The change was irreversible. But she was glad to finally know the real Sasuke.
"Itachi didn't tell you why you're here, did he?"
Sakura shook her head once, twice. That Sasuke just knew when he hadn't even expected her, but she still didn't, disquieted her. Rankled. His chuckle ebbed into a sigh of his usual grunt, and he shrugged.
"Just…be yourself." Alarm contorted his features then, knitted his brows. "And eat everything mom puts on your plate."
That didn't sound too hard, though the way he intoned everything was rather foreboding. Not to mention that she could read him like an open book. Sakura almost missed his ambiguity and sparsity of words.
"Okay."
Her bare toes had barely touched the tatami after she'd removed her geta when a voice echoed.
"Sasuke, is that our guest?"
Feminine, mellow tones, with hints of firmness. It was the kind of voice that promised warm hugs and kisses but defied disobedience. Despite that the Uchiha matriarch made an appearance not two seconds later, Sasuke still answered.
"Yes."
Didn't that say it all?
"Ojamashimasu." Sakura bent at the waist in a lissome bow, introduced herself with calm poise, though she was anything but. "My name is Haruno Sakura. I'm in Itachi's team and Sasuke's teammate."
"Oh. Sakura-chan?" Recognition lighted Mikoto's eyes, spiraled into her smile, which surprised Sakura more than a little. "I've heard much about you. It's so great to finally meet you."
Sakura hid everything beneath a small smile. "Likewise, Uchiha-san."
"Oh please, call me Mikoto. Come inside." Mikoto was ushering her inside before she even finished her sentence, with dainty but strong hands on Sakura's arm and a sideways glance at her son. "Sasuke, tell your father and brother that Sakura-chan is here."
"I'm sure they know," he muttered.
Mikoto's gaze turned lighter, her smile sweeter. Sasuke was disappearing inside the house before Sakura could register what had occurred.
"Dinner will be served soon, but would you like some tea before that?"
Sakura kept her smile etched on the arch of her mouth. Sasuke was an idiot. And a mama's boy. And so whipped. Sakura couldn't possibly be herself. His mother was…a force of nature. Like Tsunade. Only Sakura didn't have the same relationship with Mikoto to be herself. These revelations, when amassed and compacted and shoved down her throat like this, were enough to cause Sakura a mental breakdown. She just couldn't wrap her mind around it. Six years. She'd known Sasuke for six long years, had practically stalked him day and night, and she didn't know these things.
"Thank you, but I don't want to inconvenience you, Mikoto-san."
Mikoto's smile didn't falter in the slightest.
"Nonsense. I will –"
Sakura saw what happened next in slow motion, mouth near falling agape. Arms coiled around Mikoto's ribcage and below her breasts, pressed her body back and caged her, lips moving against her ear. A husky tease.
"No tea for me?"
"Shisui…you –" Mikoto bristled, slapping his forearm, but nothing beyond that, and Sakura closed her mouth. "You're late."
"I'm sorry." Shisui's eyes locked with hers for a split second, one wink of mischief, then his lips swept over Mikoto's cheekbone. Quick kiss and laughter. "How about I help set the table as an apology?"
"Oh…you." Mikoto slapped his forearm again, with more force this time, and Shisui let her go. Her eyes glistered with warning once she turned around, but there was fondness underneath her smile. "Keep Sakura-chan company, and stay out of my kitchen."
Shisui straightened up, lips wickedly aslant. "Yes, ma'am."
Sakura watched the whole exchange with fascination, shuddering when Shisui's arm curled around her waist and guided her to the dining room. Once she was settled on the soft cushion beside his, shock leaching away, she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Have you and –?" One deep lean of neck. She pointed in the direction of the kitchen meaningfully. "You know…ever?"
"No." His laughter was decadent, his words a wreath of mockery, albeit playful. "I make it a rule not to fuck more than one family member to avoid the hysterics if they ever find out."
One pink brow lifted drolly. Shisui pinched her cheek, and she huffed.
"Besides, in this case, cousin or no cousin, Itachi would murder me." He said this with such an absentminded quality, as if he didn't care, but Sakura could tell that wasn't the case. A glint entered his gaze then, uncanny mirth.
"If Mikoto didn't cut off my balls with her kitchen knife, cook them in soy sauce, and make me eat them for even trying." He pinched her cheek, laughed again. "Don't let her sweet smile fool you, Sakura-chan. In this family, she is the one you should never piss off. The men will just kill you…but she'll torture you."
Yes. Sakura held no question about that now, but her mind brimmed with other questions.
"Shisui." Serious voice, keen eyes. "Why am I here?"
Shisui gave her one of those unfathomable stares of his, and Sakura knew she would get nothing out of him.
"Family dinner."
As expected. Still, she tried once more.
"You know that's not what I –"
Quiet steps, sure-footed. Sakura adjusted herself properly in her seat, lungs expanding, breath labored. Itachi came into the room, followed by an older version of him that Sakura recalled to be his father. Uchiha Fugaku was as austere and grim-faced as in that wretched memory – but more aged, the creases below his eyes more sunken. He lowered himself at the head of the table while Itachi sat on her left. Sakura knew it was nothing but familial habit, and perhaps token of empty esteem, since the current clan head was Itachi.
"Haruno Sakura, is it?" Fugaku's voice rasped low, filled the room to capacity.
"Yes." Sakura inclined her neck in as much of a bow as she could at this angle. "It's an honor to make your acquaintance, Uchiha-san."
"Honor." The word was contrasting when he said it – not honor but insult. "I suppose."
"Oh good." Mikoto's reappearance and sweet-smile dispersed the heavy atmosphere. "We are all gathered. No need for tea then."
Dinner proceeded naturally after that, with Mikoto overfilling Sakura's plate and chirping about harmless things, Shisui's grins and laughter, and Sasuke's hn's in between. Itachi and Fugaku hadn't spoken one word but that changed all too abruptly without as much as a single warning.
"The Godaime's disciple."
Sakura snapped to attention, eyes connecting with Fugaku's. Unblinking, unflinching. This situation was eerily similar to her ANBU orientation. Something told Sakura to reply with concise yes or no answers – and so she did.
A nod. "Yes."
"A medic nin."
Another nod. "Yes."
"And ANBU."
And another nod. "Yes."
A pause stretched between them, air crackling with tension and wisps of fire. Then came questions that demanded more than yes or no.
"How long?"
"A few months."
"You don't come from a clan."
"I can't say that I do."
Sakura grasped this was an interrogation, Fugaku's controversial method of arbitrating whether her presence was an honor or an insult. Itachi was the clan head and had brought her to their table, but that didn't mean she was universally accepted. It was a position that had to be earned, and though Itachi's motives for putting her on the spot eluded her, Sakura refused to be a disappointment. She didn't much care what Fugaku thought of her, and despite that she wasn't arrogant enough to consider herself an honor, she'd be damned if she was deemed an insult.
Fugaku stared at her, stared through her. Whatever he saw in her must have been enough because he gave one nod. Militarily curt and quick of decision.
"No need to be so guarded, girl."
"I'm not." Sakura directed a smile at Fugaku, the first in the duration of their conversation. Tight, brightness, challenging. "You simply haven't asked any questions that would require I offer an opinion. It is all merely facts."
"Facts, yes." Fugaku rubbed his chin between two fingers, oddly reminiscent of Sasuke's neck rubbing. "Like the fact that you sit at this table."
It was as blunt as it was sharp, slashed through flesh and bone. Sakura's smile froze, lips numb and inflexible, but she spoke past the grip of that gelidity.
"I'm very thankful to sit at this table. Mikoto-san's cooking is delicious, and that is another fact."
"Praising my wife's cooking." Fugaku's voice was full of grit and good-natured sarcasm. "That alone will earn you a permanent seat at this table."
Sakura's smile warmed. She'd take that as the passing mark.
"Oh, stop jesting, dear." Mikoto swatted his shoulder, coyness and that too-sweet smile. "And eat your carrots."
Fugaku grunted but did as she bade.
A carrot was dropped on her plate then. Sakura turned to glare at Shisui, but couldn't mask her smirk at his mouthed good girl.
If Sakura had to be honest, she didn't know how she found herself in Itachi's room three hours later. Fugaku had excused himself with police work after dinner, and Sasuke mysteriously vanished. Mikoto had offered to make tea, which Sakura had politely accepted, and Shisui was helping Mikoto clean the table while not-exactly-flirting with her. Somewhere in between all that, the tea was forgotten, and Itachi snuck her into his room, though it was much too bold and unsubtle to be called sneaking. His room was no different than Shisui's, simplistic and devoid of personality, but the odor of smoke and the scent of Itachi's skin was stitched into every surface and furniture.
Itachi was leaning against one wall, cigarette half-smoked between his lips, and Sakura was sitting on the edge of his futon, lips bitten. It was unnatural but felt natural.
"Your family is nice."
One ringlet of smoke and chuckle.
"It's a family."
"I'm sorry." She fidgeted with her words and motions. "It's just that…after that memory –"
"My father and I don't see many things eye to eye. But we are family."
Simple, so simple, as if it was the answer to everything, and maybe it was. Sakura smiled up at him.
"Is that why you invited me over?"
Itachi put out his cigarette. His strides were languorous but his eyes burned with black fire. One step closer, and closer he came. Fire burning blacker, knees grazing, shadow of lust looming over her and lips hot against hers.
"I called you over to fuck you in my bed."
A shiver surged through her body. His head dipped low, teeth sinking sinfully, drawing the swollen flesh of her lip into his mouth. Sakura gasped his name, pulling him closer even as her mind screamed that this was beyond indecent. His mother was in the kitchen – and Itachi's fingers were untying her obi.
"Ita–" Fingers snaking low, delving inside, and one choked moan. Itachi found her wet and seething for him.
"You know, it's rude to start without me."
Shisui. Sakura would die today.