Chapter Text
His family was an interesting bunch, she thought when she met them just two months later —two months of phone calls, sleepovers, dinners and breakfasts.
The Uchihas were quiet, polite, reserved and so very loving at the same time, in their own way.
When they asked her how they met, she hoped that the sensation of colour draining from her face was not outwardly obvious.
There were many ways she could answer that were completely harmless, even if his family were to read between the lines of her lies by omission.
But when confronted by the very natural question… she could only think of hands and fingers and tongues and skin covered in sweat and wetness of different kinds.
Sasuke glanced over for a millisecond, undoubtedly finding the early tells of a full-blown blush, and placed a calming hand on her thigh under the table.
Or perhaps it was meant to be calming but, in reality, it had the opposite effect. Sakura had come to learn that she couldn’t act rationally around Sasuke.
“We met at the spa.”
He said without so much as blinking —a vague answer, of course— as he took bites of the meal his mother had prepared for them.
His parents seemed satisfied with his explanation. His brother, however, showed a teasing glint in his eyes that gave her the impression that he knew exactly what they had done at the spa—
“The rooms are quite nice, aren’t they?” Itachi remarked innocently.
—And what they had done many, many times in that room.
Her roommate —Ino, she said she was called— was an absolute menace, and he believed for a moment that her sudden presence in his life was some kind of punishment for something horrible he did in a previous life.
But then he glanced over at Sakura, looking so utterly happy with her best friend and her boyfriend in the same room, and he softened.
This was no punishment.
Still.
“You owe me,” the blonde announced with narrowed blue eyes and a wide grin he could only categorise as disturbing the moment Sakura excused herself to go to the bathroom.
He knew he shouldn’t take the bait, but he also didn’t want to cower in front of an eccentric woman that didn’t reach his chin.
“Do tell,” his eyes challenged her statement with raised eyebrows and an even tone.
“Sakura only dared to approach you because she wanted to prove to me she’s not an uptight, controlling, goodie-two-shoes roommate,” Ino explained slowly as if it were an obvious fact. “You’re welcome.”
“Impressive leaps you took to arrive at that conclusion,” he willed his eyes not to roll to the back of his head.
“It’ll be part of my maid of honour speech,” she ignored his sarcasm, choosing to tease him instead.
“You won’t be invited.”
“Wow. Thinking so far ahead already.”
He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing she could get under his skin, and simply looked away from her.
“And to think this all started with an oh-so-romantic tryst at a spa of my choosing.”
The smirk on her face prompted him to want to catch her off guard, “You wasted your money on the room, though.”
“What?” The blonde looked confused then.
“Sakura didn’t need hers,” Ino snorted in approval before refilling his wine.
The walk from the restaurant to the elevator was torturous, but the elevator ride up to Sasuke’s room is beyond unbearable.
She doesn’t know how she managed to walk out of that bathroom with a straight face. Or with stable legs.
The dark-haired man to her side keeps his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, and she would believe he is completely unaffected by what they just did, and will do, based on his calm expression.
Except his pupils engulf his irises and he cannot stop staring at the floor numbers increasing as they go up.
The pulse in her temples is a cocktail of nerves, anticipation, excitement and, above all, lust.
Sakura being Sakura, because she cannot deal with the heat building in her face, her skin and her core, decides to make small conversation to distract herself.
He is equally amused as he is frustrated by her random musings.
He is trying to compose himself, to be patient, but she’s standing there with her trivial small talk and bright eyes and red dress and he cannot stare too long without touching her.
So he doesn’t.
He looks ahead as he slips his hand into hers and guides her to his room.
She carries on with her observations about the food and the hotel, without expecting any contribution from his side, almost as if she were talking to herself.
Instead of placing his key card against the sensor, his back and head lean against the door of his suite.
“Sakura,” his eyes lazily drifting to her. “You’re rambling.”
“Sorry. I do that sometimes,” she smiles sheepishly, before biting her lip. “Aren’t you tired?”
His brows furrow. “Of what?”
“We have already…” She trails off with a pink tint in her cheeks.
“Do you want to call it a night?”
“No!”
The way she protests confirms that she wants this as much as he does, but he can tell that she’s nervous. And maybe he should be a bit scared, too, given how he feels when he looks at her.
He wants her to be comfortable.
He hums, thoughtful for a moment, the corners of his lips lifting ever so slightly. “Do you want me to lie back and let you do all the work, then?”
She all but chokes on her own saliva when he incepts the tempting idea in her mind. He doesn’t strike her as the type of man who’d submit to anyone.
As she takes in his subtle smirk and calculating eyes that verge on wild, she realises—
Whether she’s on top, or he’s on his back or knees, Sasuke is in control. She sees that in his body language, she hears it in his voice. He is not the type, but that doesn’t mean he won’t enjoy her… indulging.
The image she’s subconsciously concocting in the privacy of her thoughts, alongside the half-lidded eyes staring down at her, sends a rush through her body.
“Would you let me?” She copies the words he told her in the bathroom, and hopes her tone sounds more confident than how she truly feels.
He chuckles, and licks his lips as he opens the door.
Watching Sakura is agonising.
She walks around the suite with curiosity, pretending it is not a tactic to gain the upper hand or gather her bearings. Her red dress highlights her curves, the perkiness of her breasts. She wears nothing under the satin fabric, her underwear burning a hole through his pocket.
She takes her time in complete ignorance of his internal struggles. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his erection attempting to escape the confines of his trousers at the mere thought of being inside of her.
But he waits.
After a couple of minutes, she stands before him, eyeing him through long eyelashes. Her arms cross around his neck, moulding herself to him.
Her plump lips touch his, tentatively, slowly.
But tentative and slow doesn’t soothe his thirst. His mouth opens and he brings her lower lip between his teeth, his hands move up and down her back before settling on her bottom, squeezing it until she gasps and he slides his tongue in.
Dainty fingers find the buttons of his shirt, and his rougher ones unzip the dress until it pools at her feet.
And finally, fucking finally, he can take in the entirety of her without interruptions. He can commit her rosy peaks, the dip of her waist, the pink curls, and whatever he wants, to memory.
He wants to devour her.
He will.
His hands roam further south, his finger ventures deeply and she purrs against his lips.
“Do as you said,” he tells her in between open-mouthed kisses, and she’s too busy savouring him to register his words.
Her fingers are grazing the opening of his pants now, his teeth nipping from her jawline to her collarbone.
“Hm?”
Her eyes blink through the haze of her arousal as he moves towards the centre of the bed and leans against the headboard. He sees the recognition in her widened eyes.
“Go on.”
She regrets her earlier request a little bit as she climbs on top of him merely because she wants him to be the one to touch her, to take her, to ruin her again and again.
She wants to give herself fully, to forget about everything but the hunger she feels for him.
As soon as his cock springs up for her attention, his pants undone and underwear slightly down, she holds him greedily in her hands.
He groans as she strokes him, her mouth leaving trails of wet kisses down his torso. She is ready to take him in her mouth, when he stops her.
“Sakura,” he pulls her away by the hair, and she learns that she likes that.
He ignores her whines of complaints as he removes her hand from his length. It looks like it pains him, too.
“I thought you said—“
Her voice cuts off when he sinks deeper into the mattress, lying flat on the bed, his head slightly propped on the pillow.
“I am still lying down.”
Her heart is in her throat, and she feels self-conscious at the prospect, but dilated pupils assure her that he is eager for this.
“Come,” he tugs at her arm until she follows his lead.
She is more than eager.
Sakura is hovering above him, and he has a unique view of the bottom of her breasts from where he is relaxing.
He finds her bashfulness captivating yet puzzling, as he has had his share of her in the short time they’ve known each other. He has seen her most intimate places from different angles.
This is a favourite, certainly.
Her skin is flushed, her centre drips. Whatever she wants, he’ll give, but this…
This, he is selfishly craving.
“Hold onto the headboard.”
She listens, and he grabs her by thighs until his mouth makes contact with her core, licking a stripe to taste the excitement that’s been waiting for him —that’s there purely because of him.
He starts slowly, and Sakura releases a whimper, moving her hips towards him, encouraging him to eat her out.
The longer he goes on, alternating between speed and pressure, rubbing or lapping or biting, the more of a mess Sakura becomes above him.
The sounds she’s making, the words she’s saying, shoot straight to his length. His own need is distracting, his hand reaching for it every now and then, but he focuses on drinking her until she’s sobbing.
He’s enjoying it a bit too much, he thinks, the way she unravels. His fingers spread her open as he tongues and sucks at her clit.
She’s grinding against his face in earnest, and he is more than willing to be choked by the strength of her thighs closing on either side of his face.
His other hand wanders downwards, further than he already has, gently touching another spot that causes Sakura to completely lose it.
“That was…” Sakura is gaping at him, catching her breath by his side. Her hair sticks to her skin, sweat down her neck and come down her thighs.
Sasuke looks at her like he’s admiring a work of art, and she’s at a loss for words.
The buzzing satisfaction of the afterglow dims any other feeling or thought. But she doesn't bask in it, she wants —unabashedly needs, more like— to make him feel as good as he did her.
“Save it for later,” he says, sitting up to take off his white shirt, and she wastes no time in getting on her knees and ridding him of the rest of his clothes.
Despite the eventful day they have had, her cunt throbs at the sight of his intimidating member.
She slides her folds back and forth over his bulge, Sasuke kneads her breasts.
Staring down at him, she admires his messy hair, hooded black eyes and reddened lips glistening with her own fluids. Maybe he’s a work of art too, like this.
His size doesn’t escape her notice, but she was meant to take him, she wants to believe.
Sasuke looks absolutely enthralled as she positions herself and sinks onto his shaft, his eyes enraptured by the spot where they’re connected.
He curses when she’s taken all of him. She wants to cry from feeling this full and close to him.
“Be a good girl and ride me,” he looks up at her, his tone so devastatingly raspy and sinful. He sucks one breast into his warm mouth, his fingers teasing the other nipple.
She’ll do anything he asks her, in that moment.
Her pace is experimental, at first, adjusting to his intrusion and testing movements that will earn a pleasurable sound from Sasuke.
He’s kissing her like he wants to consume her, and he swallows every one of her moans that melt with his growls.
Sasuke places his hands on her backside, and coaxes her to gyrate her lower body in a way that makes her toes curl.
She undulates her hips faster, and faster, and faster. The noises are utterly obscene.
The stimulation from his tongue and digits everywhere he can reach is overwhelming, but when his thumb circles her clit, her head throws back and she chants his name like a prayer.
“Sasuke-kun!” her legs are trembling with exertion, tension boils in her core until she’s sent over the edge.
The second Sakura starts clenching around him, he cannot take it any longer.
The feeling of her cunt wrapped around his length as she comes is indescribable.
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
He knows already, he’s obsessed.
He holds her hips in place and drives into her from below until the room is nothing but the wet slapping of skin on skin, grunts and cries of pleasure.
His climax hits him with a blinding force, releasing into her tight opening and burying his face between her breasts.
They fall back against the bed, panting.
“I want to do it again,” she says as she lifts herself from his chest after a few minutes, his member still somewhat hard inside of her.
He’ll do anything she asks him, in that moment.
Especially that.
“It’s my turn now,” he palms her tits before he flips her over, stomach against the mattress.
He lifts her by the hips, his fingers inside her before she can even let out a gasp.
“Yes,” she mewls repeatedly.
He sets a pace that is brutally addictive. There’s nothing gentle about the way he fucks her.
He loses count of the positions he puts her in, the amount of times she comes around his fingers, tongue and cock over the weekend.
Sasuke ruins her over and over and over.
“Do you have a thing for public sex?” She asks shyly as she draws patterns on his chest, her cheek right above his heart.
A part of her worries that their affair is the result of a heated scenario that he would’ve been attracted to no matter the person. There’s an undeniable thrill in being intimate with a stranger and an all-consuming passion tied to the risk of being caught.
But then he gazes down at her, and she feels lucky, somehow.
“No,” he answers without hesitation. He adds after some consideration, “You just happened to be outside.”
This kind of bliss is rare for her, and she cannot rationalise the fondness she feels in her chest. She doesn’t think she’s quite felt this drawn to anyone or anything before.
He has told her that he’s not good with feelings, and even less so with words. But she understands what he’s trying to convey, what he wants her to understand implicitly.
She sits upright, her hair falling at her side. He reaches out to play with the ends of long pink tresses.
She’s just watching him without speaking, studying him and his actions. Her green eyes travel from his own to his hands.
Sasuke is not smiling —he’s not the smiling sort like she is, but there’s something in his expression that is so undeniably affectionate.
The sheets pool at her waist, baring her upper body, but he doesn’t look away from her eyes.
“Would you stay with me… if I asked you to?”
Immediately, she wants to clarify that she doesn’t mean staying in the room, or staying at the spa. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and knows that could make more reserved people overwhelmed, so she tries to be careful when it comes to him.
It’s too soon, she knows.
Everything has been too fast, she knows that too.
Sakura can’t find it in herself to care.
She doesn’t want this to end. She doesn’t want Sasuke to become a memory. She doesn’t want this feeling to turn nostalgic in the future.
She wants his dry humour, his impatience, his cleverness, his intensity. She wants his touches and his kisses.
She wants to keep him, and hopes he understands that implicitly, too.
“Yes,” he answers, letting go of her hair and touching the place where her eyebrows meet with his index and middle finger.
Sasuke knows what she’ll ask before she does.
He says yes.
He doesn’t even think of another option.