NARUTO: IzuSaku, MadaSaku - "Immured" - Day Three (Night)

[moor]

 Squicks/Triggers: Dominance, abuse, control, manipulation, ABO, orgasm control/denial, forced arousal, deprivation, humiliation, fellatio, tit fucking

[Day Zero] [Day One] [Day Two - Morning] [Day Two - Morning Continued] [Day Two - Afternoon] [Day Two - Night] [Day Three]

Day Three:

Morning:

The blinds were drawn in Sakura’s room the next morning, leaving it dark. Resting in bed, Sakura left her eyes closed as she remembered the evening before. Her seduction mission had nearly been successful. The room still smelled of lily of the valley, apple, sandalwood and sex, and Sakura sighed as she inhaled, letting the scents soothe her for the time being. Her omega was content enough that she could rest unbothered. 

Izuna had been so close to capitulating last night. Sakura had hoped that breaking the ridiculous ritual may have freed her enough that she could have accessed at least some of her chakra. Alas.

Heaving a sigh, she wondered how she would tempt him that night. He was handsome, both a boon and a challenge, strong-willed and intelligent. In other circumstances, she would have very much enjoyed a relationship with him. Perhaps, when this was all over and he lay dying at her feet, she could admit that much to him.

And then someone cleared his throat, and the scent of lavender that Sakura had been trying to ignore forced itself into her awareness.

“Something stuck in your throat?” mumbled Sakura, unmoving.

The thing that always tripped up her evenings with Izuna was mention of chakra. Hmmm. How to get him to release her chakra bonds, though, without saying so? Could she trick him into using chakra on her and from there manipulate it? Could he inject her with chakra? How could she make that happen? She hadn’t been joking when she’d told him she could teach him how to channel it through his—

Madara stood, approaching the futon until his slippers bumped the edge, intentionally disturbing Sakura. 

“Let me guess, you’re glaring down at me with your arms crossed,” muttered Sakura. “Go away.”

“Someone’s an unsatisfied omega this morning,” prodded Madara.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” admitted Sakura, surprising them both. “I’m busy. Beauty sleep. Highly recommended for you, too, actually.”

Madara’s snort was all the warning Sakura got before he tore the comforter off her.

Ready for him this time, Sakura flipped and spun, using the cover of the blanket to strike at Madara with her heel. 

The look of his uncovered eye widening before her foot connected with his wrist was the most satisfying thing she’d seen since—

Immediately Sakura pivoted, pushing away her memories of the night before.

Unfortunately, he did not pursue her and the spar was short-lived.

“Why won’t you fight?” demanded Sakura, widening her stance. She’d made sure to put on her clothes the night before, instead of pyjamas, knowing Madara would be there to antagonize her again first thing.

To Sakura’s irritation, he turned his back on her—an insult in itself—and tossed the blanket back on her bed. His movements betrayed no hint of injury, and Sakura stared at him, astounded. She had connected with his wrist. She’d heard it snap, had felt it shatter through her heel.

Yet Madara’s tone was bored when he asked, “Why would I lower myself?”

He’s goading you, Inner warned her. He wants you to get closer to him.
“Then what do you want?”

“This evening will focus on your sacral chakra,” said Madara, turning around to face her again. “I am here to teach you how to please Izuna so his can be released. And your own, by proxy. Roll up your sleeves and trouser legs.”

“How about I just jerk him off so he cums on my panties, I finger my clit, and we call it a night?”

The faint jerk of Madara’s shoulder brought a dark smirk to Sakura’s lips, but only for a moment. She knew better than to believe he would let that slide.

“The sacral chakra is associated with passion, creativity, sensuality and sexuality,” recited Madara calmly, taking a seat on the futon. 

It was then that Sakura noted the sack he carried on his back. As he spoke, he emptied the contents on the futon, laying them out on either side of himself. Then, as he’d directed her, he rolled up his sleeves and pant legs.

Sakura couldn’t help but admire the sculpted musculature of his body. From a purely physiological standpoint, he was perfect; artistically, he was a masterpiece. The omega in her purred at having his attention, but Sakura leashed herself tightly. She did not trust Madara and his feigned calm. She had slighted him twice that morning.

“Which item fits into which category?” he asked her, looking up at her.

Bundles of rope of different thickness and material, feathers, candles, lines of leather, a wide paddle hairbrush, a tray of scented oils and ointments, jars of sweets and a variety of sauces, small clips and clamps, blindfolds and cuffs, fine chains and gags, restraints, latex and rubber, lipstick, condoms, a number of intrusive instruments, wraps made of a different of lengths and materials, strawberries, plums, peaches and oranges, velvet, silk, satin, lingerie, a string of pearls, sandpaper, and a variety of wrappers lay on the blanket. He even pulled another small container out, lifting the top, and Sakura was amazed to find ice cubes, slowly melting.

There were so many items that Sakura was confused about some of their specific purposes.

“You must have very boring partners,” remarked Sakura, sidestepping his question.

The look Madara gave Sakura puzzled her. Madara was difficult to read on the best of days, but his look made her stomach tighten in warning.

“May I remind you that I am here for Izuna’s benefit so that you learn how to use these on him. I do not necessarily use these on my partners, but they have used them on me,” explained Madara softly. “And so, in your opinion, which item fits which category?”

Put on the spot again, Sakura wavered.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It would depend on the person, situation and atmosphere. You could use them multiple ways, couldn’t you?”

“Ah,” he agreed. He lifted the feather and offered it to her.

Sakura did not want to move closer to Madara. She did not trust him. A part of her strongly resisted him, but she was more worried about what he would do to her if she continued avoiding him.

Careful not to touch him, she sat cross-legged in front of him on the futon. The scent of lavender was stronger this close to him and Sakura sought out the lily and apple from the evening before, to prevent her mind from being clouded by Madara’s pheromones.

Accepting the feather from Madara, Sakura looked at him.

“Use it,” he directed.

Sakura froze.

“On yourself,” said Madara, letting his arms rest on his legs as he sat opposite her.

Arching a brow, Sakura lifted the feather to her forearm and rubbed it against her skin. It felt like a feather.

Across from her, Madara’s exhale was just loud enough to reach her ears.

Sakura frowned at him, insulted.

“Like this,” he said, picking up another feather. 

Rising to his knees, Madara took a step toward Sakura, lifting the feather in front of her. Then, barely touching her, he ran it from her heel to her inner thigh, making her shiver. His expression placid, he drew it higher, drawing teasing circles with the tip against her inner elbow before it curled and brushed up her throat, tickling her pulse before brushing her cheeks and coming to rest upon her bottom lip, demanding entrance.

Sakura’s heart quickened at the heated look in Madara’s eyes as he focused on her lips, twisting the feather, rolling it across their plush softness.

“Passion, creativity, sensuality and sexuality,” repeated Madara calmly, taking a seat again on the futon. He glanced down her body before returning to her eyes. “I see in which category this one finds you.”

Quickly crossing her arms to hide her protruding nipples, Sakura frowned at Madara.

“Which would you like to try next?” he asked.

“Why are there clamps?” asked Sakura.

“They are placed on different parts of the body to restrict blood flow; it makes the area more sensitive. Patches of skin, nipples, clitoris, sac, it depends on the individual—”

“Candles,” interrupted Sakura. She was not doing clamps with either Uchiha.

“Scent, lighting, mood, atmosphere, and when drizzled on one’s skin, create many pleasurable sensations.”

“Is that how the ice is used, too?”

“Ah.”

“Is the fruit strictly for tasting?” she asked, curious. Without Madara constantly pushing her that morning, she found herself relaxing dangerously in his presence.

Madara shook his head. He offered her a peach.

“Peaches and plums are important learning tools,” said Madara. “Brushing the peach against a partner’s skin is soft. Removing a slice leaves its pit partially exposed, allowing one to suck and learn how to manipulate it with one’s tongue,” he said, holding Sakura’s gaze. “Squeezing its juice over one’s lover provides a provocative enticement to lick it from their skin… or from inside them. And the shape is reminiscent of a partner’s anatomy, of course.”

Withdrawing a kunai from inside his robe, Madara sliced the peach in his hand in half. He removed the pit and showed Sakura the inside of the peach. It was fragrant and lush, the juice dripping down his wrist.

He extended his hand to her and Sakura reached for it.

Madara shook his head.

“Lick,” he said.

Frowning, Sakura leaned back but the harshness in Madara’s eyes froze her in place.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Sakura hesitantly approached Madara again, kneeling in front of him. She took his hand and brought it to her lips, giving it a quick lick, watching him for his reaction.

His brows furrowed and lips thinned.

Sakura’s shoulders sagged as she picked up the other half of his peach, lifting her hand to Madara with resignation.

“Show me,” she said.

She should have known better.

It didn’t start with his tongue. It didn’t even start with his touch.

It started with his breath and a look, and already Sakura’s heart skipped.

His eyes hooded, Madara rose and stepped forward, kneeling and leaning into Sakura’s personal space. He exhaled, the warmth brushing against the wetness that ran down Sakura’s wrist. His eyes dragged down her body like hands, missing nothing and leaving Sakura feeling naked before him in spite of her clothes. Then he stepped his other knee forward, forcing her to lean backward. Instinctively Sakura’s hand lifted the peach higher to catch her balance, and it was only then that Madara caught her wrist delicately in his hand; yet his eyes remained on hers as he stroked her inner wrist with his thumb, rubbing the peach juice into her skin. 

Sakura’s stomach fluttered as Madara leaned over her further, forcing her onto her back as he loomed over her, his body heat reaching out to waft over her in a wave of lavender. Only then did he draw her wrist to his lips, his eyes closing to slits as the tip of his tongue tickled her racing pulse.

Her chest rising and falling more rapidly, Sakura could only watch as Madara took her wrist to his mouth, closing his eyes and sucking the juice clean off, draining her like a decadent dessert.

The flick of Madara’s tongue against her palm startled Sakura, and she swallowed her gasp, noting the faint smirk on Madara’s lips as he continued. 

He planted his other forearm over Sakura’s head, sinking into the futon, resting the weight of his lower body against hers where she could feel the pulse of his interest against her skin, right over her core as it strained to press up against him, seeking relief. It sent shivers through her and she watched Madara with rapt attention. He stretched her arm out higher, dragging his lips down her forearm, occasionally with tongue, to suck every drop of peach juice from her skin. He didn’t stop until he reached her bicep—only then did he turn his face to hers, and Sakura realized they were inches apart.

“It seems I missed a spot,” murmured Madara, his sloe eyes flitting from Sakura’s to her bitten, parted lips.

He twisted her wrist away then, locking Sakura’s arm. Sakura’s eyes widened as he dipped his head in low, running his nose down the curve of her cheek.

“This is where I would drink from your lips,” he said softly, his smile slow and cruel.

The coals of desire in Sakura’s belly burned hot with his temptation. Disgusted with her reaction, Sakura tried to look away, but Madara’s hold on her was too strong.

“All it took was half a peach to get you on your back,” said Madara, lowering himself further on Sakura. He pressed down into the cradle of her hips while his thumb stroked the pulse of her wrist. “What a relief that we’re still wearing our clothes, hn?”

Trapped in Madara’s cage, Sakura stared at Madara, unsure if she wanted to pull away from him or not. That’s how it always was, with him. She hated him, and yet he wrapped her around his little finger so easily.

“Passion, creativity, sensuality and... sexuality,” repeated Madara one last time. 

He brought Sakura’s hand to his lips again. He nibbled the peach and licked the juice from between her fingers, moaning softly. The way the vibrations passed between their chests sent thrills straight to Sakura’s core and she clenched with a swallow.

“Now,” said Madara, nibbling another bite from Sakura’s peach. “It’s your turn.”

He pressed himself up—Sakura’s voice died in her throat as his hardness deliberately rocked against her softness as he rose gracefully—and rolled back to his own seated position.

Then, to Sakura’s uncertainty and anticipation, Madara leaned back and untied his robe, letting it fall open around him. He smirked at Sakura, holding her gaze, then brought his peach over his chest and abdomen and squeezed.

Sakura’s eyes couldn’t help tracing the path the juice made as it ran down his washboard abdomen and down further when he loosened his pants, lifting the hem so it dripped down, down, down his treasure trail to the place he most wanted her to explore.

“Come, show me what you’ve learned, Sakura…”

It shouldn’t have surprised Sakura that he cradled her head as her lips traced the ridges of his abdomen as she licked him clean. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he directed her path, pressing her against the roughness of his treasure trail, even as she pressed her face closer to him anyway, instinctively seeking his musk. But it did surprise Sakura that he threaded his fingers through her hair, his fingertips massaging the back of her head and neck when he passed her the cellophane-wrapped condom, their mutual breaths hitching at the sound it made as she tore it open and slid it down his shaft. 

“That’s it,” praised Madara, his hands guiding her as his fingers wove tighter in her hair, his hips rising to meet her lips.

Sakura moaned around him as he filled her mouth, her legs rubbing together restlessly.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did when he only came once, withdrawing from her mouth but clutching her fiercely as he rounded forward, his fingers digging into her shoulder as he panted softly, his cheeks flushed with arousal.

Curious, Sakura sat back, watching the almost pained expression on Madara’s face as he released into the condom—which was flavoured this time.

When he had settled again, Sakura looked the items over again, wondering if she dared ask any further questions. She had barely made it through the peach example. 

“Ask,” coaxed Madara upon spotting her indecisiveness. He was far more relaxed and languid after his orgasm and Sakura wondered how much to press him about.

“More about the ice. And the pearls,” she added, biting her lip.

“Ice can be used anywhere on the skin, or tongue,” said Madara. He finished wiping himself with one of the cloths from his bag and tucked himself back into his trousers. “I suggest the back, shoulders and nipples, but it’s up to you. Sucking on it and then licking your partner in interesting places will also surprise and delight them. As an aside, if there are things your partner wishes you to do with your tongue that you do not enjoy, sucking on ice will numb your tongue to some of the sensation and taste.”

Sakura arched a brow at Madara. He was certainly chatty that morning after a mere blowjob.

“Pearl,” he said, returning to her question. “Pearls can be used like any other strung beads. The aesthetic can be more pleasing, though. Twisted around one’s neck or cock, rubbed along sensitive nerve clusters or purely decorative. I’ve found my partners enjoy them stroking their own pleasure pearls, or wrapping them around my cock to squeeze and massage me. Again, up to you. But with natural pearls, you must take care of them or they will be damaged. Proper cleanup is essential to their preservation.”

Sakura nodded. It made sense, pearls were formed inside living creatures; they were naturally created, not artificial.

“Anything else?” asked Madara.

Shifting on her sit bones, Sakura looked at the wide array of aids. 

“What are the wrappers for?”

“Hn?”

“The sleeves,” said Sakura, pointing.

Madara followed her gaze, arching a brow. A slow smirk spread across his lips, though it was fondly amused rather than denigrating. 

“They are textured,” he said, leaning back against the wall behind him. He crossed his hands in his lap, completely at ease in front of Sakura. “Some are double-sided. For his or her pleasure.”

“So they go on the man?”

“Usually, though you’re welcome to be creative. You can masturbate him or he can tease you while wearing it. I recommend a lubricant of some kind, depending on how creative you get.”

Sakura nodded, looking over the offerings again critically. 

Madara had been very forthcoming with information that morning, and had barely punished her that day…

Even after she had provoked him twice…

Trepidation shivered down Sakura’s spine. She looked up when she felt Madara’s eyes burning her. Sure enough, he watched her intently, not moving a muscle, like a jaguar about to leap upon its prey. His hands lay in his lap, his knees bent as he stretched his legs out in front of him, but from under the shaggy fringe of hair that covered his right eye, he followed her every breath. Her chest began to rise and fall more rapidly as tendrils of panic crept through her bloodstream.

“You don’t have any further questions, Sakura?”

The lilting tone to Madara’s voice set Sakura immediately on edge.

“You know how to use everything else I’ve so generously set out for you?”

It was a trap. Sakura knew it was a trap. She just couldn’t figure out the trap.

“Thank you for teaching me so generously,” said Sakura, bowing her head to Madara. As she bowed, she slid her legs behind her, preparing to run.

“Surely you’re more curious? You’re an ambitious, determined medic. Professional interest?”

“Not at this time,” said Sakura, head still bowed to Madara. She tried to remember the layout of Izuna’s home. Where was the nearest exit? Could she outrun Madara if she tried?

Frustrated, she wished she’d hit him in the ankle instead of the wrist. It would have at least given her better odds at escaping him.

“Not even the chakra-stimulating ointment?”

Sakura’s eyes froze on the silk sheet she bowed on.

Madara’s low chuckle reverberated through Sakura all the way to her core. He was suddenly behind her. 

She hadn’t even heard him move.

“Would you like a taste of chakra again, Sakura?” murmured Madara, blanketing his body over hers as she crouched. His minty breath washed over her cheeks, stirring the hair loosened from the braids Izuna had woven the evening before.

“I can wait,” lied Sakura, struggling with her self-control.

Chakra.

Bottled chakra.

It was right there.

She wet her lips. She could be fast. She just needed enough chakra to break the seals that limited her own chakra network. She could definitely make the hand signs quickly enough to do so.

Did Izuna have such a kit?
Could she get it from him?
Better Izuna than Madara.

In the silk bedding, Sakura’s fingers curled under her.

The scent of fresh lavender wafted through the room as Madara unscrewed the lid. Like static electricity in the air, the chakra inside was potent, lifting the fine hairs on Sakura’s exposed arms and the back of her neck. Shivers made Sakura’s inhale breathier than it should have been.

Madara’s hand was warm and firm as it slid down Sakura’s spine and beneath her shirt, stroking the skin of her lower back, tantalizing her.

“I could rub a drop here, where your root chakra was cleared,” murmured Madara, slowly pressing his body down on Sakura’s, crowding her so she knelt on all fours. 

His other hand cupped her cheek, his forefinger tapping her forehead.

“Another drop here, where your third eye was awakened,” he murmured, his lips against her throat.

Sakura gasped as the hand at her lower back glided across her skin and up inside the front of her shirt, between her breasts.

“And imagine what we could do with it here,” breathed Madara before his teeth grazed her pulse, nibbling just hard enough to make Sakura’s breath hitch.

Clenching her eyes shut, Sakura tried to fight her omega, the part of her that purred at being practically mounted by an alpha as strong and confident as Madara. His scent surrounded her. He had spent the morning teaching her. He had offered her what she wanted.

Exactly what she wanted.

“W-what do you want,” stuttered Sakura, swallowing down the urge to arch into him. 

“Compliance,” whispered Madara, trailing his tongue back up her throat and setting Sakura’s senses ablaze. “All you need to do is enjoy.”

The hand between her breasts shifted and was joined by its mate, both of them stroking the underside of Sakura’s breasts, bringing them together with a light squeeze before fondling them once more, closer and closer to her stiffening nipples.

Sakura’s shoulders trembled as her arms released her, her forehead pressing into the silk sheets.

“How far,” whispered Sakura, desperate.

Madara’s legs shifted, his knees widening her legs and settling between them. Instinctively Sakura arched her back, presenting her backside to Madara as an omega should to her alpha. The pants she wore were loosening by the second thanks to Madara’s deft fingers.

“Hn?” purred Madara, stretching over her, invading more of her space.

“How far will you go?”

The tearing of a cellophane wrapper rent the air and Sakura pressed her face into the sheets to hide the warmth that built in her eyes.

For the chakra.

Her shirt fell open and Madara tugged it down her arms and off her. He pushed down her pants, leaving her exposed to the air. Her core leaked guiltily down her legs, glistening at Madara’s interest.

She felt Madara’s hands undoing his own robe and trousers, felt his arms move. 

The wet sounds of his fingers collecting the chakra cream made Sakura bury a silent sob in her sheets.

When he spread her wider to inspect her, smearing the tingling cream around her hooded pearl, Sakura’s fingers tore small holes in her sheets. 

Focus, she screamed at herself. Draw the chakra in. Save it!

She heard the cream being spread elsewhere but was too distracted by her attempts to redirect her sluggish chakra network to—

Suddenly Sakura choked, unable to breathe.

The slow glide of Madara’s cock, slathered in chakra cream, across Sakura’s already primed slit and clit shook her to her foundations and Sakura wailed wantonly into the blankets. The electrifying sensations jolted her senses awake, setting everything in her aflame with want and pure, primal, sexual need. Instinctively she pressed back against Madara, arching further, baring as much of her sex to him as she could, her body beseeching him for everything it could provide her.

“Just far enough,” answered Madara calmly. “Hn.”

He spread Sakura’s lips wide, smiling darkly down at her clit.

“Hello, precious pearl,” he murmured lovingly. 

“Let’s start here…”

It was early afternoon before Madara climaxed for the final time. He lifted a sobbing Sakura off his lap after stroking her to her last orgasm, having ignored her pleading for the last hour even as she clung to him. The room was perfectly perfumed with female arousal and release, and beneath it, the hint of lavender.

Smirking to himself as he cleaned himself up, Madara tightened the lid on the chakra cream and repacked his bag. 

He glanced over at Sakura, huddled on the soiled blankets. So, she was a squirter? How fortunate for Izuna.

Tossing the cloth he’d used to clean himself down on Sakura’s bruised, sweaty body, Madara tightened his trousers and tied his robe in place again.

“Your lunch is outside the door. It’s cold again,” informed Madara, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll let Izuna know how much you enjoyed the cream and nipple clamps together,” he promised. 

“See you tomorrow, pet.”

Sobbing on the damp futon, Sakura could only tremble and shake, the post-orgasm contractions sending her into spasms even half an hour post-near-coital. Unable to control her breathing through her sobs and seizing, she gasped for air, her hair a mess and body too sensitive even for the silk sheets on her bed.

“M-monster…”

Afternoon:

Her body aching, Sakura napped for an hour to clear her sex-addled mind and fermented emotions. When she awoke, she found she had a new respect for Madara and wondered if she was losing her mind. Not to be confused with a relationship or amicable feeling, but impressed, yes. And not just a little.

Sakura had no idea where Madara had learned his female anatomy, but Sakura was darkly tempted to ask. He had revealed her own body’s secrets to her in ways she never would have imagined possible, least of all pleasurable. She hated him for it, but at the same time, after much introspection, found herself grateful. She had a teacher who pushed her to the edges of her self-control and beyond. Madara was demanding, unrelenting, uncompromising and shockingly thorough in his sexual tutelage, taking her to the brink and leaving her, yesterday, and pushing her so far over that morning that she still clenched unconsciously, her breath catching, just thinking about it. This, after days of his undivided attention already.

She had begged Madara to stop that morning and he had blatantly ignored her. Sure enough, he had gone on to prove to her how much she enjoyed him pushing her limits, surpassing them, casting them aside as he would drive her over the cliff headfirst into an even stronger wave of arousal and orgasm in his efforts to break her of her inhibitions.

Each afternoon Madara left her a used mess. She hated him for that, the way he degraded her and tossed her aside. 

Her omega in particular cried for Madara to provide her with more after their overwhelming encounters. A gentle touch. A kind word. A soft look. A hot meal, anything. 

But he never did. That wasn’t his role; it was Izuna’s. Madara deliberately established his own boundaries while annihilating her own. His precision was devastating.

In retrospect, Madara effectively broke her every barrier—save the one he and Izuna insultingly cherished above all—down and taught her how deep her reserves truly were, how much she could endure and still live through—still enjoy, even as her knees gave out beneath her and she choked on his cock, tears down her face as she shook with the effort to not beg. 

Nothing in Sakura’s kunoichi seduction training had prepared her for a man like Madara, and had she ever met a target like him on a mission, she admitted to herself that she would likely have failed, if not died.

He also taught her so much about how he thought and planned, which Sakura had taken to analyzing after each encounter.

Madara had taught her much about herself, yes.

But, as Sakura’s smile sharpened and she reviewed the developments between them over the last several days, he had taught her much about himself, too.

# # #

Hashirama looked up at Madara with raised eyebrows, the green glow fading from his palms.

They sat on the wraparound porch, at the rear of Hashirama’s home. Mito was out that afternoon and Madara had surprised Hashirama with a visit. The light spring air was warm with a breeze to refresh them. In spite of the breeze, the scent of lavender and sex on Madara confused Hashirama.

“Izuna must have improved to have snapped your wrist like this,” said Hashirama, checking over Madara’s forearm and hand again. “It was broken in half a dozen places. Was he angry with you?”

“Hn,” said Madara, looking out over the calm, beautifully maintained ponds and garden. “Likely, but he didn’t do this.”

“Oho, a new student?” asked Hashirama, releasing Madara’s hand. The Uchiha had always impressed him.

Madara’s light huff was amused.

“Of a sort.”

Madara’s legs hung over the edge of the porch while Hashirama sat in seiza, tilting his head to the side as he watched Madara.

“Izuna’s bride,” admitted Madara grudgingly.

Hashirama didn’t miss the tone of admiration in his best friend’s words. He had an inkling of what the Uchiha brothers considered acceptable behaviour in terms of ‘bridal training’, something he himself abhorred. He suppressed the urge to tighten his fist and clench his jaw. He prayed the poor woman was strong enough to endure.

That she was so skilled as to land not only a hit on Madara, but break his bones, was one thing. To know she did it likely while trapped and under sexual duress...

“When is the wedding?” asked Hashirama lightly. There were certain things he and Madara would never agree upon, and he chose to change the topic. “And congratulations to your brother on finding his soulmate. You must be very happy for him. Hopefully you’ll find your own someday soon, my friend.”

Madara’s gaze remained on the peaceful garden a beat longer than necessary before he nodded once.

“Ah… In three days’ time...” murmured Madara distantly. 

Folding his hands in his lap, Hashirama smiled at his longtime ally. 

“May they be very happy and produce blessings soon and numerous.”

The silence between them stretched longer. Hashirama’s suspicions were confirmed when Madara’s only response was,

“Of course. I taught her well…”

# # #

Izuna juggled his thoughts as he raced back to the Uchiha clan compound that afternoon. The elders had sent him on an errand to a nearby settlement which had taken him away from Sakura far longer than he desired. 

As angry as he was with her, he did not want her unduly damaged by his brother’s unhealthy obsessions.

A muscle in Izuna’s jaw ticked as he remembered the way Sakura had been left for him over the last several days. What would he come home to that day?

They needed to spend more time together, he thought. They needed to come together outside, or at least not only for, the rituals. 

Running harder, his heart pumping, Izuna made plans for how to better provide for Sakura.

The least he could do was see to her needs and find out what she enjoyed, where her passions lay. If nothing else, it would give him a better understanding of her.

Madara may have mapped Sakura’s body but Izuna would explore her heart and mind.

—For the clan, he reminded himself.

Night: Sacral (Skin) (Sexuality, Creativity, Passion, Sensuality)

Skipping his bathroom, Izuna made his way straight to Sakura’s room when he returned home. He knocked on her door and entered before she answered, too concerned about her to wait. To his relief, he found her sitting on her futon, freshly washed with her hair up in a bun. Her futon was made with clean sheets and the window was open to let in the early evening breeze.

It was the healthiest he’d seen her, ever, and he wondered what had happened that morning between her and Madara that she sat so comfortably in her room, outwardly unbothered by her situation.

For the first time, Izuna realized how beautiful Sakura was. How strong she must be, mentally, to still maintain her composure after everything they had put her through. How resilient she was, to be able to look up at him with clear spring-green eyes, patient and wary as they were.

They stared at each other a moment before Sakura spoke.

“It was getting late.”

“Ah.”

“I washed earlier. The bathroom is free, if you’d like to use it. The guards watched the door but let me in there today, so I could have a bath in peace.”

Peace.

Bathing while under surveillance, but she considered it ‘peace’. 

They were monsters.

“Have you eaten?”

Sakura shook her head.

“I’ll arrange for your supper,” said Izuna, turning back to the door.

“Have you eaten?” asked Sakura, stopping Izuna in his tracks.

“No.”

There was an awkward silence. Sakura shifted on the futon.

“Eat with me?” she asked.

Tension that Izuna had not noticed between his shoulder blades eased. He turned back to Sakura, his brows furrowed, uncertain.

“Is there anything you’d like?”

A small smile lifted the corners of Sakura’s lips. 

Izuna’s heart thumped.

“Tempura and vegetables,” said Sakura. “And fruit!”

The sharpness around Izuna’s eyes softened.

“Ah,” he agreed. “I’ll be back with supper.”

# # #

Drawing their seats up to the table, a freshly bathed Izuna and Sakura watched each other curiously as they ate. Neither was covert about their effort, which lessened the awkwardness, but when they were silent for a quarter of an hour, Sakura shook her head, setting down her chopsticks.

“Were you busy today?”

“I was away on an errand,” answered Izuna.

Sakura nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“Were you…” He daren’t say ‘busy’. It invited too many problematic associations. “Comfortable?”

Picking up her chopsticks again, Sakura nodded.

“After my bath, yes. I used your hairbrush,” she said, her finger rubbing up and down her chopstick.
His eyes flitting up to Sakura’s hair in its tidy bun, Izuna nodded once.
“Could I have my own hairbrush? Please? And underwear,” added Sakura, her tone a bit stronger.

Chewing his food, Izuna considered her requests.

“Yes to the brush. You don’t need underthings. You are to be available to me at all times,” he said.

“Bindings?”

“There is no need.”

“There is for me.”

“My needs overrule yours.”

Sakura’s teeth ground together.

“I want panties.”

“You don’t nee—”

“I’ll give them to you each night when I take them off.”

The apple in Izuna’s throat bobbed. Twice.

“Same with the bindings,” added Sakura.

Izuna’s grip tightened on his chopsticks.

“Or… when you take my panties off me and unwrap my bindings…”

Izuna’s tongue traced his bottom lip, inside his watering mouth.

Taking a breath through his nose, Izuna returned to eating.

“I’ll look into it if you tell me your size.”

Nodding at him with a small, relieved smile, Sakura picked up a fresh piece of shrimp from her plate of tempura. 

“Thank you, Izuna.”

Sakura’s voice was genuinely appreciative. In his chest, Izuna’s heart fluttered a moment.

“Only I am allowed to remove them from you,” he added, possession colouring his tone.

On her way to picking up a slice of daikon, Sakura’s hand froze. The daikon dropped to the plate and Sakura’s wide eyes were trained on Izuna’s.

To Izuna’s surprise, a light flush warmed her cheeks. After only a small hesitation she nodded.

“Mm,” she murmured, looking away.

Izuna watched the change in her curiously.

“What do you like?”

Sakura’s head spun back to Izuna’s. Her mouth fell open as her brows rose, the flush darkening.
“L-like—?”

“Your… your old life. What did you like to do?”

Blinking, Sakura swallowed. She looked down at her plate a moment and set aside her chopsticks.

“Sparring,” said Sakura, folding her hands under her chin and resting her elbows on the table. She smiled at some memory that surfaced. “Eating ramen with my friends. Healing at the hospital. Learning new jutsu. Running the Tower with the Hokage…” She chuckled under her breath. “Hiding Shishou’s saké.”

Izuna’s brow knit.

“You assisted with all those functions?”

A sharp emotion shot through Sakura’s eyes and Izuna realized too late that his words insulted her.

“No,” said Sakura, looking up at him and speaking clearly. Her hands lowered to her lap. “I am—was—the top medic in the ninja nations. I ran the hospital and was its top healer. I sparred with sage-level nin, and was training as a sage myself. I was the Godaime Hokage’s personal assistant and oversaw many of the diplomatic functions for the entire… the entire Village.”

She held Izuna’s eyes boldly.

“That’s what you and Madara took from me. What you took from the Village.”

“What village?” asked Izuna, an uncomfortable feeling growing in his belly.

Sakura arched a brow at him, her smirk rueful as she reached for her glass of wine.

“The one Madara and Hashirama founded,” she said. “My home. Konoha.”

# # #

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, each lost in thought.

When Izuna stood, Sakura stilled.

Taking a patient breath, Izuna nodded to her. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Let the games begin,” muttered Sakura under her breath.

His hand on the door, Izuna tasted the bitterness in Sakura’s words and did not blame her. But her life had changed. They all must adapt. Even him.

A dozen things passed through Izuna’s mind to reply to Sakura. Instead, he left, carrying their dishes on a tray. He left the fruit with Sakura, though she hadn’t eaten anything in the last dozen minutes.

After delivering the tray to his servants—fellow clansmen and women who had joined his household upon hearing he was preparing for his wedding night—Izuna returned to his own room. 

Sakura had shared what she liked with him. Some of it unintentionally, he thought, remembering her flush when he’d demanded to be the only one to remove her underthings.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Izuna slowly made his way to his futon. Kneeling down, he pushed it aside and pulled up the loose edge of the tatami mat beneath it. Inside the floor was a sealed box. 

He stared at the box a moment, feeling foolish.

Then he remembered the way Sakura had looked when he had given her the order and made up his mind, pulling the box out. With a faint huff Izuna shook his ponytail, stretching out his burning neck. On his way back to Sakura’s room, he collected his shaving bag again—and in a moment of uncharacteristic spontaneity, a pair of candles.

Izuna knocked on Sakura’s door again and entered. Sakura sat at the table, where he’d left her, though at least she had eaten some strawberries. 

Outside night had fallen. Without the moon that evening, the room was dark. Still, his Sharingan let him see her clearly. 

The strawberry juice left a rosy tint on her lips.

His alpha stirred at the sight.

She wants you to taste her.

Izuna exhaled lowly and set his things down on the table before turning and gently drawing down the blinds in the room. Behind him Sakura let out a tired sigh. 

Irked, Izuna returned to the table.

Holding up the candles, he cast a small katon jutsu, lighting them both. He set the candles on the floor beside Sakura’s futon and carried the other items over to it, setting them aside.

When he returned to Sakura, she watched him with narrowed eyes.

“What’s this?” 

“I thought we’d try something different tonight.”

He extended his hand to her.

Sakura’s bottom lip disappeared into her mouth. She took his hand, following his lead to the futon. In his other hand he carried the plate of sliced fruit.

Izuna sat on the futon first, scooting back to leave room for Sakura to sit between his legs.

“Facing out,” said Izuna as he leaned against the wall, a pillow behind him. “Relax against me.”

Her back stiff, Sakura leaned back. 

Izuna shook his head. Sakura was so stubborn…

“I enjoy sparring, too,” said Izuna. “Primarily with katon ninjutsu, but also kenjutsu.”

When Sakura said nothing, Izuna continued.

“I was very competitive with my oldest brother growing up. We have three other brothers, but Madara sent them away to lead other branches of the Clan. I miss them,” he admitted softly. “Madara was worried that having all of us together would be dangerous if other clans formed an alliance to attack us.”

“There are five of you,” murmured Sakura thoughtfully.

Izuna looked down at the crown of her head.

“Ah. Madara is the oldest. He leads the Clan. Our father passed away several years ago. There is a tentative truce with the Senju—between Madara and Hashirama. The rest of us tend to stick to ourselves.” Absently Izuna stroked the bun in Sakura’s hair. “It sounds like in your world, the truce became an alliance.”

“Mm,” murmured Sakura in that same thoughtful tone. “So that’s why he has so much more time,” she mumbled to herself.

“Hn?”

“Nothing,” said Sakura, shaking her head.

Sakura surprised him by asking him a question.

“Do you have your Mangekyou?”

It was Izuna’s turn to stiffen around Sakura.

“What do you know of the Sharingan?”

At that, Sakura’s chin dipped low.

“I know about the curse,” she said quietly. “It…”

She curled up in his arms, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“It’s a privilege to possess the Sharingan, especially the Mangekyou,” said Izuna. “Few can control it.”

“It controls you,” said Sakura quietly. “I saw what it can do.”

His dark brows furrowing, Izuna stroked Sakura’s hair, loosening it from its bun.

“Was it used against you, in your time?”

Sakura’s reply was very soft.

“It was used against everyone. It nearly destroyed the world.”

Letting out a soft sigh, Izuna leaned his head forward, resting it on Sakura’s crown.

“Whatever happened there, it isn’t like that here,” he promised her. “Madara is very specific about when we can and can’t use it. I will teach our children that, too.”

When Sakura refrained from even fighting him on the topic of children, Izuna knew her feelings ran very deep on the matter.

“Are there skills you would like to learn?” he asked her instead. To be a doctor, a soldier, a diplomat, she must be highly talented—and curious. “I can teach you. Do you know kenjutsu?”

Once she leaned back against him again, he sifted his fingers through her hair, stroking and massaging her head and the back of her neck where the knots were tightest.

“I know some kenjutsu from my ANBU training.”

Massaging her shoulders, Izuna nodded.

“Perhaps we can spar. I am the best kenjutsu user among the Uchiha. You could do worse for a teacher,” he said.

“I would enjoy the spar. More with my chakra, so I could use ninjutsu, but if we limit it to taijutsu and kenjutsu…”

“No chakra,” reminded Izuna, though more gently than before. “But tomorrow I will spend the afternoon with you at our training ground. Would that interest you?”

“Underwear?”

“Sizing,” he said, adding, reluctantly, “And I will procure you underthings first thing tomorrow morning.”

 Finally releasing her knees, Sakura turned to look up at Izuna, her eyes wide and light.

“Really?”

His heart softened at the hope in her eyes.

“Ah,” he murmured, leaning down to bump his forehead against hers.

Sakura gave him an odd look, then, lifting her hand to her forehead.

“Is that where it comes from,” she mumbled to herself, looking away.

“Hn?”

Sakura shook her head. “Nothing. Your future clan members have a penchant for… something similar.”

Izuna arched a brow at Sakura but she didn’t elaborate.

She did settle more comfortably against him, though, and the alpha in Izuna purred, pleased that he had satisfied his omega.

Peace.

Closing his eyes, Izuna breathed in the contentment between them. It was refreshing and soothing, calming.

Sakura was fed, she was happy and she was relaxed against him in his arms. It was almost a shame that more was required of them that night. Part of him wanted to bask in her satisfaction for the rest of the evening and through until dawn.

Soon, he counselled himself.

Reaching into his shaving kit, Izuna withdrew his hairbrush and began petting and brushing Sakura’s hair again. With each stroke she softened further against him.

“I like that,” said Sakura. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, giving him greater access to her hair... and her throat.

Izuna smiled behind her.

“Hn.”

The soft candlelight leant a more intimate atmosphere to their closeness that night. When Izuna untangled the last imaginary knot, Izuna set his brush aside and picked up the curtain of Sakura’s hair. Leaning down, he brushed his face through it, breathing her into him again.

By now she had sunk into him entirely, curling up against his chest. Her fingers twisted in the material of his outer robe. The sight of them made something in Izuna’s chest tighten.

Sakura snuggled closer. 

“I like this.”

“As do I,” said Izuna.

He looked down at the other box he had brought with him. The one from beneath his floorboards and futon.

He inhaled deeply. It was time.

Wrapping his left arm around Sakura, Izuna reached for the box with his right. Undoing the lock with a series of hand signs, he opened the top to withdraw the first scroll.

He calmly laid it out in front of them. The candlelight was perfectly positioned to make them glow, their illustrations becoming more vibrant. 

More real.

It took a moment, but Sakura’s restlessness alerted Izuna that she had taken in the scroll’s contents, too. She shifted in his lap.

“I also like this,” said Izuna, his voice low and husky. His left hand stroked down Sakura’s side and up again, slowly and deliberately.

Unrolling the scroll further, Izuna widened his legs, giving Sakura more room to shift and squirm.

“The way the maiden changes is enticing,” said Izuna, looking down at the scroll. He traced the illustration, his finger pressing further into the delicate paper as Sakura’s breath caught. “Do you like it when I touch you there, too?”

Sakura’s swallow was audible.

Unrolling more, Izuna hummed as they reached one of his favourite scenes.

“Do you see how she has her eyes on his while she performs this on him?” asked Izuna softly. “Imagine how erotic it must be for him, to know he is the center of her attention. It would make the experience so much more intense, don’t you think?”

Sakura’s fingers had tightened in Izuna’s robes. She had looked away from the illustrations initially but her curiosity nudged her on to explore each page he unfurled. Her omega was even more pleased, surrounded by Izuna’s scent and safety, and eager for participation. Already Sakura’s arousal leaked around him, soaking into his clothes.

Carefully setting aside the first scroll, away from the candles, Izuna reached into the box, choosing another.

“Perhaps that one wasn’t to your liking,” he said, gradually spreading the new scroll out across their lap. “What do you think of this one?”

The delay was much shorter this time, with Sakura leaning closer, unconsciously rubbing against Izuna’s lap. Her grip on his robes pulled them open wider, revealing part of his chest.

“H-he’s…”
“Hn?” purred Izuna, leaning closer to Sakura to hear her speak.

“He h-has tent-tacles,” said Sakura, her voice higher. She swallowed. 

“Ah,” agreed Izuna. He shifted, resettling Sakura in his lap. “What does he do with them?”

Sakura’s breath panted against Izuna’s chest, at the gap in his robes. It sent shivers down to his lower body, knowing he was affecting her without laying a hand on her skin.

What else could he do, he wondered.

He nudged her with his hand, brushing against her clothed knee. Unconsciously Sakura widened her legs, opening to him without complaint.

“Sakura?” murmured Izuna. “Tell me what he does.”

“He’s… he’s using them on her…”
“Do you like what he’s doing?” asked Izuna quietly, his lips against Sakura’s silky hair. 

“... yes,” breathed Sakura, squirming in his lap again. She arched her back as if stretching, but Izuna knew better.

“You can touch yourself,” whispered Izuna in her ear. “If you need to.”

Sakura trembled in his arms.

Trailing the tip of his nose down Sakura’s throat, Izuna whispered, “I have.”

Sakura’s breath shuddered out of her.

“Imagine if I were doing this to you,” entreated Izuna in the quiet between them.

With one long, indolent finger, Izuna traced the path of a particular tentacle in the illustration.
“Imagine if we had a jutsu to do this…”
He traced another tentacle’s path, more daring than the first.

“Or this…”

His lips latched onto Sakura’s throat and he began to suck on her delicate, pale skin, closing his eyes as he listened to her gasps, felt her grip abandon his robes to dig into the thick, ropy muscles of his thighs.

“Or this,” said Izuna, tracing the tentacle’s path on the illustration and up Sakura’s body, over her clothes, ending just above her navel.

Sakura’s hips bucked as he traced over her warmest place and she keened, trembling against him.

“Izuna,” breathed Sakura.

“I have one more I’d like to share with you, Sakura,” murmured Izuna, rocking against Sakura in his lap. His lips returned to her throat and Sakura arched her back, baring her throat to him entirely.

With one hand holding Sakura to him across her middle, Izuna reached for one more scroll. The rest he left in the box. There were things Sakura needn’t learn about him quite yet.

“This one is more instructional,” said Izuna, laying out the final scroll of the night beside them in full so Sakura could take it all in.

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat.

Subtly, Izuna swallowed, too. He had never shared these scrolls with another before. The trust he placed in Sakura carved deep furrows in his self-confidence; her reaction would either plant the seeds for future, more personal fantasy exploration or shred him asunder.

Against his chest, Izuna felt Sakura’s heartbeat racing. But she didn’t object.

“We’ll modify the last step,” said Izuna, his voice thick.

Sakura’s voice was as soft as she turned in his arms to face him, placing one leg on either side of his hips.

“We start like this, then,” she said, her voice quivering.

Then she took his hands and brought them to the folds of her robes.

Izuna swallowed as Sakura looked up at him.

Her fingers slid to the first knot of his robe, tracing it before holding his gaze and untying it. The small gap released cool air between them, chilling Izuna’s hot skin. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, inside his mouth.

Sakura undid the next tie, lower down.

As she worked, Izuna undid her ties, loosening her robe until it slid open on its own to reveal the hollow between her breasts.

His pulse beating in his throat, Izuna’s eyes darkened as each inch of Sakura’s skin was revealed. So focused was he on undressing her that he failed to realize that she had peeled open each side of his robe and was staring at his sculpted torso. It was only when she placed her fingers on his pectorals, her touch light and cautious before becoming firmer, tracing each muscle group at a time as she travelled lower, that Izuna understood that Sakura was as fascinated with his body as he was with hers; that she was following each step shown in the scroll, each scene, to pleasure him.

His breath caught when she leaned forward, her eyes closed, to kiss him over his heart.

Instinctively Izuna caught her cheek, his fingers threading through her hair again to hold her lips against him.

He was an idiot for exposing himself to her. He was an idiot for revealing his fantasies to her. He was an idiot for not checking her for weapons first.

He was an idiot who couldn’t help falling for the way she caressed him with her lips and—his breath hitched—tongue.

He slid her sleeves down her shoulders, revealing more of her silky skin to his greedy hands and adoring eyes. 

With a low moan Izuna closed his eyes, his hands exploring Sakura’s strong shoulders down to her trim waist. Surrendering part of his control to his alpha, he lifted Sakura higher onto his lap, situating her warmth over the part of him that so desperately wished to break the rules and claim her for his own. At least this way they could learn to move together, as they would when they were husband and wife.

Husband… and wife...

The thrill that thought sent down Izuna’s spine had him moaning into Sakura’s throat again, his lips trailing higher, seeking her words, longing for her strawberry-flavoured lips.

—Sakura’s Kiss.

He longed to kiss her, to seal their lips together, to slide his tongue along hers, to tug her closer to him pressing their chests together…

Their robes fell to the futon and Izuna brought Sakura’s face instinctively up to his, to praise her, thank her, kiss her—

—But Sakura looked down at the bulge between them. With a quick glance at the scroll, she looked up into Izuna’s eyes and gripped his shoulders. Her muscle control was incredible as she lifted herself up to stand in front of him and release her grip on him, covering her breasts. 

Then, as in the illustration, Sakura threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging out the tie that held back his queue. He watched her swallow as she drew him to the top of her thighs where her legs met, the part of her that smelled like heaven and made him want to pin her down and devour her.

The knot for her trousers teased him in front of his face as he looked up at her.

“Undo them,” said Sakura, stroking Izuna’s cheek.

He did, the ties falling to the side.

“Lower them,” said Sakura, stroking Izuna’s jaw.

He did and Sakura stepped out of them, bare.

“Taste… them…” said Sakura with shaky confidence, tracing Izuna’s lips with her fingertips as she hesitantly pulled him to her.

Sakura’s breath trembled and caught as Izuna dragged his hands up her legs, fingers wide, coming to rest upon her hips. His thumbs stroked the dips and creases at the top of her legs, the sensitive spots where they joined her body, pressing down and watching her shiver. Then, closing his eyes to control himself, Izuna leaned forward, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of her navel.

He trailed his nose down, leaving tender nips and kisses in his wake as he went until the slickness caught his chin and he found his goal. The softness of her strong thighs cradled his face and he pressed a kiss into each one, rubbing the side of his face against her.

With a soft chuckle he relaxed and eased her open with his thumbs. Above him, Sakura inhaled tremulously.

“Shhhhh,” he murmured gently.

Then he teased her with the tip of his tongue, stroking up and down either side of the legs of her pleasure bead, mindful never to press too hard or too close. Already Sakura’s arousal gathered at his chin and he breathed in deeply, desperately wishing he could push in further. Above him, she twitched, her breathing high and fast.

As he teased her gently, a lick at a time, he moved on to broader strokes of his tongue and finally against the part of her that beckoned his attention. Her thighs trembled against his face as her self-control frayed and her body’s reactions betrayed her.

He knew he found the right rhythm when Sakura’s other hand joined the first in his hair, dragging him closer as she rocked against his mouth.

“Yes… yes… yes…” she whimpered in the candlelight. “‘Zuna…”

Male pride spread through Izuna like a strong tide. He had brought her to this, her knees trembling against his shoulders as she bowed forward.

When she began to shake and he felt her tummy tightening, he eased off, adjusting his stroke and rhythm until her legs quivered again. He repeated his pattern three more times until Sakura tightened her grip on his hair and pulled him away.

Izuna, his chin and throat slick, looked up at her unable to entirely hide his smug grin.

Gasping, Sakura looked down at him in disbelief.

“Are… are you not following…?”

“I am,” promised Izuna, leaning forward to kiss her slick lips adoringly. “But I need help with something first.”

Sakura’s brows rose.

When Izuna lifted his hips and looked at her meaningfully, Sakura eased her grip on his hair. Absently she patted the side of his head.

“Sorry if I pulled too hard,” she mumbled, kneeling in front of Izuna.

“How do you think I figured out what you liked?” said Izuna.

The flush across Sakura’s throat and chest softened Izuna’s smirk and he cupped her cheek.

“I like that you enjoyed it,” he murmured lowly. “I want to make you feel good.”
Sakura tried to press her lips together to hide her smile but had to turn her head away.

“And I want you to take me out of my pants, now,” he ordered, his voice a touch more authoritative.

Sakura’s gaze returned to Izuna, and she swallowed. 

Then Sakura crouched down on her hands and knees and reached down without complaint, untying his trousers. Carefully she pulled open the gap in front until there was enough room for him to bounce up against his exposed stomach, his loincloth falling to the side. The slit at his mushroomed tip glistened with precum and instinctively Sakura leaned down before freezing, her fingers tightening in the material of his trousers still covering his legs.

Sakura’s enthusiasm and instinctive reaction to his cock thrilled Izuna. His cock pulsed and twitched, reaching for Sakura all on its own.

“Don’t be shy,” coaxed Izuna, stroking Sakura’s cheek but letting her decide.

He watched Sakura avidly, his heart pounding harder in his chest. 

Would he have to force her that night?

Or would she take him on her own?

On her knees before him, Sakura glanced over at the illustration with another shifty squirm of her legs. Then she arched her back with her bum in the air and swallowed Izuna slowly, turning her eyes up at him as she licked around his slit, pressing her tongue against his head as she wrapped her hands around his girth.

Izuna’s jaw clenched as Sakura’s brows furrowed and she paused, looking at his soap bag.

“Do you have lubricant?”

Izuna’s eyes widened. He tugged the bag closer, one hand stroking Sakura’s throat and jaw, the other furtively searching the phials and jars inside the bag before passing her one.

“Thank you.”

When Sakura bent down again, her expression was more confident and determined, her hands rubbing together to warm the oil between them.

She looked up at Izuna again, mischief in her eyes—

—then she swallowed his head again, this time wrapping her hands around the rest of his length as she began a slow, steady suck and squeeze that soon had Izuna bowing forward this time, his jaw loose and his hands buried in Sakura’s loose hair.

“Hngh,” he grunted as Sakura sped up, intensifying the pace. His panting was audible as Sakura hummed, swirling her tongue on him.

It was just like in the illustration and Izuna’s heart soared.

Unable to hold back his moans any longer, Izuna surrendered to his alpha’s desires, his hips rising up to plunge into Sakura’s hot, wet mouth. Through it all Sakura held Izuna’s gaze and something primal inside Izuna roared to the fore, mentally begging Sakura to never look at another man again, to be his forever, to not see any other man but him, her mate-to-be, even in her dreams. She was his and he wished more than anything that she share herself only with him for the rest of their days, so that only he ever made her happy—as happy as she made him at that moment.

They continued on, Sakura adjusting her pace to lead Izuna higher before calming him, then ramping up once more, just as he had done to her.

When the pressure built at the base of his spine, Izuna curled further around Sakura and reluctantly stroked her throat, tilting her chin in his signal for her to release him. Her lips did, slowly, finishing with a kiss that sent a shiver up his spine.

“There is more,” said Izuna, his voice hoarse as he unfurled more of the scroll. 

But as he rolled it out, he pulled Sakura against him. Together they shoved his trousers and loincloth away, until they were cuddled together, skin to skin, on Sakura’s bed with the scroll rolled out beside them.

The new illustration gleamed in the candlelight.

In the warm circle of Izuna’s arms, Sakura’s lips opened to speak but no words came out. She cleared her throat, trying again.

“That is clearly penetration.”

“Hn… We will adapt. I want to feel you against me. All of you,” said Izuna.

Sakura sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

Understanding her hesitation soundly, as his alpha was displeased that Izuna intended not to pursue coitus that night with Sakura, Izuna traced the figures in the scenes delicately, lingering on his favourite poses.

“I want to feel your skin on my skin,” he said, leaning forward over her shoulder. His hands stroked her legs, her knees, straying between them but never far. “Consider it… practice.”

“That is dangerous practice,” said Sakura.

“Do you trust me not to hurt you?”

Twisting in his arms, Sakura looked up at Izuna thoughtfully.

“Not to hurt you physically when we are intimate in a way that you won’t enjoy,” clarified Izuna.

Sakura looked down at the pictures again.

Dangerous practice, indeed.

“I will not penetrate you until our wedding night,” promised Izuna, stroking Sakura’s hair. 

He couldn’t keep his hands off her, now that he had her in his arms, naked, sharing his warmth and scent. He retained so many reservations about the arrangement between himself and Madara regarding Sakura, but after only a few days, he looked forward to his wedding night more than anything else in his life. Their partnership and its benefits were quickly becoming his entire focus.

Whatever went through Sakura’s mind, she made her decision as she turned in his arms and looked up at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist.

She swallowed and he followed her gaze, glancing down at where his cock stood proudly between them, pulsing against her intimate warmth. He even fit a bit between her lips as he took Sakura’s legs and widened them, drawing her core closer and closer to him.

Unable to help himself, Izuna stared, fascinated. The back of his neck burned and he realized just how a thin a line he straddled with Sakura, asking this of her when he knew his self-control over his alpha was so loosely tethered. Curious and flouting temptation, he rocked his hips forward against Sakura’s, feeling her shiver through her arms as her hands tightened behind his neck. 

“It’s really going to happen,” whispered Sakura.

“Soon,” agreed Izuna, moving against her again. His muscles strained with how tightly he restrained himself, his instincts raging at him.

Then Sakura shifted her hips and Izuna’s grip on her legs became bruising as his breath hissed out of him. He looked up at Sakura to find her watching him with an innocent expression.

Hn.

Remembering another pose from the scroll, Izuna wrapped one arm around Sakura to bring her against him. He leaned forward, planting another hand on the futon to steady himself. Then in a single, smooth roll, he lay her down on the futon beneath him. Thanking her nin flexibility, he let one of her legs down while the other he lifted to his shoulder. He dragged his hand down the firm muscles of Sakura’s legs, aligning their sexes and stretching Sakura out vulnerably.

Izuna had intended to intimidate Sakura somewhat, but when he felt her slick core clutching at his hot cock, he swallowed, watching Sakura’s expressions shift. Her hands drifted to his chest, tracing his pectorals and circling his nipples idly.

“I’m not sure this one was a good idea,” said Sakura quietly.

His right hand palming her breast and massaging it automatically as she liked, Izuna nodded, his brain unable to form words. The instinct to do more rushed through his head in a litany of indecent, though no doubt highly pleasurable, ideas. 

Beneath him, Sakura shifted and Izuna swallowed, his lower body deciding for him how to proceed. He ground down against Sakura, admiring her flush as her eyes closed and her head fell back, her hips rising to meet his instinctively.

“Do it again,” whispered Sakura, her hands falling to Izuna’s hips and drawing him down again, guiding him against her.

“No,” said Izuna tightly, with the only brain cell left in his body.

Sakura pouted at him and Izuna’s brows twisted with how adorable it looked on her.

Hnnnn...

“Once more,” he allowed.

That time, Sakura’s moan as they rubbed against each other went straight to Izuna’s cock and Izuna called himself a thousand times a fool.

“Minx,” he muttered under his breath, forcibly lifting his hips from hers and holding her still.
Sakura just smiled at him languidly, lifting her brows a moment to taunt him.

“Next?” she asked sweetly.

So she had turned the tables of his own game on him…

Hn.

“Bring your other leg up,” said Izuna, lifting Sakura.

“Okay, like thi—whoa.”

As she moved, Izuna flipped their positions. Sakura swallowed, her hands propping her up on Izuna’s firm chest as she looked down at him. He lay on his back with her legs straddling him on either side. Their hungry sexes had touched intimately but for a moment before she had lifted herself off him again.

“According to the scroll, this will allow you more control… on our wedding night,” said Izuna.

Adjusting herself over him to widen the gap between their sexes, Sakura bit her lip.

Their eyes met as they looked between them where they were so nearly joined. Their fluids had begun to mix on their skin.

Sakura swallowed a soft sound. Izuna looked up at her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” said Sakura too quickly.

Izuna looked down again, where she ensured a full inch of space between their most intimate places. Even as he watched, his cock bobbed, reaching up toward Sakura’s molten heat.

Interesting.

“Lower yourself onto me,” he ordered, though gently.

Sakura shook her head quickly.

A slow smirk forming on his lips, Izuna’s eyelids lowered to half-mast.

“Something wrong?” 

“No.”

“Then come down and meet me. I promise to keep my word,” he said, his words silky.

It was then that he noticed Sakura’s chest heaving slightly, her tongue tracing the seam between her lips. “We’ve touched more than this tonight. I won’t enter you. I still have my self-control.”

The last was less than a hair above a lie, but it was Sakura’s response that confirmed Izuna’s suspicions.

“This requires both of us having self-control,” admitted Sakura darkly.

Reaching up, Izuna ran his hands up and down Sakura’s arms gently in reassurance.

“Lie with me,” he said softly.

His hands settled on her hips, caressing her skin.

“I promise I will stop you if you’re concerned.”

The tip of Sakura’s tongue slipped between her lips again.

“Just a touch,” said Izuna, stroking the sensitive skin of the crease where her legs joined her body.

He waited.

It was a long moment, the pause between his words and her actions.

But it was worth it when he felt her lips cradling his cock as she settled her weight on his hips, her head bowed and breath short.

A small smile on his lips, Izuna stroked Sakura’s lower back and round bum appreciatively.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“Don’t you dare move,” growled Sakura.

“We need to move a little bit,” he coaxed. “This is the position where you’re in control.”

“I think that’s a very bad idea right now.”

Izuna laughed.

Above him Sakura whimpered and bore down, flexing against Izuna and leaving him gasping.

“Now do you fucking see?” snapped Sakura, shifting her hips on him again. As she found a simple rhythm she leaned back, bracing herself against his abdomen. “Ngh…”

“Understood,” said Izuna, jaw clenched as Sakura slid up and down his cock, never pulling him inside her but getting far too close for their game to continue. 

Inside Izuna, his alpha broke another bar of the cage he’d trapped it in.

Then another, leaving Izuna instinctively flexing his hips up, aligning himself—

He grabbed Sakura’s hips, stilling them and panting.

Glaring down at Izuna, Sakura frowned again.

“For the record, my omega is real pissed with your mixed signals right now,” said Sakura evenly.

“She can take it out on me in three days’ time,” promised Izuna fervently. “And I will welcome it. But right now…”

“Right now?”

Izuna took a deep breath.

“Right now I am struggling to be a gentleman,” said Izuna, closing his eyes.

“... So don’t be.”

Izuna froze.

“Sakura—”

“There’s nothing gentlemanly about how Madara treats me in the morning. I still enjoy it,” she said, her voice twisting with self-reproach. “I was trained in seduction missions, though I’ve never been on a full one. I understand that you’re hung up on waiting until our wedding night, but don’t keep teasing me and then pulling away. I didn’t mind you edging me, at the beginning, but if this is too much for you, then don’t tease me with it, too. That will leave both of us pissed before bed,” said Sakura.

Izuna blinked, looking up at Sakura.

Her shoulders sagged.

“Thank you for… treating me with more respect. And sharing what you enjoy. And cuddling.” Sakura’s shoulders rounded as she looked at Izuna, holding his gaze. “We need to learn when to admit we’re both… struggling, though.” She licked her lip. “A lot. Especially if you are so fixated on waiting until our ‘wedding’ night.”

From his position on his back with Sakura astride him, Izuna considered her words. And the way his feelings had twisted when she had said ‘wedding’ the way she had.

Sakura looked down at Izuna’s chest, then back up at him again.

“This has been a wonderful night,” she admitted. “I think we can keep playing with fire, but later. For now, could we try something like this?”

She pointed to a position on the scroll that Izuna hadn’t paid much attention to before.

But then he realized why she wanted it and how perfect it was, relief washing through him.

“Ah.”

They paused, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Shaking her head a bit, Sakura huffed a short laugh.

“Hold tight,” she said, lifting herself off Izuna’s lap. When she resettled again, she lay down along his side facing him, his thigh between her legs, still bracing herself against his firm torso.

She bit down on her bottom lip, her brows furrowed.

“Almost,” she said. “Try sitting up a bit.”

“Hn.”

“That’s better,” said Sakura. She settled herself in his lap, straddling his thick thigh.

She glanced down at his shaving bag and Izuna arched a brow.

“Would you like more lubricant?”
“Yes… and do you have any warming jelly?” she asked.

Izuna swallowed tightly, lifting another small container out of his bag without a word.

Sakura’s eyes lit up.

It made Izuna wonder just how much Madara had taught Sakura that she knew to ask for such things, or if she was familiar with them from her kunoichi training.

“This is for you,” said Sakura, offering the apple-scented lube to Izuna. “And this is for me.”

She dipped her finger into the cinnamon-scented warming jelly, collecting as much as she thought she’d need and closing the lid again.

With only a mild blush, she looked down, slicking herself with the jelly between her legs, and then re-settled on Izuna’s thigh.

It was then that Izuna remembered the other reason he’d brought his soap bag. He removed another small container and offered it to Sakura.

Her face fell.

“Let’s not have a repeat of yesterday,” said Izuna.

Sakura heaved a sigh and accepted the pill, swallowing it without water.

“Well, now that that’s ruined our sexy party,” she muttered.

Pushing the soap bag out of the way, Izuna smiled and leaned forward, kissing Sakura’s jawline.

“I wouldn’t say it’s ruined,” he murmured at the shell of her ear, drawing her hips down against his muscled thigh. He flexed it beneath her, enjoying the way she shivered in his arms. If the warming gel felt like that against him, he could only imagine how it felt against the delicate tissues of her bundle of nerves. “We still have this to explore.”

He guided Sakura’s hips at first until she found her rhythm, then left her free, watching her as she closed her eyes and took her time rocking against and bearing down his thigh. Picking up the lubricant, Izuna filled his hand and took himself in his fist, beginning a slow tug and squeeze, matching Sakura’s rhythm. 

He smiled with satisfaction at Sakura’s gasp as the thumb from his other hand slid just between her legs, massaging the slick, warmed bundle of nerves inside her.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he said, leaning in again to kiss her cheeks, her brow, the shell of her ear, her hair, his lips latching onto her throat where he grazed her with his teeth.

The alpha in him surged hard. Unconsciously Izuna’s legs shifted, summoning Sakura closer. His teeth sank into her skin deeper as his lips found the juncture between her shoulder and neck with a growl.

Sakura’s resulting whine poured fuel on the fire of Izuna’s desire and he pumped himself harder, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths.

“Ride me,” he snarled.

Izuna released Sakura’s throat from his teeth only long enough to speak. Then he clamped his lips upon her skin once more, licking and soothing before grazing her again and sucking hard, leaving passion bites across her pulse. 

“Harder.”

While Izuna’s hands vigorously applied themselves, Sakura sank her nails into Izuna’s chest and shoulder, ignoring the sweat between them. She bore down on him, squeezing his leg between her thighs as she bit off a curse.

After so much teasing and tempting that night, they both crested quickly.

Sakura had barely managed to choke an, “I’m com—” before Izuna grunted, pressing his cheek to Sakura’s to muffle his grunt as they climaxed together, needing to be closer to her and kissing her an inch from her lips. 

Their bodies were so entwined that when Izuna’s release burst between them, his sticky seed coated Sakura from sternum to below her belly button, releasing the seal instantly.

Izuna was so close to Sakura’s lips that he could smell the strawberry juice that clung to them and it taunted him beyond reason. Inside him, his excitement and disappointment blurred together at how close he’d come to tasting both her lips that night. 

If only she felt the same way.

Panting, they rested their heads on each other’s shoulders as they caught their breath, their hearts racing for many reasons. When Sakura shivered a minute later from the echoes of her orgasm, so did Izuna.

Izuna’s eyes shot open.

His mouth went dry.

Perhaps Sakura hadn’t noticed, he thought to himself. It was an intense moment. Perhaps it was normal for her to feel that after…

Perhaps it was nothing…

But, a part of him hoped, perhaps, it was something.

He let himself exhale his suspicions, closing his eyes again as he felt her lower belly contracting against his hand that still touched her so intimately.

Ever so gently, Izuna removed his finger from Sakura, and even more gently wrapped his arm around her, drawing her to him.

Her sigh of relief lifted his spirits to the ceiling, bolstering his confidence further as she curled into him.

“Jus’ for a few minutes,” said Sakura, her body curling against him fully.

A soft smile on his face, Izuna nodded against her throat.

“Ah,” he murmured, kissing his bite.

She shivered against him at that.

Unsatisfied but grateful, Izuna’s alpha preened.

Much later, Izuna cleaned them both himself.

When he stood to find his clothes again, Sakura took his hand, holding him in place. Her eyes were wide and as naked as the rest of her.

“Stay… for a bit?”

The alpha inside implored him.

—and thanked him, as he set his clothes aside and crawled under the blankets, Sakura snuggling into his side with a happy sigh. He wrapped an arm around her, her head resting upon his naked shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her hand resting over his heartbeat.

“Ah.”

Izuna closed his eyes, listening to Sakura’s breathing as it evened out.

So, this was peace.

TBC