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mooryomi_gaeru as a gift for yomi_gaeru after all the wonderful inspiration she has provided over the years![Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight]
At Sixteen
It was May, Sakura was 16, and she was surprised to find the Uchiha residence empty of Uchihas when she arrived at her usual time on Friday afternoon.
“The Lord took the young masters to the zoo, but they should be back closer to this evening,” said the maid who greeted Sakura at the door. “He sent someone along to let us know the boys weren’t ready to leave yet.”
“Oh. Should I come back this evening, then?” asked Sakura, pausing as she put on her slippers.
“Not at all. We’re cleaning the living room but the drawing room is free,” said the maid. “We will call for you when they arrive.”
“Thank you very much.”
Sakura made her way to the drawing room. She would fit in some work while she waited.
In another area of the expansive mansion, Madara made his way downstairs and rubbed at his tired face to wake himself up. He had been poring over the English account books for the last three days and had found several errors. He was starting to see a pattern but wanted to confirm with his father before pursuing the issue much further.
“Is my father back yet?” he asked the maid who worked around the front foyer of the house.
She shook her head. “Not yet, young master. He sent word that he and the young masters were delayed and wouldn’t be arriving until after supper. But Haruno-dono arrived a little while ago and is waiting in the drawing room, if you’d like to begin your studies together.”
Madara glanced to the left. It looked like more than half the staff were in the living room that day, emptying it, turning over cushions, scrubbing the floors. It was a thorough turn out and would likely take several more hours.
Interest curled in his lower body.
“I have confidential English business to consult Haruno-dono about,” said Madara. “Could you please ensure that we are not disturbed under any circumstances until my family returns?”
“Of course, young master.”
Forcing himself into a leisurely gait, Madara crossed the house through its maze of corridors until he reached his destination. Each time he passed through a door, he very methodically closed it behind him. In certain cases, where the wood of the door frame and door were swollen and the seal was stiff from the early summer humidity, he snugged the wood panelled doors closed extra tight. Each step took him closer to his goal, closer to what he wanted. A thick, slow heat began to pulse in his veins.
When he finally reached Sakura in the drawing room, his mouth went dry. His heart drummed in his chest as he stopped. He admired her from the doorway as she read in one of the oversized, leather wingback chairs. She had curled her feet up under her in the seat and tucked herself into a corner of the large chair, completely at ease.
That afternoon she was dressed more elegantly than he’d seen her in a very long time. Her yukata was bright and cheerful, and she wore tabi socks. The silver bracelet sparkled at her wrist in the sunshine that entered through the windows. What took his breath away, though, was the pair of jade hair sticks that poked out from the twist in her hair; the pair he chose for her, years ago.
The pulsing grew stronger.
“You’re wearing them,” remarked Madara, his voice rough.
He skipped pleasantries and greetings, his eyes too enraptured by Sakura’s hair and the jade ornaments. They were perfect against her complexion and hair, as he’d predicted.
“Uchiha-san, I didn’t know you were here! I thought you were out with your family!” said Sakura, smiling up at Madara. “I would have called you in earlier for tea—”
“You’re wearing them,” he repeated hungrily.
Sakura blinked before reaching up to her hair. She fingered the hairsticks and smiled shyly at him. “I finally grew into them.”
As his dark eyes flickered crimson and thirstily drank her in, Madara swallowed. She had grown into more than the hair sticks.
The muscles of Madara’s lower belly contracted. Wordlessly he strode to her side and yanked her chair around to face him. It took strength to move the sturdy wingback seat, let alone with Sakura seated in it, and yet he did it almost effortlessly. The martial arts training that his father insisted he pursue four times a week since his early childhood had built strong, sinewy muscles in Madara’s young body. Muscles he wanted her to touch. Muscles he wanted to flex upon, across, deeply inside Sakura’s softness.
Startled by Madara’s rough handling, Sakura grabbed the arms of the wingback chair and stared at Madara, her eyes wide and full of questions.
Her.
He wanted her.
Madara wasted no more time. Grasping the chair, he leaned into Sakura’s personal space and slanted his mouth against hers, sliding his tongue between her soft lips as she gasped, then moaned into his mouth. He closed his eyes as she melted beneath him. Compelled by his burgeoning need, he climbed into and knelt on the seat, his knees sliding along either side of Sakura’s hips until he settled his weight upon her lightly, his heart pounding. Sakura leaned back and began carding her fingers through his longer hair, tugging it just the way he liked. The pulsing inside him demanded he succumb and Madara moaned softly in the back of his throat at the pleasurable sensations Sakura created in him.
It still wasn’t enough so he took more. He cradled her face as he deepened the kiss further, ground his hips against her as a needy growl escaped his lips.
More, he needed more of her.
Gods, they fit so naturally together.
She was beautiful.
She was perfect.
She welcomed his kiss, his touch, his constant brimming need for her—
Madara dragged his head up to breathe but Sakura’s taste was still on his tongue and he was addicted. She was his drug and he leaned into her again before he’d even caught his breath. His heart drummed heavier in his chest as he watched her with heavy-lidded eyes, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen from his kiss. Seeing her like this, in his home, wearing his treasure and welcoming him to her person, Madara couldn’t take it. Everything in him was hers, and he wanted everything of hers. He wanted to move against her, inside her, brand her, and stake his claim in her as his alone.
He closed his eyes as he breathed deeply in an effort to stabilise his thundering heartbeat.
Today.
He wanted her.
He wanted it with her.
He wanted to give it to her.
He opened his eyes and looked down, his gaze piercing Sakura’s.
“Uchiha-san?” asked Sakura quietly, studying Madara’s tense expression. Her fingers were threaded through his hair, massaging his scalp.
Her shining eyes darkened and became half-lidded as he continued to stare at her intently. He felt the pressure behind his own eyes and knew they had bled red. He would always be red for her. He broadcast his intent through every pore in his body and watched as understanding dawned behind Sakura’s forest-green eyes. Her lips fell open on a small, silent exhale.
He wanted it today.
“Alcohol?” breathed Sakura, unable to look away from him.
“None,” swore Madara, unable to tear his eyes from hers.
“Walls? Doors?”
“Check,” said Madara with a husky voice.
Her bracelet sparkled again and Sakura glanced up at the window with concern. Madara reached over and yanked the blinds shut. His eyes never left her face.
“I don’t want to tear your clothes,” he said quietly. “I want to touch you and unwrap you with my hands. But I am impatient.”
He wanted it now.
When Sakura gave her curt nod, Madara swallowed and slid his feet back down from the seat to the floor.
In the silence of the drawing room, Madara bent down and pushed up Sakura’s yukata to spread it open. He lifted her legs apart so they spread wide enough for him to stand between. The feel of her satiny skin beneath his palms enticed him and he smoothed his hands up and down her strong calves and then her silky thighs. Soon he would feel that sensitive, pale skin wrapped around his own legs, his hips, his—swallowed thickly—waist.
“I don’t know how much time we have,” whispered Sakura, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“No one will disturb us until my family comes home,” promised Madara.
“What… what do you want?” asked Sakura quietly.
A fair question.
Until that afternoon there had been limits. They had set boundaries neither would cross. Until that afternoon, Sakura or Madara had always made the call to stop or breathe or finish separately so there would be no risk. With their stolen moments in the garden or behind a door, they had learned each other through kiss and caress; they had experienced one another’s surge and shudder upon their hand while swallowing their gasp of release with their lips. They revelled in how well they knew each other by touch alone. Sakura had discovered how Madara enjoyed the long, drawn out caress of his cock between her smaller hands, and the way she would pressure and tease his sensitive tip. Madara’s pride reached the heavens the first day he felt Sakura’s knees shake and give way beneath her, her hot face buried in his shoulder, his hand between her shaking thighs, slick with her essence as she pulsed around his fingers. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the sounds she had made that day and he still struggled to make it through one of her climaxes without coming in his own pants, even when he remembered them, alone.
But the last step, the one that would change everything, they’d never taken. Madara’s father’s words rang in his ears, reminding him of his role and responsibilities as his heir, as the paragon, the scion of the Uchiha family and the future of their zaibatsu. Madara would lead them someday and he must maintain the integrity of their family at all costs. Madara had never eschewed his responsibilities, but the more he lived for Sakura, the more he began to despise the restrictions upon his personal life. There was also Sakura’s fear of her parents finding out, of the way they would lose face if it were discovered that while Sakura had accepted money from the Uchihas for tutoring the boys, she had also been ‘engaged on the side’ with the eldest. She, and her family, would never socially recover if such rumours were spread about them. These matters always stayed Sakura’s and Madara’s hands when they had too eagerly reached for a tie or a belt or an obi. Neither wanted to disappoint their parents. Neither was willing to disobey That Final Rule that guided their upbringing as mature, upstanding citizens. They had always listened, and always complied, and while perhaps pushed, never outright stepped over That Line that divided them between Good and Responsible young adults and Reckless and Unforgivable youths. Through it all, Sakura and Madara had always held back.
But what if, that day, they didn’t?
Because Madara no longer wanted to wonder. Or imagine. Or wait.
That afternoon, Madara accepted what he’d known inside himself for years. He desired every risk and reward when it came to Sakura. That day they weren’t hindered by his brothers’ presence, or his father’s eye, or their many other responsibilities and interruptions. It was them, just the two of them, and a quiet, private, intimate opportunity.
His opportunity to show her what she meant to him.
Madara’s heart pounded and his heavy breaths lifted his broader chest when he leaned down over Sakura. He slid his fingers into the edges of Sakura’s panties, dragging them slowly down her legs. Then he lifted her soft legs up around his hips and his gaze flickered down to her pink, glistening secret.
Madara splayed her knees apart so confidently, Sakura’s cheeks warmed, her chin tucking in.
“Everything,” said Madara heatedly, pulling her forward to the edge of the chair and up against his rapidly hardening cock in his hakama. “I want everything.”
Sakura bucked as Madara slid his thumb into her wet heat. Slowly he collected her slickness and circled it around the bundle of nerves at the top of her legs. Her eyes were hazy and unsure, but her body was more than ready if her damp inner thighs were any indication.
Sakura looked at the door again.
“L-lock it,” she said on a shaky breath.
The click echoed through the room.
The yukata Sakura wore was lighter than a kimono thankfully, but it still tested Madara’s patience not to tear it off her body. Yet he’d promised.
With utmost care Madara unfastened Sakura’s obi, his eyes on her warm cheeks, her every expression. As he pulled her clothing off her body, layer by layer revealing her to him, he took care to fold each one on the back of the oversized chair. When Sakura was left in nothing but her tabi socks, he swallowed and prayed she couldn’t feel the way his hands shook. He wanted to watch her, look at her, forever. She was the most beautiful young woman he’d ever seen and the flush across her body as she tried to cover herself with her hands to hide her modesty, even at what they were about to do, made his male ego crow and his protective arms encircle her. No one else would ever see her like this, know her like this, touch her like this. She was his alone and finally he could claim her as he’d always longed to. This moment had tormented him in all manner of ways since he understood his feelings for Sakura, and he swallowed again as he saw the possessive gleam reflected in her eyes. She wanted this, too.
The shaking in Madara’s hands calmed. Sakura had never, would never, be so vulnerable and exposed to anyone else ever again. She was his and he would protect everything about her. Each time her breath caught, each quiet exhale as the cool air would brush against her newly naked skin, each time her fingers caught in his clothes as he peeled another layer from her, he drank them in and seared them into his memory. His eyes were red and would remain so while they came together.
To his delight, relief and enthusiasm, Sakura was just as restless to undress him. She drew his happi coat down his shoulders, untied his gi to bare his chest to her appreciative eyes, and his heart swelled at how her fingertips traced down his firm skin, making his breath catch. The way she bit her bottom lip, her cheeks warm, as she stroked his shoulders and pushed the gi over and down his arms sent his confidence soaring.
Madara’s hands clasped Sakura’s as her fingers moved to his hakama ties. She rested her forehead against his shoulder a moment, gathering her composure as she trembled. She took a deep inhale and leaned back, searching his eyes.
“Y-yes?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he murmured decisively, squeezing her hands.
Madara released Sakura’s hands.
He needed her to make the decision herself. To accept the next step of her own volition.
As they stood facing each other, Madara wanted her to undress this final part of his body all by herself, for the very first time.
When Sakura’s knuckles brushed against his bare skin, Madara’s stomach fluttered and flexed. He clenched his jaw and held his breath as she clasped the ties, his abdominal muscles tight with anticipation.
Then Sakura unfastened his hakama and they fell to the floor in a soft cloud of cotton, his underwear with them. He stepped out of them, as bare to her then as he’d been in the garden. As open as he could ever be with her.
For a long minute, they didn’t know what to do. Then Sakura reached for Madara, and he for her, and they clung to each other, their burning faces buried in the crook of each other’s neck.
His mouth was moving against hers when their bodies met, skin to skin, for the very first time. Every sensation was amplified by its newness and their hands stroked each other’s backs, in exploration, trepidation, and comfort, their breaths shaking. Their chests met and pressed together, back and forth, eager and inexperienced and new.
It was about to happen.
It was really going to happen.
They were going to move forward… together.
Madara had never been so excited, terrified, and driven to succeed as he was in that moment. He would give Sakura everything, every piece, every part of himself. She hadn’t shied away from his body that day; she had admired it as she unwrapped it. His hips sought hers and he felt her startle and jump in his arms before she gradually pressed her hips back against his, rocking against his hardness slowly.
Madara moaned as his cock was cushioned between their bodies, and instinctively he rocked harder, faster.
The pressure. The intensity. The tingling at the base of his spine as his bulbous tip pressed upward against their flesh. The air hissed between Madara’s clenched teeth.
The urge to satisfy himself overwhelmed Madara for a moment—
“I… I’m ready,” whispered Sakura against his ear.
Madara swallowed. He nearly came on Sakura then.
No, thought Madara forcefully, squeezing his Sakura tighter.
Sakura. His Sakura.
She deserved everything, and his patience most of all.
Determined, Madara refused to satisfy himself until he had seen to Sakura’s pleasure first.
He stilled his hips and nudged Sakura onto her knees, then her back on the floor where he climbed over her. Madara hovered over her on the carpet behind his father’s desk, his happi coat laid out beneath them.
The flush across Skura’s cheeks had spread through her upper body, and her eyes were wider than he had ever seen them.
She will only ever look at me like this.
With decisive hands he lifted her legs carefully and spread her knees wide to fit himself between them. Sakura’s chest rose and fell with her quickening breaths, and instinctively Madara leaned down to kiss her, connect with her, reassure her as he stroked the inside of her knee, then her thigh, then the warm, wet place between her legs again. Beneath him, Sakura twitched.
“You’re so sensitive,” murmured Madara against her lips.
“Please,” whimpered Sakura, arching as he slid his first finger inside her.
Madara swallowed thickly at her reaction.
Her sigh of relief when he moved more slickly inside her relaxed some of Madara’s tension and apprehension, and he progressed with another finger, and another. Getting through her first tight ring was always the most difficult. The rest of his fingers were soon coated, and for the first time he inserted three fingers. Sakura’s hips squirmed at the thicker intrusion, and she flinched.
“Easy,” murmured Madara. “That’s it.”
He’d measured his own girth against his fingers as he imagined his first time with Sakura. Often. She would need to open just a little bit more before he would even risk penetrating her with his cock. Should he try four, just to be sure? The erotic novels he and Sakura shared always glorified how pleasurable it was for a woman to be filled by her lover, but the way Sakura writhed under him, her head pitched back as she grasped the happi coat, muffled whimpers escaping her lips, made him question their tales. Sakura was still so small, in some ways… She’d never taken more than two of his fingers before, until now.
“You’re going to do so well,” he praised. “Look at you, you’re already enjoying it. Just think about what it will be like with my cock inside you.”
Sakura whined in the back of her throat but what caught Madara by surprise was the way her channel clenched around his fingers at his words.
More encouraged, he began to rub circles on her hooded pleasure nub as he slowly thrust his fingers in and out of her hot, wet center.
Spirits, he wanted to be inside her so much… To know that it was within reach was torture. But she wasn’t ready, not yet.
“I want you to come on my hand first,” ordered Madara when Sakura’s hips began to jerk and buck.
“Uchiha-san,” begged Sakura.
Unconsciously she pushed against his hand, her feet planted on the floor and her hands twisted in the happi coat.
“Touch me,” ordered Madara, his eyes greedily drinking in her budding sexuality. “I want you touching me when you come.” His thumb circled her bundle of nerves more firmly and deliberately, his fingers thrusting harder.
He swallowed at the tiny mewling sounds she made and begged his body not to shame him in front of her on that day of all days. When she reached down to grip his wrist, then move it harder against her, his breath shook. He was so hard it almost hurt, watching her tense and then buck—
“Uchi—ngh!”
Between her thighs, Sakura’s center squeezed Madara’s fingers and wetness spread down his hand as he slowed his pace at her gentle, erotic gasp. Remembering how sensitive she became after her orgasms, he released her button to gently cup her with his palm, though he left his fingers inside her, giving her sweet feminine muscles something to clamp around. Gods, he didn’t think he would ever get over how strong that muscle inside Sakura could be. The first time he’d felt it, it had set off a fierce, merciless wave of arousal and possession inside him that he would someday feel that hot, wet snugness around his cock—and no one else’s.
Sakura would never be anyone’s but his.
Beneath him, small tears leaked from Sakura’s clenched eyes as she panted, her lips parted. Madara leaned over her again and patiently stroked them from her cheeks with the back of his knuckles. She sighed beneath him, her body trembling all over. With Madara’s fingers still gently coaxing and extending Sakura’s sweet release, her knees fell open and her head dropped to the happi coat again, her shoulders relaxing as she tried to catch her breath.
“You did well,” said Madara proudly.
Sakura laughed on a thready breath, not quite capable of speech yet.
Unable to help himself, Madara leaned in and kissed Sakura deeply, soothing her frayed control back into the utter languor she deserved. He twitched fiercely as he felt her shivers against his body, but forced himself to be patient.
He thought back to that time in the garden, where he had experienced his first orgasm at her hand. That experience had been tainted.
This one would not be. He had ensured that it wouldn’t be. Now they lay naked together, about to share a climax not from each other’s hands, but from their bodies joining and moving in the oldest ritual of life.
Madara’s resolve strengthened as he watched Sakura gradually calm and smile at him. Her afterglow was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Gods, he wasn’t going to stop until they both came so hard they forgot how to breathe, this time. He wouldn’t be satisfied until she called him by his given name, his back raw from her nails, her thighs shaking around his hips…
He would summon every climax he could from her body until it obeyed him inherently, reacted to his voice, reacted to his very scent.
When Sakura looked up at him and squeezed his hand from her place beneath him, Madara’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. Then she bit her lip and gave the smallest nod, reaching for him, and the pressure coiled low in his hips threatened him dangerously.
It was time.
Grasping himself, Madara aligned himself with Sakura’s center. With a shallow swallow, he pressed the smooth, mushroomed tip between her lower lips, dragging it up and down her seam to collect the evidence of her recent release. Clenching his jaw, Madara breathed hard to keep his need at bay as his excitement and anticipation clouded his efforts for patience as he sank in a little further.
Sakura’s fingers dug into his shoulders as she strained beneath him, her breaths as tense as his.
“Watch,” said Madara thickly. It came out half-command, half-pleading. He wanted her to see the exact moment they connected as one, to experience the mind-blowing intensity of it as he did. To his delight she did look, her warm breath fanning between their chests, and he moved in further.
But then her tiny whimper made him freeze in his progression.
“It’s okay,” said Sakura shakily, squirming under him. “Just… adjusting.”
“Hn,” he grunted, holding himself up on his elbows as his body trembled. The squirming was about to make a liar out of him.
Did Sakura have any idea what she did to him? How it felt to be inside her, even so little of him?
For there was far more of him to go, Madara realised, his crimson eyes large and round as he stared, transfixed, at where Sakura’s pink, stretched lower lips were wrapped perfectly around his heavy girth. Mentally he swore again, this time more darkly. He would never forget that lewd, alluring sight for the rest of his life, and his cock itself agreed as it twitched inside Sakura, eager to advance.
She couldn’t know what she did to him, Madara decided then, or this sweet torture would have ended her as it threatened to end him. The connection between his heart, brain and cock had never been so finely attuned to such an arousing stimulus before, and Madara licked the inside of his bottom lip, instinctively rolling his hips forward and into Sakura, testing her depths, even as, beneath him, her neck strained and head pulled back and away from him; she panted and whimpered, her soft thighs restless against his hips.
“Wait,” she pleaded, her voice high.
Instantly Madara froze again. It wasn’t her words; it was her tone. Something was wrong.
When Madara looked up from where they were joined, his eyebrows rose in shock as he found Sakura’s chest rose and fell quickly as she grimaced in pain.
His heart lurched sickly in his chest at the tears gathered in the corners of her clenched eyes. He was hurting her, he realised, and not just a little, if her tight jaw was any indication.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted, stilling.
Sakura swallowed and nodded.
Very, very carefully, Madara lowered himself down onto Sakura to nuzzle her throat affectionately. He’d heard that if a woman was tense, sex could be painful. He wanted Sakura not only willing, but welcoming and enthusiastic. He wanted her to enjoy herself with him, especially this, their first time together. So, with cautious hands, he traced her flank lovingly, caressing her skin, tickling her occasionally to distract her, dragging his thumbs over her nipples and trying very, very hard not to twitch any more forcefully than absolutely necessary inside her. It took time, but Sakura soon relaxed in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down and kiss him back. When her eyes closed and body softened beneath him, Madara shifted his hips, just a bit.
To his relief and excitement, Sakura widened her legs in welcome, smiling against his lips.
Grateful beyond words, Madara returned to his mission, pressing and retreating a little at a time, kissing and touching and bringing Sakura pleasure any way he could. He did his best to prepare her, but she still winced, bit her hand, her lower body instinctively retreating from him when he entered her on the third try.
Sakura’s terse, muffled cry, the way her nails dug deep into his straining, shaking shoulders, the way he nearly exploded as he pressed in and in and into the warm, comforting snugness inside her…
Mentally Madara swore a hundred times before he internally recited Edo-era poetry from memory, gods fuck, anything to prevent him from spilling inside Sakura in that single, perfect moment their hips finally met, his cock rooted inside her.
Finally, he was there.
But beneath him, Sakura’s small, whimpered mewl reminded him that it was about more than just him.
“I’ll make it better,” promised Madara hoarsely, bathing her in kisses.
Sakura nodded, warmth in her eyes and cheeks as she squeezed his shoulders, trusting him to make it right.
By the gods, would he make it right. He was inside her, finally inside her, and he would treasure her gift forever.
And Madara did as promised, remaining still inside Sakura until she shifted beneath him. With her permission granted, he blessed her over and over with comforting and cherishing words as he lowered his weight down upon her in full, sinking in as far as he dared go.
As he pressed deeper inside her, Madara held a trembling Sakura to him in his strong arms, breathing hard enough for both of them. He pushed through her and she jerked and flinched at first, before calming as she tugged his hand down, between them, to the juncture between her legs. Madara understood immediately, and he kissed her all over again. He smoothly circled her bundle of nerves and gently set a rolling, undulating, smooth pace inside her—as best he could, with his tenuous self-control.
—but then Sakura began to make those gentle, sweet mewls of pleasure and Madara’s focus splintered down the middle.
He’d known this would be his greatest trial, but gods how he’d underestimated how it would feel, how it would pull at his need for her, tearing at his patience and self-discipline like nothing in his life ever had before. His gift to her, he wanted to fill her with it, but he wanted her to feel it too, to reach her peak, to feel her come apart around him with him buried so deep inside.
But if it went on like this, he would never last, he realised, horrified, desperate, and terrified of disappointing Sakura.
With utmost care, Madara rested his weight on his knees and wrapped his arms around Sakura.
“Hold on,” he said gruffly, and—
With Sakura’s arms around Madara’s neck, he lifted her onto his lap to let gravity do the work and slide her down when she was ready.
—but his abdomen flexed and trembled as his full sac tightened dangerously down low, prickles and tingles sparking in warning.
Then a dirty English curse slipped from Sakura’s lips, and to his surprise, Sakura blushed harder and bit her lip… but didn’t look away from him.
Planting the balls of her feet on the carpet, Sakura gazed intently into Madara’s face as she lifted herself, just a bit, before sliding down on his cock again with a soft, sultry moan.
“Fuck,” breathed a dumbly enraptured Madara, his fingertips bruising Sakura’s hips.
“This is better,” whispered Sakura, blushing. Her heavy-lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips further convinced Madara as she leaned in to kiss him deeply, moving her hips in a slow grind against him that stole his breath away.
With Sakura’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck, Madara came back to himself. He moved them both, very gently, every nerve on fire as he realised that he was finally, uncompromisingly, fully sheathed inside Sakura, finally home, finally where he wanted to spend the rest of his life which was in her arms and inside her heart, and not only was she tolerating it, she was participating and finding her pleasure in him. Much pleasure, if her soft moans were any indication.
Gods, begged Madara, he wanted to spend the rest of his entire fucking life like this with his Sakura.
Their mutual sounds of bliss sighed and vibrated between them, feeding each other as they stoked the embers of each other’s arousal now that they discovered their rhythm. Hands, lips, chests, hips, everything was in perfect balance as the sweetness built.
The novels hadn’t lied, Madara discovered with amazement as Sakura nibbled and kissed her way up his chest, sucking at a sensitive spot on his neck that made him shudder and moan throatily with need. He would never doubt them again.
Was this… was this the magic everyone felt?
Was this what all husbands enjoyed with their wives?
The thought of being Sakura’s husband, of her becoming his wife, set off a new, deeper hunger inside Madara.
His hands digging into Sakura’s backside to rock her more firmly against him, Madara growled and doubted others could ever share what they had. This, what he shared with Sakura, was special. This was perfect. This was what he would work every day for the rest of his life to protect, everything else be damned.
The pressure building inside Madara as he made love to Sakura was great and terrible and he fended it off as long as he could. She was what was most important to him, she was his treasure, she was his life and meaning and motivation to become a better man, to become a man at all.
Pleasing his father wouldn’t make him a man.
Taking the reins and driving the Uchiha zaibatsu to greater heights wouldn’t make him a man.
Acting the paragon, the family scion, the prodigal heir wouldn’t make him a man.
Her cries mounting, Sakura’s fingernails dug into Madara’s shoulders as she moved against him more purposefully. The telltale fluttering of her inner walls warned him she was close. Inside her it was snug, and warm, and hot, and wet, and he sank his teeth into her shoulder, trembling, in a desperate effort to harness his fraying control as he realised what was coming, and coming soon, far, far too soon.
Sakura’s movements broke rhythm and Madara’s chest seized as it lit the final fuse inside him; he wanted to keep going for her, but if this was how it felt to move together, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out against her climax. Her pending release was counting down in time with his as his fuse burned to the quick.
Her eyes clenched shut, Sakura bit her lip as she sought something she hadn’t fully understood or felt or experienced before, shivering as she reached. But with Madara plunged so deep inside her now, his fingers stroking her with a trembling hand, touching all of her, inside and out, worshipping her with kisses, she took a deep breath—
Instinctively Sakura grabbed Madara’s hand as she bucked and ground against him. Realising it was upon them and the tension in his lower back threatened him with the little death he could no longer fight or delay, Madara lay Sakura down again swiftly on her back.
He lifted her knees over his arms while she cradled the back of his head and held him to her, heart to pounding heart—
This was it, it was happening—
His heart exploding in his chest, Madara thrust inside Sakura wildly, finally, firmly, desperately, he tried to make it better, to make it last, to make her see that she was everything to him and that he lo—
Beneath him, Sakura shattered apart around him, finally, finally, finally calling—
“Madara—!”
—on a broken cry as her back bowed taut, tears lay tracks down the sides of her face into her hair, and she gasped his name over, and over, and over like a prayer.
And when he heard his given name on her lips for the first time, Madara’s feet dug into the carpet as he surged unconsciously into Sakura and filled her with his desire, blind from the riptide inside him, shaking and shuddering and gasping—
“My Sakura—!”
… Now, he was a man.
wonderful
Date: 2022-02-07 12:20 am (UTC)Re: wonderful
Date: 2022-12-21 08:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-02-07 04:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 08:10 pm (UTC)PERFECT
Date: 2022-03-09 09:00 pm (UTC)Their first time was so intense! Love that we got snippets of their encounters that lead up to this moment. It helped round out the experience and believability from where you left off last chapter. The whole time I felt slightly anxious that someone would interrupt them since there was such a heavy emphasis on "THIS IS IT! THIS IS IT" and "IT MUST BE PERFECT FOR MY SAKURA" so was relieved that all went well but omg did anyone find out right after it happened? I mostly think of Izuna. How is Izuna handling MadaSaku's relationship - surely he's aware there's something between them and is he jealous? And *red eyes*?! We got a glimpse of it a few chapters ago but now it was very prominent, I need some explaining! Also Madara was very "mine mine mine" which gave off a very...beastly feel. The Uchiha's are not what they seem huh? I am excited to see where you're taking that! Despite the possessiveness, Madara was actually very sweet and it warmed my heart. Lovely relationship, smut, and chapter. Thanks!
Re: PERFECT
Date: 2022-12-21 08:13 pm (UTC)He genuinely does want everything Sakura-related to be perfect, because he sees her as perfect. <3 He may be arrogant, overconfident and possessive, but he is also completely enamoured with Sakura and wants everything good for her, and has made the effort to improve himself for her, too. <3