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moorPairing: Obito/Sakura
Rating: Definitely M
Words: 3.500 (approx)
Squick warning: darker!fic, prisoner!Obito, prisoner!Sakura (in a way), arranged marriage/marriage law, age gap, breeding kink maybe?
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Sakura glared at the heavily scarred former ninja across the table, swallowing hard.
“Do you accept,” asked Danzou smugly.
His hands folded together atop the surface of the table, the man smirked at the firm line Sakura’s brow drew and the tightness of her jaw.
Her lips refused to form the words so she forced herself to nod.
“Good.” His jagged, graying teeth leered through his cracked lips as he smirked.
*****
The cell door far below the surface groaned and screeched as the ROOT operative dragged it open. He—or she, as ROOT operatives were nearly sexless—turned to look at Sakura and she understood that the agent would not follow her into the cell itself.
“The papers—”
“Were already signed. There was no need for a ceremony,” said the ROOT op.
Sakura peered into the darkened cell. She had signed her half of the papers first, completely unsure which prisoner she had been assigned. Danzou arranged it that way on purpose, to keep her in the dark and off-balance until the very last minute. A controlling bastard to the last, that traitor. But with them wedded, at least any progeny resulting from the arranged marriage would be a lawful citizen of Konoha.
Her stomach clenched; could she really do this?
“One with a strong kekkei genkai. We cannot afford to lose the opportunity to ensure its continuance in the Village.”
“Who—” she began, but he waved her away, turning his back to her.
“Ensure that all forms of contraception are metabolised from your system within forty eight hours and proceed to the maximum security detention center,” said Danzou, his low, rumbly voice resonating with consequence.
Sakura had bitten her tongue to keep from making demands.
She prayed that her Shishou would be found soon. Sakura couldn’t keep pretending her fealty was true when she was forced into situations like these.
With measured, confident steps she entered the dark cell.
Behind her the door slammed shut with a high-pitched grinding of rusted metal hinges, sealing her off from the rest of the prison and leaving naught but an echo behind.
Her heart sped up in her chest but Sakura lifted her chin and proceeded into the cell.
Silence dominated the damp cell once the echo faded. The air was heavy with moisture and she wondered at the physical state of any prisoner left in such conditions.
There was a whisper of sound from her left and she tensed.
“So it’s you,” came the low, velvety male voice. It seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place it yet.
It was too dark to make out his features, but her eyes were adjusting to the low light and she could discern a vague form standing against a wall towards the rear of the room.
She nodded. “Yes. Were you… briefed?”
The hesitation in her voice made her wince internally. She was supposed to be in charge of the proceedings. She was the free one, wasn’t she?
“...Ah.”
She waited, but he provided no further comment.
Together for the first time, Sakura wasn’t sure what she’d expected from their first interaction. This man, this stranger, was her ‘husband’—on paper at any rate. Now they were left to consummate their paper marriage until she carried to term a child that yielded his kekkei genkai. She honestly wasn’t sure what was worse; enhancing her fertility to ensure she conceived on the first attempt, or delaying the possibility of conception but being forced to return repeatedly until it happened.
She took a breath and walked further into the darkness.
“I…” Her voice trailed off.
‘I’m sorry’. ‘I know this is rape’. ‘Even if you’re a criminal, you don’t deserve this’. ‘I honestly don’t want this’. None of them really grasped the enormity of their degrading situation, or would help either of them. They wouldn’t break the ice. They wouldn’t ease their fears or uncertainties, hers at least.
“Are you untouched?”
His words and tone were almost gentlemanly. He sounded older than her, perhaps by a decade or so, but not ancient by any means. It was with some relief that she realised she would not be forced to be intimate with a geriatric prisoner of war. Her shoulder blades shook off their mild shiver as she relaxed. Of course, if he was only a bit older than herself, he was also possibly in very good physical shape and thus a potential threat to her wellbeing. He was, after all, housed in the deepest recesses in Konoha’s maximum security prison.
“I’m not a virgin,” she answered, clearing her throat. “Are you?”
She heard his faint snort, and it conveyed genuine, if dark, amusement.
“I’m not that ugly,” he said.
“That’s a relief. It was so dark I was worried the ROOT op was trying to spare us both,” Sakura said. “I’m Haruno Sakur—”
“I know who you are.”
Sakura’s advance through the cell had brought her nearly to the prisoner—her husband. She paused at the tension in his voice. The first prickle of fear raised the hair on her arms and tightened her shoulder blades.
“Have we met?” she asked, loosening her arms at her sides. Just in case.
There was a soft scoff from under the shinobi’s breath, and she felt the currents of air around her move as he stepped closer to her. When his warmth was within arm’s reach he stopped, leaning over her.
He’s tall, she realized.
“You don’t remember me?” he asked.
Sakura bit down on her tongue which reached out to wet her lips. His voice was so familiar…
“I’m—your voice is so familiar—but—”
He let out a breath that fanned over her left shoulder. “It will come to you,” he said.
There was a short pause before Sakura felt him reach out and pat her arm before taking her hand.
“The bed is here,” he said.
The thin covers rustled as he drew them back, and Sakura nodded. She wasn’t sure what he could see of her in the dark, as she could barely make out where he was, but her legs bumped against the metal frame before she sank down onto the worn pallet that masqueraded as his mattress.
“Were you… did you receive the…” Struggling to calm the racing of her heart and the bile rising in her throat, Sakura’s nerves gnawed at her self-control. His bed. She was on his bed.
“The fertility enhancer. Yes,” replied her husband.
Sakura nodded. “I did, too,” she admitted quietly.
He squeezed her shoulder. “How would you like to proceed?”
His surprisingly gentle voice tightened her throat around a muffled sob. She shook her head. She was a kunoichi. She could do this. She had performed seduction missions before. She had killed men with her bare hands. She had healed the near-dead, even. She should face this challenge with the same determination she had always displayed.
Every time you faced one of those challenges, you knew you were doing it for the good of the village. You can’t lie to yourself about this one, said Inner. The traitor running Konoha is doing this to you to break you, to weigh you down with a responsibility he can use against you.
But how do I fight it?
Inner had no answer.
Reaching down, she unbuckled her boots, her lips pressed together as she evened her frantic breathing.
Warm breath ghosted over Sakura’s hair as a male palm pressed her shoulder back, forcing her to sit up again. The bedframe creaked and Sakura winced. This was going to be a terrible experience.
Then he slid his hands down her calf and removed each of her boots, one at a time, setting them neatly beside the end of the bed. His hands came to her hitai ate and slid it from her hair, folding it and placing it on top of her boots. His hands came to her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her neck once.
“Would you like to keep your top on?” he asked.
“Does it matter?” asked Sakura.
“If it does to you.”
Sakura’s brow furrowed, unsure how to interpret his actions and words.
“Breathe,” he murmured. “I have no intention of hurting you.”
Sakura shifted, the bedframe creaked again and she stiffened in irritation.
“Stand,” he commanded.
Her brows furrowed, Sakura did so. Her… husband… then lifted the futon and dragged it onto the floor of his cell.
“Sit,” he said, more gently. “Is that better?”
The ground beneath the futon was hard, and the pallett provided little cushioning, but Sakura relaxed with a soft sigh. No more ignominious squeaking. “Thank you.”
“I got so used to it I didn’t hear it anymore.”
“You’ve been here a long time?”
“Longer than expected.”
“Your sentence was extended?”
His low laugh held bitterness, though not directed at her.
“There was no sentence.”
“But then…” Sakura’s voice quieted. ROOT. Danzou. She’d heard rumours they were sequestering criminals without trial, and here was proof. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but it made her sympathetic to the man who took a seat beside her. Assuming he spoke the truth. They scooched back until their backs hit the stone wall of his cell.
“Worry not about my incarceration, wife,” he said. “Sakura,” he amended when her breath caught.
Sakura’s head whipped around to stare at him in the darkness before she could make out the shadow of him shaking his head ruefully. With tentative fingers she reached up, patting his hair. He stilled at her touch.
“Your hair stands up almost as high as my sensei’s,” she mused aloud. “I think you’re taller, though.”
“Your sensei,” he repeated.
“Yes, K—”
“Hatake Kakashi. Your teammates were Uchiha Sasuke who defected from the Village, and Uzumaki Naruto, host of the Nine-Tailed Fox. You also studied under Senju Tsunade. Quite impressive for someone outside a formal clan. Haruno… not a common name within Konoha.”
Her fingers slowed. “You’re well-informed,” asked Sakura evenly.
“Ah. About some things,” he agreed. Then he leaned into her touch. “Please continue.”
Sakura couldn’t make heads or tails out of this man.
“What else are you informed about?” she asked, her fingers returning to stroke through his hair. He’d been allowed to bathe, thankfully. His hair felt thick, healthy and clean. Sitting closer to him so he would be easier to reach, she finally noticed the clean, comforting scents of fresh laundry and soap. The tension in her hands softened and she stroked his hair, soothing herself with the motions. Someone had allowed, or made, him clean up for her visit.
“Hmm, a few things.”
“Like?” she stretched to reach his head to massage his scalp, though he was now awkwardly leaning into her sideways.
Suddenly he was laid down on his back, his arms loosely crossed over his chest, and his head in her lap.
“Better?” he asked.
Sakura blinked.
He was fast.
Another warning note inside her rang, reminding her she was in the maximum security sector of Konoha’s T&I unit.
“Much, thank you,” she replied, frustrated she hadn’t even felt him move until he was in her lap. Either he had used jutsu—which she doubted was possible, given the chakra restraining seals all over the cell—or he was far stronger than she had initially anticipated. While she mused, she returned to massaging his head; his shoulders sank into her thighs as he relaxed under her ministrations, his warm breath passing over her wrists.
“Hmmm… I used to know a fair bit of Konoha’s history, at least the major clans. My knowledge is likely quite outdated. I did hear a rumour about a scandal our second Hokage was involved in.”
“Senju Tobirama? How long have you been in here?”
“Time blends together.”
Sakura shook her head, but she smiled. “What was this supposed scandal about?” She doubted this could be considered gossip, considering Tobirama had passed away decades before she was born.
“The usual. Secret lovers. Even more secret babies. Kidnappings. Secret secrets,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He reached up and moved her hand away from his face and down to his shoulder, his grasp gentle and firm. “You’re good at this.”
“Med-nin. Magic hands,” said Sakura. “If I had access to my chakra in here, I could work on your chakra network, if it was damaged. I know long-term exposure to these seals can cause deterioration to…”
He patted her hand before giving it a light squeeze. “Before he became Hokage, Tobirama had a child with a nin from outside Konoha.”
Sakura tapped him lightly. “No. I don’t believe it.”
“That’s why this is a rumour,” he countered, tapping her fingers right back. His fingertips remained on hers a moment longer than necessary before retreating. “He asked her to stay outside Konoha, to protect both of them. But, someone found out.”
“Who?”
“Rumours,” he reminded. “Their little one was kidnapped after it displayed signs of Senju Hashirama’s Moukuton abilities.”
“Now I know you’re putting me on,” sighed Sakura, massaging his shoulders.
He shook his head in her lap, his hair tickling the bare skin of her legs.
“Rumours. But it makes for a fine story, imagining the Moukuton may still be out there, dormant in someone’s genes. Or, not so dormant. Who knows.”
There was, technically, one other Moukuton user out there. Sakura thought of Tenzou and kept her thoughts to herself.
“I could only imagine the kind of chakra control that person would need to awaken and harness it,” said Sakura. “The Uchiha dōjutsu kekkei genkai, for example, requires far more chakra in a non-Uchiha than it does in an Uchiha clan member; think of Kakashi and his transplant scenario. The Uchiha rarely married outside their clan, though, so it’s unknown how it would affect their Sharingan.” She shrugged. “I wonder if the Moukuton would be more or less powerful, after supposedly being passed down to non-Senju.”
“Fair points,” he agreed, now holding her hands in his, over his chest. It pulled her forward so she leaned over him slightly. “I remember your eyes are green like spring.”
Swallowing, Sakura’s cheeks warmed and she nodded. “Yes.”
“I hope he or she has your eyes,” he said wistfully.
“What do you hope he or she takes from you?” she asked quietly.
He huffed under his breath.
“Nothing, if they’re lucky.”
“Oy, you said you weren’t ugly,” she teased lightly to dispel the mist of negativity his comment created. He squeezed her hands and brought her wrists up, brushing them with butterfly kisses. The butterflies transferred to Sakura’s stomach.
“My hair. They can have my hair.”
“Fair deal. My eyes. Your hair. Everything else we leave up to the gods and genetics.”
“The more you can do to make them like you, the better,” he said.
“Are you… suggesting I alter their genetics?”
“Not if the guards are listening.”
Sakura smile-sighed when he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
“You’re a gentleman beneath all this, aren’t you?” she remarked.
“Never.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re a very gentle man.”
“Maybe I don’t want this to be a terrible moment for either of us. You have no obligation to come back to me if you conceive on our first try. If this is my only time with you, I want you to take good memories back with you to share with… our child.”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“I’ve decided I don’t want to be a bad influence, that’s all.”
She reached to take his face in her hands, but he held them in his, to his chest.
“I don’t want our child to be seen as the progeny of a monster. It will be difficult enough for them growing up without a father around. And for you.” He tilted his chin, as if he were looking up at her more deliberately. “Even if you have to lie, please tell them that they were wanted, that they were loved, that they were… enough.”
Beneath her fingers his heart beat strongly with his intention.
“I promise,” she agreed, knowing he probably couldn’t see her nod, grateful he couldn’t see the sympathy in her eyes.
His fingers trailed up her forearms to stroke her shoulders. “Thank you.”
His thumbs drew little designs on her skin as they sat quietly together in their moment. Then, smoothly, gracefully, he rose to sitting while pushing her shoulders back, back, down to the futon. Sakura swallowed.
“Ready?” he asked, a hand slipping under her shirt and caressing the skin of her hip.
“Yes.”
His hand rose beneath her shirt as he crawled over her, the other stroking her hair and cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to make it not-terrible. Tell me what you want.”
“I’ll… try and participate. To make it not-terrible for you, too.”
“Thank you,” he said, gratefully. His warm breath ghosted over her and she realized he had sagged with relief. Somehow, that comforted her.
“Um, you can, um, start with your… hands?”
“Guide me.”
“OK,” said Sakura in a tiny voice.
And she did, helping him remove her clothes, teaching him what she liked, pressing their foreheads together as she gasped through her first, then quickly second, orgasms under his talented hands and tongue.
“Sorry,” she panted, releasing his hair. Her head fell back as her knees fell open, releasing his shoulders. He was so broad. Her thighs would ache in the morning. If she could walk.
He chuckled. “Nothing to apologize for,” he said smugly. He stroked her body to keep her warm, then began removing his own clothes.
“I… Is it… May I?” he asked, more awkwardly.
“One second,” said Sakura, taking a deep breath and falling to the sleeping pallett again. “Where have you been all my dating life?”
Silence.
Sakura winced. “Right. Sorry.”
In apology, Sakura forced herself to sit up on her knees, reaching for her husband. She found his shoulders and nudged him backwards.
“Hm?”
“It’s my turn to do the work,” she said, straddling him and holding him down.
“I volunteer to participate as well. As much as you want.”
Sakura laughed, her hair falling into her face as she leaned down and kissed him playfully without thinking.
His breath caught in his throat, and Sakura called herself an idiot, idiot, idiot, this wasn’t a real relationship, this was a trap, this was—
Then his hands were cupping her cheeks, pulling her closer, his lips were on hers, slowly, sensually, meaningfully, his passion overflowing as he kissed like she had never been kissed in her entire life. Sakura melted into him with a soft moan, reaching for him only for him to move her hands into his hair again, which was fine, and she was mindful of the sections she had just wantonly yanked on. He chuckled, grinning against her lips as she gently patted them in apology.
At some point they aligned and he slid home into her with his own moan of satisfaction, and Sakura deepened the kiss, never separating as they slowly moved against each other, stretching it out, making it last as long as they could. It was like they had known each other, loved each other, made love together before as they continually explored and rediscovered each other.
At some point he flipped them over and dragged her hips up into his lap as he knelt. Sakura arched before reaching behind his neck and bearing down on him. He growled against her lips, nipping at her with his teeth.
“Do that again and our fun will be over,” he cautioned, an edge to his voice.
“You can take it,” she breathed, taunting him.
He swore under his breath and Sakura grinned, kissing him again—
—then gasping and grabbing onto him for dear life as he began pounding into her.
“Fuck it. If I only get to have you once, I want all of you,” he gasped, sweat running down his back.
Sakura couldn’t help it when her voice rose higher, louder, her eyes clenched shut as the coil of heat inside her tightened and burned hotter. Her nails dug into his back as their bodies smacked together relentlessly.
“Yes, yes, yes—”
“Open your eyes—”
“Can’t, ngh—”
“Look at me,” he ordered, begged, pleaded then grunted and stiffened. “Now!”
Compelled to obey him, Sakura opened her eyes to find him gazing down at her in adoration, light shining from the edge of the corridor into his cell and revealing him to her for a split second.
Her voice escaped her when the pair of mismatched eyes burned into hers, one Sharingan red, the other purple with… circles?
The Sharingan whirled as he brought his hand between them on his next thrust and stars exploded behind Sakura’s eyes.
His kiss swallowed her cry as he thrust again, again, again, and then, finally, one last time, riding out the aftershocks together as he lay her down on the pallett, breathing hard.
He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed now, trying to catch his breath.
“Do…” he paused, his voice husky and wistful. “Do you… remember me… now?”
“Uchiha Obito,” whispered Sakura, looking up at him again in horror.
He smiled at her sadly.
Now she remembered him.
He was the one who had aided Danzou in his takeover of Konoha.
“Monster,” whispered Sakura, her eyes welling with angry tears.
His strong shoulders sagging, he let out a long, heavy breath.
“I hope he or she has your eyes,” he had wished.
Now she knew why.
*****
TBC
no subject
Date: 2022-08-25 05:02 am (UTC)eta
Went back and actually read the note at the top where you clearly say you posted this on tumblr first lol. Can you tell I was too eager? :P
no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 09:37 pm (UTC)Still working on this one, and omg, I'm HERE WITH YOU for the age gaps, power imbalances, and treason of it ALL. ;)
Thank you for reading!! I will aim for an update for this one in 2023!