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mooryomi_gaeru as a gift for her 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] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen]
The younger boys had gone to play in Shichi’s room later that afternoon when Sakura approached Madara in the family room where they had danced the evening before.
“May I borrow a book?” asked Sakura, looking down at Madara as he wrote in the margins of one of his father’s company reports. “Or, if you have the ones from yesterday, I can re-read them.”
Madara’s hand froze with the fountain pen still clutched gracefully between his thumb and forefinger.
“It’s a good thing you collected those books yesterday. It would have been terrible if they’d been caught in the storm,” she continued, watching him.
“The books… from yesterday…,” said Madara. He lifted his head, his eyes searching hers.
Sakura swallowed uneasily at the pallor that overcame him. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. There was something he wasn’t saying.
“I’ll be right back. Please wait here.”
“I can come, too—”
But Madara had lifted a finger and was angling his chin downward and to the side. Listening, she realised.
“You know what I like,” said Sakura, stopping where she stood. She understood part of what he wasn’t saying, she thought. But not why he said it.
“It will only be a few minutes,” added Madara, standing. “Stay here.”
He rolled up the report and set it aside. He half-bowed to her as he left, and Sakura’s brow furrowed.
With the impromptu ‘office’ to herself, Sakura noticed the ambient chill. It always surprised her how warm Madara made a room… or perhaps it was just her. She rubbed her arms and walked around, the high winds outside battering the house in gusts and gales. She would have to ask Madara to start a fire when he returned. It would be nice to read with him while he worked, she thought with a small smile, imagining it easily. They didn’t need to be doing anything; just being together was lovely. Of course, remembering the evening before, she couldn’t help the hint of heat that pinked her cheeks, as she looked down at the floor to ground her emotions and expectations. His family were ever present; they couldn’t risk stepping out of line and being caught, not if they wanted a future together. The heat in her cheeks rose. Their future. Together.
As such, lost in her thoughts, she missed the sound of approaching footsteps until something heavy landed on her shoulders, startling her with a yelp. She spun away with her fist swinging before she realised who it was.
“Uchiha-san!” gasped Sakura, lowering her arm.
“You were rubbing your arms. You looked cold,” said Izuna, holding up the blanket he’d brought.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sakura nodded. “Thank you, that’s very considerate. Please get my attention first next time. I would have felt terrible if I hit you.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t have done much damage,” said Izuna, offering her the blanket again. “I’ll start a fire.”
“This is more than enough, thank you,” said Sakura, accepting the blanket and swallowing down the irritation crept up when Izuna dismissed her physical strength. She lifted heavy bolts of fabric every day, handled shop deliveries, and had learned to fight from Madara (for self-defence). She may not have been able to hold her own against the older Uchiha boys in a full fight, but she was confident they wouldn’t walk away unscathed if it ever came to it.
Not that it should. Her mind was running away with her again, and her eyes narrowed on Izuna’s back. Sakura didn’t want a fire with Izuna. Her daydream of a quiet afternoon reading with Madara was slipping through her fingers.
“I’m fine. I didn’t mean to interrupt your afternoon, there’s no need for a fire, Uchiha-san,” she added, hoping he would get the hint and go away.
“I would never abandon you to the cold, Haruno-san.”
Frustration welled inside Sakura as her fingers clenched in her skirt. Frustration and anger. Izuna was inserting himself in her life again, as he had all evening, all morning, as he had continued to do for weeks. Now she was his guest. It would be rude to send him away in his own home, but she was losing her patience. Her jaw clenched, she wondered if she should leave, even seek out his father to ask if she could return home. As much as she longed to spend an afternoon with Madara, she just as strongly wished to avoid spending one with Izuna, especially if the latter was unsupervised.
“I should go see if Keiko-san needs any help,” said Sakura, turning away. “Thank you for the blanket, I’ll leave it here on the sofa in case I come back later.”
“Keiko-san doesn’t need any help—”
“With so few staff available, I’m sure she does,” interrupted Sakura, folding the blanket and setting it neatly on the cushion where Madara had sat. It was still a bit warm from his body heat and her fist tightened as she let the blanket go and stood. She hid her fist behind her other, folded hand and bowed to Izuna. “Good afternoon, Uchiha-san.”
When Madara passed her in the hall, his brows furrowed and feet slowed.
“I’m going to help Keiko-san,” said Sakura as she paused. She glanced behind her where Izuna had followed her to the hallway. “Uchiha-san lit a fire for you both to enjoy.”
The energy in Madara’s face dipped as he nodded once, slowly, holding her gaze.
“Thank you both,” said Madara. His eyes flickered to Izuna and he nodded at his brother.
Sakura bowed her head and left to find Keiko.
***
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of accepting your help, Sakura-dono,” exclaimed Keiko when Sakura approached her in the pantry.
“Please,” begged Sakura. “I feel so useless.”
“Absolutely no—”
“Uchiha Izuna-san has been very present since I arrived. I would appreciate any opportunity to help you, Keiko-san,” pleaded Sakura.
Keiko’s strong hands paused in their cleaning of the shelf as she looked at Sakura more carefully. She took in the deep lines around Sakura’s eyes and cheeks, the firm set of her lips, the tension in her shoulders, her wrung hands. She glanced around them, stepping down from her stool. She reached for Sakura’s elbow, touching her sleeve gently.
“It’s… his eyes follow you, often, Haruno-dono. It’s not… it’s unwanted?” asked Keiko, her voice low and carefully modulated.
Sakura shook her head.
“And… Uchiha Madara-san, is it the same?”
Sakura bit her lip, heat rising in her cheeks. “He’s… wanted.”
A hint of amusement lit Keiko’s eyes and she leaned in closer to Sakura. “I don’t blame you,” she teased, giggling.
Sakura’s blush flared and she glanced around them quickly, but there was no staff nearby. The mansion was nearly empty of servants.
“Keiko-san!”
“I knew it,” grinned Keiko. Setting her shoulders, she gestured with her chin at the basket of rags. “I’m wiping the backs of the shelves in here. If you take that side, I’ll do this side. Then we’ll move on to another room.”
“Thank you so much,” gushed Sakura, grabbing a cloth and rolling up her sleeves. She glanced at Keiko, shyly. “You won’t… tell anyone?”
Keiko shook her head.
“Never. If the other staff happen to not be around as often when you and Uchiha Madara-san are working alone together in a room, though, know that they support you two. You’ve made Uchiha Madara-san extremely happy, and a good man.”
“They wouldn’t… Really?” asked Sakura, already scrubbing at the polished wood shelf.
“Mmmm-hmmmmm,” sang Keiko. “The whole household supports you two.”
Ducking her head in the guise of tucking her hair back, another blush bloomed on Sakura’s cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Nothing to thank me for. We know how happy you’ve made the young masters, and Lord Uchiha. He and Lady Uchiha always wanted a daughter. You made their family complete. Oh, do you want to sing? We usually can’t sing as we work inside, only when we do the laundry outside, but we can probably get away with it today.”
Sakura’s head spun from Keiko’s gossip, but she grabbed onto the tail end of it to ground herself.
“I’d love to!”
Keiko looked at Sakura over her shoulder and began singing a bouncy tune that Sakura had heard at summer festivals. She soon joined in and together they sang and cleaned the kitchen, moving on to other, less travelled areas of the mansion as the afternoon progressed.
When Keiko swapped their current cleaning supplies for a new basket of polishes and rags, Sakura’s feet slowed. Keiko headed towards the servants’ stairs, beckoning Sakura to follow. “This way.”
“This leads upstairs,” remarked Sakura.
“Yes, we’re going to clean the young masters’ rooms. You’re with me, it’s okay,” added Keiko gently, noting Sakura’s hesitation.
Swallowing, Sakura nodded.
“We mustn’t disturb anything, but we have to dust and sweep thoroughly, and tidy their rooms,” explained Keiko as they climbed the narrow staircase and made their way down the servants’ corridor. “Normally there are more of us bustling around, but we have the place to ourselves this afternoon, so we can leave what we don’t need here in these halls. Here, let’s do the youngest ones’ first. They usually take the longest, they always leave their toys out…”
Reminding herself that she was a helper and not an intruder, Sakura followed Keiko down the hall and around the corner. Through the walls they could hear three of the boys gathered in Shichi’s room. Keiko pointed to panels in the wall and Sakura nodded. Each panel slid into the wall like a pocket, Sakura discovered, as Keiko pushed on and rolled them aside, allowing them into each room.
The first room was Tomo’s and Sakura giggled as Keiko sighed and shook her head when they entered. Clothes, toys, books, paper and colouring pastels were tossed haphazardly about the room as if the typhoon outside had mysteriously vandalised this one particular boy’s bedroom.
“Localised storm, every time,” kidded Keiko as they set about putting the toys back on the shelves.
“I had no idea,” admitted Sakura, passing the toys to Keiko who arranged them in a little scene for Tomo to discover when he returned. “My parents never let me have so many toys… or leave my room a mess.”
“They’re young. Sometimes the eldest comes around and makes them tidy up in front of him until he’s satisfied. He also fixes some of their broken toys, if they’re favourites.”
They made the unruly bed, tidied, dusted, swept, replaced the water jugs, towels, face cloths and bowls, and moved on to Koji’s room.
The most they had to do in his room was dust and refresh the water and towels; his books were neatly arranged, his clothes put away in an orderly fashion and his bed was made.
“Sounds like the boys are still in there,” whispered Keiko as they passed by Shichi’s room. Indeed, the wrestling match was ongoing, with Koji cheering for Tomo. It made Sakura smile. “We’ll move on to the older boys’ rooms and come back to this one later.”
Sakura nodded, following Keiko. They paused in front of a panel and Keiko raised her hand to knock. When there was no reply they slid open the panel door and entered.
“Whose room is this?” asked Sakura as they entered.
“Young master Izuna.”
Unconsciously, Sakura swallowed as they entered.
There were books arranged on the shelves by content, maps rolled up and piled atop the bookcases. The desk held a stack of homework and western fountain pens. A stand supported a tall bow and a quiver of arrows, and on a nearby shelf were folded a stack of gi and what looked like hakama. She hadn’t known Izuna practised archery.
They quickly made the bed and straightened the books, gathered his discarded clothes to put in the laundry, and refreshed his water.
Sakura’s hip accidentally bumped the desk as she passed it, sending a small avalanche of books and papers over the edge and onto the floor.
“Oh no,” lamented Sakura as they fell on the freshly swept floor. She knelt down and quickly gathered everything up, sorting it as she went. His penmanship reminded her of Madara’s, in the snippets she read as she went. Within a minute or so she had the papers ready and reached for a book that had fallen beneath the desk. She recognized it when she extracted it; it was the journal she’d given him for Christmas, the year before.
Keiko was wiping the shelf where a globe and series of knick knacks rested (Sakura recognized a few from Madara’s trip abroad, several years ago) when the door to the room opened and a male voice gasped.
“Sak—Haruno-san? What are you—Out! Get out!” commanded Izuna. He ran into the room and grabbed the journal, yanking it from Sakura’s hands. His eyes were wide and he panted, back curled and expression panicking as he stared at her. “Did—did you read—”
“Of course not!” exploded Sakura, insulted. “I would never invade your privacy! It fell and I was putting it back on your desk.”
He swallowed audibly and looked to Keiko, then back at Sakura.
“Haruno-san didn’t look at anything, Uchiha-san, I swear it. The book only just fell. She didn’t have any time to read it.”
The journal slowly lowered as Izuna’s shaking hands fell to his side.
“Out,” repeated Izuna more calmly. “Now. And never come in here again,” he added, looking at Sakura. His cheeks blazed.
Her own face flushed, Sakura nodded and escaped through the servants’ sliding door, waiting for Keiko, her fists tight at her sides and jaw aching from holding in her temper. Closing the door behind her, Keiko turned to face Sakura and grabbed her shoulders. “This way,” she whispered, and led Sakura further away.
“Are you alright?”
“I can’t believe he said that! It was an accident! And I would never—” throat working against the blockage that was bringing heat to her eyes, Sakura gestured in the direction of Izuna’s room.
Keiko pulled Sakura in for a surprise hug.
“I’m so sorry, I should have come over as soon as I heard the books fall. He can have such a temper when his things are disturbed,” babbled Keiko, holding Sakura to her to calm her.
“How could he say that? He’s known me for years! I’ve never… I would never do that, to anyone,” insisted Sakura, hugging Keiko back.
“I know,” said Keiko, stroking Sakura’s hair. As they calmed, she pulled away so they could both breathe. “Sometimes… sometimes we accuse others of the things we do ourselves; or would do ourselves, if the opportunity arose. We don’t always understand that someone else wouldn’t do what we would.”
Sakura swallowed, frowning. “You think…”
“I’m not saying anything… only proposing a theory,” said Keiko carefully, looking in Sakura’s eyes meaningfully. She drew her bottom lip into her mouth and glanced around them. “Just… be careful, with Master Izuna. He moves so much more quietly than the others. He was always the most observant one.”
She squeezed Sakura’s shoulders before releasing her, holding her gaze one final time.
“Let’s go see if the boys have abandoned Shichi’s room yet. I don’t want to imagine what kind of state that one will be in,” sighed Keiko, smiling brightly at Sakura again.
“Right behind you,” said Sakura, grateful for Keiko’s advice and presence.
Sure enough, Shichi’s room was quiet when they entered.
Sakura groaned aloud while Keiko just laugh-sighed and dragged in the Big basket. “We’ll start on this side. I think that’s part of his bed…hopefully…”
Two full hours later, Sakura and Keiko stood and stretched their backs, hauling several bags, bins, and baskets of clothing, linens, torn sheets and frayed cushions out into the servants’ corridor. They closed the door and slid to the ground, leaning against the walls, exhausted.
“How…”
“I know,” sighed Keiko, yawning. “I don’t know how they do it, either. The eldest usually checks on them more frequently and yells at them to put things back together, but he must have been quite busy today.”
Remembering the report he’d been working on earlier, Sakura mentally agreed with Keiko. Madara had been preoccupied after lunch.
“Do you want help putting the tools back?” asked Sakura. They’d had to track down the staff toolbox to reassemble the bed the boys had reduced to near kindling in their ‘wrestling’ practice.
“No, it’s alright. I’ll start taking this lot down to the laundry if you want to start on the last room. Luckily I looked after Lord Uchiha’s room first thing this morning.” Keiko stood. “This way.”
Sakura must have been more tired than she realised because it didn’t register whose room was reserved for last until they knocked and slid open the door, only to find Madara working at his desk, brow furrowed and eyes focused on his report.
“Dust and water, everything else is fine,” he said without looking up. “Thank you, Keiko-san.”
Mouth dry, Sakura stood there, gaping.
Of course it was Madara’s room. How could she forget that they would need to do his, too?
Looking behind her, Sakura discovered Keiko had disappeared, leaving her with the basket of cleaning cloths and tools sitting at her feet.
Then she wanted to laugh. Keiko could be devious, it turned out.
“Hn? Is something wrong, Keiko-s…”
Madara’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Sakura, staring back at him.
“I’m… I’m here to help clean up,” explained Sakura, giving him a small smile. “Sorry to bother you. Keiko must have gotten busy. It’s very clean here, so I’ll only be a few—”
But something flashed behind Madara’s eyes. He glanced around his immaculately kept room and stood, walking casually to the closet. Then, holding Sakura’s gaze, he grinned wickedly—
—and flung every piece of clothing from the shelves onto the floor. His smile widened as Sakura paled, her mouth falling further open, looking between him and the mess he was making, more clothes, old keepsakes and trinkets and sports equipment tossed helter skelter, his covers and sheets torn from his bed, bundled up and thrown in a heap in a far corner. He went back to his desk and shoved the report into a drawer that he locked with a key and threw who-knew-where, into the pêle-mêle disaster he’d turned his chambers into. And they were chambers; likely because he was the oldest, he occupied a suite of rooms. Sakura noted the hallway that led to his own bathroom and other hidden mysteries she tried not to focus on lest her idiot fiancé get another stupid idea to delay her, like trashing those rooms, too.
“What are you—” began Sakura, but Madara just grinned at her again before falling backwards onto his ruined bedding with a sigh.
“You’re going to be here a while,” he said, smug. “Don’t let me stop you. Carry on.”
“A while? I’m going to be here all night tidying this mess!”
“Oh no,” replied Madara, folding his hands behind his head. He sounded positively gleeful.
“You are a menace,” grit out Sakura between her teeth as she began picking up his shirts one by one.
“Hn,” agreed Madara. “Missed one.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Madara pointed. Nostrils flaring, Sakura collected the errant shirt.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” muttered Sakura. She folded his shirts and put each one away carefully, ensuring they weren’t wrinkled. Hopefully she could get them all up off the ground before she would need to ask Keiko for an iron.
“It’s not very hard to figure out,” he snorted.
“Hm? What do you…”
Finished with the shirts, she moved onto his trousers and glanced over her shoulder at him only to find him resting on his side atop the bedding pile watching her, his eyes relaxed and lips fond.
Blushing, Sakura turned back to his pants and closet.
“It’s just putting your clothes away,” she mumbled.
“It’s you. Putting my clothes away,” he said. His voice lowered, “in my room.”
A shiver ran down Sakura’s spine and her tummy tightened.
“You could help,” she said in an attempt to distract herself.
“There’s a reason I tore my sheets off my bed, threw them across the room, and am staying on top of them, Sakura.”
A curl of lust wriggled inside her and Sakura cursed Madara for being such a tease. How dare he talk to her about his bed, with her, in his room, using her given name?
Her blood warming, Sakura hurried faster. Being there with him was playing with fire.
But gods she loved his fire.
Pressing her lips together, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, finding him adoring her with his gaze.
Two could play at this game, she thought, knowing it was a bad idea and running with it.
“Should we make your bed first, then? So you get a good night’s sleep?” she asked, turning and approaching him slowly, an extra sway to her hips.
His eyes widened and she cheered internally.
“Hm?” she prodded, standing imperiously over his indolently laid out form.
“Yes,” he answered automatically, voice thick and husky.
This perhaps wasn’t the right decision, thought Sakura as he rolled to standing, watching her avidly. She wondered fleetingly if she should backpedal before they got carried away. It wouldn’t be the first time.
But Madara was already on his feet, challenge in his darkening, hungry eyes.
“I’ll help dress the bed,” he said innocently, lifting a corner of the first sheet.
Nodding mutely, Sakura picked up another corner and they placed the sheet on his bed; instead of watching what his hands were doing, however, Madara’s attention remained steadfast on Sakura, his eyes inviting hers to look at him. Her heart was pounding in her chest as they went back to the pile to draw out the next sheet.
“This one goes underneath me,” said Madara softly to Sakura as he passed her. His hand brushed hers and goosebumps rose on the skin of her arm.
Pressing her lips together to hold back her whispered moan, Sakura tugged the sheet up and over the bed, tucking it in efficiently as Madara once again caressed her with his gaze.
“Something wrong? You’re tugging very hard on that part. Careful, you don’t want it to let go,” said Madara mildly. “It isn’t used to that kind of touch.”
Swallowing, Sakura tried to calm her heart as it beat faster and faster. This had not been a good idea, at all. But she didn’t want it to end.
“Last one before the heavy part,” said Madara, handing Sakura a corner of the last sheet, their fingers touching briefly. He stroked her fingers before letting go, and Sakura knew she was panting as she looked at him, want written all over her face. Her fingers shook.
Her side of the bed was a wreck as they went back for the comforter.
Sakura swallowed as they lifted it up.
Then, faster than she thought possible, Madara had wrapped it around Sakura and lifted her up, ignoring her gasp of surprise as he dropped her onto the bed and leaned over her, planting his hands on either side of her head.
“Mada—”
“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispered, stroking her hair from her eyes. “We have to be quiet.”
“This isn’t… making the bed…”
“No,” he agreed. He looked down at her lips, focused on them like they were the greatest treasure. “I’m going to tell you about this bed.”
Sakura’s heart beat madly in her chest as Madara’s lips brushed against her cheeks, then her ear.
“Do you know what I do in this bed?” he asked. “I think of you. When I wake up, I think of you. When I lie down, I think of you. When I touch myself between these sheets, the ones you just put on my bed, I think of you. I think of your touch. Your taste. Your sounds. The feel of you around me, or under me. I think of you, in my bed, with me.”
Her knees weak and thighs slick, Sakura struggled to free herself from the blanket wrapped around her.
“Please,” she pleaded. It wasn’t fair how he could do this to her.
“One day, soon, I’m going to take you in this bed and make you call my name, begging me,” he said, teeth rasping against her throat, making her gasp. Her feet kicked but she couldn’t get out. “And you’re going to take me until I beg you, too,” he moaned against her skin, making Sakura pant. “I dream about us here, together.”
“Madara, please, I need to touch you.”
“No. If you touch me I won’t stop,” he admitted with a growl, his hands tangling in her hair. “This is the only way you can be in here with me, because if we can touch each other it’s all over, I won’t let you go, I’ll never let you go home.”
Then he kissed her, and Sakura keened against his lips, her body arching up, seeking his, in spite of the tightly wound cover.
“Gods I want you so much,” he whined between kisses, straddling her. “If you had any idea—”
“This is torture,” pleaded Sakura, tears in her eyes. She wanted to touch him so, so much, but she couldn’t!
“I know, I’m sorry, but it’s the only way.”
Sakura half-sobbed with longing and arousal, and gave into the kiss, pouring herself into it to try and convince Madara.
“We’ll be here, together, soon, I promise,” he babbled between toe-curling, tongue-laving kisses that made her heart want to burst. “I promise. It won’t be much longer and then everything will be perfect.”
“If you’re lying I’m going to geld you,” threatened Sakura, furious and burning up with her need.
Madara chuckled.
“You like ‘it’ too much,” he said smugly, provoking wild bucking from Sakura in protest.
“Let me out, let me out, I’m going to rip your hair out!”
He laughed, kissing her nose. “Not yet. I like you like this. At my mercy.”
“You’re insufferable!”
“You love me.”
“Even if I do, it’s not going to stop me once I get out of here.”
“Maybe I really should keep you like this.”
Sakura bucked hard and managed to toss Madara to the side, even as he chuckled. Unfortunately, she quickly rolled off the bed, landing hard and would have smashed her head if he hadn’t caught her.
Gasping for breath, she glared at him.
“I can’t wait until our wedding night,” he breathed, reverent.
“I’m going to destroy you,” snapped Sakura, wriggling out of the blanket.
“Yes,” agreed Madara eagerly.
Then she leapt on him, and they tumbled across the floor as they wrestled, Sakura grabbing for Madara’s hair while he fended her off, laughing.
When they finally rolled to a stop, Sakura straddled Madara’s waist while he held her arms up and away from his face. They were breathing hard, their hair dishevelled and clothes askew. Slowly Madara lowered his arms and Sakura sank forward and down, her eyes flashing and darkening as Madara pulled her in closer.
When their chests rose and fell against each other, he finally spoke again.
“I love you, Sakura. This heart that you feel beating against your breast? It’s mine, but it’s yours.”
“Is that another line from a book?” she asked, her fingers tangling in his growing hair.
He smiled softly at her.
“No.”
Her lips reflected his gentle expression.
Then her eyes focused on his again. “It’s a good thing you grabbed the books yesterday. I forgot about them with the storm until this afternoon.”
“Which books?” he asked, still gazing at her with utter fondness.
“The ones I brought with me.” An uneasiness settled inside her. “You… I thought you were going to get them, this afternoon.”
He shook his head.
“No, I thought I heard someone out in the hall. I went to get some books for you but when I came back you were leaving to help Keiko-san.”
“What happened to them? Are they still in the living room?”
“I didn’t see them. I thought you took them.”
Sakura’s stomach bottomed out. “Your father didn’t see them, did he?”
“No. I wouldn’t have been allowed to leave my room if he’d seen them. I’d be chained to my radiator.”
Sakura bit her lip. “Keiko-san didn’t mention them.”
Madara exhaled and wrapped an arm around Sakura, holding her close. “I’ll check their rooms. They know better than to read those types of books. They may have grabbed them last night and forgotten about them.”
“I didn’t see them when I was tidying up,” said Sakura. “Not that I was snooping, but they weren’t sitting out.”
“You checked all their rooms?”
“Yes, all of them. Except for…”
Her mouth went dry.
“What is it?” asked Madara when Sakura stiffened in his arms.
“Do you… Do you think Izuna would have taken them?”
“Hnnn…”
Madara’s expression was pensive.
“Leave this with me. Don’t worry about it, though. It’s your book, you can read what you like.”
“This book may have had some of your personal reflections in the margins.”
“Then whoever reads it is going to know very clearly how I feel about you and certain parts of your anatomy.”
Madara chuckled and caught Sakura’s hand as she brought it up to smack his shoulder.
“I’ll make sure nothing comes of it. There’s nothing to fret about. Father knows how I feel about you, and nothing is changing that. Ever.”
Taking a deep breath, Sakura nodded.
Madara stroked her hair and brought her head down to his shoulder. He closed his eyes.
“Can I hold you for a few minutes?” he asked quietly, almost shyly. “I miss holding you.”
Snuggling into him, Sakura closed her eyes and relaxed against him. “I miss holding you, too.”
Behind them, silent feet padded away down the servants’ corridor, the sliding door still open from Madara’s room, sharing every word.
TBC
oh my god
Date: 2022-12-19 10:45 pm (UTC)i am dying from the suspense, the tension, the tenderness. the stolen kisses and the promises of forever. this is the best form of torture i could have ever hoped to go through.
as always i'm concerned about izuna's machinations but tajima and keiko-san are giving me hope that i'll get to see them happy! also seeing madara so driven and playful after the turbulence of the last chapter really soothes my heart.
every single update leaves me feeling like a mess in the best of ways. thank you for updating as always moor!! looking forward to more from you, beat wishes!! 💕💕
Re: oh my god
Date: 2022-12-21 09:31 pm (UTC)YES. DRAMA. DRAMADRAMADRAMA. Because there are fireworks coming, but they're burning slowly at the moment, hinting at the sparks to come!
I love this part of their relationship; where they know they're going to be together, it's just a matter of time. (And yet, IZUNA is waiting in the wings...)
I'm so glad you enjoyed this update, especially with Tajima and Keiko! <3 I really had to think about how much involvement they should have in the plot and scene, and I think I like how they've come out. :)
Thank you so, so much for reading, River! Have an awesome afternoon!