Sakura's legs were thrown haphazardly over Sasuke's narrow hips, straddling him on the plush couch in her dark apartment. Clothed only from the waist down, their hands and mouths traced familiar paths over each other's bodies. Lips brushed the supple column of her neck before teasing lower, lower. Fingers trailed patterns over hot skin, hands tangling in hair before possessively kneading soft curves. A soft symphony of gasps and moans chorused between them; it was a sensual ritual in which they devoutly engaged. As the ritual progressed, they would lose more clothing, lose more inhibitions, and lose themselves in each other.
These were Sakura's most treasured memories, and as she pressed herself closer, closer to Sasuke's warmth she tried to memorize the planes of his body. Memorize them, commit them irrevocably to her memory, because in a week that would be all she had left. In a week, Sasuke was leaving the village.
If you love something, let it go.
He had told her several days ago of his plans, and although she had cried, she didn't beg him to stay. It wouldn't be right to chain him to her, to make him unhappy by persuading him—guilting him—into staying behind the village walls for her. It wasn't in her nature to be so selfish, so manipulative. Instead, she knew she had to let him go if that was what he wanted.
"I love you," he murmured into her shoulder before moving to kiss her fully on the mouth again.
Yes, she knew. Oh, how she knew he loved her. His quiet recital of those words had been her salvation in the last several dark months. When the aftermath of war became overwhelming, when the upturned earth in the cemetery was hard to witness, and when she realized the engraving of hundreds of new names on the cenotaph looked too fresh and clean, she remembered those words. Because in the midst of all that darkness, Sasuke had been her light, and Sakura knew that she was his as well.
She broke away from Sasuke's mouth with a small amount of reluctance, to make sure she reiterated what he also already knew.
"I love you, too."
They stilled for a few moments, panting and foreheads pressed against each other, savoring their echoed declarations.
"Come with me," he spoke almost too quietly for her to hear.
Her eyes shot open in surprise, meeting his gaze and searching his face for meaning.
"Come with me, Sakura."
His words were a command, but his dark eyes were pleading. He was sincere in his request.
How could he ask this of her? To leave behind her life, to forsake everything she knew? All for him. She was selflessly letting him leave her, supporting his decision, and now he had selfishly turned the tables on her. Before she could formulate a response, Sasuke leaned down to leave slow, soft kisses against her collarbone.
"The world is a beautiful place, Sakura. Come with me, and let me show it to you."
Half-heartedly she pushed him away, troubled by his words but not wanting to lose the contact with him.
"I'm a ninja, Sasuke, I've seen much of the world already."
His lips found her collarbone again, and she felt his mouth curve into a soft smile as he continued to speak into her skin.
"Not like I have, Sakura. Missions and roads leading from one village to the next—they hardly do the world justice. I want to share it with you, to show you the secret places I've found in my travels, and discover new secrets with you."
His mouth dragged a hot path up the column of her neck and she obligingly tilted her head. She couldn't help but moan softly at the teasing brush of his lips near her ear as he reverently began to describe the world to her as he envisioned it.
"I want to watch the sunrise with you over the ruins in the Land of Whirlpool. I want to see you standing there amongst the stone like a divine conqueror, with me at your side."
Sakura's heart began to race in awe at his words, letting them flow over her as Sasuke brought his hand up to comb through her hair, and his teeth nipped at her ear.
"I want to see the radiance of your hair and the brilliance of your eyes in the moonlight in Suna. We would sleep under the stars, the entire desert before us like our kingdom."
Finally, with a sensual grind of his hips, Sasuke concluded his preview of their world tour.
"And in the Land of Snow, there is a waterfall that cascades into a hot spring. I want to make love to you there, and keep you warm by touching you in the places I know you ache to be touched."
She moaned long and low in response to his intoxicating words and the heady grind of his hips. Feebly she tried to reason with him.
"I can't, Sasuke, I have responsibilities here—to the hospital, and Naruto needs my help if he's going to be Hokage someday—"
He cut her off by covering her mouth with his again, and then made sure she was looking him in the eyes. The backs of his fingers trailed lightly down her cheek and his thumb brushed over her swollen lips.
"The hospital has Tsunade and Shizune," he countered, "and Naruto has Hinata and Kakashi."
Sakura closed her eyes as Sasuke resumed his worship of her body.
His simple argument rang true to her with a sudden clarity. Her friends loved her and her colleagues valued her, and they all showed their appreciation of her presence in their lives. But could she delude herself into thinking she was such an important piece of their lives that they would not function without her? No…no, of course not. They all had others, and as their future became their present, they were growing and changing, their lives filling up with greater things that didn't necessitate her presence.
Except for Sasuke.
Naruto and Kakashi cared for Sasuke in their own way, it was true. But they didn't know him the same way that Sakura did. They couldn't read him and fall into step with him so effortlessly like she could. She resonated with Sasuke on a deeper level than any of them. Just as she knew that a part of her would be missing when he left, so to would he be missing an integral part of himself if she stayed.
"Come with me, Sakura," he whispered again.
As she looked into his eyes again, she found a piece of her own soul reflected there, something from which she could no longer fathom parting. And the answer was clear.
"Yes."
She met him halfway this time, indulging once more in his passionate touches. The tempo of their movements slowed to a languid and unhurried pace. There was no longer that sense of urgency between them, no longer a limit on their time together.
Their ritual would be changed and performed around the world.