SCAR TISSUE
He had recalled the stories countless times. Whenever their unclothed and vulnerable bodies would cling desperately to one another, exhausted from passion. Every time. He would remember.
This night was no different.
Husband and wife, facing one another, the entire length of their bodies pressed heatedly together. She sighed into his neck and he could feel her small, perfect breasts rising and falling at a steady pace against his abdomen. He allowed his arm to tangle around her form.
His trembling fingers ghosted over the smooth skin of her back, and they halted suddenly when he felt them graze the raised patch of scar tissue slightly above her tailbone, just big enough to have been created by a sword. He withdrew his hand apologetically, as if afraid that her old wound would still be too tender to touch. Sakura released a breathy chuckle as she lightly kissed along his jawline.
"I've told you. It doesn't hurt anymore, Sasuke-Kun. You can touch it if you want to," she hummed contentedly, nuzzling against him as she tightened her arms around his midsection and entwined her legs further with his. Her humming became a low moan as she felt him begin to harden against her. A small smile, the kind of smile that only his wife could make him show, one of ease and playfulness, spread across his lips.
"Oh? Is that so," he murmured lazily into her ear as he gently took the lobe between his teeth. Then, flipping her onto her back, the two melded into one.
The moon was still high in the vast heavens when Sakura finally fell asleep. Her husband vowed to himself that he would soon follow, but not before he fully took in the sight of his beloved. He wondered if Sakura knew just how fascinated he was with her. It was hardly something he could say out loud, but he did his utmost to express it in more subtle ways. Every brush of his hand (because he always wanted to touch her), every quick glance (because he always wanted to see her), and every tender smile (because he always wanted to reach her heart) were all his way of loving her.
Sasuke stared at his wife's back. Through the darkness, he could see her resting on her side, the curve of her hip perfectly accentuated against the immaculate white sheet that she had pulled up just above her rear. A small smile played at his lips until he remembered the scar. He pulled his mouth into a frown once more and reached his hand forward to gently run his fingers along the length of it.
She had told him the story. She had told him everything. An old woman named Chiyo. An Akatsuki member named Sasori. A sword dripping with poison. When Sakura told it, the story was a grim one, but Sasuke couldn't help but admire how strong she must have been, how brave she must have been, how lovely she must have been. That was Sakura. Entirely self-possessed on the battle field. Even if she was afraid, she would swallow every one of her uncertainties and charge ahead. Sometimes it would get her into trouble, but always it would make her rise up even stronger.
Sasuke's eyes drifted up and center to her other scar. That one he was there for. Madara. He remembered because he had to watch, unable to truly do anything as Madara pierced Sakura through her chest. Even so, she healed herself and rose up magnificently.
It tore Sasuke apart to know that most of those scars, especially the emotional ones, were caused by him in one way or another. But to his Love, they were warrior's medallions, collected over the years to mark the milestones in her strength. They were physical reminders that an open wound won't always be an open wound if you don't wish it to be. And Sakura did not wish it to be.
Sasuke inched closer and rested his forehead against her messy hair. "Beautiful," he whispered as his eyes finally drifted shut.