.

.

Her hand hits the edge of the tatami mat, palm-side down having slipped off the damp sheets of the futon. She's settled on his lap, pushing down on his chest, the heel of one hand pressed into the floor for balance.

She gasps with each glide up and harsh push down, mouth slack and face pleasured and red. He lifts his head to mouth at her neck and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, grasping for purchase. Breathless, she feels full with his cock, pressed at just the right angle inside her, and she chokes back a moan as she pistons herself over him, her movements clumsy and erratic. His hands dig roughly into her hips with each harsh thrust upward, and her head hangs over his chest, hair swinging and listing sideways.

She's close, she's so close, she grinds down harshly and tries to get to that spot, mouth hanging open, breathing harder. Without thinking, she slips her hand between their bodies, the pads of her fingers rubbing over the swollen nub of her sex. She pumps and grinds her fingers against herself, until Madara pushes upward and bats her hand away.

Her eyes pop open, and all at once, she's shoved onto her back, the sudden change in position making her dizzy. He kisses her hard, breathing sharply through his nose, before pulling out abruptly. Her eyes crack open, and in the dim light she sees his erection stiff and glistening as he roughly pushes her legs open, wrapping his arms around her hips and pressing his hot mouth against her nub.

She shrieks. The sensation is sharp, pleasure bordering just on the edge of pain, and she's so aroused it just takes one hard suck before she comes undone, gasping with sobbing moans as harsh spikes of pleasure knife through her.

She falls back, boneless and pliant, breasts heaving as she pants. Dimly, she feels the blunt head of his cock pressing urgently against her, into her, sliding in with one harsh stroke. He hitches her legs on either side of him and drives her down into the futon, thrusting hard and fast with a desperate violence she'd only seen in battle.

She screams, clutching at his back, helpless against the pleasure edging on pain: the weight of his body ramming mercilessly against hers, her whole body taut and straining, curving upward like a pulled-back bow.

xXx

.

They kiss softly, sleep-warm and sated. She feels him smiling against her neck.

And then it occurs to her: "I think I'm ovulating around this time."

Madara lifts his head. Hashi turns on their pillow to face him. He furrows his brow.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "You haven't been regular since you've stopped breastfeeding-"

"No, no, I've been regular the last few months, I'm pretty sure I'm ovulating." She bites her lip, smiling at him. "Wouldn't it be funny if I got pregnant?"

He frowns. "Why would that be funny?"

"Because I'm pretty sure I got pregnant back in that cave. You know, both times, after a battle to the death-"

Madara groans.

"-no listen, we can tell our kids how I get pregnant whenever you try to kill me-"

"Can we not joke about this? I already told you I regret it."

She snorts and laughs into his neck. "I'm sorry," she says, laughing. "You look so upset right now."

"I am upset. What are you even saying?"

Her eyes are soft. She smiles at him. "I'm glad you didn't leave."