Author's Notes: Well, I'm back after all! Details about why at the end of the chapter. I hope you enjoy this one!

.

.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Another Taste of Heavenly Rush

.

.

This kiss is nothing like their last one. It tastes of liquor and lemon, rather than the jasmine tea they shared the night he left. And it's rougher, meaner, more desperate. A kiss like a forest fire, and he and Sakura are the wild creatures caught in the flames.

When Sasuke pulls away, she stumbles back against the wall. She didn't lie about this alley being dark, but the moon and stars give enough light that he can see her clearly. Lips wet, the lower one caught between her teeth. Long hair wild, because he couldn't keep his hands out of it while they kissed. Something about her looks fragile in this moment, as if it would only take one wrong move to shatter her.

This is already a wrong move, though. Their relationship is so damaged now, and fucking won't help them repair it. That should be his priority.

And Sakura has a boyfriend. A nice one, everybody keeps saying, such a nice boyfriend, with the implication behind that loud and clear. Nice, unlike you.

A good man would give a damn that he's leading a woman to cheat.

Sasuke has never claimed to be a good man.

"Take off your underwear," he says.

"We can just pull them down—"

"Take them off. And give them to me."

Sasuke would bet every ryo in Naruto's bank account (since there are none in his) that Sakura is blushing right now. He wishes he could see it.

She squares her shoulders, then says, "Fine."

Sakura follows his orders, but flippantly. She's not quick about sliding her panties down her legs, putting on a show. After she steps out of them, she offers them to him, holding one of the black strings pinched between her thumb and forefinger. That's all they're made of, a few strings and the tiniest triangle of lace.

Sasuke snatches the underwear out of her hand and shoves them in his pocket. She won't be getting those back.

Sakura turns around, braces herself against the wall, and gets in a position he can't misunderstand. Her head bowed, ass pushed out, legs parted. She brushes her hair over one shoulder, so her back is on full display. That was the first thing he noticed when he walked in tonight, her almost bare back, and any chance that he might have avoided her dissipated instantly. Now moonlight and shadows emphasize the delicate points of her shoulder blades and the line of her spine. Bent over like this, her ass peeks out from beneath that skimpy dress that looks more fit for a bedroom than a bar.

Sasuke unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly. (It's no longer difficult to manage with one hand, but he suspects it will always be awkward.) He's fully hard already, just from Sakura's cruel flirting and crueler kisses.

"Sasuke," she says, her voice strained, needy. "Hurry up."

He pushes her flimsy excuse for a dress up around her hips, and suddenly he can't breathe. Her round ass is perfect, of course, but he already knew that. It's how wet she is that's wrecking him, and he's glad Sakura asked him to hurry, because he can't wait another moment.

Still, Sasuke is careful as he pushes inside. Last time they did this, she was wet too, and he still made her bleed. It's excruciating to go slowly when she feels so fucking good around him—slick, hot, soft—but he refuses to hurt her again.

"I don't need you to be gentle," Sakura says.

She sounds timid, at odds with the brash confidence she's worn like a crown all night.

"You haven't got to act tough, Sakura."

He means to be reassuring, but he's so tense, hanging onto his self control by the thinnest thread, that that comes out more dismissive.

Sasuke intends to take his time, Sakura's demands be damned, but then she rocks back against him, taking his whole cock like it's nothing. It kills him a little, to feel her body so wet and warm around him.

"I can take whatever you give me," Sakura says. "I'm plenty broken in now."

Sasuke grips her hip hard enough to make her yelp, and doesn't feel sorry for it.

Broken in. Because she's had plenty of lovers since him, men who've fucked her far more than he ever had a chance to.

"Fine," Sasuke hisses.

He takes her hard and fast then, like she asked for, and half hopes she'll regret turning away his tenderness. This is already a punishment for both of them anyway. But gods is it a sweet one. Sakura meets his thrusts, every bit as eager and relentless as he is. Each time he pushes deep, she gasps, a high, breathy sound that could probably get him off on its own if she did it long enough.

Sasuke wants to make this last, but he can't. It's been so long, with only his hand and his memories of Sakura to relieve his needs. Having her again, it's too much. He can't take it.

He pushes Sakura flat against the brick wall, so that their bodies are pressed together, her back to his front. This way he can kiss her neck, taste the salty sheen of sweat on her skin, smell her orchid perfume along with the lewd scents of sex. It's harder to thrust this way, so Sasuke just grinds into her. He reaches under her dress (it's loose at least, the only decent thing about it), slides his hand from her hip to her taut belly, then higher. When he cups her breast, Sakura moans, and he feels her quivering around his cock.

He comes too soon, the pleasure hitting so hard that he grunts, rocking into Sakura as deeply as he can. It's bliss, pure and simple, but over so quickly that all he wants is to fuck her again. If he wasn't soft, he would.

When Sasuke pulls out of her, Sakura beats one hand against the wall, letting out a frustrated groan. She must be close, and he failed to get her off. Shame chokes him as he covers himself, because he might have lasted five minutes, tops.

Sakura turns around on wobbly legs, runs a hand through her hair, and says, "Give me my panties back."

That pisses him off even more than her vicious reminder of her other lovers.

Sasuke presses her against the wall, reaches between her legs, and slides three fingers inside her. She can take that much if she could take his cock. Sakura whimpers as he works her, thrusting in and out, then crooking his fingers forward to stroke the spot she showed him so long ago. They only did this once, but he remembers exactly what she likes, because he's thought about it every day since.

"You really think I'd let you go without getting you off?" he asks.

Sakura turns her face away, and he wishes he had two goddamn hands, so he could grab her chin and make her look at him.

"I don't know what you've gotten used to with—others." He can barely keep his temper in check, just thinking about her nice boyfriend. "But with me, you don't leave until you come."

Sakura nods, still refusing to look at him.

Sasuke uses her harder, because she claimed she could take whatever he gives her. That must do it for her, because he can feel her getting closer. Her wetness and the mess of his come coats the tips of his fingers to the base of his palm, and down the back of his hand too. He can feel her tightening then softening around his fingers in sweet pulses.

"Sasuke. Don't stop. Please, don't—"

When he hooks his fingers again, she wails, head thrown back, arching up against his hand and shaking all over. He somehow forgot how beautiful she is when she comes, how perfectly she breaks for him.

It takes a long time for both of them to calm down, for their ragged breathing to even out and the trembling to stop. Then Sakura bats at his wrist, because he's been gently stroking her for the last few minutes, though he doesn't know whether it's easing her down from her pleasure or working her up again. He pulls his fingers out of her, wipes them off on her thigh, and steps backward, finally allowing some space between them.

And it's only with that distance that Sasuke truly realizes what he's done.

He left Konoha in part to give Sakura a chance to move on from him. The fact that she did shouldn't feel like such a betrayal, but it does—because he never moved on from her, and he's not stupid enough to expect he ever will.

Regardless, he should be respecting her relationship with her boyfriend. Not fucking her against the wall of a seedy bar.

Sakura shakes her head. "Don't say it. If you call this a mistake too, I don't think I can forgive you."

Sasuke looks down. There's a cigarette butt on the pavement between their feet, which is covered with the glittery fragments of a long broken beer bottle.

"Are you all right?" Sasuke asks.

Sakura lets out an aged, heavy sigh that doesn't suit her. "I'm fine."

She doesn't look fine. She looks exhausted. And maybe disappointed.

"Was it—good?"

He chokes on the question, which he knows he shouldn't ask, but he can't help it.

Sakura cants her head, eyes narrowed. "Why would you think it wasn't?"

"Because I—" He grinds his teeth, then makes himself say the rest. "Because I didn't last very long."

"Oh. Sasuke…" Sakura touches his cheek, her fingers so gentle it hurts. "Of course it was good. You were amazing."

There's so much softness in her voice that it borders on pity, and he hates it. He hates it so much that he grabs her wrist, too hard.

"You don't have to lie for the sake of my ego. It's patronizing."

Sakura rips her hand away from him. "I'm not lying, you jackass! That was the best sex I've had since—"

Like a switch flipping, he goes from furiously embarrassed to furiously curious.

"Since when?"

Sakura seems to shrink in on herself, shoulders hunched and head bowed. She says, "None of your business," but she sounds more scared than snotty.

Sasuke backs her up against the wall again and lays his hand flat on the valley between her small breasts. Her heart is beating much faster than he expects, and they inhale sharply together.

"Since when?" he asks again, more gently this time.

Sakura's voice comes out whisper-quiet and abashed when she says, "Since the night you left."

It's almost more satisfying than the sex, hearing that even as a fumbling virgin he was better than the men who came after him.

He must be twisted in the worst way, to revel in a confession that clearly makes Sakura feel ashamed.

That sort of thing is precisely why he doesn't deserve her.

Sasuke wants to kiss her again so badly that it's nearly a physical ache, but he can't. Because if he does, he'll end up spreading her legs and fucking her again.

"I should go," he says.

Sakura nods quickly. "Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

How ridiculous. Exchanging casual farewells like they ran into one another at the grocery store and stopped to chat over the produce.

Sasuke strides out of the alley, around the building, and into the street. He's almost back to Naruto's place before he realizes that he never paid his tab. It's tempting to just say fuck it and let the bar owner eat the debt, but he's trying to be a better person these days. And after the bad choices he made tonight, he could use some good karma.

Mostly, though, he just doesn't want to face Naruto yet.

The last thing he expects is to find Sakura at the bar. But that's where she is, with three empty glasses in front of her. A skinny, middle aged man leans into her space, too close to be just friendly. She sways on her stool, and the man catches her before she can fall. Instead of releasing her once she's steady again, he strokes her upper arm.

Sasuke walks over, knocks the scrawny civilian's hand off of her, and says to Sakura, "It's time for you to go home."

One sharp look at the man sends him scurrying away.

Sakura stares up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes. Her lips are still swollen from their fierce kissing, and there's a love bite blooming on her throat. She wipes at her face, smearing her mascara, then whimpers.

It tears at Sasuke to see her this way, but he holds himself together as he pays both of their tabs, helps her down from her seat, and walks her home. He has to dig her house keys out of her small purse and open the door, because she's too drunk to manage it. It's dark inside, but Sasuke knows her place well enough to guide her to the staircase without turning any lights on.

"Can you make it up the stairs?" he asks.

Sakura shakes her head, sniffling. "I'll just sleep on the couch—"

Sasuke picks her up. When they were genin and he was still whole, he could carry her bridal style with no trouble. Now, it's easier to wrap his good arm around the backs of her thighs, lift her against his chest and slightly over her right shoulder, and brace her against him with what remains of his left arm.

"Hold onto me," Sasuke says.

Sakura clings to him as he climbs the stairs, her breaths short and staggered. When he reaches her bedroom and sets her on her feet, she resists for a moment before letting him go. Then she takes his hand and leads him toward her bed.

With the lights off, he can't see what color her new duvet is, but he can tell it's dark, maybe navy or black. A bloodstain wouldn't show on that.

"Sleep with me," Sakura murmurs.

"You're too drunk for—"

She shakes her head. "I mean just sleep. If m'not too hungover in the morning you can fuck me then, but…"

Sakura pulls her dress over her head, tosses it to the floor, and takes off her heels. She nearly face-plants doing it, which might be a little funny under other circumstances. At the moment, seeing her completely naked for the first time in five years, Sasuke can't find anything amusing.

"Come to bed," Sakura says, sounding half asleep already.

It's unwise and selfish to strip down to his boxers and get in bed with her, but he's been unwise and selfish all night. Why bother doing the right thing now?

.

.

Sasuke is in her bed.

It takes a moment for the memories of last night to settle in, but when they do, Sakura almost groans. She threw herself at Sasuke, then let him fuck her against the wall of a dive bar. That's pathetic enough, but the rest—getting so sloppy drunk that Sasuke had to rescue her, help her inside, carry her upstairs—makes her want to crawl into a hole and die.

At least her hangover is mild. She had enough forethought to drink a glass of water for every lemon sour, and she's thankful for it. She feels bad enough without a pounding headache and nausea to go on top of it.

Sasuke is in her bed.

He's lying on his stomach, his right arm beneath a pillow, what remains of his left tucked against his chest. His eyes are the center of his power, so arresting that they're hard to look away from when they're open. Closed, though, she notices everything else. His lips, which she knows are softer than they look. The sharp lines of his square jaw. The powerful muscles of his arms and shoulders, begging to be touched.

She didn't touch him much last night. He touched her plenty, but didn't allow her to return the favor. He trapped her against the wall and used her that way, like he wanted as little of her participation as possible. If it hadn't felt so fucking good she'd probably be more bothered by that.

Sakura climbs out of bed, careful to be quiet, then walks to the bathroom on light feet, nearly soundless. A drink of water, brushed teeth, and a very long, hot shower. That's exactly what she needs to feel human again.

Unfortunately, none of it makes her feel like a very smart human, because her decisions last night couldn't have been more foolish.

Sakura slips on her favorite robe, a long, silky thing the color of seafoam. When she returns to her room, Sasuke is no longer in bed, but she doubts he's left the house entirely. If he's learned nothing else, he should know that sneaking off without a word is unacceptable.

Sure enough, she finds him in the kitchen. He heated up her leftover stir fry from last night, steamed rice, and made both miso soup and tamagoyaki. It smells absolutely divine.

"I have missed your cooking," Sakura admits. "How did you get so good?"

"I learned how to make tamagoyaki from my mom," he says.

It might never stop surprising her, hearing Sasuke speak so casually about his family.

"And your miso soup?" Sakura asks. "Did she teach you that too?"

"No. That one I actually picked up from Karin."

"The redhead? The teammate you…?"

Stabbed and left for dead doesn't sound very nice, even if it is the truth.

"Yes," Sasuke says shortly.

Sakura sits down while he arranges the food, plates, and chopsticks on the table just so. He's precise all the time, in nearly everything he does. It should be annoying, but she only finds it endearing.

"I have to say, when I thought about your missing-nin days, I never imagined cooking lessons."

"Well, criminals or not, we did still have to eat. And Karin liked to show off any time she had an opportunity to impress me, whether it was in combat or the kitchen."

Sakura rolls her eyes. "Do you just attract women's attention wherever you go?"

Sasuke busies himself eating, which is answer enough. She has no right to be jealous, but she is regardless.

"While you were away—the last time, I mean—did you see anyone?" Sakura asks.

Sasuke sets down his spoon, but he doesn't look up from his soup when he says, "I didn't have time for dating. I was focused on trying to fix my mistakes, and myself in the process."

That's a sideways answer, which is exactly why he worded it that way.

"No dating then," Sakura says. "Not every woman wants to date, though. I'm sure you got plenty of offers for… less committed encounters."

"Yes, I did," Sasuke says, impatient now. "What do you want to know, Sakura? How many women I've slept with since you?"

Sakura stands up, even though she's not quite halfway through her very delicious breakfast.

Before she can run away, Sasuke is there, standing in front of her, with his hand wrapped around her left wrist.

"How would you like it if I interrogated you about how many men you've had in your bed over the last five years?" he asks, his voice low, nearly venomous.

"Only four," Sakura says. "Three boyfriends and a one-night stand. Although, technically that one wasn't in my bed."

Sasuke's grip on her tightens. Not enough to hurt, but he's making his point clear: she's not going anywhere until he allows it. Just that, one domineering touch from Sasuke, turns her on more than all the sex she's had with those other men she's throwing in his face.

"Doesn't matter if it was four or four hundred, I was still your best," Sasuke says, so arrogantly that she'd like to kill her last night self for admitting that.

Especially since the chances of her being Sasuke's best are slim to none. He's been all over the world, and by his own admission, women threw themselves at him.

"Don't be so smug," Sakura says. "You really don't have anything to gloat about. It was only better with you because I used to love you and I'm—" Damaged. "Sentimental."

Sasuke tugs her closer, and although his hand has loosened around her wrist, it's even harder to get away from, because he's stroking the base of her palm with his thumb. Sensuous, circular caresses that are intended to remind her of one thing.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks, so damn superior.

She hates that it takes so little effort from him to arouse her. She hates how much hope he gave her, that he might actually want to share a life together, only to leave her again. But more than anything else, she hates herself, and most of the reasons why all lead back to Sasuke.

"I'm sure," she says. "Kenji was bigger, Taro far more skilled, and Hideo is more generous. Obviously, sentimentality is to blame."

None of that is technically a lie, but it's still far from the truth.

She meant to piss him off, so she isn't surprised when he yanks her against him, his beautiful face drawn in anger. But it isn't as satisfying as she hoped it would be.

"I gave you my number," Sakura says. "What's yours?"

The answer will hurt, no matter how high or low it is, but curiosity is eating her alive. Maybe once she knows exactly how replaceable she was, with a specific, spelled out value, she can find some peace.

Sasuke backs her against the wall. "I never said I'd trade details of my exploits for yours."

"You're a bastard, you know that!" Sakura hisses.

"Maybe, but I'm not a bastard who promised you stories about my personal life. You, on the other hand, promised something very clear last night."

Sakura huffs. "I didn't promise you anything."

His slight, knowing smile tells her that she's wrong, and he's undoubtedly about to remind her of whatever shochu-addled offer she made him.

"You told me that you only wanted to sleep last night, but…"

When Sasuke touches the belt of her robe, tugging at the bow just enough to loosen it, the memory falls into place.

Sakura cusses, then says, "I told you that if I wasn't too hungover you could fuck me in the morning."

When Sasuke only keeps smirking at her, she adds, "You're annoying."

"You can change your mind," he says. "If you want to."

That's the real problem. She doesn't want to turn him away. He's no good for her, and she doubts she's any good for him either, but he still makes her feel in a way that no one else can. Her body, usually so cold and hollow, comes alive when Sasuke touches her.

Like he's doing now, slowly pulling on the end of her silk belt, until the bow comes apart, and her robe gapes open.

She has a chance to stop this. All she has to say is leave me alone, and he'll listen.

She has a chance, and she lets it pass by.

"Fine, but not here. I don't want to fuck against a wall again."

The moment she gives him permission, his hand is all over her. Holding her hip, grasping her waist, cupping her breast. It feels so good that she can't stop herself from gasping.

Sasuke kisses her throat. "All right. Let's go back to your bed."

Sakura pushes him away, and Sasuke stumbles, frowning. She didn't mean to do that, but the thought of him having her on her bed again makes her feel sick. If she lets him fuck her there, she'll spend the whole time remembering the night he took her virginity—and how she woke up the next morning to nothing but a blood-stained duvet and a note.

"It's too far," Sakura says. "The couch will do."

She strides into the living room, trying to look confident, like she's the one in control.

She's not, though. She's more out of control than she's ever been in her life. And all it takes is one minute on her back beneath Sasuke for him to make that fact indisputable.

.

.

Author's Notes: So, I'm back (obviously lol). After my author's notes on Chapter 6, you might be wondering why.

Long story short: trolls followed me to AO3, and somewhere between more victim-blaming and literal death threats, I stopped finding those cruel reviews upsetting and started finding them funny. I guess my give a fuck meter is just permanently on empty now? Regardless, my mental health is no longer in danger from anon hate, and since these trolls apparently don't have responsibilities, life goals, or bills to pay, they're just going to waste their time bothering me across multiple platforms. In which case, I might as well keep posting here.

At this point, I'm pretty sure there are a few persistent people who are dead set determined to harass me out of the fandom, but unfortunately for them I Am A Petty Stubborn Bitch, and I'm not going anywhere. Nor am I wasting my time on them. Any further hateful guest reviews will be deleted before they can go live, and any assholes who feel the need to share their nasty opinions from signed accounts will be blocked.

Now that the negativity is out of the way, I want to say thank you so much to everyone who has left such kind, thoughtful reviews and sent me sweet DMs lately! You FAR outnumber the bad apples. Y'all are amazing, and I appreciate you more than I can say. :)