Chapter 7: Magic

In the parking lot of a chain gym Obito swept an endless supply of sand out of the van and shut the door, looking for his next victim. The countertop. He drew a line on the surface and inspected the dirt on his finger like a butler in a movie. "We had these doors open for less than a minute. How does this place get so dirty?"

"Vanlifers have a love-hate relationship with the wind. A breeze is nice for cooling down, but goddamn, it blows every shitty spec of dust in here and aggravates my allergies," she finished her rant with a cough.

"Poor baby."

Emi hooked her toiletry bag on the cabinet's handle above the sink and unzipped it to use the mirror. Grumbling about the steam from the shower frizzing her hair, she parted it down the middle and braided it over her shoulders.

Obito abandoned the broom near the door and leaned back on the table. Braiding was something he'd seen girls do countless times in school. And yet, such a small act managed to enrapture him. It was the same technique as any other girl, but it meant more to him. All day he was finding new ways to assign affection to the little things she did. Her nimble fingers wove the hair in plaits. To him, they were magical. Those same hands held him yesterday while he broke down and cried. Those fingers tapped rhythms on the steering wheel as she drove, spooned a heart-pounding amount of sugar into his coffee, traced circles on his biceps, slicked back his hair to kiss his forehead.

"Need the sink?"

"Yeah, I need a shave." He ran a hand against the harsh bristles on his left cheek.

"Before you do.." Emi walked to his side and stopped. Her shy gaze roamed his face, seeming to debate something in her head as she moved from his eyes to the hand covering his face. He dropped it. Her decision was made.

She stood on her tip-toes and grasped the scarred side of his face and turned him to her. She leaned in. Obito pushed his jaw into her palm, tilting his head, closing his eyes. And promptly opened them.

Emi sighed, rubbing her cheek against his. The hairs tickled, stabbed, scratched her particular itch. She nuzzled harder, absorbing his amusement. His jaw moved down to speak and she moaned at the stroke.

"You are so strange."

"I know." She pulled away and swung her hand at the sink, signaling he was free to shave now that she had her fun.

Obito curled his mouth in a sly smile, eyes stuck on her lips. He uncrossed his arms and set up his razor, scoffing at her simple pleasures. "It's pretty shitty facial hair and stops right in the middle of my face." He thumbed over the slick, shiny skin on his chin where the scar started.

"It's part of you, so I like it," Emi implored. Obito scoffed again at his overly enthusiastic audience. She had sat at the table with her face on her fists, keenly observing his every movement, as if she were going to be quizzed on it later.

At least he had the decency to act aloof when he did the same to her.

Realizing shaving took too long to keep her interested, Emi changed. Taking off his t-shirt from the night before, she finished putting the finishing touches of her outfit so they could go back to the Sakura Bowl when he was done.

"Whoa."

She kicked the broom behind the driver's seat. "Hm? Too much? Should I wear something different?"

Obito took no qualms in staring. Leering. The black jeans she wore rode lower on her waist than any other pair she had. They hugged her hips and showed off her stomach. He couldn't care less about what shoes she wore. He couldn't see them in his peripheral vision anyway, because he could only look at her top. Fiery red. Delicate fluttery sleeves swooped her shoulders. The fabric tied in the front, right between ample cleavage. Hell, it hardly covered her breasts in the first place. And squishing them together like that..

He shook his head, looking like a fool when the razor fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

"No," he said, gruffly. "Wear it."

She giggled, clasping her hands in front of her like usual. Except now he was able to consume the end result of such an action. If only his hands could do the same; touch her. If his mouth could do the same; taste her. If she could attend to the need pressing behind his zipper.

"We should get goin'. We're already late."

As soon as her back was turned, he reached down to adjust himself. Was there no time to take her up on her offer?

Emi raised a brow as he hesitated to sit in his seat, crouching to peer at the clock on the radio; rocking his head back and forth, counting under his breath.

Driving past the entry proved to be an ordeal. Emi and Obito gawked at the calamity of bodies clogging up the civilian half of the parking lot. Security guards pointed authoritative fingers at teens hassling the gates.

"I swear there's more people than yesterday," Obito said, straining against the armrest as he rubbernecked the crowd.

"Way more!"

Emi parked and rushed to the shipping container enlisting Asuma's help to set out what product she had left. Of course Kurenai was well prepared. Their booth was set up hours ago. She even restocked her racks the night before, having the foresight to bring extra clothing in case she began to run out.

Kurenai hugged Emi long and hard until she rapped her knuckles on the plastic table as a tap-out. Kurenai filled her in on the crowd, "Some Instagram celebrity bought some old sweatshirts and necklaces yesterday, so that explains all the teeny boppers-" Emi snorted "-So be prepared to be asked a thousand times to sell something for $5 because they could one-hundred-percent get the same tee at the mall for that much." She rolled her eyes.

Emi's laugh lit up the cloudy morning. Kurenai excused herself to assist Asuma, seeing as he was currently trying to organize women's dresses by sizes and arguing to himself about what the hell a size zero meant, and if the person disappeared into thin air at that point.

Obito jogged to her with an extra box for loose hangers.

"Oh, didn't you want to cover up?" She looked him up and down, drawn to the way his light wash jeans stretched across his thighs, but more importantly, he was wearing his wrestling shirt again. Without anything over it.

"Actually.. I wanted to just wear this today.. I think I'm okay with it."

He stood there. He just fucking stood there in a t-shirt and jeans. No flannel. No hoodie. His arm on display. Holding a cardboard box. She could name very few moments where she was happier. And her heart burst at his next question:

"Wanna take a picture with me later? Kakashi'll know he won, but, whatever." He shrugged.

"Won?"

"He betted on us dating.. Against himself! I had no partake in this," he said, shoving the box under the table and sitting down. Sitting down all calm and stoic, like he wasn't jumping for joy on the inside like she was on the outside.

"I'll take a thousand pictures with you!"

"I don't think we need that many."

Their first, and only break, came at lunch. Emi slouched in her seat, legs splayed straight out, and Obito did the same. Neither were able to sit as bodies churned like clockwork, going from rack to rack, scanning the QR code on Emi's phone to pay, like a rolodex of faces until noon when humanity decided as a conglomerate that it was time to eat.

A pink wallet decorated in black cats waved in Obito's eye sight. "I'll give you all the cash in this to go get us food. Fries, bread crumbs, I don't care. I'm dyin'."

"You know you don't have to be so dramatic, right?"

"Really though, that cash in there is yours for helping me. I'll give you the rest once we get to Konoha." She winked. "Treat yourself, cutie."

He snatched the wallet out of her hand and tapped it on her head, standing up. "Yeah, yeah."

"Oh! Don't forget to get me some lemonade from the stand at the end of the food court, it's my only reason for coming here!"

"Gotcha." He waved over his shoulder, stalking off.

Emi texted Obito several times. Each message had less and less intervals between barrages and more and more expletives by the time he showed up, food and drinks in hand and the sweetest apologetic grin on his face. Kurenai dabbed at the corners of her mouth and moved her chair back to Asuma's side now that Emi wouldn't have to be alone.

He couldn't hold it back any longer. His grin broke to an allout cheesy smile. "Sorry it took me a while." He handed over her half-melted lemonade and a paper bag. "But you were right about the shirt. Everyone was looking at it, not my face or arm!"

"Oh." She searched his eyes while flicking the condensation off her hands. "Is that good?"

"It made me feel normal." He moved on, not letting her frown settle in. "I got you a salad and fries."

"Being normal is overrated," she mumbled. He settled his fingers over hers and acknowledged her point, keeping his face and tone light-hearted to tell her it was alright. She unrolled the top of the bag. "Wow, you really meant a whole-ass salad."

"With balsamic.. something dressing, I remembered that one was vegan."

"You're so easy to love," she cooed.

Obito stopped unwrapping his burger. The corner of the red and white checkered paper rustled in the wind. Grease oozed down the side onto his thumb. The scars were deep on this hand. Most of his fingers couldn't extend fully, thus he kept them clawed when at rest, or balled into a fist if he was in a particularly bad mood. His nails were starting to grow back after being chewed down to the quick. There was a chunk of flesh missing on his forearm from an infection. It matched a few on his side near his stomach. For years, his inner self reflected his outer self. Unpleasant.

"Thank you, Emi."

It was the last hour of the event. Patrons made their last stops to the booths who still had goods to sell. Kurenai folded and packed her few leftover garments into plastic tubs and set them aside for Asuma to take later. He was busy chuckling at the new couple.

"I have a box you can stand on," Asuma offered, a cigarette bouncing between his lips stretched into a Cheshire grin.

"Say that again and I'll bring you down to my level!"

Asuma cackled and took two steps back until Obito's head was no longer cut off in the frame. Emi pressed her fingers to her forehead and swirled little circles, ordering her muscles into her trademark smile instead of the furrowed sneer Asuma managed to tease out of her.

"So, you two dating?"

"Just take the picture!"

"Alright, alright." Asuma took enough pictures to appease them and handed her phone back. His wife's chortle announced her arrival before he ever saw her. Kurenai leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes softening at Obito and Emi as they hunched over their phones choosing the right photo and deciding what to caption it, bickering over the use of blandly telling the internet they were boyfriend and girlfriend or if they should be cryptic and spell it out with emojis.

"They're so sweet together," she said, resigning her role as protective mother. Asuma tossed the butt of his cigarette. Orange embers skittered on the rocks. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and used his other hand to tilt her chin up to give her a quick kiss.

"Someday we'll be walking down the aisle with our own daughter. You can cry then. Okay?" He kissed her again, longer, letting some of his pain show through the lingering touch.

"Until then, I think I'll cry now. Not because I think she'll forget we exist, but because she found someone again."

The sun bid it's farewell long before Emi could. She had locked her shipping container over an hour ago when she first hugged Kurenai goodbye. And still, they all huddled in a group as the chill set in. Obito rubbed his arms, shivering. Asuma had folded and unfolded the papers for the shipping company so many times they felt damp.

In the group's dance to stay warm, and ceaseless cycle to bring up aimless chatter, they headed for their vehicles. It was snail's pace, but the men were hopeful the closer they came to leaving the parking lot and entering a heated vehicle. The threat of the gate's closing time hurried their significant others along.

"I'll miss you so much!"

"Call us when you get home," Kurenai replied, hugging her tight. "We'll swing by tomorrow to make sure the containers are shipped, so don't worry about it. You two enjoy yourselves."

Asuma pulled his wife by her elbow towards their car. Obito pulled his girlfriend by her arm towards the van.

"Thank you! You're always too nice to me!" she yelled the last part with her head poking around a truck as Obito rolled open the side door and ushered her in.

As he turned to close it, a white car drove up. The window rolled down and the lit end of Asuma's cigarette stabbed the dark. His voice bellowed, "You better take care of her."

"I will," he promised. The car drove off. The door rolled shut.

"Well, we gotta be outta here in, like, now-minutes," Emi said. "I'll go back to the gym because look." She pulled the strap of her top down to show Obito a tan line. He knitted his brows and shrugged at her. Then she swept a finger over the line. It disappeared. She showed him the dirt under her nail. "So gross."

He brought a hand to his face. Tiny bits of sediment and dried salt scratched the surface. "Gross."

Emi's peppermint soap had the odd sensation of cooling his skin as the air hit it. His shoes padded the pavement as he headed towards the van dubiously parked in the back away from other cars.

The sight when he stepped into the kitchen was a welcomed surprise.

Emi was bent over the counter by the sink with her phone typing rapid fire replies to comments on Instagram. Judging by her use of heart emojis, she was thanking people for purchasing from her booth.

None of that is what brought his lower body to attention.

Her penchant for wearing his shirts was mouth-watering even under the most pious circumstances. However, this time it rode up her backside. Her ass and the tiny black thong hiked between her cheeks taunted his blood to other places.

The perfect opportunity. She managed to wear less clothing than that day at the beach and she was here. Two feet away from his hard cock. And she wanted him.

Obito reached down the front of his basketball shorts and tucked the head under his waistband, sidling up to her, quelling his compulsions to a respectable territory. He stood behind and to her side, laying a hand on her hip where his shirt covered her. Fighting his raging need to press himself on her thigh proved difficult; his body was shouting at him for more feedback, but he had to test the waters first.

"Hey," he said, noting his voice had gone husky, as if his repressed response took over each individual part of him all to send signals to Emi of what he truly wanted.

"Hey, cutie." She opened another comment thread and tapped out replies laden with emojis. To rid herself of excess energy, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, swaying her hips while she was bent over.

Her ass teased him. Once, twice. Obito held his breath to keep in the moan. Chaste, pure ghosts of touches graced the slinky fabric barrier. Then it happened. She dropped her heel. Her round cheek pressed against his erection. His shaft twitched in delight and the head begged for its turn.

Civility went out the window. His hand wandered. Those naughty fingers of his pushed the shirt up, just enough for it to stay gathered on the curve of her lower back. Fingertips and nails traveled over the soft skin of her plump rear pebbled with goosebumps. It may have been his imagination, but the pressure on his cock increased the more he roamed.

Feeling brave, impulsive, stupid with lust; he cupped her ass in his palm. He squeezed. He swept his thumb over the sensitive flesh hidden under her thong. The heat she gave off was impressive.

The phone thumped on the counter. Emi moaned. A sign from the heavens. His cock rejoiced.

Obito positioned himself behind her, lining up his clothed erection between her cheeks. He clasped one in each hand and brought them together. At first, that was all he did, squeeze them around his cock, warming her up to the idea that something so simple could get him off while still wearing their clothes.

Emi sighed his name more than said it. She arched her back. Her muscles clenched around him. Obito freed his tip from the constricting fabric and used his thumb to wedge it in the middle of his man-made palace. He smacked her ass, shoved the cheeks together again, and rutted into her. His length tugged her panties as he started his slow grind up. The subsequent tightening of them around her clit sent her gasping in pleasure, asking for more. He pulled his hips back, bent his knees, watching his tip disappear and reappear as he quickened his pace. Drops of his anticipation welled and slicked her skin. He changed to short thrusts, letting only the lipped edge of his head take the brunt of the friction he craved as he whined her name.

"Someone's in the mood," she teased him. "Wanna fuck?"

Obito regained some semblance of composure. Calming his animalistic movements, he leaned over her, smoothing his front to her back. Sloppy kisses were gifted upon her neck and his breath cooled them. "Yes, from behind," he rasped.

"Do you have a condom? I don't."

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. His lungs deflated in a breathy laugh. Emi had to grip the counter as he shook her, laughing harder.

"Huh?"

He muttered a curse and explained, "Kakashi tried to give me one when you came to pick me up. I told him it wasn't like that." He shrugged. "Oops."

She snorted. "Oops, indeed. We can do other stuff, then."

Obito hummed a reply and nudged her jaw with his nose until she exposed her neck for him to graze. He ran his teeth over her pulse, put his lips to it and sucked as his hips rocked into her.

His clothes, his hickey, his cum on her. She would be marked.

He dragged his hips back, releasing one of his hands to seize the thin material of her thong. He moved it aside, brushing her bundle of nerves in the process. She moaned for him, tilting her hips, presenting herself fully. This was one of his favorite angles in porn. All lower back, hips, and ass.

He tugged his shorts lower, lined himself up against her wet entrance and clapped her cheeks to surround his cock. Thrusting, back and forth, pumping in and out of his makeshift replacement for sex. His tip emerged at the top of the tunnel glistening with a mix of her and him.

Suddenly, she rose up from the counter. His cock became sandwiched between her ass and his stomach. He was forced to wrap his arms around her front to keep her steady.

"Wouldn't you rather something else?" Her tone held a hint of confusion.

He put his nose to her hair and shook his head a fraction of an inch. "Another minute here and I'll be good, babe." He clamped his hands on her waist and grinded on her.

Emi turned her head to look up at his flushed face and reached behind her. He groaned at her touch. Each finger gripped his cock, expertly spreading his precum and stroked. Slow. So slow. His edge was wrapped around her fingers.

"I want to taste you," she purred. He hesitated to respond. Her frown deepened. She let go and spun before he could stop her, but he was too quick, he pulled his shorts up and his shirt down. The outline pressing between them begged to have her mouth soothe it as much as she pleaded to have it fill her.

"Is there any way I could keep my clothes on while you do that?" He was fully content in humping her to orgasm.

Exasperated, she dropped her forehead to his sternum. "I figured that's what it was."

"I want more.. I just-" He groaned. He scrubbed his hands over his face, aggravated at himself.

Heart pounding, breath shortening, he focused on a tiny chip in the wood on the ceiling. If this was going to work, he had to be vulnerable again. When did this uncomfortable feeling stop? At some point he had to run out of things to share, to put on display for her to judge.

He thought he put all of himself into the palms of her hands, and yet, he kept finding new things to push at his walls.

He had to trust her. Trust her to not reject him.

Fright at the thought of her doing that struck him like a whip, sending images and cut off sentences to his head. A visual played out for him like a movie of her rejection. Taking one look at him and making up an excuse. Saying this was a mistake and they just met, they should take things slow. It ended with her never talking to him once he was dropped off at Kakashi's apartment.

Trust her with that?

"Okay," he said. "I'll.. try." He took her hand and guided her to the bed. Placing a pillow against the wall, he laid down and allayed her guarded expression as he beckoned her to his lap, "I've never shown anyone before, so, please be patient with me." The last time someone merely touched his stomach, he was rejected immediately. How long would Emi last?

Emi straddled him. He had gone soft.

Obito ran his hands up her supple legs to her own hands waiting at her side for his next move. "You've seen my back, but my front is a different story. I'm afraid of what you'll think when you see it.."

"Obi," she breathed. She collapsed on him, swooping her arms under his shoulders to hold him, her lips doling out kisses down his jawline until she reached his ear. "When I tell you you're handsome, it has never once come with the caveat that I'm only speaking about half of you. You are attractive." Pulling away, he opened his eyes and looked into her face full of earnest love. "I want us to be together, you just have to trust me to take care of you."

Obito's heart hammered. She spoke the words for him.

Emi returned to her sitting position. "I'll go first," she said, canines flashing. She crossed her arms and grabbed the bottom of her shirt. He left his hands on her knees, resting his head back to watch the show.

Everything she did was agonizingly slow. The view of her underwear was first, placed where it should be. It roused him deep in his core that she had the wherewithal to do that. The gentle curves of her stomach preceded the shadows of her flared out ribs. Up the shirt went to cover her face. The fabric stretched thin, allowing her to peer at him. Her nipples peeked out, commanding his interest, and then the shirt was tossed on the floor. Her hair fanned across her shoulders. Her breasts bounced, enticing his cock to attention.

She plucked his hand from her thigh and guided it up her body, encouraging him to explore it at his will. His hand continued the flow without her help, coming to a stop at her breast, cupping it in his palm and eyeing her hard nipple. He paused.

"How do I..?"

She maneuvered his fingers for him, taking his index and thumb and placing them on either side, pressing them into a light pinch.

"Just like that," she moaned.

He followed her orders and replicated the motion. More. She tilted her face to the ceiling and let out whimpers for more. She rolled her hips. Another moan when she reached the apex of the grind and angled down to rub her clothed clit on his tip. On a mission to keep her in this state of frenzied, sensuous thirst, he took both of her breasts in his hands and drove her mad. She stroked him through his shorts while touching herself over her thong, her fingers working their magic on both of them.

"Hold on, Em." He sat up, panting in her ear. Hands of steel gripped her hips to keep her compliant. "You're going to fast for me."

"Sorry," she apologized, tone not sorry one bit. She dove her fingers in his hair as he rewarded her in harsh kisses down her neck to her collar bone. Mouth agape once more, she arched her tits to his mouth where he could appreciate them in all their glory.

Obito cupped them together, envisioning his cock fucking them. He could hold them, play with her nipples, and watch her face twist in pleasure all while his cum dripped to the hollow of her neck.

He tested their sensitivity with a flick of his tongue.

"Yes," she coached, "like that." The insistence of her words and the hands on the back of his head directed him. It shushed the equally loud self-doubt voice lurking about pointing out his inexperience.

He parted his lips and let his tongue unravel the puzzle that was her arousal. She wasn't going ga-ga for him like he'd seen women do in videos, but he supposed those women weren't an accurate portrayal of what sex was really like, and though Emi was clearly enjoying what he was doing, she wasn't going to orgasm over nipple play.

The more he ran his tongue in circles, the more she moaned. And when he switched to the other nipple and mimicked the motions his tongue was making on the one left wet with his spit, she pressed her need to his lap harder. She rocked faster. Her chest swelled with deep inhales. It was a small thing to notice, the way her breath left her in airy sighs with an undernote of a whine, but he cherished it, for it was the first time he'd caused such a noise from a woman.

A dark spot on his shorts grew bigger at each slow grind of hips, showing how much he wanted her. Her nails dug into his scalp. His cock had never been this hard before.

Bestowing a final kiss on her breast, Obito reached up, grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head and to the floor in one fluid motion. Emi leaned away, but was quickly stopped by his arms snatching her, closing the distance. Their naked upper bodies touched. Skin on skin. He hid his face in the crook of her neck, immersing himself in her. Just her. The most important person to cross his life. His chance. His future. His skin droned a low hum from being in her vicinity.

Patiently, she ruffled his hair. Ran her fingernails across his scalp. He groaned.

It was time.

He locked his arm behind her and fell to the mattress. His head sank to the pillow as her hands came up to hold his face between her palms and stroke her thumbs along his cheeks. A gesture he knew well; it's calming technique worked on both of them.

Her pliant body relaxed on him. His nerves teemed with unspent energy at the new sensations. They grabbed for any information his eyes couldn't see; her breasts pressed to his chest, their stomachs filling out the other as they exchanged breaths, her knees digging in beside his thighs.

Emi looked at him to gauge the next step, but he only stared. The arms around her waist stayed cinched in place. It was like laying on bricks, every muscle of his had gone tense.

"Can I look?"

Obito fought several emotions: reluctance at the idea, pleading for her not to, and finally, surrendering. He gave her a curt nod, eyes trained on her face. It was so open, so honest. If she didn't like what she saw, he would know.

It was her turn to tower over him. She sat upright. His hands fell to the bed, his eyebrows drew down, and his mouth couldn't decide if it should frown or sneer. It was happening again.

Emi tilted her head the lower her gaze went.

"I promise it's not what it looks like," he was quick to say, a little harsher than he meant to, "the scars don't affect.. down there. They go around the important stuff." She eyed the trail of scars headed for his manhood and shrugged.

"Even if it did, we'd find ways to work around it. Because I love you."

He hid his brimming tears in her hair as she placed herself in his arms, lost in her perfection. Her kisses brought him to the present, starting at the base of scars on his throat and working down.

Obito held his breath. Emi's lips brushed over the smooth skin at the top of his chest. Shiny pink mottled with alabaster white laying flush with the planes of his pecs. However, it worsened the closer it got to his arm. Her hands learned him, as did her mouth. And that's when she discovered he was missing his right nipple. The flesh was raised in patterns like oil on water. She kissed them. He exhaled. She moved on.

After kissing the textured skin covering his ribs, she went lower. His stomach was divided in half from navel to waistband, though the scarring was like his upper chest and leg. Her tits rested on his shorts. She watched him through her lashes as he pretended to be subtle about clenching his butt to force his cock to nestle in them.

Lower, lower, her kisses went over the trail. Then she reached her prize. She pinned his thighs down and kissed his clothed shaft. Just a preview of what was to come.

"I'll go first again," she said, pushing herself off the bed. The black panties joined the clothing on the floor.

Obito blinked. So elegant the way her thumbs hooked the sides and slid them over her voluptuous thighs. She smirked at his astonishment and knelt between his legs and grasped his waistband. He dug his heels in and lifted his hips. Once they were flung to the floor, he straightened the pillow against the wall and sat up slightly to watch her.

No clothes to hinder them. No walls barred them from this experience. They trusted the other to concede knowing they would be safe.

"Oh, God," Obito moaned the second she placed her fingers on him after teasing him all day. The pent up frustration engorged the veins she lovingly traced. It swelled the head she smiled at, and her grin turned demure as she lowered herself.

"Wow," she whispered as her mouth tested him. "You felt big, but not this big." His cock laid propped in her palms like a trophy and she planted little kisses along his shaft. He heard her swallow in the quiet of the van. Her mouth opened and the flat of her tongue pressed the underside of his tip. Full eye contact.

He was sure his gaze was half-lidded, drunken almost.

She curled her fingers around the base and angled him up to her waiting lips, parted to receive him. To worship him with her mouth. The comforter scrunched in his grip and his legs flexed as her lips stretched over his girth. Her tongue teased his frenulum, then swirled. She lapped up the smear of precum and swallowed it. Obito let out a trembling breath followed by a moan as she went lower, letting her spit dribble down his cock to glide over him with ease. Not one to leave idle hands, she used the one not taming him to cup his balls.

"Babe," he murmured as she broke the seal her lips created over his sensitive red head. Those bewitching lips crept into a smirk. The hand holding his base moved up to pump him using short, light strokes where each finger slipped over the edge, the same as he always did when alone. Her smirk disappeared as her face ducked below his view. The skin of his balls tightened in her hand on instinct. In response, she massaged them with the utmost gentlest touch using her thumb and tongue, kissing each side delicately.

Emi increased her pace on his cock, but not her grip. She needed him to last a little longer while she had her fun. The blanket was strangled in Obito's hands, desperate to keep his high away. At the first sign of his sac going taut with his impending release, she moved her strokes to his shaft. His body responded immediately: his thighs stopped squeezing her and his head thunked the wood wall. Now that he could focus on anything else, he observed what this woman was doing to him in an oversexed stupor.

And what a beautiful sight it was. His cock obscured one of her eyes; the one visible held the most enticing devious gleam. Emi dropped her jaw and rolled out her tongue. His eyebrows crowded his forehead. She plopped one half of him in, vibrating a moan deep inside him at the fullness in her mouth. Obito forced his knees out to give her room; flabbergasted she managed to be so couth while doing something so lewd.

Her tongue cradled him while she sucked, praising his balls like they were Saints. Her throaty moans stoked the fire in his core. He wasn't inebriated by her actions any longer; his eyes were bright, his legs jerked, his muscles burned, his cock would indenture itself to her as long as he could finally cum.

"I'm getting close," he warned. She teased him once more, taking her time to remove him from her mouth and rub her thumb over his slick scrotum. And again when she held his tip to her lips and licked the underside. She swallowed his dripping excitement.

"Emi, please," he croaked out. She giggled, kissed his cock and delved in.

Emi took as much of his length as possible, working her wet mouth down to her index finger gripping his base and gave him long strokes using both. His jaw slackened, moaning for her to go faster. Faster, hollowing her cheeks, using the flat of her tongue to press the underside, she obeyed all his commands.

The moans she released on his cock edged him closer, closer.

His hands left to bed to settle on his thighs, digging his thumbs into the muscle, holding himself back as long as possible. It didn't help. He needed it. He wanted it. "Can I touch you?"

She came up for air and answered, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his throbbing head, "Yes."

He wound his fingers through her hair. Knotting it, tugging it. He refrained from putting any pressure until her muffled cries solicited more, ramping up the intensity of her sucking his cock, willing to do anything for him.

The back of her throat embraced his tip as he pushed her down. Her cheeks massaged his shaft. Her tongue lapped his length. Her lips gripped him. He held her head while his hips jerked up and down, fucking her mouth.

The euphoria built in his core. The craze for his orgasm piqued.

He let go of her; she gave him everything she had. She brought her focus to his tip, gliding her lips over the edge along with her first finger lubed by her own drool after he had his way with her. Her tongue polished the split underside awaiting the pearls she sought.

"I'm gonna," he said between breaths. "Ah-!"

The first spurt burned the back of her raw throat. The emptiness left behind when she fixated on his head was soon filled with his cum. She slowed her strokes, making sure every bit of him rolled down her tongue. His legs flexed, his hips bucked, and his muscles convulsed. Nerves flared at any touch. Involuntary whines left his mouth. Love flowed in waves, then it became too much. He pursued the climax as long as possible, driving his cock further into her mouth, then the threat of overstimulation cleared his mind.

"You swallowed?" Obito asked, dumbstruck. He used his scarred hand to push her hair to one side of her face and trace her cheek. Once she gave his overly sensitive tip one last kiss-earning a hiss from him-he swiped his thumb over her wet bottom lip. "That was really fucking hot." She beamed at his approval.

Obito scooted down the bed to lay flat while she crawled on top of him and into his awaiting arms. "So fucking gorgeous," he complimented her, kissing her shoulder, "So gorgeous and so perfect."

His hands lazily drifted down her thighs. His body had gone boneless after his release. After being edged several times by her, that was by far the strongest orgasm he'd ever had.

Emi placed his head in her hands and left kisses amongst his bedhead. Emotionally and physically she needed more. Just a little bit more. There was one act of attraction neither of them attempted yet. "Can I kiss you, or will that gross you out?"

His hands were tangled in her nest of hair at once, and he begged, "Please."

Longing.

He turned her face. Their noses bumped. His panting hadn't stopped. Their mouths weren't parted in equal distance.

Desire.

Her swollen lips tingled. He took her bottom lip between his, wishing he used her chapstick.

Bliss.

It was imperfectly perfect. Obito's technique was sloppy. Emi was too aggressive. Saliva meshed. Tongues exchanged notes. Teeth sat on the warm-up bench.

Naked body on naked body.

Minutes went by of caressing: hands, lips, tongue. They held the other in high regard, alert to what the other wanted. Then the lure of familiarity engulfed them. Emi's knees brushed his hips and she put her all into the kiss. Obito's grip behind her shoulders was crushing, but it didn't matter. Learning the taste, smell, and feel of the other was too important.

As the clock ticked over to a new day, their fevered exploration calmed down to tender kisses by lips gone tight with smiles.

Obito focused on the sequence of events leading up to this moment and asked, "Don't you want something? You can tell me what do to.. How to.. please you?" he blushed and stammered the last bit.

"It's okay, I can wait until we have condoms." Kisses trailed down his cheek as she rolled off of him to his side. "To be honest, I'm pretty tired and don't think I can teach you and focus on my own orgasm at the same time. I'm just glad you let me participate instead of using me as a fuck toy." Her boisterous laugh did little to curb the influx of nerves prickling his face.

"Sorry.."

Rude as she was to point at his red cheeks, she quieted her snickering. "I liked it," she whispered, "but I'm much happier after seeing your body."

Obito helped her under the covers and kissed her temple, heading for the bathroom. Emi grasped his fingers before he walked too far away. What a magnificent body she had in front of her. He blotted out the lights above him, casting him in shadows, leaving the one from the kitchen sink to bounce off his scars. After being afraid to show himself for so long, he had nothing to fear. She loved every dip, every crevice. It was him. The sheen of sweat covering his twitching muscles as he placed a foot on the bed. His skin melding with the marbled waterfall tissue of his burns over his leg to his ass. Though slim, his meaty thigh curved to his butt like a statue in a museum. Obito may deny such a comparison, but she was smitten with this man.

The longer she stared, the deeper his brows hooded his eyes.

"Tonight was about you. And I loved giving that to you," she said, kissing his knuckles. She let go of his warm hand, coy smile back in place.

"Fine, but next time it'll be about you." He nodded and headed to the bathroom, closing the curtain behind him.

"Can't wait!"

Obito washed his hands, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed after her, molding his body to her outline. This is where he belonged. Where he was wanted. Where he wanted to be.

At her side. In this life and the next.