Chapter 10: Control

Obito stopped short in the kitchen. The small area was crowded in billowing steam, the waft of makeshift breakfast hash, and Emi bustling about. Swallowed in the comfort of his hoodie, she scrunched up the sleeves and prepared their coffee, wiping down the counters as she went.

Except this time he could see the frayed edge of her jean shorts when she bent over to pick a stray potato cube off the floor. How disappointing. He was more than hoping the image of her naked ass would replace the ones burned into his skull from minutes ago.

She tipped forward, expectantly raising her eyebrows, beckoning for him to finish the story.

Obito coughed. "Anyway, if we could avoid going to gyms in the morning when it's only old people, I would forever be in your debt."

"You'll be old one day, too, Obi."

"At least I'll have the decency to wear a towel when doing that," he said, his whole body shuddering in effort to expel the ghastly images.

Emi turned off the heat to the stovetop and rolled her eyes at him. He drummed his fingers on the table, making sure she was looking at him before he rolled his eyes back at her. She sucked her teeth and lifted the pan's lid. Water droplets slid to the edge, where they clung until their final descent to the skillet, sizzling amongst the oil, peppers, and potatoes.

She spooned the exact amount of sugar he liked into his coffee. A small gesture anyone could replicate, but it caused him to sit in his feelings while he waited for her to finish. The dogpile of emotions throughout their time together weighed on his chest, smothered his lungs, hunkered in his throat. Their irregularity was frightening. Two weeks ago he was a different person. One who couldn't sift through his feelings beyond sad, mad, or the culmination of the two: depressed.

Seeing her make his coffee, get out the condiments he wanted without asking, moving with awareness that he was there. And his expectations of putting away their dirty clothes, sweeping the floor, washing the dishes and knowing where they went. It was routine. It was familiar, like the pain pushing on his ribs. Love bursting forth. The nonsensical high he had in her presence.

He expected these savory smells in the morning. His dad's black coffee. And on the rare occasions when his mom cooked breakfast on the weekends. Emi made herself home in the bereavement they left behind.

She set his coffee and plate in front of him first, then got her own and sat next to him. He hoped she felt as whole, as full, as he did. Embellishing the other's life in a way no one else could.

Obito obliterated the mountain of potatoes with his fork and thought back to the times he'd spent researching well past midnight to better learn her idiosyncrasies.

"Why do you eat the same foods all the time?" he asked. "Do you really like them or is it a Spectrum thing?"

Sputtering, beating on her chest, she swallowed her food with trouble. A playful smile on her lips, eyes brimming in amused tears; she held up three fingers. "I like the taste." She curled in her index finger. "I don't have an oven, so my options are limited, and all the ingredients for this fit in my fridge." She put down her ring finger, effectively flipping him off. "And yes, Autistic people tend to stick to the same foods for comfort."

Obito fixed her, and her finger, with a flat look. "You will be the thorn in my side for all eternity, won't you?"

"You say that like you want to get rid of me."

"Never."

They ate in contemplative silence. One looking forward to his plan coming to fruition, the other mourning her breakfast as it was missing both the fake egg and sausage patty, and thus, was less filling.

"I consider myself lucky to be stuck with you," Emi mused, taking their plates to the sink. Obito hip-bumped her out of the way so he could wash them.

"I do too."

"You consider yourself lucky to be with me, or for me to be with you?"

He vented a sigh so large he slumped to the sink and his forehead landed on the faucet. Her laugh shook him as she wrapped her arms around his middle, clasping her fingers tight over his stomach, swaying them from foot to foot.

Finishing the dishes with her attached to him, he slid their undrank mugs down the table and threw the back doors open to let the stuffy air out, replacing it with crisp oxygen straight from the pine trees themselves.

She attempted to sit next to him. That wouldn't do. If she wanted to be attached to his hip, then so be it. He bent an arm under her knees, his other supporting her back, and whisked her to his lap. The combination of her squeal of delight hushed by her knuckles to her bottom lip, and the grinding of her shorts over his jeans did little to tame his urges. Less so when he ran his hand up her smooth, tanned legs.

Obito clapped a palm on her ass to quiet her silly giggling. And again when the desired result was her squirming in his lap. The twinkle in her eye bloomed as his went dark, half-closed and steeped in lust.

She brought her mug to her lips and sipped; her glee evident as she watched him over the rim. So absorbed in the detail of her existence, he didn't register the lift of his chin or the purse of his lips, copying her movements. He was hurting to be touched by her.

Emi thumped the mug on the table and walked her fingers over the shelf of Obito's shoulders, crooking her arm around his neck when they reached their end. A rush of cool breeze tousled the white curtains. It sprang goosebump up her legs. A consequence Obito could exploit by running his palm up her inner thigh. The higher he went, the more they spread.

Their dual grins languished, crude attraction taking over. His hand didn't stop. Higher, higher. Fingers dug into soft flesh, running over the edge of her shorts. The fringe. Her hip crease.

Then, in the parking lot, with a road of passing cars on the other side of a metal wall, he laid his hand to rest between her thighs. The entirety of his palm held her. He curved his instrument over her short's fly, pride puffing his chest because her focus was on him, and only him. Still, it wasn't enough. He wanted something else buried between those thighs.

He wanted her to bounce on his cock, his tip brushing over her clit, tits in his mouth, and her tongue busy forming his name as they both came.

Needing his lips smashed against hers in broad daylight, Emi leaned in for a deep kiss that would leave her a ditzy mess. But he denied her. He tilted his head up and away, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"Not yet," he chided. His teasing did fuck all to calm her, but hidden under her sneer was intrigue. Wonderment at what he alluded to. "I'm giving you a preview of what's to come." The heel of his palm dug in. His choice of words left her an utter mess.

The day was young and Emi had little idea what she was in for.

Emi stared straight ahead. Fingernails making new marks on her steering wheel. The seatbelt across her chest was her proverbial harness to keep her from mauling Obito. He was but a precious white bunny sauntering past her metal cage, sending her mouth watering and brain in a frenzy.

The red stoplight reflected in her eyes. In her peripheral vision, he was sitting there, his fist balancing his smug face as he watched her become more and more unhinged in her craze for him. This twerp had to gall to tease her, then leave her strung out to dry.

This new, confident side was unlike him, but she could get used to it.

Emi parked near the back of the parking lot of the grocery store and of course-of course-Obito walked without an edge of sunlight between them and his hand in her back pocket. Squeezing, pinching, getting a handful. Only when they crossed the threshold into the freezing produce section did he remove his hand and stuff it in his own pocket.

Kiss him or kick him, she couldn't decide which she'd rather.

Ambushed by colorful advertisements and muffled announcements over the speakers, Emi directed Obito to the aisle labeled Family Planning.

"Can you pick one out while I get the groceries?"

Not speaking for a moment, he scanned the cardboard packages. The shelves were fully stocked, abundant with brands, sizes, textures.

"Yeah, you can go." He lifted his mouth in a lopsided smile to appease her uncertainty after yesterday. "I'll find you after."

Walking backwards, assessing him one last time, she nodded and headed to the canned food section, leaving him to gape at the inconceivable amount of condoms.

Obito read the white words printed on each one, but did not register them. He spent all his time studying how to give a girl an orgasm. This was supposed to be the easy part!

An employee hauled a cart to the end of the aisle. "Need help finding anything?" she asked, boredom intoning every word, placing cans of baby formula on the shelf two steps to his right.

Obito's shoulders jumped to his ears. "U-Uh, no." Flustered, he did his best to ignore her and faced the rows of condoms. "No, thank you." She ignored him as well, putting a white earbud in and turning up her tinny music.

Reading, comprehending. He needed to choose one, just one of them, to bring back to Emi and get the hell out of here. His confidence was fading fast.

A few of the asterisked features stood out to him. Ultra thin, ribbed, sensitive, For Her, cooling. What the actual fuck did any of these mean, and were they important? Not to mention the different sizes. Some came in standard or large. Others came in sizes like clothes, ranging from small to extra large. Was there a difference between large from the first brand and large from the second? He compared the two using their charts printed on the back. They were indeed different measurements despite the same listed size. Maybe Emi would've been more helpful in the matter; though in the darkest part of his heart, he hated the jealousy that sprung forth remembering she was more experienced than him.

The employee side-eyed him, trying her best to mind her business, but the poor soul was staring at the boxes of condoms in his hand so hard, it was as if he resented them.

Obito put them back. He was doing it again. Letting his mental illness besmirch his happiness.

With impeccable timing, a man walked down the aisle. He shot Obito a curious look, reached past him for a golden yellow box labeled medium, and left. He seemed about his same build. Medium might be the right choice. Middle of the road. Average.

"You're still here?" Emi scratched her chin. Startled at her appearance, he blinked at the basket on her arm chock-full of groceries. How long had he been here? He checked behind him. The employee was gone. Emi arched an eyebrow at the two boxes out of place on the shelf. "Need help?"

"No, I got it." Yeah, fucking right. What bravado he had. He wiped his hands on his pants before she could see their sheen. Then he snapped up the same golden yellow box the other man chose, feeling more inept than ever.

Except Emi's fingers landed on the box next to his. Just like when they first met. Their eyes aligned, his round and hers kind. Much like that day, she made the decision for him. He peeled his hand away from the medium box as she tossed the one she wanted in the basket, opting for the bigger size.

He leaned and whispered, "Are you sure?"

Her features curled wickedly. "Yes, I'm sure." And to tease him more. "You have a fat cock, babe. And I prefer that over length, anyway."

"You have got to stop saying these things out loud, Emi."

Throughout the checkout process, Emi managed to play off her excitement until they left the store by joking with the cashier about her trembling fingers being due to the air conditioning. Obito kept his cool until the van was in sight. At that point, nothing could keep them from the compulsion to run; sneakers slapping on pavement all the way to the side door. Yanking it open and closed. Perhaps slapping her ass as she rearranged their socks and shoes.

Emi tumbled the groceries into the fridge while Obito urgently blocked out the light from outside by covering all the windows. The table banged level with the bench seats.

"Geez," Emi yelled, hand over heart. "You don't have to be that eager."

"Take off my hoodie," he commanded over the top of the bundle of bedding in his arms.

"Yes, sir." Breathy, longing words that arched her tongue and her back. Enticing him to look over his shoulder. The corner of the fitted sheet fwapped his knuckles, and her immediate laughter provoked him further. He needed to take control of the situation again.

Sheets fixed, he faced her. "Take off my flannel."

"You do it."

"My hands are full," he said, holding up their pillows. She dropped the hoodie to the floor and stepped over it, coming right up to his chest. She lifted her chin in defiance. His jawline was strong and true, daring her to argue. "Do it."

Emi all but pounced on him. Her mouth sucking on the susceptible pulse racing in his throat, her hands unbuttoning his shirt and exposing the tight white tee underneath, massaging the length of his muscles and feeling the groan in the back of his throat on her lips. Whatever words of order he had for her died in that moan of her name.

But he was role playing today and couldn't let her gain the upper hand so easily. He placed their pillows and turned to her. Complying to his unspoken wishes, she was leaning on the counter. Bedroom eyes awaiting for her next command.

He secured his position over her with his hands planted on the countertop on either side of her. His imposing stature forced her to crane back to look at him and succumb to the truth. The way he could envelope her frame in his arms aroused her like nothing else ever had.

"Did you have to wear my shirt too?" Part of the hem was tucked into her shorts, leaving the other side to hang loose near her thigh.

"I know you like it." She hooked her fingers in his belt loops and lured him in, running her hands down his hips, tempting him to act upon his firm desires. His cock was painfully hard against her and she may have writhed against him, taunting him once more to let loose and give her what she wanted.

But he stood sure of himself. An immovable wall. Smiling coyly as she worked herself up. That is, until she located his zipper.

A flash of raw craving roiled in her stomach. Shoved against the counter, he captured her wrists and kept them at bay. When she opened her mouth in confusion, he swept his tongue along her bottom lip. Nothing more. Denying her both a kiss and the relief of his cock in her hands.

"Not yet."

Those two little words sparked something in her. Or his unyielding eye contact did. His dark eyes implored her to trust him, and Emi understood. Obito wasn't teasing her to bait a reaction. He was taking control. The confidence he put forth since this morning wasn't a ploy to spice up their sex life before it started. He was telling her to relax. To not stress about his pleasure. To let him take care of her.

A gift. Wrapping her in love, decorating her in a bow of gratitude, all under the guise of sex. He was paying her back by stepping into this role to show her that her happiness was just as important as his. Paying her back for her unconditional support since they met.

She let go of her worries. He dominated them.

"So fucking sexy when you wear my clothes," he murmured, lips on her neck, teeth at her throat. The button on her shorts loosened. The zipper tugged over her black panties. Obito jerked her off the counter and swung her around. Her bare ass pressed against his front, the shorts at her ankles, and the bed level with her knees. It was well made. Every corner of the sheets tucked in, wrinkle free. Comforter folded back from the pillows hugging the wall. Picture perfect for the time being.

She whimpered. He trailed his fingers up and down her thong, driving a wedge from her clit to her entrance. When he got to the soaked spot on her underwear, his kisses on her neck turned greedy. Interrupting her vivid imagination as he granted her wishes.

He moved her thong to the side and waited as his other hand trailed up her stomach, her ribs, to cup her breast. The nipples poking out from under his shirt thrilled him to the point of his pants becoming too tight. He watched her face lift in little waves of exasperation, her whines begging him to touch her.

His thumb brushed over her swelling chest. Just a taste.

"Should've known you weren't wearing a bra." He tweaked her nipple. Her arched back curved to his stomach. His breath was a cool gust over his saliva drying on her skin.

"Tell me," he said, dipping one finger in her. He froze. His alpha persona dropped in that short moment.

He didn't expect her pussy to be this wet, nor this warm.

Emi moaned his name, calling him from his observations, insistent he continue to attend to her needs. Obliging to her pitiful words, he ran his thumb and index finger around her nipple and pinched. Savoring the way her body curled to his palm and cock respectively. His other fingers were busy. Busy exploring this new area. One where he used her own arousal to subject her clit to the methods he learned about online. Eternally grateful he found the right spot according to her visceral response of weaving a hand in his hair and clawing at his clothed thigh.

"T-That feels-" she uttered and stopped, too immersed in his indulgence to form a complete sentence.

Obito chuckled. "Tell me, baby," he tried again with his husky voice. "What makes you come?"

She pulled her wits from his fingers to her brain in time to ask, "Do you mean what's easiest? Like a list?"

"That'd be helpful."

She pulled at his hair, mulling it over. Going weak in the knees. "Vibrator. Your tongue. Your fingers. Penetration last. I've never come from that before, just so you know," she said between breaths.

Obito wet his fingers with her lube and continued to circle around her clit. He nosed her messy hair fanned across his chest. "Do you have a vibrator?"

"Of course."

Of course she did. "Where is it?"

Eyes long since closed under his influence, she reached blindly for the cabinet above their pillows and opened it. Knocking over a row of her own books to fetch a nondescript gray velvet bag behind them. He scoffed at this woman who would never cease to surprise him. Uncinching the strings at the top, she took out her toy. A phallic purple vibrator with an oval on the end opposite of a few recessed buttons. Emi held it up to her shoulder where his chin rested to show him.

"Turn it on," he demanded in her ear. She obeyed. The center button blinked. Two smaller ones with arrows surrounded it. The device hummed to life. Tilting her face to him, she gave him a dopey smile as it rumbled in her palm; an accurate onomatopoeia for the anticipation both of them felt.

His eyes glistened as they stared longingly into hers. Removing his fingers from their expedition, he gestured for the device and she dropped it in his hand. "Show me how you like it."

Teeming at the prospect of an orgasm under his guide, absorbed by his every word, Emi curled her fingers around his and brought his hand down. Her toy tickled his palm, rocked up his arm.

She nestled it where she wanted it most and she buckled to the onslaught. His scarred fingers left her nipple to ensnare his arm around her waist. The medium setting had her keeled over. Legs turned jelly. And God, her moans. Those gorgeous cries of his name; a title he felt neutral towards suddenly appeared gilded coming from her lips.

Obito caught her. Her quivering legs caving from gravity and the vibrator. Her eyebrows pinched up as if in pain. Her panting had an undertone of whine laced through it. Growing louder. And louder. Her hand fell from his hair to the safe crook of his neck, holding him. Dumbfounded, he shifted his stance to support her.

"Higher," she croaked.

Scrambling to find the buttons under his thumb, he pressed one and by the graces of Gods, the shrill hum of the vibrator whirred up a beat.

Emi's body tensed, relaxed, wriggled against him. Both her hands grasped his hips to keep herself steady. Obito ogled at her, but she could hardly open her eyes as she spasmed under the command of not him, but an extension of him. Later, it would be him.

"Too much," she gasped, suffocating her moans. Jolting her hips away from the vibrator as it served too much of a good thing.

He silenced the device the same way he witnessed her turn it on and lobbed it to the bed. "That was quick." Hopefully he could deliver a main act as worthy as the opener. He grasped her slack jaw and pivoted her flushed face to his, kissing those holy, lustrous lips. Feasting on her love-sick grin.

The thong rolled into itself as it descended her thighs. He yielded his dominion of her mouth to finish the act, grazing his hands down her body to hasten the fabric bunched under her round ass to the floor. Knelt behind her, he lifted the shirt-his shirt-from hiding her plump cheeks and nipped the pale flesh until he was satisfied with their pinkened state.

Standing at his full height, he gandered at her innocent, doe-eyes. "Is it true you can come multiple times?"

She snorted at the bluntness. "Yes, as long as I'm turned on."

"Are you turned on?"

"Fuck yes."

"Then move."

Emi sidestepped as he laid on the bed. Her eyes latched onto the particular gap between the waistband of his jeans and his boxers, up to his bare chest, not at all sure when he took off his white undershirt.

"Eyes up here," he said, putting a pillow under his head. His legs were bent to accommodate his height. She climbed onto the bed and sat on her heels, taking in his position, curious as to where this was going. "Sit." He fanned his face and laughed at her indignation.

"You want me to.."

He nodded, taking her wrists, and persuaded her hesitation to succumb to his power. One knee sank to the comforter on the side of his head. He kissed her knuckles and let go, settling his arms under her. Her other knee swung over his body and framed him, calves cramming the space around his shoulders, but he couldn't be happier to have her straddling him.

He groped her ass for a few seconds to ease her into the new position, then snaked his arms around the crease of her hips. The black shirt she wore stretched across her thighs in the most delicious way.

"Emi." He kissed her inner thigh and palmed his hands around her hips, scrunching the fabric higher. Little by little. His heavy handedness tilted her hips forward. Her eyelashes fluttered, preening to his breath teasing her clit. "Emi," he repeated, ordering her attention to him instead of the white painted wood grain covering the walls of her van. "It's not like you to be this tense."

"It's just.. I've never done this position before and you've never been this close to my.."

Her stare bore into his as he pulled the shirt higher, to her waist. She was on display. And he consumed her like art.

Searing body heat. Their faces aflame.

Obito had never seen one in real life. The pink slit blushing red with lips glistening wet for him. The bundle of nerves at the top and their importance. He wanted to know what made her come hard and strong. He wanted to spend more time down here than she did. Learn her better than she knew herself.

He opened his mouth. Her chest rose in a quick breath. Then he tucked his chin and flattened his tongue to her entrance, lapping up her arousal. Rolling her taste in his mouth. Swallowing. Laying his head back, he licked. A long fluid stroke up her pussy to her clit, flicking it at the end.

"Obi!" Her moan was instant, as were her hands in his hair, yearning for his absent mouth.

"There she is." He let her have her fun. Grinding her clit to his lips where he kissed her and nothing more, locking his tongue away. She glowed scarlet in the face due to her efforts, annoyed that she didn't understand this denial. "There's my Emi."

"Obito," she stated his name without humor. The crease between her eyebrows deepend the longer he refused to give her what she wanted.

"Hold this," he said, indicating for her to grab the shirt and keep it from falling in his face. But he still didn't eat her out when she obeyed.

His body moved slightly under her. The rustle of fabric. A metal zipper. The van rocked as Obito shimmied out of his jeans. The titillating sound of skin slapping skin filled the air.

Emi's depraved mind confirmed her suspicion with a quick glance of what was happening behind her. Instinctively, the shirt fell from her clutches. She twisted around, hand reaching out to assist him.

"Uh-uh." He stroked himself with his left and reprimanded her ass with his right. Seeing her pointed aggravation only stoked him more. Her sneer lasted but two seconds when he sealed his mouth to her clit and sucked until her thighs shook.

"Don't worry, babe," he said over her moans, "I'm edging myself. I'm not about to waste my cum. That's for you. Now hold that shirt so I can see your pretty tits." Clinging to the fabric, Emi dragged her hands up her body, covering her breasts until the bottoms peeked out; and all at once, she bared them, letting them drop and bounce. "Play with them for me."

She merely nodded and used her hands as a bra, pinching her nipples between her fingers, breathy moans aimed at the ceiling at the first rewarding swirls of his tongue.

Obito swiped his thumb over her pussy to collect her lube and rubbed it over the head of his cock, mixing it with his precum. Concentrating on her, he tried out a few methods he read about online. "Am I doing okay?" Emi replied in gasps as he tested techniques. The encroaching of her knees and tremble in her thighs communicated all the information he needed when he chose to suck with light flicks of his tongue.

The bliss overwhelmed her in the best way possible. Difficult to focus on any one sense, they ceased and collided without warning. The clumsy pinching of her nipples abated as she tried to focus on anything, especially the sound of his strokes becoming more fevered. She was doing nothing and yet he couldn't help but work himself up at the sight of her.

Sight.

Her timid peep of glance unfurled to true lecherousness. His face between her thighs. His nose to her mound. Observing the results his mouth could give her. His eyes lost their edge from his dominant persona, instead turning kind. The creases in his forehead smoothed out. He picked up his pace and they locked gazes, and whatever he saw in her sent him to a similar edge.

His hand glided over his throbbing tip, saving himself from spilling too soon, and wrangled her jumping hips. Her shoulders slumped. A cold sweat broke out across her back. He matched his girlfriend's high pitched whines, vibrating them on her swollen clit.

Her quads constricted around his face and with the help of her hands in his hair, he picked his head off the pillow to chase her climax. This was the part she anticipated the most. When it didn't matter how sloppy the technique was; every lick was heaven. No fantasy in her head could top this reality.

"Obi," she moaned. Her heart raced, pounding louder than any drum. He smacked her ass. The single roll of her hips to his hot mouth sent her convulsing around him. "Ah, I'm-" He smacked her again. "O-Obito!" She doubled over, her hair mingling with his. Heavy breaths. Toes curling. Every devilish flick of his tongue jolted electricity to her legs.

He kissed her sensitive clit as revenge for overstimulating him days ago. Predictably, she groaned a curse at him and reared her sweet spot out of his reach. Her anger couldn't last long. Not at him.

As her perseverance waned along with his stamina, he sneaked his tongue to her entrance to get his fill before moving on to the next thing. Except the surprise on his face when he came up for air sent her into a fit of giggles.

"I didn't know so much happened down there," he said, referring to the twitching muscles inside her.

The muscles pulsed intermittently with the last of her orgasm as she ran her fingernails on his scalp. "That's why I wanted to wait until we had condoms. I want you to feel what it's like on your cock when I come, then I want you to come in me." He closed his eyes and hummed. Aching to feel such a sensation he didn't know was possible.

Emi hopped off her ride, tossed the damp shirt overboard, and fell to the bed. She folded her legs on top of the pillows and rested her head on his hip, eyeing the thing she coveted most.

Obito rubbed the back of her leg up to her butt cheek and massaged the area. "Avoid the tip, I'm still cooling off," he instructed when she gripped the shaft and placed a gentle kiss to his length.

Not wanting to spoil his fun, she kept her hands and kisses to his body, namely his scars cresting from his hip bone to his ribs. She sighed in content and nuzzled her face to the peach fuzz on his thigh in the spots where he wasn't burned. Curious, he scooped his hand under her calf and brought it to his face, kissing her ankle. A compromising position to inspect her.

"You're so smooth everywhere. Did you shave at some point?"

Her laugh rang off the metal in the van. "I got a wax before the trip. Maybe I was a little hopeful." She winked and shrugged. He melted under her delicate tracings of his scars.

Although minutes passed and their attention wandered, part of him stood at full attention. Obito scrubbed a hand over his eyes, down to his simper where he wiped off the leftovers of her and brought them to his cock, stroking the head. Her face scrunched in anguish. Envy emitted every fiber of her being, hating that it was his hand giving himself pleasure, not her. She licked her bottom lip, mouth keening to have him fill it until she gagged on his cum.

Back on track, he lowered his voice. Gruff and in charge. "On your hands and knees."

Obito lined himself up behind her. Wedging his leaking cock between her ass. Of course, first, he spread her cheeks so he could witness her dripping for him. He commended her for the sight as he pumped his hips, coating himself in the slick fluid. Using his height to his advantage, he leaned over her, curling an arm under her face smashed to the sheets as he attended to her clit. Another position he could check off his list.

Emi wiped the sweat from her forehead on his scarred arm and laid her cheek there to watch him from the corner of her eye. She adjusted his fingers where they needed to be, and started circling them for him. She was the teacher and he was an eager student.

He pressed his chest to her back, and her chest to the bed, and steadied his weight in the arm under her head. His hand was the only thing keeping her hips elevated against his brutal rutting. Her cries of delight threatened to undo him. And he only just started.

Emi snatched the comforter. Moans turning to pants. Arching her hips higher; drawing out his impending release. He put an end to her maddening wiles by stopping his thrusts altogether, knowing he wouldn't stop if it went too far.

Her every swell caressed his tip, testing his sanity. "Tell me when you're close," he spoke directly to the shell of her ear. He sucked on the salty flesh of her nape where her back flushed the same as her face. Over and over, he rubbed her clit. Nipping at the meat of her shoulder. His growls suffocating her purrs of what a good job he was doing.

"I'm close!" she gasped and wrenched his fingers away to substitute her own. She kept herself on the precipice of her orgasm while he clambered for the condoms.

Blessing his foresight for placing the box at the edge of the counter, he extended his opposite arm and leg to counterbalance himself, not enthused to leave his position from behind her. He clutched the box to his chest. Ripped it open. Unfolding one square from the chain, he tore it from the rest.

"Twelve in a box," he muttered to himself.

Emi's frustration came out through gritted teeth, "I can't keep this up forever!"

Obito ripped the foil and rolled the condom down his cock. She was right on the size.

Finally, he looked at her. And his brain stopped. No thoughts registered, besides one. The admiration of seeing her bent over, pink cheek pressed to the bed, nipples grazing the sheets. Looking at him. Panting. Her fingers visible from the backside as she dipped them in her wet pussy and swirled them over her clit. Unguarded eyes locked on his, expelling her love for him. Prone and trusting him to love her back.

Kneeling between her legs, his tip prodded her.

"Ready?" he asked, softly.

"Yes, I'm fucking ready," she bit back.

"You wanna come on my cock?"

As soon as she opened her mouth to air her gripes about how close she was to having an orgasm without him, he sank into her. But when she wanted something, she had to have it. He was going too slow in fear of hurting her. Only half of him filled her, and she wanted it all.

She slammed her hips into his. Choking on his name as she would his cock. Fuck, he fit nicely.

Her insolence earned her a spanking. Quick as it were, darkening her ass cheeks with a few chaotic slaps because he, too, was at his peak. He smoothed his chest to her back and urged her fingers aside, going one step further to pin her wrists above her head with his free hand. "I'll be the one to make you come."

Deep inside her, he felt it before she could vocalize it. The pulsating muscles around his cock.

"Oh, fuck," Obito moaned, taken aback by the spasms stroking him base to tip. At each scrumptious articulation of his name, her body worked him better than his hand ever could. Fluttering around his throbbing head.

He had to grab hold of this situation; she brought him too close and he'd hardly call this sex, for he thrusted once? Twice? He let go of her wrists and sat up. Knees kicked out to steady himself. Stinging palms around her ass. He dragged his hips back, the little aftershocks of her orgasm following his stride. She moaned for him. A beautiful sound for a beautiful sight.

"I can't-" The newness, the novelty of experiencing her for the first time proved too glorious to resist. He pumped in and out, picking up speed. Skin slapping skin, but now his hand would never compare to this. She ruined masturbating. Nothing would ever feel as good as the curve of her cunt. No sound could compare to his name being repeated with every pound of his cock as he fucked her just right.

His thrust stuttered. Ill timed. Erratic. Stopped short as he wanted all the attention on his tip. "I'm gonna cum in you, baby," he breathed out, pumping uncoordinatedly. Panting. Clawing at her backside at the first twitch of his cock.

She fisted the blanket to muffle her screams. He plunged to her depths, stretching her wide, releasing his tension into her heat in a few, easy beats. He slowed. Dragged himself along her walls. Milking the last of his cum as she clenched around him. Another thing he learned she could do willingly.

Like that, he lost his virginity in fifteen seconds or less.

"You feel so fucking good, Emi," he groaned with his last breath before it was stolen from him. He pulled out and rolled to the bed, hurting, clutching his knee. His silken euphoria turned to recoiling in pain the instant the heady hormones ebbed.

"Aw, Obi," she cooed, tracing his flexed bicep. "You don't have to hurt yourself for me."

"Shut up," he griped. Extending his leg to the ceiling, like usual, he worked his thumb into the joint, and decided his words may have been too harsh. "I knew it'd hurt, but seeing you from behind like that was just so fucking hot."

Her girlish giggle broke through her kiss on his cheek. "Put your leg down for a sec." He did so and stared in awe as she crawled over him and took off the condom, pinching it closed and throwing it away so he didn't have to get up. She wiped her hand on the sheet and snuggled up to his side. Mischievous grin stretching ear to ear at his stunned expression.

"You've done a lot of sexy things since we've met, but that has got to take the cake." He kissed her matted post-sex hair while she ran her fingers up his stomach to hug his side and burrow her face to the crook of his neck where his scent was the strongest.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Outside the van. Two minutes before their touching moment. A middle-aged man jutted his elbow into his wife's ribs and pointed. She whipped around to chew him out for having the audacity to interrupt her putting groceries in the trunk of their car. Slowly, her angry stare went from his face to his finger pointing at the rocking van, then to the black bumper sticker on its door. They shared a knowing smile and burst out laughing.

"Not that I didn't love this sudden change in personality, but where did it come from?" Emi asked. Obito wrapped an arm under her waist to embrace her better, closer. Her legs tangled in his.

He laughed and cradled her jaw, stroking his thumb over her cheek. "I was so nervous about having performance anxiety, I thought if I sorta viewed it as me stepping into a role, and focused solely on you, it'd help me relax." He shrugged, causing her nose to brush the column of his neck. Puffs of air soothing his overheated skin. Small signs she was there. He had a girlfriend; they had sex, and they were cuddling afterwards. So normal and expected, but he wasn't sure he'd ever find someone to share it with. "I guess I had no reason to worry about lasting too long."

Emi's laugh rang. "Whenever you're ready, we can go again. Probably last longer this time."

"With the way you look at me, probably not," he said.

"How I look at you?"

"When you're about to come. It's hard to describe, but it's like I can see how vulnerable you are and just how much you trust me." He waved a dismissive hand. "I know you trust me, but seeing it so open and honest like that. It makes me feel special.. Important."

All his life, he was forgotten. Or forced himself to be forgotten. An only child, yet passed over in favor of working weekends. Picked last for team sports at school. Given double takes for the wrong reasons. Rejected because his anxiety manifested him into an asshole who pushed everyone away. Over the summer when he'd visit Konoha with his grandma it was always the same story. People flocked to Kakashi and ignored Obito. Resentment towards his one childhood friend blistered to ugly turmoil. Girls only talked to him because they needed a bridge to Kakashi.

But not Emi. She singled Obito out. She wanted him more than any other.

Obito needed to feel loved again. "Ready for another round?"

"E-Emi!" he stammered out between heaving breaths. It took three tries to inhale, and every exhale sputtered a curse, her name, or a pitiful attempt at conveying how sexy she was. Maybe he should've let her dominate more often.

Emi's round ass bounced on his cock, reverse cowgirl. Punishing him with her pace. Working him at her brutal tempo. Flesh striking flesh. The sounds of their love-making reverberated around the van. Both crying out from the pleasure of her taking his cock until it disappeared inside her.

He should feel embarrassed at her moans, so loud people could surely hear them outside, but she was fucking him so hard, riding him like an expert. Spanking her increased the speed and his balls tightened.

She asked him, face to the ceiling. "Am I fucking you good?"

"Y-Yes, God, fuck yes!" his voice cracked. He clapped his hands under her ass and she understood the cue. She lifted herself from his lap, rolling her hips to satisfy his tip as he dug his heels in and started the violent bucking of his hips.

At his insistence, her wrists were behind her in his hands, gripping them like reigns. Forcing her back to arch and gasp out platitudes for his cock, perky tits bouncing as he controlled the power behind his thrusts. With a shout of her name, the thick vein twitched and his cum flowed like a geyser and he rode out his orgasm until he had nothing left to give.

Emi flopped to his side. The disheveled sheets soaked the sweat from their backs. They laced their fingers, closed their eyes, and panted through their drunken smiles.

"What did you wish for the other night?"

"Huh?" Her eyebrows pinched trying to follow his train of thought.

"On the stars."

"Oh," she said, disappointed he was already thinking of other things and not her stellar performance. "I told you I can't tell-"

"No." He brought their joined hands up to his lips, littering her in kisses. His intense gaze matched his tone, "Whatever it is, I'll make it happen." She mumbled out a few excuses trying to worm her way out of telling him. His eyes lost their battle to stay open, but he goaded her to admit her secret anyway.

"A ring on my left hand."

He nodded, brushing his lips over the very finger she wished to decorate in an eternal promise. An easy commitment. One neither were afraid of. "Done."

After a break for lunch, they were at it again.

Slower, sensual, no longer crazed with lust.

Emi beamed at Obito, enchanted by his loving gaze, comforted by his weight blanketing her in a warm embrace. He shifted his weight to sweep his fingers from her arm up to her hand, locking them together. Entwining their fates. The security of his palm on the back of her head, ensuring he protected her from hitting the wall with his tired, but mighty, canting of his hips.

Nose to nose, he lost himself in drowsy kisses. As the heat in his core roared, he gave up on the idea and resorted to watching her, not having the coordination to soothe her puffy lips with his anymore.

Sensing his salvation was to come, she threw a leg around his hips and helped rock him. Their breaths mingled, exchanging one lung for the other. She kissed him before he pulled away to rasp her name. His throat bobbed, indicating he gulped and moaned as she controlled the pace from under him.

He croaked out a warning and with a last thrust, he came undone. His forehead dropped to her shoulder. She circled her arms around his neck and grazed her lips across all the places she could reach, licking the salt from his skin.

His hard cock unleashed himself in her; his lousy thrusts becoming more disorganized as her walls drained him.

Emi pulled back to see her boyfriend looking down at her. Approving the sheen of sweat on her chest, a mix of his and hers. Brushing her hair would be a hapless endeavor and his stuck in patches to his forehead. The pink in his unscarred cheek was hidden as she cupped his jaw and brought him in for one long, passionate kiss without interruption. A moment needed to transfer all their love in ways words couldn't do justice. The magnetic impulse to connect with their other half.

Even as he went soft inside her, they were confident this bond was stronger than all others; their attraction couldn't be competed with.

No one could hold a candle to Obito.

No one could hold a candle to Emi.

"I was wondering if we could try something different," Obito suggested in the midst of a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. Emi wiped her eyes and bundled deeper in the blankets, hiding from the cool night air eking in from outside.

His strong arms jostled her from her nest. "Mmm, what?" she groaned.

"You know this morning when you were sitting in my lap?" He twisted his naked body around hers, drawing in the grumpy pile of sheets and comforter. "I wanted to try that again, but, yeah, with my dick between your thighs."

She poked her eyes out of the bundle, far enough to glare, then receded to the warmth. "I don't think that'll work. The table was already digging into my side and you'd have to kinda slouch, or else one of my thighs would be crushing your stomach, I think."

"Oh." Obito's palpable dejection in not thinking through the logistics of his fantasy lurched Emi's stomach. She could fix this too.

"But! We could do it on the bed." She threw off the blankets, hissing at the shock of cold, and stopping him from sitting up. Quelling his confusion, she moved him into place. On his side, facing her. She laid on her back with her legs tossed over his hip. A replication of the position, just laying down instead.

The animalistic gleam in his eyes returned. He grabbed his half-hard cock and parted her legs. This would work just as well.

Drawing his knees in, she curved her body to his until there was no gap between them. She sought his lips for a kiss, but he denied her. He denied her again. This smug persona would be the end of her. In more ways than one.

Obito denied the kiss to feast elsewhere.

At the first lick, Emi arched her tits to his mouth. In seconds, she was thrashing under his sucking. He pressed her breasts together, opened his mouth to display his tongue, and kept eye contact as he treated them to caresses at the same time. Sucking one, pinching the other. Switching. That half-hard cock of his surged with blood. It riled the sleep from her foggy brain. He answered her moans with his tongue in her mouth, playing with hers as his fingers pleased her.

His hand dove between her thighs. Her wetness was his prize. He swirled it around his fingers, coating himself, her thighs, and her clit; paying special attention to the last. The combination of his tongue returning to her nipples, the nestling of his cock along her cunt, and the pure debauchery of seeing it sink between her flesh and reemerge to graze her clit had them both moaning.

He clenched his ass and started pumping. His fantasy was coming true.

"Hold on," Emi said and he whipped his head around, afraid he hurt her, but she was fumbling about the pillows in search of something. Finding it, she grasped an object under the sheets and pulled it out. Quiet, hardly qualifying as a whisper, she turned coy and asked, "Mind if we use this?"

"Go ahead." he said, enraptured by the low hum of the vibrator as it drifted away from his ear. She hadn't had an orgasm in a while; he could share even if it wasn't caused by him.

"O-oh." Obito's astonishment grew the longer he looked at her. The pulsating device rumbled on the underside of his cock while it pleased her clit. Emi's blush darkened, as did his. This new bonding, climaxing to the same toy and the same time coaxed him to the edge far quicker than it should.

He tested his limits with a single thrust of his hips.

Oh.

His eyes rolled back and a breathy moan stuttered out from the back of his throat. Emi pressed kisses to his chest, amused at its rapid rising and falling. There was no way to elude the rush of endorphins. Trying not to come, he kept the air in his lungs, thrusted until he saw stars, and released it.

Placing a firm palm on her shoulder, he pushed her away to lay flat on the bed, casting her in his shadow. "You'll watch me cum all over you."

She was the definition of obedience. Laying in wait. Writhing in pleasure as she kept one hand on her nipple, the other turning the vibrator up a notch. She relished what she did to the man as much as what he did to her.

Desperate, ragged breaths. Oncoming orgasm racking his body. Empowering every brush of his cock over the toy and her wet cunt.

"A-ah, fuck, babe. A-Already!" He forced his eyes open. She propped her pale chest up to his cum arcing in the air. He painted her. From the hollow of her neck to her stomach. She shoved the vibrator under his sensitive cock and quaked to its expertise while he watched on in erotic satisfaction. Body convulsing, loving how he covered her while she reached her peak.

Completely spent, Emi tossed the toy and Obito gave her his boyish, toothy grin. After the encore, they collapsed in a boneless, dizzying stupor.

"I'm tapped out," he said, cutting a hand across his throat. "No more."

"Same," she agreed. Their overlapping legs untangled, some appendages on the bed, some not. They laid there for some time. Cooling the blood rush from their skin. Regulating their breathing. Cementing this day in their mind. "You really wanted to come on me, huh?"

"For the past couple of days, yeah," he admitted, butterflies in his stomach. If only he could tell his past self that when he jerked off to her bent over on the beach, he'd soon be fucked into oblivion by her while not only staring at, but spanking that same ass, he'd have let down his guard sooner.

"Why's that? I thought you would've wanted the whole, ya know, usual.." She struggled for words and he removed his hand from his eyes, just waiting to hear her finish. "Penetration." They both grimaced at the clinical word.

"It's because I get the same feeling as when I see you in my clothes, except more."

"Possessive?"

"Mhm." He didn't deny the implications of that word. "But when you're wearing my clothes, I'm the only one who knows they're mine. When we walk together, I could just be a friend. Same with posting pictures online. If someone's scrolling by and doesn't read the post, I could be a cousin for all they know. But that-" he pointed at the sticky trail of white streaking her entire front "-That is unequivocally mine, and only mine. I'm the only one who gets to do that to you. And when I give you a ring, people will know you're taken."

"There's one other thing that could be mine." Her voice trilled in unsure excitement, trying her best to repress it. "Your last name."

Obito's arms sank to the sides of her head, his hands clasping her jaw, angling her so he could pour the last of his energy into a kiss. The sudden passion expounding from his veins to hers, warming, cooling. Hot, cold, hot, cold. His lips would learn the exact imprint of creases on hers.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

She pressed her forehead to his and tried out her new name. "Emiko Uchiha."

"Emiko Uchiha," he repeated, shivering through the goosebumps.

Obito volunteered to clean her off, a bit embarrassed he left his cum on her to dry, but she shrugged it off, finding his self-consciousness adorable, and drove them to the gym for another shower.

"I'm pretty wired, you?" she asked, afterwards.

His seat belt clicked and he slanted his mouth, rocking his hand back and forth. "I'm awake after our nap. How far were you wanting to drive?"

"Well," she said, backing out of the parking spot. "I did promise Kakashi I'd have you back by tomorrow. I figured we'd get some coffee and drive through the night."

He narrowed his eyes. "You sure you should be driving that long?"

"Okay, okay, only a few hours, then we'll stop somewhere to sleep."

"I'll text him that we'll see him tomorrow. Today. Whatever."

Hours later, a harsh vibration in Obito's pocket woke him. He peeled his cheek off the padded seat, turned away from the whoosh of black landscape outside his window, and wiped the drool from his mouth. Emi sat happily in her seat, sipping his coffee and dancing to the music on the radio. Her cup was empty.

Whoops. He'd meant to stay awake in solidarity.

He reached for his phone in his pocket and she beamed at his movement, giggling at his sleepy state. Blinking the grogginess from his eyes, he focused on the texts from Kakashi.

Obito: we'll be back by tomorrow morning. want to get breakfast with us? you can meet emi.

Kakashi: duck no

Kakashi: fcuk no

Kakashi: fcuk

Kakashi: emus fine

Kakashi: lunch or dinner

Obito scoffed and read the time.

Obito: drunk at a bar this late?

Kakashi: with guy. hell come tomorrow too

What an apt typo. Hell will indeed come tomorrow. No one could prepare themselves for the ostentatiousness that was Guy. Least of all, Emi.

But not because Guy was overbearing.

But because their combined brilliance in a single room would duel until it blinded every witness. Their beaming smiles flaring bright as the sun, personalities that could singe water, gaudy fashion sense earning gawks from the worst offenders. Guy had two modes: everlasting competitiveness until it ended in bloodshed, or he'd try so hard to be your best friend you'd get sick of him. And Emi was a chameleon who could mold herself to his flashiness, or get overwhelmed by his abrasiveness and have a meltdown.

This could either go amazing, or horrible.