"Aoda"

"Sasuke-sama. It has been a long time. What is it that I can do for you?"

"I need rest. Stand guard for me while I repose under that alcove of trees."

"Of course, Sasuke-sama. Take the time you need. Sleep well."

Sluggishly slithering away from his master, the great cerulean snake coiled into himself at a chosen vantage point and faced outwards to survey the land.

"Thank you, Aoda," murmured the grateful raven-haired man, the bags under his eyes pronounced, his characteristically perfect posture marred by exhausted, hunched shoulders. Each trudging step the shinobi took bespoke the length of time he had endured without solid hours of slumber. He sat upon the ground and reclined against an ancient, looming trunk of a tree, shielded decently from the drizzling elements by branches and shrubbery. He sat upright with legs bent before him, lone arm perched upon a knee. Regarding the snake and the surrounding forested area, he deliberately allowed his body to relax, but careful not to relinquish his guard too soon for fear of an ambush.

Chilled fingers sought the warmth of his armpit; his heavy cloak could manage to shield only his torso from the rain and cold. His long eyelashes drooped, and slowly, purposely, he measured his breathing: inhaling for four steady counts, holding the air a moment, then exhaling for eight, set to a cyclical ostinato. He felt his limbs slacken, his jaw loosen, and his shoulders finally drop in relief.

He cleared his mind of his mission's intricacies, dangers, obstacles, for they would be there waiting for him tomorrow. Protected and tucked away in a private nook of the forest, soon his mental faculties concocted images of familiar faces, pleasant memories... He suffered a harsh shiver at the mere thought of his frame engulfed by his bedroom's comforter, drinking in the heat of his wife's soft, smooth, supple skin... Oh, did he desperately desire her company.

A hidden chest pocket sewn into the cloak's inside lining housed a few private treasures meant for his eyes alone; digits slipped into the slim pouch and pulled out a neatly folded, scented letter printed on pastel pink parchment. A slight crinkle formed around his eyes as he reread for the tenth time the affectionate contents penned by a delicate hand. It was the most recent letter he had received; weeks had passed since he last saw his family, though he was unable to measure the specific number of days. The separation pained him more than anyone could ever assume of the stoic man.

He tipped his face forward, catching another whiff of that damned perfume. Immediately, his eyes darted to the snake, as if Aoda would sense the direction of the Uchiha's blood relocating toward his lower half. When nothing came of his secretive act, he smelled it again, more deeply, as if it could seep into him and summon her to his side. He released his breath in an accidental huff akin to a sigh. He glanced once more at the giant reptile who seemingly remained aloof of the lonely man.

He brought the slip of paper to his lips; if only she could be there to accept his kiss. If such a feat was possible, he would reprimand her for the teasing text on this page. The words she wrote yanked his chain in all the right ways:

"Darling,

I ran the tests that you requested through the hospital lab by my own hand, and unfortunately, they were not a match for the person you are seeking. I am afraid that potential lead was a dead-end. I wish I could have brought you good news in that respect.

Was the hawk able to deliver my small package of onigiri? I knew of the risk that it could be lost, or eaten by someone or something else, but I suspect you don't feed yourself properly! I thought the attempt was worth it. Please, take care of yourself. When you came home last month, you were so thin. I can't help but worry.

Do you think you might return soon? I imagine it is hard to keep track of the time while you are working on your mission. We love you and appreciate everything you do. We just miss you, with all of our hearts. Sarada spoke of you so admiringly the other day at dinner. It is as if you sparked some new strength in her that had not yet surfaced. What have you been teaching her? I swear, when you're home, she holds herself straighter, her chin rises a little higher, and there is new fire behind those beautiful, powerful eyes you gave her.

I miss you, too, Darling. I often think of those occasional late-night visits from last summer especially. It always felt naughty in a way, taboo, when you would choose to enter from our bedroom window. I liked that, and of course, the evenings that would transpire afterward were also enjoyable. I worry you never receive enough rest when you are home. You always insist you do, but our trysts last until the early hours of morning. I would suggest we refrain or minimize our time together if only for the sake of your health, but I can never manage to deny your appetite when you look at me so intensely and grab at me the way you do. My pulse has quickened just from the recollection.

Please, be well. I look forward to seeing you home soon. I will always wait for you. Sarada misses her papa, and I miss my husband. We love you so very much.

Love,

Sakura"

He felt his own heart thumping as well as a familiar surge of excitement. His eyes rested on the penultimate paragraph in particular. Yes, he remembered those nights, too - fondly, extremely fondly. He replayed such scenes, recorded by his visual prowess, at rare times like this when he could recover. His body seemed to register this routine; he was already stiff, erection waiting, screaming at him for attention.

There were a few letters of this suggestive nature stowed in his pocket. The words thrilled him, aroused him. As he folded the letter in on itself with his nimble fingers, he wondered, is it normal to be turned on from written words alone? Perhaps it had simply been too long, that they could no longer ravage each other like they did during their newlywed days, nor could he be home for more than a few days at a time amongst weeks and months of travel, investigation, and encounters in battle. Maybe so. But now, so it seemed, he did not need to initiate his Sharingan to conjure racy memories for stimulation, nevertheless, those were always delicious in detail and temporarily satiating. All he needed these days to ignite his loins was a few provocative words in her handwriting and her scent. Damn her. Damn her for how she had reduced him to this. He would certainly, absolutely punish her next time he comes home.

With the letter stashed for safe keeping, his hand lingered over his chest, noting the severe, rapid drumming of his heart. He checked for the snake one more time, the latter paying the man zero attention. His palm slid in a circle over his pectoral, fingers brushing against his nipple. He caught his bottom lip between teeth, feeling his face warm at the contact. He took another minute to ensure the cloak was wrapped over his front before the hand resumed rubbing his chest, pausing to tweak the nipple. He had to deaden the sound of a groan already migrating up his throat.

In his mind the memorized words revisited him:

"… but I can never manage to deny your appetite when you look at me so intensely and grab at me the way you do…"

His cock swelled again, body buzzing with anticipation. Fingertips skimmed his lower abdomen and flirted with the waistband of his pants, dipping underneath, toying with himself.

"… your appetite… you look at me so intensely… grab at me… naughty… taboo…"

A dull pop! marked the undoing of the trousers' button.

Aoda did not move.

Thumb and index finger pinched the zipper and in stages dragged it down – but oh, for fuck's sake, did it have to make so much noise?

Aoda acknowledged nothing. Sasuke inwardly thanked the weather for choosing to lightly rain this evening. The white noise worked in his favor.

Down an inch, and down another. Just a little more. There.

Aoda was oblivious.

Digits finagled with the material of his underwear, rifling, pulling himself out through the fly of his boxers. He swallowed a relieved groan. Was the cloak still covering himself? Yes. Did the snake see? No.

He gripped his shaft and pumped once, twice. His mouth dropped open, soundlessly but emphatically forming the curse, "Fuck!" Hips wriggled of their own accord, slowly bucking into his own hand. Yeah, that was good. Mmm.

"… grab at me the way you do… grab… the way you do…"

Yeah, I do, he thought. I'm starved for you. I need you right now. Can you feel it, I wonder? How much I want you? You must know.

The hand manipulated his cock leisurely, pumping the length, fingering the tip's slit that was dripping precum, wringing the bulbous head in his palm, lubricating the member. Shit. The wet sounds will give me away. Did he move? No, no. It's fine. He can't hear me.

He forgot about that, how the sound of slickness heightened the pleasure, somehow spurred him on, increasing some primal need to fuck. It also felt damned good.

Fuck. I'm forced to fuck myself. But I'd much rather be fucking you. I would take you so hard, slamming myself into your tight walls that clench the moment I fill you up. God, how good that is. It's so fucking good, I couldn't begin to tell you. The way you're always so wet and warm. And you scream every time. Always wet, drenched, moaning.

He was not conscious of his body sliding forward, his back slipping lower against the tree trunk. His legs spread apart, toes curling. There came an abrupt realization that the cloak's strap around his neck was constricting; he quickly unclasped the fasteners, checked on the unheeding Aoda, and continued jerking himself at a brisker pace. Perspiration decorated his forehead.

Sakura. Oh, Sakura. Fuck. Suck my cock. Suck it. That's good, you know how to suck it. When you swirl your tongue around the head, then you lap up my precum, yeah. You're a good girl. You know how to take it. When your head bobs up and down over me with that pretty mouth, my cock between your plump lips. God, fuck. Fuck!

He pounded and pounded, up and down, stroking his erection with speed and practiced precision. The cloak slipped open down his middle, but the haze of sexual need was greater than self-imposed decency. Pounding, pumping, pleasing his throbbing cock, he flashed a favorite memory of Sakura riding him in a similar forest. Or the time she stripped for him on his birthday. When he had his way with her on a beach near the sea. The hot springs. The cave. The alleyway. On the roof. In a dimension that was not their own. With an image of her behind his eyelids, he picked what clothes she wore and watched with satisfaction as the garments fell away from her heaving breasts and curvaceous bottom; no, wait, he tore them off. Yes, that's better. Just enough to see her pink, perky nipples peeking out and watch a breast bounce in his hand or while she rode his dick. Rip the offending material off of her and have her. Remember the sound? Remember the music of her sopping core, sloshing in her arousal, feeling her walls constrict, watch her eyes roll back and her spine arch beautifully…

Here it comes! Here I come! Sakura… can you feel it? Sakura… I miss you. I love you. God. Fuck. I love you! I love you... I'm coming… I'm…

With legs splayed wide, genitalia revealed to the crisp air, sweat dribbling down his face and back mixing with the rain, he squeezed his eyes shut, brow creased in concentration, body tensing before the big release, balls tightening. His heels dug into the earth, the remnants of his left arm reaching for something to hold, only to come up empty.

I'm comingOhSakura

His mouth opened in a silent yell, head thrown back against the tree as his pelvis lifted from the ground and rocked in time with his hand; string upon string of ejaculation exploded from his cock, spraying into the open air, his come thick, white, translucent. He leaned into the tree's trunk and thrusted, his hand working, milking, releasing his frustration in a tremendous, long-awaited orgasm that stole his breath. His seed gushed and spurted, extending as far as a few feet in front of him while also coating his gloved hand and splattering onto the cloak. Slowing, he stroked himself dry, wringing out the remaining droplets that beaded from his slit.

He lowered his rear to the ground and quickly righted the cloak over his body, redoing the clasps around his neck. He quietly panted all the while and wiped the sweat from his brow. His legs were summoned closer to his body to resemble his original position. He looked down at his covered lap as he recuperated, his mind a blank slate; the only thought that lingered was more of a feeling: the reluctance to look up at the snake and learn what the creature might have observed.

When his breathing normalized, he swallowed his pride and shifted his gaze to Aoda.

The giant snake had been stationary as a statue, so far as Sasuke could tell. No shift in position, the back of the snake's head visible from the man's perspective. All was well and good.

Little by little, he tucked himself within the pants' confines. Wincing at the thought of his clothes staining and crusting, he momentarily felt resigned to the idea of seeking a proper lodging with washing facilities tomorrow at the next village. Or perhaps… it's time to go home and see my family. Just for one night. The hint of a smile formed on his face. I might even knock on our bedroom window. Eyes heavy-lidded now, he wrapped the cloak tighter around himself. Sleep took him shortly thereafter.

"Humans are such strange creatures," Aoda remarked to himself. "But, I suppose, if I had an extra appendage, I might give that a try."