A/N: I'd planned on posting an edited version of this chapter to this site, BUT that proved basically impossible without deleting everything, so I decided to just post it as is. If this chapter is deleted in the future, you can find it on my Archive of Our Own page (Penname Never_Stray).

1/31: Almost done with the rewrite! If you'd like to see snippets and a banner for Duplicity, check out my tumblr at never-stray (2 hyphens in between).

C/W If you would prefer not to read smut, please stop after "Sakura jolted up." Enjoy :)


Chapter Fifteen: Duplicity II

"You like him," Sasuke said.

Adrenaline spiked in Sakura at the sight of his arm. "Your seal—"

"You treat all your targets like that?"

"Like what?" It was hard to speak when he was in her face like this. "Like Higa?"

"Like Masao," he grit out. "The one you used me to practice for. Didn't seem like you needed it." The marks contrasted so starkly against his pale skin that Sakura could see it in the darkness of the room, sprouting under his sleeve like tree branches. "Why did you touch him?"

"I— I felt bad."

"Were you even pretending with him anymore?"

"Pretending what? Is this about the mic?"

"You were with him all day—"

"I was tired. I forgot because I was tired. Scorpion didn't let me take naps."

Sasuke's expression wavered, like he knew she had a point, but he was too worked up to relent. "What did you two talk about?"

"I don't know— politics, wine, his parents—" Higa rarely spoke without an ulterior motive, and dinner with him had felt like a Shogi match. The amazake didn't help. "—If it were important, I would've told you."

"Who's Aimee?"

"Nobody," Sakura said. "She was his first lover—"

"His first lover. You talked about that." His jaw tightened. "Did you tell him about Hyuuga?"

The words struck like a physical blow.

When she didn't respond, the tomoe of his irises swelled, nearly fusing. "I bet he hated that."

Sakura's lips compressed. That wasn't fair. They were acquaintances before this mission. They barely saw each other. And while part of her knew that Sasuke knew about Kou— word was bound to get to him— she hadn't expected to be confronted like this. Not when he was livid.

"Higa planned tonight," he said. "He doesn't care what you want. He'd do anything to keep you. He's dreamed of fucking you."

A wave of forbidding chakra pulsed from his wrist. His eyes blazed in the darkness, his powerful arm inches from her face, and for the first time in years with him, she felt a thrum of fear.

"I told him about you," Sakura said.

She shouldered past him, into the room. If she riled him up any further, he'd shatter the seal. If that happened, if he set off the bomb that she'd planted into his flesh...

The matchstick splintered in her grip. Two more attempts, and she lit the oil lamp at her bedside table, flooding the pitch dark bedroom in a lively glow.

More.

She lit the sconces bracketing the bed, and he shuffled behind her to the vanity. She clenched the matchbox to still the tremor in her hand.

Now that there was light, she was afraid to look at him. She envisioned the seal remnants billowing across his skin like petals in the wind. Had it reached his neck? Had his transplanted arm blackened to ash?

Sakura struck the match with too much force, and all the contents of the box scattered across the table. Before she could gather them, Sasuke reached into the lamp and lit it with snap of electricity.

The blue lacquer surface glowed lilac in firelight, and it danced across his the pale skin of his wrist, marred only by a band of kana which was—

Intact. Sakura's lips parted. His seal was intact.

She spun to him. Every black mark was gone. Relief spread through her chest. "Show off," she whispered.

He stepped three feet away, arms clamped at his sides. The distance felt like miles. The wooden wick crackled. "I'm sorry," he said, at the end of an exhale.

He was here. He was safe. "For what?"

"For speaking to you that way. You seemed so comfortable with him. I thought you might stay. I thought I'd never—" his teeth grit but he forced himself to continue "— I thought I'd never see you again. But that's my problem. I was jealous. You didn't deserve that."

A proper apology. Sakura nodded at his wrist. "Has that happened before?"

"Never."

"I was so scared. What were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he muttered. "That was—"

"Reckless."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. It was."

Sakura faltered. "Did you really think I'd stay? Here?" But she'd told him how she felt. Didn't he trust her?

Sasuke looked like a fire that had been allowed to go out.

"It'd take a lot more than wine and dresses to keep me from going home," she said. "Besides, Ino made me promise to drink with her when she breaks up with her boyfriend next month."

The tense lines of his shoulders softened.

"And then, there's all the people I would miss if I stayed," Sakura said solemnly. "There's my parents, Naruto, Ino, Kakashi-sensei—" she rattled off names until he crossed his arms "—Pakkun, Ayane, and the nice lady that sells those mini watermelons in summer." She stroked her jaw. "Yeah, I think that's everyone."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

They stood in the same spot as that first night. He could tell she was nervous, putting on a brave face, and he was trying to encourage her. He'd taken care of her in little ways this entire time— water after a long run, gloves when she was cold— and anticipated her needs before her.

"Do you know who I'd miss the most?" Sakura asked.

"Who?"

The answer welled up as easily as it was to step into his warmth and breathe in his comforting scent. She tapped his forehead. "You."

Sasuke went rigid as a statue. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost, haunted black eyes holding her.

"Are you okay—"

Her nose smashed into his hard chest, as his arms locked around her like the steel jaws of a bear trap, squeezing her so tight she was sure he cracked a few ribs. "Ouch," she wheezed.

"Sorry," he mumbled into her hair, bent in two. His grip relaxed.

His strength startled her, as it always did. Fear melted away. She couldn't imagine these two weeks without him. His overprotectiveness had incensed her at first, but now she felt safest in his arms. All the stress of acting and lying and glancing over her shoulder for Scorpion left her in a great rush. No more Nanami; she was Sakura again. Lightness radiated in her chest as she rose to her toes.

"Don't—"

She brushed her lips against his, stifling his protest. Untamed darkness threaded his chakra, but she didn't care. That had always been a part of him. She relished it, even as his eyes burned scarlet. The first time in the Land of Waves, they scared her: eyes of nightmare, bred for blood and destruction. But in Aizu and last night, she'd felt only desire.

She coaxed him, catching his lower lip between hers as she pulled away. With a sharp exhale, he yielded. He half-carried, half-dragged her to the bed, with none of his usual grace. Sakura couldn't untie her robe quickly enough. The cotton of his shirt whispered against her skin.

His heated gaze raked down her chest. "I wanted to take that off all night."

Her lips parted. That's what he'd been thinking about during those stares? Not her rambling interrogation? "Let me put it back on for you."

He threw her onto the sheets as she laughed. His heavy weight settled over her before she could catch her breath. When he ground the hard ridge of his arousal against her center, she fell quiet.

His smoky baritone ghosted the shell of her ear. "Tell me if you want to stop."

"You promised you wouldn't."

"Did I?" he asked. "I don't remember."

Funny. She tugged up the hem of his shirt. He threw it on the ground.

Her stomach fluttered. His broad frame was cut with muscle, cruel power stamped in every inch of his skin. Without all his wild hair, she could see all the planes of his face, starkly masculine in the soft glow of the fire light, his ember eyes glowing. He looked like a conqueror, too beautiful to touch. It figured that after thirteen years, he still gave her butterflies.

"What?"

"You look good," she mumbled.

His chin jutted, and he was definitely putting on a show because there was no reason for him to lean in that slow or for his abs to be as hard as they were under her palms. But he pressed his mouth to hers, and her nerves were quelled. It was strange how comfortable they'd grown with each other since that first time on the couch. Like they'd been kissing for two lifetimes and not two weeks.

He traced the emerald lace of her bra, strewn with gold thread. "Did he give you this?"

She didn't want to think about Higa right now. "Does it matter?"

Male satisfaction filled his eyes. "No."

Her breasts were bare, the cold air of the room drawing her nipples to peaks before his searing mouth closed over her. The sharp contrast of sensation made wet heat pool between her legs. His rough palm closed over her other breast in a possessive grip.

She'd always felt a twinge of hesitation before taking her bra off with Kou. It was a silly thing to worry about, she knew. With Sasuke, there was no uncertainty; he made her feel feminine and beautiful. His fingers hooked in her underwear.

She jolted up. She drew chakra to her palm and pressed it to her navel. The lurid glow faded as warmth sunk into her belly. "It's protection," she explained, before he could worry. It'd been so long— goodness, had it been two years?— the precaution had slipped her mind. She tugged her underwear off.

Sasuke paused.

"What is it?" She crossed her ankles. Did he have to gape?

"Nothing," he said quickly.

He pulled her legs apart, and his hand trailed up her inner thigh, painfully slow, as though he had all the time in the world. Finally, he brushed her there. The contact sent sparks up her spine and his breath hitched in her ear.

This was— this was happening.

He traced her again and again, his touch featherlight, as though she were a priceless old scroll he couldn't bear to tear. Unsated need built. He was so gentle, she could scream.

She needed firm and fast and now. She nipped at the tendons of his throat, and he shuddered. He sat back.

"Show me how you come."

The command made her cheeks sting. Was he teasing her again? Aside from her first time, at peak of desperation, she only did that in the privacy of her bed.

But his face looked dead serious, and the throbbing between her legs was really quite insistent. And even as the thought made her want to dive under the covers, it piqued her curiosity. Had he imagined her doing this? The thought gave her a thrill.

If only she'd kept a few of the lamps unlit. She closed her eyes and stuck her hand between her thighs, her familiar touch at once sweet relief and a spark to dry kindling, igniting the smoldering hunger that had been building since she woke up without him, since the saigenzai. She cupped her breast, lost in sensation…

...until she remembered he was watching. Mortified, her eyes snapped open. If he was laughing at her—

Oh.

He didn't look amused. His eyes were glued to her hand and the voracious hunger in his expression stole her breath away.

Power rushed heady through her veins.

His gaze followed her other hand to her lips as she rubbed them, and she delighted in how his throat tightened in a swallow. Heart thudding, she let her knees to fall wider. He wavered, as though he couldn't decide where to look— an unexpected departure from his usual composure. She smiled.

This was— this was easy.

Sasuke shoved her hands off. His fingers overtook hers, and with equal parts fascination and horror, she realized he was mimicking her motion and pressure. "That's cheating," she said weakly.

He looked possessed. "What is?"

"Your shh—"

Two fingers sank deep into her, and oh, she'd forgotten what this felt like. His jaw clenched as he made room inside her. His thumb circled the apex of her legs and elicited a burst of pleasure so sharp she cried out. Sakura's hands fisted in the duvet when she realized just how close she was.

A vicious glint played in his eyes. "My what, Sakura?"

She was going to kill him, but in a little bit, when he wasn't doing that with those long fingers, making stars flash before her eyes. He plucked her nipple when she ignored him, stretched her tighter, and— yes, yes— she tipped over the edge, shockwaves of sensation ripping through her.

A blissful haze seeped through her bones, and Sakura melted into the covers. Her eyelids fluttered open in time to watch him suck his fingers clean. His blazing red eyes looked downright feral. Something dark unfurled in her at the wicked sight.

She found her voice. "I think— I think you should undress, Sasuke-kun."


Sasuke spread her knees wide, pinning them to the bed.

Sakura said something, maybe his name, but his ears were buzzing with the flood of his old chakra, returned by the seal, and all he could think of was how illicit she tasted on his fingers, how he needed it all over his tongue—

Sakura eased him up by the hair. "Please."

That was a bad idea, probably, but he was having a hard time coming up with a reason why.

He kicked his pants off and palmed his length, trying to take the edge off the pain. He could feel her watching, and— how long was she going to stare? He was too pent up for this, waited too long—

"May—"

"Yes," he snapped.

Her fingers closed around him, and his hips jerked. Her hand was soft and tiny, with none of his own ragged callouses, and when it glided up and down, experimentally, the surge of pleasure made his head fall back. He wouldn't last.

He endured her gentle exploration another two breaths before dragging her to him. The sight of his hand covering the entire span of her waist gave him a moment of pause as he notched against her entrance.

Her hand slapped his hipbone, clearing his head. "Am I hurting you?"

"No," she said, a little choked. She stared apprehensively at where they were joined. "It's been a while, and you're…"

He looked too. Sakura's size was puzzling; in his head, they were equals. Animalistic need, stirred by the sight of him disappearing inside her, battled with his rational mind, the part of him that froze at the thought of hurting her. "I'll go slow," he said, with more ambition than promise.

The hand on his hip relaxed, and immediately, he inched forward. Restraint was agony, worse than the seal. Sakura's nose was scrunched up, her expression somewhere between perplexed and anticipatory. Slow, slow. He licked a broad swath up the underside of her breast, reveling in the taste of her skin, and she rewarded him with her fingers threading his hair. When he closed his teeth around her nipple, she tugged sharply with approval. He'd let her pull his hair forever.

"Keep going," she said, suddenly digging her crossed ankles into his back. Locking him to her.

His mind snapped blank. He shoved in her to the hilt.

"Sorry," he muttered against her slack lips, peppering her with kisses. Her breath came in hitches as she adjusted to his size, each little twist around his cock stoking a black temptation to pound her into the mattress.

He smoothed her hair, shaking like a leaf from the effort of holding still in her vice-like heat.

He used to think her hair looked stupid. Too girly. When she'd hacked it all off during the chunin exams, he approved. But now he was convinced she'd grown it out for the sole purpose of swinging in his face while she fixed him, and that he was the stupid one. After those sessions, he'd go straight home, half-drunk on her scent, pick out all the long pink strands on his clothes, and fuck his fist while imagine what it'd feel like to bury his nose in her glossy curtain of hair while he was wedged inside her, as he was now.

The urge to move was overwhelming. "Can I?" he rasped.

"Yeah," she said, at last.

He rocked into her slowly, lowering his head to her ear. Tell me if it's too much, he tried to say, but the friction of her stretched around him—hot slick incredible— muddled his words. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her mouth found his, and all the universe and dimensions seemed to collapse into her as she pulled him as close as two people could be.

It felt like a first time.

Every touch, every sensation was sharp and visceral, because it was her. The girl he'd known for thirteen years. He'd lived for those fleeting moments in her kitchen, to be anywhere near this close to her. And all those times in between, when he was so starved for her touch, he was inside a stranger and weaving himself illusions of her, desperate efforts that left him longing and unsatisfied.

How had he lived without this?

"Sakura."

"Mhm?" She hummed against his lips.

You are loved and cherished.

"I—"

A lump formed in his throat. It'd only been two weeks. After the way he'd behaved tonight, wasn't it selfish to ask? Sex didn't mean he was entitled to her. But…

Memories flooded in— her straddling Higa's chest, him gasping his release at her touch, I'm not in love with him—

His hand fisted in the sheets. No. He didn't care. If Sakura took another lover, Sasuke would burn him alive. No one would follow him. He'd never share her again.

Her breath hitched at a particularly deep thrust.

"Wait, I mm—"

She clamped a hand over her own mouth, to keep quiet. He snatched it away, pinned her wrist to the sheets, pace increasingly ruthless. He wanted to hear her.

"Slow down," she panted.

He didn't. Chest tight with something indescribable, he found the angle that made her lips part and drove into her thighs. Higa, Hyuuga— whoever the fuck came before him— he'd make her forget. She gasped a broken stream of yes and oh. When he strummed her clit, her jaw fell open in a silent scream, and he took her to the razor's edge, let her teeter and—

Released her. His hips ground to a halt.

"No," she whined. "Why?"

"Tell me what you need." His voice was gravel.

"W-what?" Her fingers punished his hips, as she thrashed against him, desperate for traction. He pinned her still with his weight.

"You," she said. "I need you—"

He slammed into her. Her head fell back as she sobbed his name, and it was the only thing he needed to hear. Her long legs wrapped around him, hiking with each brutal snap of his hips, and she surrounded him she was everything his everything she was—

"Mine," he hissed.

Sakura's nails scored down his back as her spine arched, the sweet bite of pain whetting his hunger. He fucked her through her climax, through the otherworldly sensation of her clenching around him, her soft whimper in his ear.

Her hand trailed his back, and that familiar wave of need coursed through him— SakurathiswasSakura— and his vision whited at the edges as he was dragged under the current of pleasure, groaning into her hair.


Sasuke wavered at the surface of consciousness, tugged under by the listless warmth of his muscles and pushed afloat by the restless whispers of his mind. Sex never felt like that, like he'd torn off a piece of himself, raw and bleeding, and shoved it in her arms to keep forever. Whatever suspicion he'd had of his attraction being purely physical were quashed.

Cold reality cut through the haze of his afterglow. In the few times he'd allowed himself to indulge in fantasies of sharing her bed, he was a gentle lover, not a rutting beast. "Are you okay?"

The crackle of the oil lamp was deafening.

Dread curdled in his stomach. He'd lost control. Had terrorized her against the door too. She'd never want to see him again. "I didn't mean to be rough."

She shifted on the sheets, but he couldn't look at her. She would know. It was written all over his face, how he felt about her. If his muscles hadn't turned to glue, he would've left.

"What?" she asked with a yawn. "Oh, no that's— you didn't hurt me."

He turned to her.

"I was just, uh, surprised. That's never happened before." Drowsily, she rolled to face him, her hair falling in a curtain over her breasts. "I didn't think I could with another person."

"Could what?"

"You know." She flushed a lovely shade of red, from the roots of her hair to her chest, bruised with his kisses. "Finish."

He sat up, blood roaring in his ears.

She groaned. "Oh no."

The vision of her glassy-eyed and taut with ecstasy belonged to him alone. No one else. The thought shouldn't have pleased him as much as it did.

"Do you have to get competitive with everything?" she asked.

Her skin flushed with a light sheen. Her position sharpened the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips, still mottled from his grip. She didn't smell like Higa anymore, but like her and him, together.

He nudged her to her back and settled over her. Her hips opened to him on instinct, and she smiled languidly up at him. The same uncanny sense from this morning overcame him. A lightness filled his chest. She could have whoever she pleased, and she chose him.

Sakura brushed the hair off his forehead. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Touch me. "What?"

Her fingers threaded through his hair, that familiar touch she'd conditioned him to crave. "You look cute when you smile."

He pressed his forehead against hers. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "Adorab—"

He filled her in one slow thrust. A strangled noise escaped her throat.

"Rude," she panted. "Let me finish."

He rolled into her, deep and controlled, the way he'd intended to earlier. "Go ahead."

"You're— you're insufferable," Her head fell back, and her lips formed silent words. Her hand entwined in his. "—yes, there."

Sasuke couldn't make speeches, but if he could, he'd tell her what it meant to him, these fleeting moments together with her, with her hands on him. He'd never know a sweeter atonement.