Hokage's garden
Training alone and meditation sessions always helped him to put his mind and body at ease.
Nonetheless, he was still impassive, his body tense. He had been consciously delaying his bed time all this week. He knew some of this days or nights he'll enter his room to find it was no longer his own again. Makoto wasn't a noisy nor annoying woman but he was used to his own space. She didn't even talk that much, but her smell… After she left her smell lingered in their bed clothes, vests and coats in their shared wardrobe- the soft blend of floral shampoo, sweet perfume and the acid freshness of quince. He had to remember her every night he set his head down to sleep.
And he found himself wanting her.
When the maids finally changed their bed clothes and he laid his head on the pillow, with no smell but his own, he found himself missing her.
It was maddening the first days, he even found himself feeling jealous. Did she have a lover as Kokuyo? Someone who complies her lustful wishes?
Did she even have those kinds of wishes?
Was just this woman able make him feel like a drooling boy wishing to have her touching him again? Or would it have happened with any woman his brother had chosen for him?
~sigh~ He knew the answer. It didn't happen before in brothels or in his few liaisons during the war.
This woman got him the moment she glanced him in the saloon. Her gaze piercing and calculating promised power, but she took it from him with a single side glance, disdain write in her face.
Two months is a long time. He had carefully buried this feelings and denied them to his brother so many times he almost believed it, but the mention of her impending arrival was enough to bring them all to surface and the fear of rejection put a hole in his pride that could be buried with apathy and hard words.
He hopped the training session could make him stop thinking about it, but the moment he finished and walked the corridor to his room his mind whispered she could be right now sleeping in his bed, pouring her smell again all over his- their room. Since he couldn't go to the dojo because it was outside the complex he was allowed to walk, his old room was his permanent dojo and he ended using the bed on the room he gave her. He had been building up a desire for two months and didn't want pressure her. He promised space and time and even if she granted him the pleasure of intercourse, deep in his gut he knew it would be for duty as all she did.
He couldn't understand why that sounded so bad to him.
After almost two hours of thinking, the cold stone bench wasn't that welcoming and he decided finally go to bed. Why would she arrive now, the most introspective day of all?
He made the same routine since Hashirama arrived without her, staying outside the room a couple of minutes listening for someone inside, this time was no different from before.
Tobirama slipped into the room in silence and released the breath he was holding, not today it seems.
The impossible big white wolf stayed guarding Mito since her depart, the room was totally empty.
He opened the bathroom wood door to prepare himself a hot bath and all his body clenched when he received the heat and… that smell.
-o-
Konoha (that midnight)
When she reached the town it was far past bed time. It was strange to come back to a place where everything was so passive. Sometimes she wished she could submerge herself in the shadow of Kokuyo and disappear forever as a person. As Kokuyo all was more simple. He had an objective to fulfil;, men to command, plans to realize. All the stupid protocols weren't necessary and he wasn't defined for what was in his pants. A short, adventurous and bloody life.
Why did she came back here then?
**Her father's hands trembling, the fire, a couch in his office**
Ah… She made a promise to her father, that's why she was a wife.
She set her horse in the stables and went to their shared room as Kokuyo, climbing walls hidden by the shadows so none of the servants she didn't controle could notice her absence from the central compound. When she reached the paper window she let herself feel the wind on her face one last time. This freedom was no easily earned, she will enjoy it until the last second.
The room was empty, at least the bed.
Moonlight was reflected against the white sheets and walls, creating a strange aura of loneliness. She opened the wardrobe, looked her reflection in the full sized mirror and threw herself on the soft bed. It was someone else's room, it wasn't her home.
Even if half the clothes in the wardrobe were made for her, the boudoir held her perfumes and the desk was full of her papers, the sheets and the dresses held someone else's aroma. Him.
She needed a bath and sleep.
-o-
Tobirama's Bathroom
The water was calm with the light of a single candle and the moonlight that seeping through the small windows. She was facing the contrary wall, her scruff lied on the edge of the bathtub embedded in the floor, hair spread through the wood floor and body submerged till her chest.
He couldn't move, think or talk, just stare. She heard him entering since she moved her head aside, her lips moved but he didn't hear. Now he could see her profile, small nose and high cheeks…
"Tobirama!"
She was looking at him now, one arm out of the water resting on the edge of the bath, her eyes glaring at him head to toes.
"I'll be ready in a minute, can you wait in the room or do I have audience?"
Her acid comment made him touch ground again. She was his wife because of an intel arrangement and she didn't want him at all. He said nothing, closed the door and let rejection and anger pour out to build his wall with them.
He opened the window and sat on the porch, soft breeze blowing leafs and flower buds. It was refreshing against his skin and helped to empty his mind. Five minutes later he heard the wood door, the towel slipping to the floor, the touch of clothes and the brush on her hair. It was maddening.
He rose up and walked long steps towards the bathroom. He looked at her with askance while she combed her hair and closed the door softly, trying to hide his anger.
The bathtub was still full and he wanted to scream and destroy the room. The entire damn thing smelled like her now!
He collected himself, went to the service door and called for someone. Two maids laboured in silence while he waited outside in the service area. He wouldn't go back to the room while she was awake. When they finished cleaning he came back. The bathroom was steam free and the tub was full with hot water.
Tobirama quickly disrobed and plunged his body in the clean water hoping that the heat would unclench his tense muscles, but it seemed the maids thought he was in a hurry and didn't clean it completely since the smell of shampoo and bath oils from the previous bath were still impregnated in the wood tub, hence, his new clean water.
This must be the so called karma.
He had two options: the first was to get out and reprove the maids for an incomplete job and wait again for them to redo the full job, earning a bad reputation with the staff in the process and questions about his marriage status, or the second: stay and enjoy the hot water and the subtlety of her smell.
His brain screamed the first, it was just the right thing to do. If he was kind enough maybe the maids wouldn't get annoyed at all. His body by now was enjoying the second. His arms laid on the edge while all his body was submerged, muscles already submitting to temperature, senses submitting to stimulation.
He chose the second.
He had been denying himself anything aside village administration and wellness for a long time because he didn't care about the other aspects of his life aside from job, body and mind but that was because he had never wanted anything outside that group of things. Now, life circumstances had allowed him to explore something his brother had tried to push in him multiple times but it always became subjective and too complicated and he just didn't want to think about it anymore, maybe he just wanted to feel.
And so he did.
He rarely did this kind of thing, just when it was strictly necessary and his body hurt from negligence. However, this time he allowed his hands to wonder, remembering the soft clinical touch Makoto gave him a couple of weeks ago. Adding some of what he would have liked her to do, to touch, he let his fingertips travel down his pectorals. Soft, almost not touching the skin, placing them over his nipples, squeezing them a little, allowing himself to let out a subtle sigh just to travel down the water with the same softness to the skin of his abs. He could feel his pulse growing. The veins on his lower abdomen now visible, dilating to allow more blood to flow through. He had felt the first pulse of arousal when he opened the bathroom door and the steam rich with her smell hit him. He felt himself growing hard at the sight of her in the bathtub, naked under the moonlight like waiting for him after a long absence...
He could work with that.
He continued going down, touching his hardening length lightly- feeling the torturous way of the veins there, denying himself the direct pleasure of touching the most sensitive part, as she would do, slowly teasing his skin but not his head, touching the inner portion of his thighs. Slowly first, squeezing or scratching a little. In his mind's eye she was between his legs nibling him softly. He missed her hot breath on his skin. How wonderful would that feel by the sensitive skin of his cock, how those small lips would kiss his length until the base just to feel her hot tongue all the way up until the pink head, sucking it lightly at first... He hissed low. His cock was nearly untouched but his imagination had plenty of material and it was resulting very easy to work himself hot and needy. His cock was fully erect, throbbing against his lower abdomen, grazing the uncircumcised tip gently with each pulse of his hearth. He couldn't deny himself any longer. He touched it, tentatively, like she would do. He cursed silently for his inability to replicate the lubricating feeling of saliva since he was under water, so he squeezed his tip harder, imaging a small mouth sucking it. He trembled while keeping the sound minimal, traveling down with the same pressure till the base and then touching the soft sack of skin retracted against his hard member and then came back till the head in the same way. He squeezed the head a little harder, one thumb near the riddle and the other hand working his length. First softly, but he was so hard he needed quick release (it had been a while since he did this the last time). He pumped harder because there wasn't enough friction, imaging her head bobbing up and down. He could feel it now, the pull in his low gut and balls. He arched his back and panted hard using his legs for support while he pumped his cock faster with one hand, massaging his balls with the other. His hips jerking up just by reflex, thinking of her in his mind's eye, wishing to be inside of her- her walls instead his hands, her juices instead of water, her mouth silencing his pant and her skin close enough to smell her directly and not just a poor residual smell.
He came in the water trying his best to silence the growl he emitted, half arousal half frustration.
Shame was the first thing he felt after the orgasm washed off. God doom him, she was in the other room! Just 5 meters and a wood wall separated them. Even if she didn't hear him he had to sleep beside her pretending he didn't just touch himself thinking of how pretty her face would look between his legs or how those small plump lips would feel against his member. How was he supposed to look her in the face again?
Since there was no answer he put his thoughts aside, finished cleaning himself and listened through the door just to make sure she was asleep. She wasn't.
He washed his face again and put the best poker face he could, like always, just this time he did have something to hide. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and all he could see was a hypocrite. A man who could not confront his partner with the truth. But what truth? He didn't think he loved her. It was just desire, lust. There was no interest or care (at least on his side) he could admit to hold. It was just that she was undeniably beautiful and desirable and he was a healthy young man. Yes, that was all.
He told himself it was totally normal and that she didn't need to know any of it. He dressed in his nightgown, dried his hair from dripping water and went to the room normally, just not looking in her general direction.
She was reading intel reports on her bedside, in her nightgown too, supporting her body weight on her right side, giving her back to him. Her head held by her right arm. It was just a normal pose for reading -that allowed him to value the ample curve of her hip and the roundness of her gluteus. The light of the candles on her nightstand gave the best shadow to perfectly guess what was under the thin summer nightgown. He just got more material for his wicked mind's eye.