Author: Amaya
Characters/Pairings: [Shisui x Sakura]; mentions of [Genma x Sakura] and other minor Sakura-centric pairings.
Categories: Romance, Drama, Action
Rating: Mature/Explicit [See Warnings Below]
Warnings: This story contains strong language, depictions of violence and mature sexual content, including, but not limited to: breath play, superior/subordinate kinks, rough body play, power kinks and so on. You have been warned.

Full Summary: As the most elite of the elite shinobi to ever grace the village, Anbu operatives were easily some of the most frightening and striking characters one could come across. The way they protected the village while cloaked in shadows, appearing like some God-appointed deities when they were needed most and forgoing honor in exchange for anonymity—was as seductive as one could get. But to Sakura, the real allure lied in the deceptive red smiles painted on their masks, and in figuring out who was behind them. ["Don't start things you can't finish, Haruno."]

Author's Note

Hello again, everyone!

I'm back again with the long awaited chapter sixteen. You guys already know what's about to happen, so I'm not going to post a warning or anything. Anybody who reports this chapter: your mom's a ho. That's all I have to say.

So with that being said, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Sixteen

Shisui didn't like to think himself the selfish type—at least, not since his Genin days.

Years of bloodshed and covert atrocities should have made him a little more greedy with his wants, as it did with most of his colleagues, but it only made him all the more appreciative of what he had, made him want to live in the moment rather than seek out something more. That said, having spent so many years in Anbu, traveling to so many beautiful places and seeing millions of brilliant sunsets, the splendor of the world had lost its charm. What was once a hundred shades of sky, became five types of blue and two types of red, with overbearing charcoal undertones.

And he was okay with that.

But as he felt Haruno—no, Sakura, he corrected—tremble against him, her knuckles draining of their color and her breath morphing into a heady moan, Shisui wanted nothing more than to taste and devour and feel every bit of her. Right here—on the counter, against the wall, in every room of her fucking apartment, make it so every inch of her home made her think of him.

And only him.

Sakura released the straps of his vest, opting to trace the length of fabric from his shoulders down to his chest. Her touch was sure, teasing, practiced as she impishly thumbed the cinches to his armor, so he rewarded her teasing with an encouraging nip to the clavicle. There was a heat beneath her fingertips, a soft, minty kind that just barely breached the surface of his skin and evoked memories of the last time he felt it.

Memories of her chakra washing along his muscles, kneading, while she leaned back and smirked at him.

Of her nails raking against his back, her knuckles rolling against his skin.

Of her bent over that table in T&I.

Of her fingers leaving near-invisible indentations in the steel, with that sparkling fire in her gaze.

The recollection alone made his cock throb, demanding to be let free. He adjusted his growing erection, guiding the clothed head to press roughly into the heat between her legs and—oh fuck, she was already wet.

Sakura's chakra leaked into his chest with a searing languor that slackened his spine and licked at the arousal burning in his sternum, and before he could swallow it, Shisui moaned into her neck. There was a stutter in her chakra at the sound, a minuscule lapse in the soothing swirls of her caress that nearly devastated him. Humming appreciatively, Shisui smoothed his gloved palms up and down her thighs, gripping, tangling his fingers into the fabric of her shorts, then skimmed along the waistband. His fingers dipped beneath them, feeling for her panty line but finding none.

He tensed against her, hips rolling into hers approvingly. "You want me to fuck you that bad, Jonin Haruno?" Shisui groaned into her throat, sure to rut against her again, his digits teasing her waistband, grinding as roughly as he could.

With one meaningful click, the weight of his armor abruptly disappeared from his shoulders and fell into a haphazard pile around his feet, leaving him in the black under-armor top he had changed into. Her nails combed through his curls then, starting from the side of his ear and ending at the nape, where she drew circles into his skin and pulsed chakra directly into his spine.

"Yes, Taichou," She husked.

At her admission, Shisui grinned. He lowered his mask back into place, took a step back, and loosened the knot to his pants.

"Prove it."

Kamen

There was something in Okami-taichou's timbre, low and husky as it was—a certain inflection that burrowed into her skin and gripped her soul, intoxicating her to the point of breathlessness. It taunted the already infuriated fire that smoldered below her navel and did things to her that Sakura never thought a man's voice ever could.

She slipped off of the counter, expressly mindful in keeping their gazes locked even as she lowered to her knees. She drew her palms down the Anbu Captain's chest, grazing her nails against his nipples like she knew he'd like, and down his abdomen, below his navel, until there was nowhere left for her to go.

She pressed meaningful kisses to the bulge that overlooked her, canting her head so she could test the width of his member with an open mouthed kiss. Okami hummed, his hand moving to card through her hair in a way that was all affection; then he traced the cut of her jaw to the seam of her lips. His thumb lingered, pressing gently on her lower lip until they parted, but he did little more than graze the edge of her teeth in silent praise.

Ignoring the excited thundering of her heartbeat, Sakura dipped her fingers into the waistband of his pants, teasing the lines of his hips with a whisper of chakra, then pulled until his cock sprang free. The sight of him, hard and thick and beading with arousal just for her, made Sakura's chest hollow—sent another degree of heat through her, dribbling into her wingbones in a way that made her melt. Okami peered down at her, caliginous eyes bright with anticipation and free hand coming to encircle his manhood. He stroked the length of his arousal once, twice, then positioned its head against her lips.

Sakura drew circles on his pelvis, her touch firm with warning and her gaze sharp but her tongue extended in invitation. Then, she slowly encircled him, one finger at a time, so gently that the muscles in Okami's abdomen rippled. She idly slid her thumb along the tip, smearing the sheen of pre-cum as it wept from him, then traced the thick vein that wound beneath his length—all while he sat on the tip of her tongue.

And oh fuck did he taste good.

Okami shifted on his feet, his breath stalling and his fingers twitching against her scalp in response to her tortuously gentle touch. He gripped the base of his shaft and stroked himself with short but quick pumps—just enough to make up for Sakura's teasing. And she allowed it.

For now.

With one last glance at the mask wolfishly grinning down at her, Sakura summoned chakra to her fingertips again and took an inch of him into her mouth.

"Oh fuck! "

She started slowly; ghosting the flat of her tongue against his head while her chakra-dusted fingertips glided up his length, then licked at its seam to get another taste of what he had to give. Okami grunted at her teasing pace, the knuckles in her petal locks tightening momentarily before loosening and combing through again.

"A-ah, just like that," Okami whispered blissfully, "Just like that..."

She played with him for a while; eased her mouth over his head the way she would his lips—with tongue and lips and a kittenish suck. She painted her name against the underside of his cock, ran her thumb against the base of him so delicately that his thighs quaked, and it earned Sakura a moan that dripped with so much carnality, she quivered.

And Okami took it with tensing muscles and trembling hands.

Wetting her lips, Sakura shifted on her knees so she could reach lower. She cupped his balls, her lashes fluttering at the aroused hiss Okami emitted, then placed playful kisses to the crease of his thigh, before finally drawing her tongue against the sensitive skin. Okami grunted at the soft touch, his knee jerking slightly; but she didn't stop. She sucked gently, carefully; licking and kissing as high up as the base of his shaft while she dusted her chakra along the overly sensitive seam between them. His abdomen spasmed, body stiffening but then slackening while he pulled on her hair so hard, Sakura jerked back.

His chakra lashed out at her then, curling around her neck and caressing her cheeks, rubbing at the backs of her ears. It felt like lightning, like the flames of a thousand suns and it burned pleasantly down her throat.

His intent was palpable, conveying without words every little thing he wanted to do to her.

And every little thing he wanted her to do to him.

Okami adjusted his hold on her hair, winding their tails around his knuckles for a better grip, but tenderly brushed his palm against her cheeks as if in apology. He tugged again, this time a little less forcefully but with just as much fervor. And he growled, "Do that again."

And she did, with a chuckled, "Yes, Taichou."

The image he made—head dropped back and armor glinting, mask leering over her, his cock in her mouth—sent sharp jolts of molten pleasure raking up and down Sakura's spine. It gave her a different sort of rush that settled sweetly on her tongue and compounded the pressure within her stomach. She wanted to remember him just like this. She wanted to ingrain this image into her memory, wanted to replay his sharp pants and broken moans every single night.

After a few moments of experimental tasting, Sakura went a little lower, taking more of him into her mouth and sealing her lips around his girth, before finally, finally swallowing him to the hilt. Okami choked on a curse at her abrupt shift in movement, his shoulders swaying and his free hand moving to card through his own hair.

"That's it," He cooed, guiding his hips into a shallow thrust. "All the way in…good girl."

Hunger breathed kisses down her spine then, beginning at her tailbone and traveling sinfully slow to the edge of her hairline. Sakura didn't wait for him to adjust, vigorously bobbing, taking him with a ferocity that had Okami breathless. Not that he seemed to mind. His hand began piloting her now, pulling her closer as he carefully quickened the infliction of his hips. She alternated between slow, deliberate licks to the side of his cock and rapid, hollow-cheeked sucks, loosely twisting her hand around whatever her mouth didn't reach. And every now and then, when she was feeling generous, she let more of her chakra trickle out, making the masked man groan and buck into her with a vengeance.

And she loved it.

She loved how tentative he was in his roughness, how he soothed her with his filthy promises when he yanked on her hair too aggressively, and rubbed that spot at the back of her neck. He didn't treat her as if she would break under his touch, nor did he act as if she were made of Kōton steel. He handled her like she was a fucking woman.

And really, that was all she ever wanted.

"Ah—almost," He panted, latching almost painfully to her hair. His spine curved back, muscles stiff with the lackadaisical approach of his growing orgasm. Feeling the heat of her own arousal draining into the space between her thighs, Sakura shifted, squeezing her thighs together in a desperate attempt at easing the friction but it hardly worked. She traced the arc of her thigh with a touch that was barely there, brushing against the edge of her lower lips with a moan, imagining hands a little rougher than her own.

Then when she felt his muscles grow taut beneath her hands, Sakura pulled back completely, smirking as Okami's hips chased after her in one last vain thrust. His breathing was labored, barely disguising his low, "Ah fuck," while his cock, bridged to her mouth with a fragile line of saliva, pulsed in her hand. She held him, slowly rotating her wrist as she lazily pumped his slick manhood, teasing the engorged tip with a glowing green finger—watching as he writhed against her.

But he didn't let her get away with that.

Okami yanked down on her hair this time, sharply, and held her in that position until she whimpered—a reprimand. And God did it make her ache. "Open," He commanded, the husk of his intonation seething with a crumpled version of restraint. Sakura opened her mouth immediately, tongue extended despite the discomfort in her neck at the obtuse angle he kept her. She tasted him, salt and skin with a bitter aftertaste, as he drug his shaft back and forth over her tongue, not quite slipping back inside, but foreshadowing the act. It riled her up all the same.

"You think you're real cute, don't you?" Okami growled, drawing back to form another bridge between them. "Don't you?" A sound reminiscent of a huff left Sakura's throat as it snapped, dripping down her chin, accompanied by a glint of mischief in her eye as she peered up at him. The shadows on his mask morphed, transforming its grin into something a little more dangerous. He clicked his tongue, chuckling, as if hearing the snarky remark on the tip of her tongue. "I hope you're comfortable, because I'm about to make sure you never forget the taste of my cock."

Sakura's stomach billowed at the ground out promise, and before she could really prepare herself, she felt him hit the back of her throat.

The surprised sound that left her chest was strangled, morphing into a string of broken moans as Okami continued driving into her mouth. He was rough with her—merciless, almost—using her with a reckless ferocity that came with months of agitation and salacity and by the Gods, it was dirty. But knowing that she had so much power over him, that he had so much pent up carnality for her was equally as sexy as it was perverse.

"You like this, don't you Jonin Haruno?" Okami bit out, sliding back so she could breathe, shivering at the sight of the silvery watermark his cock left behind. His hand released her hair for a moment, coming to caress her cheek. His thumb bypassed her wet lips to spread his come over her tongue while he stroked himself, sure to tap the head of his shaft against her in mirth before sliding back into her dripping mouth. "Getting on my nerves? Sitting on your knees with my cock in your mouth? You look so pretty like this."

She could see the muscles in his jaw twitch as he spoke through gritted teeth, could taste the unfiltered need in his next thrusts, which only added to the fervid mood. She wanted it—his want, his attention, his need—all for herself. To keep it pressed against her chest and knotted around her fingers, right where he belonged. Sakura hummed her affirmation, whinging as her nose pressed against his pelvis; he held her there for a long moment, sighing in unfiltered pleasure as her throat constricted around him, before pulling back and doing it again. Each rut of his hips filled her cheeks with more and more of him, gradually coloring her lips with an opaque white that clung to her like sugar while his satisfied pants filled the room. And she encouraged it by digging her nails into his haunches.

After one particularly rough snap of his hips, Sakura's nails bit into his skin sharply, then she hurriedly tapped his thigh twice. Noticing, Okami pulled back, brushing away the building haze that speckled her vision, and raked his nails though her hair placatingly. "Give me a color," She heard him say, his voice almost soft despite its stridency.

Sakura sucked in a breath at the reprieve, chest heaving and tongue darting out to collect the silvery line of fluid spilling over her lower lip. Then, with a dark glimmer in her stare, she breathed out a raspy, "Green."

Kamen

He was hanging on by a thread.

A thread.

Sakura knew what she was doing; he could tell by the way her lips curled and how her cheek twitched. She was driving him wild, taking him so well that he struggled against his barest instincts. And the way she used her chakra to guide him towards the perimeter of his orgasm, so that his stomach dropped and his chest lifted—it was beyond anything he had ever felt before.

"Turn around," Shisui commanded, pulling the rosette to her feet and spinning her so her back was to his chest. He trapped her hips against the counter, his hands reaching, hungrily grasping for every inch of her that they could. He mapped the curves of her waist, blunt nails digging into the soft flesh, and then traveled back up to squeeze her breasts.

"You like being a little brat, don't you?" He asked again, positioning his member between her thighs. "You like the way I taste."

Feeling his thick tip pushing against the inside of her shorts killed the sarcasm on the edge of her tongue, sending Sakura's heart into a holler and pouring oil onto the flames of her arousal. She was so, so wet; she could feel it with every movement she made, sticking to the insides of her thighs, threatening to dribble down her legs. One of his hands snaked up her chest, settling lightly around the column of her neck. Sakura let out a soft exhale, tilting her head back so it could rest comfortably against his collarbone as a sign of approval.

"Tell me when it's too much," He purred into her ear, the porcelain of his mask nuzzling into her cheek.

His grip tightened, putting light pressure on the sides of her neck, squeezing until her vision began to dance with constellations. She followed the colors that washed her vision, jolting when his other hand slipped under her shirt, where he plucked at her rosy nipples until they pebbled. He feathered the underside of her breasts, evoking a meadow of goosebumps along her arms, then kneaded her soft mounds until his fingerprints remained. Paired with the lack of air and the stiff manhood gliding between her thighs, it made Sakura's back bow, made her lungs constrict and her haze morph into a delirium of watercolor.

She placed one of her hands over his own, encouraging him to grip her breast tighter and show him how she wanted to be touched, while the other edged down towards her shorts. Shisui adjusted his position so she could bypass the elastic, biting back a rumble of approval when he imagined the picture they made. He could hear the movements of her own fingers and the stutter in her breathing as she touched herself, could smell the distinct musk that was all her. And oh, was it intoxicating.

Shisui slackened his hold on her neck when she tapped his groping hand, but kept his fingers in place. Sakura sucked in a breath, fighting to stay standing as dopamine rushed to her head all at once. "Is this how you imagine it happening in your dreams, Haruno?"

The quiet, dazed "Yes," that responded, made Shisui chuckle.

"Do you touch yourself when you think of me?" She didn't respond, but the hint of color to her cheeks was all the answer he needed. "I told you I wanted to hear you," He chastised, rolling her peaking bud between his proximal knuckles. He pinched them, twisted until she arched back, until she cried out his rank.

And suddenly, it wasn't enough.

Shisui hurriedly turned his mask to the side. He tugged on the cords for his bracers and let them fall to the ground with a deafening clatter, then kicked them away along with his vest. His gloves came off next, pulled off by his teeth and abandoned just as unceremoniously. He moved quickly, forcing her down with a hand between her shoulder blades and nudging her legs apart with a knee, because any slower and he would go absolutely feral.

He didn't even take his time in removing her little shorts, purposefully caressing the curvature of her rear with his nails, leaving scarlet scratches in his wake. He followed the scrap of fabric all the way down her legs, helping her step out of them and then tossing them aside. Then Shisui knelt behind her.

The light brush of his digits against her slick folds made Sakura jolt. She gasped, moving closer to the counter and closing her knees instinctively but Shisui would have none of that. He traced her slit with experienced movements, just skimming the divot of her lower lips. He didn't put any pressure, didn't even enter her, and yet the tips of his fingers glistened with her excitement.

"Kami you're so wet for me," Shisui murmured, almost in awe at the sounds that accompanied the dip of his fingers. He spread her lips apart, taunting her womanhood with his warm breath and admiring the rosy pink flesh that glistened before him. It made the rosette whimper, made her torso shake and her lashes flutter. She was absolutely dripping.

Sakura felt her cheeks flare with fluster at the position they were in, both self-conscious and turned on at being so blatantly displayed to him. The weight of his gaze was almost oppressive, making her belly undulate and her nerves prick, but not unkindly.

And then he leaned forward.

He kissed her the way he'd kiss her mouth, with a gentleness that Sakura didn't expect given his previous rush but made her keen regardless. The flat of his tongue ghosted along the outside of her dewy folds, just barely sweeping along the inside. And it was that wickedness that made the earth crumble beneath her very feet.

"Oh Kami," Sakura cried out. She pressed her body against the counter, taking in the surprisingly icy bite of its surface and hoping it would do something to contain her growing wildfire. There was lightning in his touch—an electrifying spark that kissed her in the moment before actually touching her. She had felt it before, in his chakra when he fought, and earlier when he touched her, giving her a snippet of a clue as to who he could've been.

But she didn't want to think about that now.

Shisui encased her swollen clit with his lips, sucking and flicking with the tip of his tongue. Then he pulled back. Took in the slick sheen of ecstasy that caught the light. He licked his lips. "You taste so good, Jonin Haruno," He praised, rubbing her with his fingers now. And the raw desire in his voice was devastating. "I could eat you all night." He slipped his longest finger in, watching with blazing red eyes as he disappeared into her.

She took him to the knuckle, clinging to him in a prelude of what was to come. When he pulled back, the crystalline threads of her arousal clung to his skin, tearing an almost agonized moan from Shisui's throat. He couldn't wait much longer, but he had to. With a quick but powerful rhythm, Shisui stroked her from the inside. He curled his finger, twisting his wrist with each push and pull, massaging the roof of her velvety walls before adding a second. The resistance was faint, her inner muscles straining to keep him sheathed rather than evict him, and only tightened further when he sucked her into his mouth again.

"Oh yes," Sakura mewled, her hips jerking away from Shisui's mouth, then back against it out of instinct. Her chakra thrummed at the contact, simmering and interlacing with the ecstatic heat of her arousal, all the way up into her sternum in a way that smothered her. "Just like that...do—" Her pitch lifted when he swirled his tongue around her pearl. "—on't stop!"

Shisui huffed amusedly at her demand, abruptly curling his fingers within her slick heat. Impishly, he drew the characters of his name between her folds—last name and all—then withdrew his fingers to trace the length of her womanhood. His free hand, which had previously been wrapped around his shaft, settled on her ass; he dug into the muscled flesh, nipped at it with a soft sigh before sucking violets along the back of her thigh. Then he devoured her again, slurping loudly as he drank in her spilled juices, licking sloppily at her pearly clit.

Sakura gyrated her hips, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow and tugging at her own hair in a bid to frustration when he slipped his tongue inside, then rose onto her toes when his fingers delved back in. Her skin tingled, icy at first but then scalding after. Her muscles twitched, her knees locked.

She was so close.

Feeling this, Shisui summoned his chakra with a mischievous simper, his long lashes fluttering as electricity surged through his chest. It pulsed in his chest, traveling down his arms and into his fingers. Sakura let out a surprised shriek, tossing her head back as unfiltered ecstasy shot through the fissures of her spine. It could have been painful, but that shock was so tender, so minute that it showered her in goosebumps and stalled her lungs, reverberating through her so incredibly slowly, that it sparked those last few glowing embers.

And she came.

It was torrential. Chaotic. Explosive.

And she wanted it again.

She set her forehead against the counter, trying to refill her chest with air only to slam her fist onto its surface when his chakra lashed at her again. He did it again and again, returning his right hand to his cock to ease the pain that rippled through him and hungrily drinking as much of her juices as possible.

"Are you going to come for me? Again?" Shisui asked when she clenched around his fingers. He increased the speed of his thrusts, drew circles around her jewel, basking in the beautiful sounds she made.

He heard a small huff of a laugh, one that was sharp and full of fight. He could imagine the slash of a smirk upon her face, the narrowed grin, the dare in her eyes. And when she rolled her hips, Shisui sunk the edge of his teeth into his lip. "Not until you fuck me."

At her challenge, Shisui's world lost its color. All the whites and greens of her apartment faded away, devoured instead by the brilliant vermilion of his Sharingan. Hearing the desperation concentrated in her voice made Shisui's cock throb, made his entire being spark. He withdrew from her heat, rasping out a rough, "Come here," as he positioned her higher onto the counter.

The bottle of sake, which had been orphaned for so long, shattered upon impact with the floor, along with the little dish and whatever other items that had been there. But Shisui didn't care. And judging by the way Sakura all but tore her shirt away, pushing back against him, she didn't either. He gripped the incurve of her waist, signing claret smudges against her flushed skin; then he plunged into her in one deliciously slow thrust, biting down on the moan that tore through him. She was so wet, it was unnecessary, but he wanted to savor the pulsation of her walls—wanted to burn the way it felt when she stretched around him into his memory. He wanted to feel every inch of her for as long as fucking possible.

And oh fuck did she feel amazing.

Beneath him, Sakura let out a keening moan. It started off low, husky, but with each inch of him that she took, it morphed into something high and shattering. He was so thick, so, so hot, that he seared her from the inside out. He felt like thunderstorms in summer, suffocating and booming, with a foreboding sense of excitement that made her lightheaded. "A-ah…!"

Shisui grit his teeth, desperately fighting the urge to just pound into her. He felt her tighten around him, pulling him in deeper yet also pushing him out, evoking another equally deep moan from his lips. "That's it—just a little more. You can take it."

His encouragement made her clamp, fully encasing him to the point that it ripped all the breath from his lungs. Shisui shuddered, collected his breath, then delved that last few inches until he was buried to the hilt. And his Sharingan memorized as she took every single inch.

Sakura reached back for him, wrapping her slender fingers around his wrists so tightly, that crescents engraved into his skin, keeping his hands in place against her waist. Then, she threw her hips back.

"Oh Ka—fuck Sakura!"

He took that as her "go ahead ", pulling back and snapping forward with all the strength that he had, abandoning all reservations he had about being patient. The pace he set was strong and fast, gradually forcing her higher and higher onto the counter, but she kept up well enough. He freed his hands from Sakura's grip with minor difficulty, smoothing them up and down her back, filing away every tiny, near-invisible scar that riddled her back until he found one larger than the rest. It went through her left side, silvery in color but slightly raised, the width of a sword. It made him recall the stories of her fight against Sunagakure's most infamous nukenin, and just imagining the carnage in her wake made him snarl.

Sakura's pace faltered at the surprisingly weightless touch, her moans sharpening into a gasp and her body stiffening. He leaned over her, worshiping her back with nips and wet licks, carved his nails into her skin, trailing further upwards until he reached the mark engraved into the blade of her right shoulder. He nipped at it, teeth grazing the scar just as he always imagined he would, slid his hands from her waist to her belly, then back up. Then he drew his thumb over it, tracing from tapered end to end, smoothing over the raised bit of flesh, before covering it with his palm.

He grasped her shoulder for purchase, using it as leverage to pound into her, to hit that spot inside of her that made her scream.

And then she was swearing, her sweat-drenched body quaking almost violently as she came around him. Shisui yanked her up, pulled her against him with a hand around her throat as he continued to sheathe himself into her, even as she clutched at his shirt—even as she slumped tiredly against him with whole galaxies in her vision.

He slowed his hips just as the tickle of his orgasm appeared, taking deep, steadying breaths to keep the crest of his climax at bay because as amazing as she felt, he wasn't ready to stop. Against him, Sakura hummed in thanks as she too attempted to catch her breaths. With his face nuzzled into her neck, Shisui could feel her pulse racing against his temple, noting how it quickened with each slow rut of his hips. He waited patiently for her to recover, content with the languid pace he had set until the spidery threads of his orgasm faded away.

Pulling out, he grazed his teeth against the base of her neck, her jaw, the lobe of her ear. "Get on the counter."

Kamen

In the moment that she blinked, Sakura found herself cloaked in darkness.

The lights had been flicked off, leaving her with only the hardly-there slivers of moonlight that filtered through the kitchen window. She heard the rustle of clothing, the dull thump of Okami's shirt hitting the floor, and then she felt a warmth that radiated from naked skin. But he was so hot. His skin, even while drenched in sweat, radiated with a buzzing sort of heat that could only be caused by a fiery chakra. But she didn't want to think about that. She just wanted to feel.

She hopped onto the counter quickly, laying back with glazed eyes, settling as comfortably as she could on such a hard surface. Then, upon feeling the tip of her captain's cock nudging her inner thighs, she smiled.

She couldn't see much of him. Just his outline as he loomed over her. She could see the unruly curls of his hair jutting out and the points of his mask's ears, the curves of his broad shoulders. If she squinted and focused well enough, Sakura was sure she could make out more distinct features of the man before her.

But she didn't want to. She liked this—the anonymity, the mystery.

Shisui sunk into her with a grunt, then settled over her with his chest flushed with hers. He hooked his arms beneath her knees, hitching them high up towards her chest so the head of his cock could reach deep into her.

"You're such a good girl," He purred into her clavicle, nipping playfully. "So good." He began thrusting into her again, slowly but powerfully. He brought his lips and teeth and tongue everywhere he could reach, relishing in the near-frustrated groans of his lover as she writhed beneath him. He took a nipple between his teeth, biting down just enough for her to whimper, then licking away the pain while his hand latched around her neck again.

Sakura arched up into Shisui's chest, her hands raking down his back as he nicked that bundle of nerves almost immediately. He added pressure to the sides of her neck, conjuring nonsensical shapes and colors to her vision once again while rolling her clit with lightning in his touch.

"T-taichou," Sakura began with a gasp. Her brows knitted and her nose scrunched. "Too much. It's too much."

"One more," He panted, adjusting his grip around her throat. "You can do it. One more for me."

Sakura bit down on her fingers, blinking back the tears that formed at the corners of her eyelids. Her hips lifted off the tile, flinching away but having nowhere to go as Shisui's thumb rolled at her overstimulated clit. It was so good, too good—it hurt. She tapped on his hand, "Yellow!"

Hearing her shout, Shisui immediately pulled his hand away with a curse, pulling out as well. Sakura's arms dropped from his shoulders, with one draping over her eyes and the other slack above her head. The rise and fall of her chest was as erratic as her heartbeat, matching his own almost to the second. And even though he had escaped her heat, Shisui could still feel her spasming around him, begging, reigniting the seemingly undying hunger that smoldered within him.

"What do you need?" He managed to ask, wiping the sweat on his brow with his bicep.

"A minute," She replied. "Just a minute."

He counted the moments, content with the way it felt to just rest his brow on Sakura's knee, before finally rising onto his elbows. It was dark still, the light of morning still far off, so he couldn't see the result of their romance, but he could picture it clearly. He couldn't wait to see her later, in the daylight, all shades of blue and red and purple. Her skin would retain the color well.

Without really thinking of it, Shisui began massaging her pelvis, pulsing his chakra in a way similar to how she did with him.

He was tentative at first, his confidence in the healing arts far less blatant than anything else, but he increased pressure when the medic purred beneath him. When she hummed in content, he lowered his head to take one of her tender nipples between his lips, sucking and twisting almost lazily. Shisui trailed his tongue between the valley of her breasts, up her neck to the crest of her chin, while his fingers tweaked at her nipples until she squirmed. Then he licked at the underside of her breast, just like he learned she liked.

And he did this until he felt her hands travel up his torso. He closed his eyes, savoring the faint scraping of her nails on his skin, when her fingers suddenly latched onto the pendant around his neck. Sakura smiled at the growl of warning the Anbu member made, the edge of a tooth sinking into her lower lip in a way that strained his chest, and then she pulled, leading Shisui back over her body.

He allowed it with a dark chuckle.

Kamen

Shisui felt like he was falling.

He was on the ledge of a cliff, a thousand feet high, his heels dangling precariously off the edge. And then he was falling. The sky swallowed him, air entangling with his form as he went limp. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak.

There was only pleasure. Adrenaline. Sakura's walls fluttering around him.

They'd been at it for over an hour, moving from position to position with a telepathy that came with so much experience.

His heart fell with him, constricting in a way that could have been painful in any other context while his stomach undulated with mirth. He wet his lips, watching as the Hokage's apprentice swallowed him; he was going to come.

He was going to come.

His orgasm crashed into him with a broken snarl, his body stalling against her as he filled her with rope after rope of his seed. Her walls fluttered around him in one last wave of pleasure, squeezing him deliciously to the point of shivering.

Shisui gripped the counter on either side of Sakura's form, bending forward so he could stretch out the muscles in his aching back. His whole body burned with pain and pleasure, having delayed his orgasm three times now, and he could feel the inflamed lines Sakura had cut into his skin, stretching and itching with each movement that he made. But he didn't mind it one bit.

Because they were a gift from her.

And because her skin was just as ruined to match.

"Give me a color," He said after a while, nipping just below her navel.

Sakura hummed, sliding her hands through his wild hair and tugging lightly, impishly. "Green."

"Good," He said, trailing his fingers down her chest. He settled between her legs, hiking them over his shoulders. His eyes, transiently glowing a shade of scarlet, flickered up, darkening to flint just as Sakura's eyes shot open. He yanked her to the edge of the counter with a roughness that made her thighs clench. "Because I'm not done with you, yet.

Author's Note

Well? Was it everything you expected? Was it worth the long, sixteen chapter wait? I hope so, because this is where the story begins.

There's a storm brewing, and I hope you all have your umbrellas.

Sorry for taking so long to post it. You know how it gets with work and all. I had so many ideas for this chapter and just kept writing and cutting; if I didn't, this chapter would've ended up almost 15,000 words! I hope you don't mind it being a bit short. I still put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this chapter, though. I honestly spent two days straight, as in spending no more than 3 hours (spaced out) asleep to finish this.

So it lived up to expectations.

On another note, my friend Dijayeah (the author for Stains On A Name) and I started a discord! It's a ShiSaku server, but all pairings (especially Sakura-centric ones) are welcome! So if you want to get ideas or advice for your own fics, rant, chat, discuss fanfics and more, come join us! Let me know, and I'll send you the link to join!

Anyway, that's all for now. As always, I love and appreciate each and every one of you. Stay safe everyone!

Amaya