This was not how it was supposed to be.
Being named prima ballerina should have been the ultimate validation. It was supposed to resolve her internal conflict and quell her self-doubt, but now more than ever Sarada felt like she had to prove her worthiness. To her colleagues and to herself.
She wanted to say she was up for the challenge, that she would continue to work hard and gain everyone's respect, but how could she when the task of getting out of bed alone felt so daunting?
After leaving the studio, Sarada stayed curled up on the couch all weekend, trying to keep her tears at bay. Her own intrusive thoughts coupled with the sounds of her colleagues' cruel laughter echoed in her mind, leaving her desperate for comfort.
Comfort she could only seem to find in food.
Twice that weekend she had found herself stalking over to Thunder Burger in the dead of night, buying unspeakable amounts of food that would just later end up being thrown up. It was a vicious cycle that continued to make her feel worse and worse like she was spiraling out of control.
But prima ballerinas aren't supposed to lose control like that.
After all that she had done, Sarada felt much too gross and shameful to call Boruto. Though she concluded it was for the best. If she were to put a stop to these rumors, she really ought to distance herself from him.
He probably won't even notice anyway. Guys like him have plenty of friends.
After an endless mental debate, Sarada dragged herself out of bed and down the street to her favorite coffee shop. She was eager to get some caffeine in her system. Despite how much she slept that weekend, she was exhausted.
Dark eyes wandered around the quaint cafe as she waited in the queue, finding other patrons sitting at the tables, sipping their cappuccinos, or working on their laptops, or chatting with friends. All wearing bright smiles on their faces.
Why was it that everyone else was so much happier than she was?
Sarada squeezed the strap of her duffle tighter as her gaze fell to the geometric tiles on the floor. If being named prima ballerina wasn't enough, what would she have to achieve to finally be happy?
"Good morning, Sarada!" her regular barista greeted as she stepped toward the counter. Was he happy? Or was this perky attitude some kind of customer service strategy for better tips?
"Good morning," she replied, offering him the best smile she could muster.
He exhaled an awkward chuckle as he scratched his cheek. "So, uh I haven't seen that guy with you lately," the brunette lowered his voice before continuing. "Is he like your boyfriend or…?"
Sarada blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the out-of-the-blue question. "Uh…"
Having overheard their exchange, his female coworker scurried over and slapped him upside the head. Apologetically, she then turned to Sarada. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."
The barista grumbled to himself as he rubbed the back of his head and pushed the buttons on the register. "Just an iced coffee, right?"
"He's not."
His eyes flickered up. "What?"
"The guy I was with. He's not my boyfriend, he's just my colleague," Sarada elaborated, confused why that simple fact made a weird discomfort stir in her chest.
But that response seemed to make the brunette barista's whole morning. His smile grew wider as he replied, "Cool. Yeah, no that's cool. I was just curious."
"But yes, just the iced coffee," she confirmed and offered him her credit card. Sarada stepped over to the receiving counter and a few minutes later she was out the door with her coffee in hand.
As she walked, she couldn't help but wonder what would make anyone come to the conclusion that she and Boruto were dating.
Then again, he did stand awfully close to her… Maybe that was something to be mindful of now that she needed to convince her colleagues she didn't trade sexual favors for her promotion.
If the rumors had been about money that would have made sense, her parents were big donors to the company. But sex? The idea that she could seduce anyone was comical. For one, that required confidence that she lacked. And two, Sarada and her sexuality were practically strangers.
The closer she got to the studio the slower Sarada's feet carried her. She anxiously alternated between gulping down her coffee and chewing on her straw as she dreaded the idea of facing her colleagues. What if there were other, even more heinous rumors circulating?
The lies alone were hurtful, but what really twisted the knife was realizing if she was good enough, no one would need to make up reasons to justify her promotion.
But what if she wasn't good enough? What if she didn't deserve the role and Director Uzumaki had made a mistake…?
Sarada exhaled a heavy sigh as she finally found the courage to enter the ballet studio. There were only a few people there, but she still made a beeline for the changing room. As she pulled on a pale pink leotard, she reminded herself the only course of action was to keep her head down and keep working hard.
That was how she had survived this long with the Konoha Ballet Company.
After she slipped on a pair of leg warmers, Sarada snuck out of the changing room. She hid behind her locker door as she stuffed her belongings inside. Trying her best to make herself small and go unnoticed.
Which was obviously a pointless endeavor.
"How was your weekend?" Boruto greeted as he leaned his shoulder against the locker beside hers. She instinctively avoided eye contact and tried to look busy.
"It was fine," Sarada mumbled, swirling the ice in her half-empty coffee before taking a sip.
His gaze followed the movement as the corner of his lips tugged down. "What'd you do?"
"Nothing."
Boruto stepped even closer, forcing her to inhale sharply. "Hmm, see I was hoping you would say you had this crazy, fun whirlwind of a weekend… and that's why you never called."
Oh. Sarada hung her head, unsure how to respond.
Several silent moments passed before he spoke again. "Were you planning to call him?"
Dark eyes finally glanced in his direction, confusion written all over her face. "Who?"
Boruto looked pointedly at her coffee as if that would explain. She curiously turned her cup around, only to discover a phone number written on the side.
"The guy who was falling all over himself to wish you good morning?" he guessed. A shy blush spread across Sarada's cheeks, now understanding why the brunette barista had first asked if she was single. And why he looked so hopeful as he handed her her coffee.
"I…" she began but hesitated when she noticed others observing their exchange. With how close Boruto stood next to her and the flush of her cheeks, she couldn't help but wonder what assumptions were being made about their hushed conversation. "I actually don't think it's any of your business. Please excuse me."
She closed her locker and pushed past him to quietly hurry into the studio. Boruto watched her walk away, frowning at the cold treatment.
Per their new schedule, the Konoha Ballet Company's morning began with technique classes that served as their warm-up, followed by group choreography rehearsals. After they'd break, Sarada and/or Boruto would return after lunch for solo or pair rehearsals depending on the day of the week.
Learning choreography had never been an issue for Sarada. Like her, those who had been in ballet for several years were familiar with most of the classics. But it was her first time as the lead, and the first time Naruto asked her to stand in the front and center of every rehearsal.
She used to be able to learn in the comfort of her familiar corner, assuring herself everyone was too focused on themselves to be critiquing her. But standing in the front, seeing everyone's faces in the reflection of the mirror, made any mistake or misstep feel completely unacceptable.
It didn't matter that, like them, she was still learning the new choreography. Sarada was the prima ballerina, she had to be perfect.
The pressure to present herself as deserving of her role, the stress of memorizing new steps while everyone watched, and the paranoia of more gossip circulating about her continued to mount with each day that passed. The crushing weight of it all had Sarada overeating most nights and subsequently feeling more self-conscious each morning at rehearsal. Her insecurity made her curt and unforgiving, and it was clear that Boruto was annoyed by her shift in behavior.
Their partner work was suffering because of it.
Sarada reflexively tensed each time he placed his hands on her waist, wondering if he noticed how bloated she felt. Boruto however interpreted her stiff resistance much differently and made him second guess himself.
Every time he lifted her, Sarada was filled with anxious thoughts. Was she heavy? How much effort did he have to put in to lift? Were the other guys having an easier time lifting their partners?
She needed to get on the treadmill when she got home. Run off all those extra calories she had been eating.
Did she look heavy? Did it look like Boruto was struggling? Did he wish he had a different, skinnier partner?
She was supposed to look light and graceful! She was supposed to… Sarada's endless mental admonition slowed to a halt when Boruto stumbled and set her down roughly on her feet. Her heart leapt into her throat, taking the simple mistake as confirmation of all her fears.
Boruto tried to explain. "My bad, my grip was—"
"Get it right!" Sarada snapped at him, her voice uncharacteristically loud. "I-I'm not heavy! You're just weak!"
The entire room fell silent at her outburst. Boruto blinked at her in disbelief, shocked for a moment before his features pinched into an irritated scowl. "Yes, ma'am," he retorted sarcastically. "Let's run it again."
"No," she shook her head, desperately resisting the quivering of her bottom lip. She didn't want to cry in front of everyone. "I want to move on."
"Whatever," Boruto scoffed.
After rehearsal concluded, Sarada stood in front of the locker room vanity, inspecting her hair and make-up, pretending not to notice the way Boruto was seething by the door. For all intents and purposes, blocking her exit.
His arms were crossed over his chest as he unabashedly stared at her. And not in the soft, appreciative way he usually observed her — no, he was angry.
The other dancers wished him good night as they slipped out the door, letting it close shut behind them. Eventually, it was only the two of them left and yet Sarada felt like the room was even more suffocating. The air between them was so tense, she could barely inhale a full breath.
Dark eyes stayed fixed on her reflection, wondering how long she could pretend to primp before he would grow bored and leave. Sarada hated confrontation, she hated having people be mad at her, but pushing Boruto away felt like the only option there was to squash the rumors being spread about them.
When it became apparent she had no intention of coming to him, he marched across the locker room to where she stood. When she caught his gaze in the mirror, her panicked heart began racing.
"A word?" He phrased it like a question, and yet it was obvious Boruto didn't plan to leave until they talked.
With an anxious swallow, Sarada mustered up the strength to turn around and face him. He planted his hand on the vanity counter and got straight to the point.
"I will not tolerate you talking to me like that." He didn't have to specify, they both knew what he was referring to. "If you have a criticism about my dancing, I'm all ears, but don't snap at me in the middle of rehearsal like I'm bringing you down."
She couldn't refute what he said, but she couldn't quite explain that her irritability was a guise for her shame either. The only option Sarada could see was doubling down on this cold attitude. "Is that all?"
The question only served to infuriate him further. His jaw clenched as his eyes bore into hers. "You've been ignoring me ever since they named you prima. Why?"
Her lips parted with a quiet gasp. He must not have heard the rumors Eida was spreading. Did she dare tell him? Her dark gaze fell, unsure if she could even repeat such vulgar words.
And worse, she had no clue how he would react. Would he be equally embarrassed? Or maybe he would laugh and assure her no one would ever believe that he would be involved with her like that.
"Why?" he insisted, leaning in closer until their hot breath mingled. Boruto seldom had regard for her personal space, as if he knew his close proximity was enough to make her confess her innermost thoughts.
Sarada nervously wet her lips as she wracked her brain for a reasonable reply. But staring down at his chest, she hadn't noticed the way his gaze followed the movement of her shy tongue.
"Why do you even care?" she whispered, the stress of this confrontation evident in her tone.
His voice softened marginally as he sighed, "Is it because of what I said?"
Dark eyes snapped up to finally meet earnest blue. What he said? Like about being interested in her?
Sarada gently shook her head. "No! What? No, I… I didn't even believe yo—"
Her denial was abruptly cut off when Boruto crashed his lips to hers. The sudden action startled her, but it was only a moment before Sarada's eyes fluttered closed. At her surrender, his surprise kiss melted into another, then another. His firm hand cradled her cheek, keeping her locked in place.
With each tender caress of his lips, the bad feelings and intrusive thoughts that usually plagued her mind floated away. Her heart was racing nervously but Sarada grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as an unfamiliar, desperate need consumed her.
His palm resting on her waist, skimmed over her hip and down to grab a handful of her perky ass. Her head tilted back with a sigh as Boruto deepened their heated kiss. The moment his tongue slipped into her mouth, she nearly moaned at the taste.
They stumbled back a step until Sarada was pressed against the vanity. The hand groping her ass slipped down her thigh and lifted, encouraging her to sit on the edge of the counter. Her trembling thighs spread open, welcoming him between them.
Boruto didn't hesitate to rock his hips against hers. A soft whimper spilled from her lips as she felt the evidence of his arousal grinding against her aching center.
"Believe me yet?" he husked against her lips, his breath heavy.
Her only response was reconnecting their kiss. It was like she couldn't get enough of him.
And apparently, the feeling was mutual. Boruto's eager hands roved over her curves like he couldn't decide where to grab next.
Half-lidded blue eyes watched as the thin strap of her leotard slipped off her dainty shoulder. Her head fell back against the mirror, panting out heavy breaths as his hungry kisses trailed down the smooth column of her neck. Hot breath against her sensitive skin made her nipples grow hard.
A few long raven locks escaped from the confines of her slicked-back bun, but Sarada couldn't be bothered to care. She exhaled a shuddering sigh as his thumb began tracing over a pebbled nipple, further intensifying the heat pooling between her legs. Her hips pressed up to meet his, desperate for more of that delicious friction to sate the need building inside her.
"I-I thought you didn't get involved with ballerinas," she breathed, her cheeks flushed with desire.
With his face buried against her neck, she could feel his lips stretch into a smirk. "I'll make an exception for you."
The wicked promise in his voice sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. Boruto resumed their kiss, swallowing the soft moan that fell from her lips the moment his hand ventured between her trembling thighs. Deft fingers traced teasing touches over her clothed center, stoking the fire building in her core. This was what her body was aching for.
"If you want me, that is," he amended.
"I want you," she whined as her hips rocked against his touch, begging for more. The yearning laced in her voice seemed to excite him. Boruto doubled his efforts, rewarding her confession with firmer strokes of his fingers, dampening her panties with hot lust.
Sarada found herself too lost in his ministrations to be self-conscious about the wanton noises she breathed in his ear. Instead, her mind focused on the tension in her low belly coiling itself tighter with each rub.
But when his fingers disappeared for a moment, her lips parted, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but a shocked gasp escaped instead. Sarada pulled back, her eyes widening upon finding him ripping a hole in her tights.
"Don't act like you can't afford a new pair," he teased.
Her gaze jerked down between their bodies, finding her leotard pulled to the side and her womanhood exposed. It wasn't about affording it! It was about the principle of it! It was about—
"Oooh god~" Sarada moaned as his skillful touch made direct contact with her aching slit. He dragged his fingers between her folds, collecting her slick moisture before continuing to tease her clit with firm circles. Her hands gripped his shoulders, deciding this feeling was worth the cost of a new pair of tights.
"Fuck, are you this wet for me, Sarada?"
"Yes, oooh yes, yes," she chanted breathlessly. Her knees spread wider, seemingly of their own volition. The pressure in her core was mounting, multiplied by the skin-on-skin contact. Two thick fingers slipped inside her wet heat to stroke that special spot. He nearly growled at the way her moist walls reflexively clenched around the intrusion.
"I want to be inside you," Boruto rasped in her ear.
"Yes, yes, yes," she continued to babble, so close to that blissful edge it was almost painful. His fingers persisted their steady rhythm until the pressure that had been building inside her burst into waves of pulsing pleasure. It felt so good, Sarada could practically feel the dopamine rushing to her brain.
With a contented sigh, she fell back against the mirror behind her. One hand met the vanity counter to support her weight, while the other remained hanging over Boruto's shoulder. Her heavy eyes fluttered open to find him pulling down his tight pants.
Feeling him rub his hardened length against her was completely different than seeing it bare, seeing him stroking it, preparing to meet her still throbbing pussy.
She must have made a noise because Boruto suddenly looked up. Lusty blue eyes softened, "you okay?"
Sarada silently nodded, unsure how to tell him he should probably be gentle. It had been quite some time since she had been intimate with anyone, and never had she been with someone of his… stature.
She inhaled a sharp gasp as his hot cock made contact with her slick entrance. His hips tilted forward, inch by inch to allow her body to adjust to the stretch. Her nails bite into his shoulder as he slowly sheathed himself inside her tight warmth.
Every touch up until then had been fueled by this hot urgency, but the moment he slipped inside her wet core, Boruto stilled. A satisfied sigh fell from his lips before he whispered, "ugh, why is everything about you perfect?"
Sarada wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself, but the quiet comment made her heart flutter. Her hands tangled into his blonde hair (finding it was just as soft as she imagined) and guided his lips back to hers.
Her grip tightened as she felt him retreat, before pushing back in. Setting a pace of slow, deep, and deliberate thrusts. Her legs wrapped around his trim waist, moaning against his lips. Each slide of his thick cock filled her with pleasure, and soon that same tension began coiling in her core again.
"You feel so good, you know that?" he mumbled against her lips.
"You feel good," she repeated back to him.
As his pace increased, their kisses grew sloppy, intermixed with heavy breathing. Boruto held her hips, her back arched as he relentlessly pounded into her at just the right angle. When his hand slipped between their bodies, Sarada knew she wouldn't last much longer.
With his thumb stroking her sensitive clit, the tension building inside her snapped. Her lips parted, gasping for breath as devastating pleasure coursed through her veins. Boruto groaned, his rhythm faltered as her inner muscles pulsed around his hard cock. It was only a few more thrusts before he was tumbling over the edge with her. He pulled out and furiously jerked himself to completion, spilling his cum into his clenched fist.
Both were silent as they attempted to catch their breath. As the glow of her second orgasm began to fade and her heart rate calmed, Sarada's eyes fell to the hole in her tights and the wet spot on her soiled leotard. The evidence of her slutty deed.
She would have to change before going home.
Sarada looked up at the sound of Boruto's awkward laughter. He was still standing between her spread legs as he grabbed a few tissues from a box on the vanity counter to wipe off his hand. "How about next time we get undressed?"
A single dark brow lifted at the assumption.
Next time?