A/N: I'm back at it or something (?). welcome to the start of a new collection.

He had assumed that the effect of finding those eyes in a crowd would eventually wither.

He was, unsurprisingly, wrong. Boruto tended to be wrong about things, a pattern he learned to accept as time went by and it no longer could be denied.

When he was a child, Boruto was sure he would manage to bend the world to his wishes. He was no prince, he found out later, thus the world did not belong to him nor cared about his expectations. During his teen years, growing distant from his own self—rather, from who he was supposed to be—, Boruto believed he would force his parents to understand that the family business was not his business and that he had so much of the world to see. But his fate was written in stone and in every dinner his family seemed to throw the stone right into his face. He was wrong to think he'd be able to free himself, so he stayed home doing what they wanted from him—like an idiot, he'd said. When he reached adulthood, all he wanted was to be right about something. He settled for the job their parents wanted, the life that was designed by others as the life worth living.

At the end of his hope, she got into the picture.

Sarada had always been there, in ways. They grew up together and, somehow, she was always right about things, though he never listened. Boruto watched his best friend deal with her own quarrels and discoveries, having her own share of never fulfilled resolutions and forgotten dreams. Love is funny sometimes, because all her broken steps aligned with his wrongful convictions so perfectly that, in the middle of the road, they found each other again.

Boruto was no prince, and life never allowed him to travel around like he dreamed, nonetheless, it felt like he held the world in his hands the night he kissed his best friend. And then, he owned the world for the first time that night, when he traveled her body like they belonged together.

Boruto was certain that he was finally right about something when he got to one knee and gave in to the only pre-made decision that he fully agreed on. So he watched as she walked down the aisle wearing her usual cherry red lipstick, the same one he had messed up so many times before. Later, when they were finally alone, she confided to him that it was hard to let go of her signature look, even at the risk of staining his face. They laughed and kissed, falling asleep on a moonlit balcony, being awakened by the sunrise. He thought, for once, that he would marry the owner of those dark eyes and never regret it, never leave her, never doubt it.

Boruto tended to be wrong about things, more often than not.

He watched her feelings fade because married life was not easy on either one of them. They did nothing to remedy their issues till one day it was too late to do anything. They both worked too hard and talked too little, failing to make time to do the one thing they did best: being friends. In the divorce settlement, Sarada said that they had rushed into confusing feelings—they were young, immature and wrong. Wrong. Boruto was wrong again.

It was destined to fail, he heard once. It didn't make sense. The person who said it probably knew nothing about destiny.

Destiny was right in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and tiny skirt, drinking something he could swear was scotch. She had cherry red lipstick on, her hair was shorter, and she wasn't able to hide her shock either. It was destiny. It traveled 1927 km and met them halfway because why else would they both be at the same bar, the same night, in a city he was staying for only one day? Sarada was still the world—his world—and when their eyes crossed Boruto felt the floor crumble below him.

From best friends to lovers to nothing was an unfair story to be told, he believed. Out of respect they should be something—anything. However, when they traded their first words in two years, he realized their story was simply cut short to keep the viewers engaged. They were not done yet. He was no scientist, he just understood enough to say confidently what they had was magnetic. He didn't pay attention to how it started but they kissed, nearly unable to keep their hands to themselves, having no options left other than ditching that bar and going somewhere private. Her mouth tasted like scotch, her skin felt like home.

"Are you… With someone? I mean, here in the city." Sarada asked, in the car ride to his hotel.

Boruto wanted to take a glimpse of her expression but she was looking out the window, probably intentionally. He smiled, she sounded jealous. She cared.

"Actually, no. I'm staying here just for a day. I had a business meaning earlier."

"Oh, did it go well?"

"It was great, don't worry about it. What about you? What brought you here?" The car went to a halt at a red light, and they looked at each other for the first time since the kiss in the bar.

Sarada started to study him with her intense dark eyes. He was wearing a well adjusted suit, drove a new car, had a wristwatch that could probably buy a house. The same man she knew and loved—a different melancholy in his tone, a colder expression in his blue eyes. Perhaps the divorce had taken a toll on him, not that it was any of her business, even if she wanted it to be. He was just as charming as before, just as hard to resist and avoid. He placed a hand on her knee and slid it over her skin till it found the hem of her skirt, intentionally reaching the sensible skin of her inner thigh. She couldn't answer him then, the lust scrambled her thoughts significantly.

The red light turned green and she was grateful, praying to god he hadn't noticed her shaky breath, or the shiver that ran her body or even the way she swiftly adjusted herself on her seat. He did, however, notice it all, allowing a smug smile to adorn features that a second prior exhumed only tiredness.

"I…" She started. "I came here to visit a friend. Sumire, do you remember her?" He nodded. "Well, she was at the bar with me, I don't know if you noticed."

Sumire had once been a reason for contempt between them—she worked for him during a short period, and Sarada felt something was off. She was right, at some level, like she always was. After the divorce was final Sumire did try something with Boruto, and was met with a wall. He shut her down immediately, like he did with many to come. He liked women that liked someone else because he too was stuck in the past and couldn't let go. They would bond over that and finish things off quick and easy.

"I didn't." He lifted his hand back to the steering wheel to make a turn. "I only have eyes for you."

She tried to think about what led them to that moment, wondering if that was how things were always supposed to go. Sarada was not a dreamer, nor liked to believe in destiny although she knew he was and he did. She'd have to accept that he must've been right about it. It was destiny. It forced them to meet during her last night in town.

Desire mixed with anxiety the moment the car was parked. She laughed when he insisted on opening the car door for her. "Like old times," he said, even though she never expected anything different from him. Sarada held his hands like they had never been separated, her heart jumping out of her mouth in joy, sweat forming droplets on the skin of her back. He would touch her again, and she knew his touch belonged to her skin. No other lover ever pleased her like he could.

When they got to his room, they couldn't contain themselves anymore. He had the world wrapped around his arms, moaning inside his kiss, pulling the hair at his nape softly. Boruto took off his suit and tie and Sarada removed her jacket, throwing it away like it hadn't cost her anything.

He placed her on the bed and she wrapped her legs around him instinctively. His hands touched the skin of her waist teasingly as they kissed. Her fingers—so hurried, feeling as if there was a clock ticking away their time together—couldn't undo any of the buttons of his shirt. Their kiss was messy, longing even, fed off the despair of star crossed lovers separated and reunited like sun and moon. It left their bodies tingling because of the serotonin and adrenaline running wild within their arteries. It was unrestrained and urgent. Inherently human. Made them feel alive like they hadn't in a while.

Boruto broke the kiss, hovering over her body, his weight resting on the bed through his left hand. His right hand, leaving from under her shirt, caressed the skin of her cheek. He could see eagerness in her big eyes, and, god, he missed seeing her like this.

"Sarada… I rather fuck you slowly." His voice left like a whisper, she felt its effect instantly.

Instead of calming down, her heartbeat increased and she felt completely at his mercy. And then again, when he dove into another kiss the passion had diluted into a sensual dance their bodies knew all too well. Sarada fought against the urge to close her eyes as he kissed her neck; she wanted to look at him at all times, making sure to capture the moment in her memory as it was. With a leveled pace, she managed to unbutton his shirt calmly, enjoying the fabric against her fingertips, tasting the alcohol that still lingered in her mouth.

Then, Boruto removed her shirt. His eyes were dark with desire, brain fogged in pure lust. He took his time to admire her, to make sure she felt loved, to touch her where he knew she wanted to be touched without the need of saying a thing. He trailed wet kisses down from her neck to her breasts, taking them with his lips, teasing her with his tongue.

When his fingers reached her underwear, she felt her skin burn. She would ask him to hurry, to do what had to be done and get it over with. The years they spent apart was definitely weighing her decision, though she was well aware that rushing was not his thing. He slipped two fingers in her lacy underwear, barely a phantom touch that didn't do anything other than firing her desire over and over again.

"Please, Boruto, fuck me already."

His lips sucked her earlobe at the same time his fingers finally touched her. "It's too early to beg."

She sneered, broken under his wishes, unable to question and willing to humiliate herself for him to make her come for once.

"I hate when you do that."

And he laughed because he knew she was lying. Boruto looked right into her eyes when he said: "You're the same Sarada as always. My Sarada. Always impatient."

She was impatient, no point in denying. Instead, gathering her strength, she managed to invert their position. Sitting on top of him, Sarada stripped off her bra and his hands were fast to meet the soft skin of her breasts, that were still sensible from his earlier kisses. Every single one of his touches translated into pleasure, and she was unable to avoid the sounds that left her mouth unwantedly. She pressed herself against his hips, the light friction giving some relief and satisfaction but not as nearly as it was needed.

She couldn't help but notice the way his hair spread around in the sheets, his blue eyes shining to her. His beauty had always been otherworldly, but he looked his best when he had that shine in his eyes along with a dirty grin on his lips

She started to unbuckle his belt. "You have a condom, right?"

He raised his body from the bed and reached the side table that was not too far away, taking the package and having it ripped off his hand instantly. Sarada smiled and pulled him down, laying on top of his torso to kiss his jaw and taste his lips again. She slid the condom in and placed him in between her legs, lowering her hips and feeling her insides stretch to fit him. Her skirt hung above her hips as she moved her body up and down his length, his hands around her waist. The slow movement was almost a tease, so after a while he decided to pick up the pace by changing their positions again. Sarada wanted to come looking in his eyes, saying his name, feeling his tongue against her skin. All those things were accomplished, his climax missed hers by just a few seconds.

When he laid by her side, breath still unsteady, Sarada said the one thing that lingered on her mind the entire time.

"I can't remember why I left you."

And he wanted to say something, anything. Nothing came out of his mouth so he kissed her again, hearing her giggle softly.

All in all, one thing was for certain. Boruto loved her—it was the one thing he got right.