When Kakashi returned to the guest house a couple of hours later, he was slightly tipsy. Damn Might Guy, he kept thinking. When did he learn to be so smooth?

Once he'd had a proper conversation with "Sylvie" and "Beatrice" (not their real names, of course), he realized they were actually quite charming. Sharp, funny, and effortlessly confident, they carried themselves with the kind of ease that came from knowing exactly what they wanted and how to get it. And, to his mild surprise, they genuinely liked Guy.

Sure, the financial arrangement didn't hurt—Guy had assured him the royalties were being split three ways—but there was no coercion, no pretense of anything it wasn't. It was just… what worked for them. Inside and outside of the bedroom.

The drinks had flowed easily after that, and so had the increasingly insistent offers to stay. "One night won't kill you," Beatrice had teased, pouring him another glass. "We promise to take very good care of you."

Even Sylvie, cold as ice, had given him an appraising once-over and said, "Might be good for you, Masked Sensei."

Kakashi had laughed it off, muttered something about work, and extracted himself as gracefully as possible. But as he fumbled with the door to his room, his head buzzing from the alcohol and those damn perfumes, he couldn't quite shake the thought: Since when was Might Guy the one who had it all figured out? While he couldn't even kiss the girl he liked without…

"Here you finally are," Sakura said.

Kakashi nearly jumped high enough to hit his head on the ceiling.

"Ah," he stammered, feeling heat rise to his face. "Sakura. You're back."

"I need to talk to you, it's kinda urgent," she said, stepping closer, her impatience palpable. She looked very cute when she was a little angry.

"Er… yes," Kakashi fumbled, suddenly hyper-focused on fitting the key into the lock. "Come in."

He switched on the lights—only to immediately regret it. Too bright. Was it evening already? When had the time slipped away?

Sakura sniffed loudly. "Have you been drinking?!"

"Only a little," he mumbled, taking off his shoes and his flack jacket and removing his mask. "I'm glad you're back," he was glad to see her. Though, in hindsight, he realized he hadn't worried nearly enough. "How did it go?"

"Yeah, about that…" Sakura sat down on the floor somewhat heavily. He sat across from her, stealing glances at her. She's so damn beautiful. He wouldn't mind sitting and looking at her for the rest of his life, he thought, and sighed contently.

"You are drunk," she accused him while she blushed prettily. "I can't believe you're that careless! We're not on friendly territory here!"

Kakashi made a vague, dismissive gesture. "Guy was… persuasive."

Hell, when had he even agreed to drinking sake so expensive it could feed ten orphans for half a year? On an empty stomach, no less. And at some point, he'd even stuffed his face with those foreign sweets that melted on his tongue like—like something salacious and forbidden.

"So you talked to Might Guy?" Sakura scowled.

"Yes, and you wouldn't believe…" He stopped just in time—he couldn't tell her about Guy's secret identity, unless he wanted his friend to die a gruesome death, "...that he's sleeping with two women simultaneously," he finished instead.

"Huh?" Sakura blinked.

"And they're both absolutely gorgeous," Kakashi sighed wistfully. Damn Guy! The intimate pleasure of youth? There was no pleasure in his damned life and all the pleasure in his longtime rival's!

She gave him a flat look. "Is this one of your stupid competitions? Easy fix—just go and sleep with three at the same time to win."

Kakashi raised his eyebrows in utter disbelief.

"What?" she said innocently. "Can't be that hard for you with so many queuing up."

"The logistics must be terrible," he muttered, shaking his head—wondering, not for the first time, what she thought his sex life was actually like. "Imagine."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "No, I'm certainly not going to imagine that."

But Kakashi, tipsy and just reckless enough, wasn't quite ready to let it go. He glanced at her, his voice turning softer—more thoughtful.

"I don't think I could handle three," he mused, watching her carefully now. "I'd prefer just one."

The air between them shifted and Sakura stilled.

If I asked her if she wants to sleep with me, would she say yes?

But before he could find out, she scoffed, looking away. "You are drunk."

Was he? He didn't think he was, but after spending an afternoon with three people constantly touching each other, hinting at pleasure and suggesting he was missing out, his iron-clad self-discipline had worn thin. What was the point of resisting every temptation in life? What was the point of never taking risks, of always staying in line?

Who was he doing this for? For the village council? The same council so absurdly prudish they nearly popped a vein over something as harmless as a kiss?

He studied her, her sharp green eyes watching him, wary but curious. How often had he denied himself simple indulgences? How often had he ignored his own wants, his own needs, out of habit, out of obligation? He was so used to control—so used to walking the straight, narrow path—that the idea of stepping off it, even slightly, felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Why is Might Guy here?" Sakura asked softly into the silence.

Ah. She would figure it out eventually—probably soon, given her intelligence. But their agreement was that Mikoto Kazehana's identity would remain a secret. Apparently, Guy had never agreed to sign autographs at the literary festival; the organizers had used the name without consent, likely to attract a bigger crowd.

"A funny coincidence," Kakashi said smoothly. "And we even managed to solve our little problem. Mikoto Kazehana is going to release a statement. The whole thing—the… kiss—it's just a clever marketing stunt for her next book. Which is going to be a crossover."

Sakura's frown deepened. "That's… How did you manage that?"

"Guy knows a guy who knows her manager," Kakashi lied without missing a beat.

Sakura shook her head. "Well, you have to stop her from releasing a statement."

"What?"

"The Daimyo, he has a son," she began haltingly, avoiding his eyes.

Kakashi immediately tensed. He'd heard enough about the Daimyo's son to know he was going to be a huge problem once he took the throne.

"Keitaro Tachibana," she continued. "His father didn't receive me, but he…"

"You met Keitaro Tachibana?" Kakashi interrupted sharply, his concern rising. He was foreign-educated, pompous, and—rumors had it—more than a little "eccentric".

"Yes," Sakura nodded, her expression grim. "And quite frankly, the only thing keeping him off me was the belief that you and I are a couple. Those stupid headlines were actually quite useful."

Kakashi swore under his breath. "Let's leave immediately. I don't like any of this."

"No," Sakura shook her head. "We can't leave yet. I'm pretty sure he's pulling his father's strings, readying himself to take over soon. If he was the one instructing his father, we at least know what the problem is. And… he's a threat to you."

"To me?" Kakashi laughed, with disbelief in his voice.

"Yes," Sakura frowned. "To you—as the head of our village. He's not going to challenge you in a fair fight, but it's crystal clear he will do everything he can to abolish the Shinobi system. If he gains more power, the entire structure could collapse under his influence. I need to find out more about his plans while I can."

It took Kakashi a second—a beat too long—to realize what she was suggesting.

"No," he said sharply. "I forbid it."

Sakura raised an eyebrow, her lips pressed into a firm line. "I just told you I'm fine as long as he believes I'm yours."

Kakashi's eyes narrowed. You don't understand what you're suggesting, he wanted to say, but he knew that wasn't true. She did understand. That was the problem.

She met his gaze, unwavering. "The little playacting we'll need to do can't be that bad, can it? If you want, you can use clones again. I agreed to meet him tomorrow at—"

"I said no," Kakashi cut in, his voice sharper than before.

Exasperated, Sakura threw up her hands. "Seriously, Kakashi! This guy hates us. What's your alternative?"

He didn't have one. But that didn't matter. His instincts screamed to shut this down, to keep her away from whatever game Keitaro was playing, because he did not like it.

His jaw clenched. "Why did he make himself known to you at all?"

Sakura sighed. "Sakura's Adventures." She gave him a tight, humorless smile. "He's a fan, to put it mildly. Really, we should count ourselves lucky. If he's as dangerous as I think he is, we need to act now. Not later. And I've got a chance."

Kakashi exhaled sharply, frustration mounting. "It's too risky," he muttered. "We can't expect him to be stupid. He'll know—"

Sakura's expression softened, but her gaze held firm. "Then we just need to make it convincing."

Kakashi gave her a long, searching look. "If he really believes you and I are together, what happens when he decides he wants to challenge that?" His voice dropped lower, grimmer. "What happens when he decides that taking you from me is part of the game?"

Sakura hesitated for just a fraction of a second. Then she lifted her chin. "I can handle myself," she said, steady and sure.

Kakashi let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Of course you can. That's not the point."

"Then what is?" she challenged, crossing her arms.

Kakashi opened his mouth, then shut it again. He knew what he wanted to say—the mere thought of him even touching you makes me want to kill him. But he couldn't say that.

Or could he?

"I can't sit here like nothing is happening while you put yourself in danger like that," he managed.

"Is it because I'm a woman?" She demanded to know.

"Of course it's because you're a woman!"

Her nostrils flared. "You can't treat your kunoichi differently from your male shinobi! That's sexist."

Kakashi dragged a hand through his hair, his breath coming sharper now. "You are the best medic in the Land of Fire, Sakura—you are not some damn honeytrap! I'm not sending you to a dangerous man who just wants to fuck you!"

Silence. A charged, crackling silence.

Then, deliberately, she lifted her chin. "And how do you know I don't want to fuck him?" She challenged him. "He's 'absolutely gorgeous'."

He moved so fast she had no chance to react. One second, she was sitting on the ground—defiant, provoking. The next, she was pressed against the wall, Kakashi's hands digging into her shoulders, his breath hot against her lips.

"Stop this," he growled.

They were both breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, pressed against his. Her green eyes—huge, vulnerable, a little afraid—searched his face. Her lips trembled.

Kakashi's fingers threaded into her hair. His lips hovered just above hers, so close he could taste her breath—warm, sweet, intoxicating.

"I can't bear it," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't you understand?"

Sakura's pulse thundered in her ears. Oh. Now this… this was quite… unexpected.

Kakashi unleashed like this—unrestrained, possessive—was something she had never seen before. He frightened her with his intensity. But it was exhilarating.

His fingers tightened in her hair, his body caging hers against the wall, every minuscule movement radiating frustration, restraint, need.

"I can't keep doing this," he whispered, his voice rough, almost broken. "I can't keep pretending I don't care."

Sakura's breath hitched. Even if this was fueled by the sting of losing to Guy and his two gorgeous women, by another man openly declaring his intent to claim the Cherry Blossom Adventurer for himself—even if it took all of that and alcohol to shake Kakashi out of his carefully controlled indifference, she would take it.

Because beggars can't be choosers.

Her hands trembled as she reached for him, her fingers gliding along the side of his dear face. "You don't need to pretend with me, Kakashi," she whispered, breathless, the proximity between them making it hard to think. "I… I…"

His fingers flexed in her hair before he wrenched himself back, dragging his hand down to cup her face instead. His thumb traced absently over her cheekbone.

"You don't want someone like me," he murmured, shaking his head.

Her brows pulled together. "What?" she breathed. "Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

"I can't give you what you deserve," he said, his voice raw. "I'm not… I'm too…," his thumb continued its soft, torturous strokes against her skin. "I can't—"

"That's bullshit," she interrupted, her own fingers brushing over the corner of his lips, feeling them tremble beneath her touch. "Why do you say things like that?"

He inhaled sharply, his grip on her tightening. "Because if we start this, Sakura—if I start this—I won't be able to stop."

Her pulse pounded, her body reacting with want to the rough, almost desperate way he held her.

"Good," the words slipped out readily. "Because I don't want you to stop."

Kakashi groaned softly, his other hand slamming against the wall beside her head—like he was bracing himself, like he was losing. "You don't know what you're saying!"

"I do," she countered, tilting her chin up in defiance. "What are you afraid of?"

"Sakura…" Her name was a warning. A plea.

She swallowed hard, feeling the world tilt beneath her. "You can't bear the thought of me with another man?" she challenged daringly, voice steady despite the chaos inside her. "Then take me for yourself."

His restraint snapped completely.

His lips crashed against hers. He tasted of sake and sweet desperation, pulling her closer, pressing her into the wall. Sakura gasped into his mouth, her fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life. Yes, yes, yes! A voice in her head sang over and over.

When he finally broke away, they were both breathless, foreheads pressed together, bodies still tangled.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped, his thumb tracing down her throat.

Sakura let out a soft, breathless laugh, her hands still fisted in his vest. "No," her gaze flickered to his reddened lips, then back up to his eyes. "I won't."

For a moment, he just looked at her, silver hair falling over shadowed eyes, his expression intense, heated, almost reverent. Then, with a quiet curse, his mouth crashed against hers again.

The kiss was a breaking point neither of them had been willing to admit existed. He kissed her like he needed her to breathe, like he had been starving for her and could finally, finally have a taste. His hands were already beneath her shirt, sliding over heated skin, fingertips ghosting up to her breasts. She gasped when he twisted her nipples, the sharp pleasure lancing through her, and moaned when he shoved down her pants, his fingers slipping between her thighs, spreading slick heat over her swollen flesh.

Her head thudded back against the wall as he pulled his fingers out, making quick work of his own trousers. She barely had time to brace herself before he grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up, and with a single devastating thrust, he filled her to the hilt.

Sakura cried out, legs locking around his waist as he pounded into her, relentless, deep, so deep—her body rocked against the wall with each brutal stroke, her teeth rattling with the sheer force of him. It felt… it felt…

She screamed when she came, bliss splitting her open, leaving her shaking and undone—but he didn't stop.

Didn't stop until he groaned her name, voice wrecked, his release spilling hot inside her, his grip on her thighs nearly bruising.

And still—it wasn't enough.

She already wanted more. More of this. More of him. More of feeling wanted, feeling consumed, desired.

But as the pleasure slowly faded, something else rose in its place—something tight and treacherous in her throat, something she refused to let him see. So she buried her face against his neck, breathing him in, willing the burning in her eyes to fade.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?" His voice was hoarse, breath still uneven. He tried to lift her head, to see her face, but she clung to him stubbornly, shaking her head.

"No," she murmured against his skin. "Not at all."

His hands skimmed over her back, as if searching for proof she wasn't lying. "If I was too rough…"

"No," she repeated, and when she finally looked up at him, she managed a small, lopsided grin. "I… like it that way."

His breath hitched. Something dark flickered through his gaze, but he didn't say anything. Instead, his hands settled on her waist, fingers flexing as if anchoring himself.

"Come to bed with me."

Sakura blinked. Was there going to be more? She wasn't sure how to read his mood—what came after this? What was the normal thing to do after sex like that? Shower? Get dressed? Pretend like nothing happened?

"Isn't it dinner time?" she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Stupid. I really don't know anything.

"I don't care." With the same efficiency he applied to everything, he adjusted both their clothes, then took her hand, pulling her toward the bed. "I want to hold you."

Hold her.

She went without resistance, because suddenly, she felt weak—like if she let go, she might fall apart. This part of herself she knew well. It was the part who wanted and wanted and always got disappointed because she wanted too much.

He folded her against him, one arm wrapped securely around her, the other hand splayed against the small of her back. She could feel his heartbeat—still slightly erratic, but slowing.

"There are always food pills," he murmured, the ghost of a chuckle in his voice.

"Not funny," she grumbled.

Kakashi only hummed, pressing his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply. "I love the way you smell."

His hands found their way beneath her clothes again—fingertips grazing lightly over her ribs, tracing the curve of her stomach. There was no urgency now, just slow, languid strokes.

Sakura swallowed, her head swimming. "I haven't showered since yesterday," she muttered, more out of reflex than anything else.

Kakashi only chuckled, the sound deep and lazy. "All the better." His hand drifted, fingers tracing absentminded patterns along her spine. Each touch sent a quiet shiver down her skin, her body responding with renewed need.

She should say something. Make a joke, shift the moment before she sank any deeper. Before she let herself believe this meant something.

But then he turned her in his arms, tilting her chin up, studying her with an intensity that stole her breath.

"Stay," he murmured, his lips rubbing against hers.

She should remind herself that this was Kakashi—the man who never let anyone get too close, who always had one foot out the door. But as he kissed her, slow and searching, as his hands skimmed her waist with aching tenderness, Sakura couldn't.

Somewhere deep down she knew there were a thousand reasons why she shouldn't fall for him.

Unfortunately, it was far too late.

Her skin was so incredibly soft. Kakashi's heart was full to the point of overflowing, even as he berated himself for pressing this treasure of a woman forcefully against a wall—for acting on the unbearable need to have her. Had he forgotten that she deserved patience, tenderness, devotion? That she deserved flowers and slow touches, not desperation?

And yet, his body betrayed him. The need for her wasn't gone—it had only deepened, sharpened into something edged and inexhaustible. There was enough of it to last a lifetime.

He could feel her hesitance, even through her arousal—the subtle tension in her limbs, the fleeting urge to retreat before she got in too deep. It only strengthened his resolve. She wouldn't flee tonight. Not if he had anything to say about it. He had skills, after all, an arsenal of ways to make her stay. And if it took every last one of them, he'd use them all.

Kakashi's breathing quickened as he set to work, slow and deliberate. He undressed her with reverence, peeling away each layer like unwrapping something sacred. His hands, his lips, his very breath worshiped her. He listened to every sound she made, every sigh a victory, every whimper kindling the fire in his blood.

When he entered her again, he did it slowly, savoring the feel of her, the way her body welcomed him, wrapped around him like she was made for him. A deep, shuddering breath left him as he sank fully into her heat, his arms tightening around her, needing her closer. He kissed her between unhurried thrusts—her lips, her eyelids, her forehead—whispering her name like a prayer against her skin.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he groaned, the sensation unraveling him from the inside out.

"You feel… so good," he murmured, his voice breaking.

Every roll of his hips was patient, unrelenting, as if he had all the time in the world to learn her, to memorize the way she moved beneath him. She whimpered in response, arching into him, and it became almost impossible to stay in control...but he managed to pull himself back from the brink.

It was like drowning in something warm and endless, a slow-moving river pulling him under. Safe. Soothing. Absolute. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as the heat spread through him, sinking into every limb, wrapping around him like something inevitable. It was the slowest climb to a climax he had ever experienced, and he never wanted it to end.

"Yes," she moaned, "yes!"

Tension curled through her body, her back arching, her head thrown back, and he felt her clench around him—first slowly, then tighter, faster. She shuddered against him, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he shattered, his restraint breaking apart like glass. It was too much—this feeling, this moment—rushing through him in a sudden, unstoppable wave. He gasped as he spilled into her, the pleasure overwhelming, dragging him under again and again and again.

And when it was over, in the stillness, something softer remained. A warmth settled deep in his limbs, in his chest—a contentment so full, so absolute, it almost hurt. He exhaled slowly, pressing his forehead to hers, his arms locked around her. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

Because in the quiet aftermath, tangled with her in the dark, he had never felt so whole.

The river was back. That deep, tranquil flow of chakra, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She reached out, touching it, feeling its smooth current respond—reaching back. Curious, she tried to take it into her hands, to mold it, and to her surprise, it yielded when she added her own chakra to the flow. The sensation was unlike anything she had felt before, foreign yet strangely… familiar. What was this? What could she do with it?

"I'm getting a little hungry," Kakashi purred against her ear, his voice thick with amusement. "But I don't want you to stop doing what you're doing."

Sakura blinked, still caught between the tangible and intangible, the way her body hummed from their connection and the strange, mesmerizing energy she was beginning to grasp. "I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted, voice breathless.

How true that was—in more ways than one.

Kakashi chuckled, the sound sending a slow shiver down her spine. "I can go all night."

He was boasting, of course. But his confidence still made her smile.

"And," he murmured, his lips grazing her temple, "I can use chakra too."

She barely had time to process his words before she felt him, still buried deep inside her, his presence swelling with renewed heat. A sharp breath left her lips as a fresh wave of desire overtook her, setting her nerve endings ablaze.

How did anyone sexually active in the village ever get out of bed?

"Ride me," he commanded, sounding way too smug about it.

"Kakashi," she half begged, half laughed. "Enough."

"No," he shook his head. "Not nearly enough. Ride me."

He turned on his back, pulling her with him. His lightning chakra tingled on her skin and when he touched the bud between her legs, she jolted and gasped. Scandalous. Very good.

He laughed.

"So it's okay to… to…," she imagined clones of him all over herself, two, three of them, and began to move, the mere thought of more than one Kakashi worshipping her was a huge turn on… and whatever he was doing with his chakra down there it felt very, very good.

It was hard to think coherent thoughts, and Sakura welcomed that. Even if it was probably true that he could keep making love all night, it only postponed the inevitable.

"I know," he murmured beneath her, as if he could read her mind. "But let's pretend."

Her brain had turned to mush, consumed by him and the overwhelming pleasure she was experiencing. Had he said earlier that he couldn't pretend he didn't care anymore? Or had she imagined that? If he did care, what did it mean? Was it possible to be like this and not feel… something?

"Pretend what...?" She whimpered, suddenly afraid again.

"Pretend there is no tomorrow," he added quietly, his grip on her tightening.

And for a moment, there was nothing but charged silence between them, heavy with things unsaid. Fear, longing, the impossibility of living their lives in peace.

"I don't know how," she whispered, bending down to kiss his brow. Her lips lingered there for a moment, tasting the warmth of him, the vulnerability that they both shared and it was devastating.

Kakashi's hand drifted to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, his voice barely above a murmur. "Then let me show you."