Sasuke puts on their favorite record on the vinyl while Sakura lights the candles on the bedside and vanity. Their bodies move to each other like magnets, every sinew and limb dancing to the floating notes, the feet sidestepping, but lips crushing and crashing to the beat.
And then both limbs and lips are all over with clothes discarded like used shells on the floor, a clandestine mess of waning and wanting, breathing only to explore another space of skin. He leaves marks on her neck, on her nape, on the valley of her chest, well aware that they’re ephemeral, blotches of stained lips to disappear in a day, and then she wouldn’t be his.
So he hopes the scratches her nails make on his back as he sips her core and brings her untethered on the edge of his bed would stay far longer. He hopes they scar – red lines that itch and scab. His tongue pushes inside her, his fervor driven by regret of untouched corners, and she whispers his name over the song.
It is an entirely different tune, one his heart sways to even apart. She convulses with his tongue inside, and he laps her up like he has an eternal thirst to quench.
“I need you,” she demands, her hands raking his hair, fists of strands in between her fingers. Oh if only she would need him more.
So he complies as if transfixed in a moment of disbelief or make believe where she is his, and he is hers. His cock springs to life by the mere touch of her hand and she guides it where she needs him the most. A searing plunge into her pools, and he is happily drowning.
They move in throes, the song forgotten, the candles almost snuffed out. Her legs tighten around him and her breasts rise up just to meet the onslaught of his mouth. He thrusts faster, his palm cradling her head, urging her to look at him coming undone because of her.
Emerald eyes glisten as he reaches his peak, and soon after she follows, crying his name but never an ‘I love you’.
When the record has stopped spinning and the candles have run out of wax, she starts fixing herself to leave, no more than an hour by his side.
“We decided to give it a try once more,” she tells him like it’s a new excuse, like her and her boyfriend didn’t try for five more times before this. “Thanks, Sasuke.”
He reaches out across the expanse of the bed, only for his fingers to kiss the tips of her rose hair. “You’re welcome.”
She stands up to leave without sparing a look, but he knows he’ll be waiting until she needs him again.
