Her foolishness amuses him; Sasuke doesn’t bother to curb his jibe.

“I think you might’ve had too much daiginjo at that last inn…”

She whips her head around, defensive, biting down the urge to strangle him with that cloak of his – and the other urge, the one to kiss those inviting lips to the point of breathlessness. But she can’t bring herself to mar the minty, aligned perfection of his clean teeth.

“For someone who says he doesn’t like Saké, I could say the same to you.” With a rather stately sniff, she returns to her rucksack and jerks the rest of her commodities from its depths, rifling through the contents with little poise.

“I don’t like cheap drinks,” he corrects her. “And I don’t drink too much because it clouds my judgement. That’s why I don’t forget things.”

Dismissing his little quip, Sakura dusts herself off and rolls her cloak into a neat bundle.

“I’ll just buy another toothbrush when we get to the next settlement.”

“And travel around while neglecting proper oral care? That sounds unreasonable.”

If the situation weren’t so awfully dire, she would have laughed at his choice of words.

“It’s not like I can use a stick to clean my teeth,” she reasons, rubbing her chin with her knuckles. “Although, I could use my fingers to rub toothpa – oh.”

There’s an awkward little pause. She doesn’t even dare look his way. She is unworthy.

“… I can’t find my toothpaste, either.”

She can almost hear him roll his eyes. “In that case, you’re welcome to use either of mine.”

Either? At first, she thinks she must have misheard it. The mere impression that Sasuke may have proposed something like that seems preposterous. Turning to him, she hums out an articulate question: “Huh?”

“You may be surprised to learn that I also own a toothbrush. And toothpaste,” he adds. He’s sat himself quietly upon a log they’d dragged over, to serve as a makeshift bench. He’s picked up a long, thick stick to use as a poker, which he jabs into the thriving bonfire. Sparks fly out into the evening air, tiny little embers rising to a height before they vanish into the dusk.

Sakura thrusts her hands in the air, gesturing aimlessly. “No, no! I can’t use yours.”

“Why not?” His eyebrows almost recede into his hairline, as if he’s taken aback. He mutters something about her being overly dramatic, but Sakura promptly ignores it.

(not that he isn’t right; but being barred from kissing due to bad breath seems like a mild calamity on its own)

Her hands rest on her hips, elbows jutted out as she paces around, kicking stray dry leaves off the ground. As if her feet were’t grimy enough as it were.

“Well, a toothbrush is something very personal. When you brush your teeth, the–“

“Haven’t we done more intimate things already?” He cuts her off, although not unkindly. A small smile plays at his lips. There seems to be something mischievous behind it, just underneath his standoffish air. It’s hard to tell, because the orange glow of the fire casts dwindling shadows upon his face, as if playing with his features with the purpose of throwing her off her feet.

“I—well, I, we have… yes—mm,” Sakura attempts to regain her eloquence. She is a married woman, for goodness’ sake, and this is her husband. They’ve shared a bed before. They’ve exchanged saliva – and other bodily fluids – before. There ought to be no need for her ears to turn red at the subject.

But still.

“It’s not the same thing…”

He sighs, at a loss. “Do you think it’s that unhygienic?”

Sakura pauses to think about it, as medically as possible. Sharing a toothbrush feels like some sort of protocol breach, even though they’re both healthy and probably do already share the same kind of bacteria and other microorganisms, anyway. Their mouths are clean and free of infections, they both floss (she now does it more often because he does, daily). Besides, it would only be for a very short amount of time anyway, until she could get herself a new one. Two days, tops.

It’s a matter of boundaries, she decides. They, as a couple, take their time crossing each intangible line – careful not to rush it, yet eager to make up for lost time. It’s their own pace of doing this; this coexistence, this settling into one another.

She shrugs, slumping next to him on the old tree trunk.

“I guess it’s because… it’s something that belongs to you.”

Sasuke chortles to himself, something in-between a laugh and a snort. It’s such an unusual sound, coming from him, that Sakura finds herself staring.

“What?” She demands.

“It’s nothing.”

“You don’t usually find ‘nothing’ amusing.”

He remains silent for a moment, turned toward the dancing flames with his chin on his palm.

Dusky eyes flicker toward her, almost imperceptably, before returning to the source of the night’s heat.

“We’re married, so… my belongings are yours, just as yours are mine.”

“Sasuke-kun…”

“Of course, there are certain things that are inherently more personal. Like our clothes, or my sword, or our toothbrushes,” he says. His hand reaches to his back, between his shoulder blades. “But we are two members of the same clan now.”

Sakura holds her hands to her heart, an attempt to quell the rush inside her chest. That he would say something like this… She, too, extents her fingers toward her own back. A red and white fan is embroidered into the fabric, just like it is in his garment.

She wants to kiss him so badly.

“I see. So… when everything else is gone… and when these clothes come off – we’re the same, aren’t we?”

(I am yours, and you are mine, she wants to say)

Sasuke relaxes his broad shoulders, head tilted to the side. Despite their age, Sasuke has always looked much sterner, more mature. But right now, he looks youthful, almost playful, like any twenty-year-old who is simply enjoying himself.

“When our clothes come off…?”

“W-wait! I didn’t mean it like that!” Sakura shakes her head, flustered. Here she was, attempting to say something meaningful and sentimental, but fumbling with her words. “I meant that even when we’re not wearing the crest… and even when we’re only by ourselves, we are – you and I, we… we have each other! Right? T-that’s all I meant.”

“Aa,” is all he says in return. He lets a silent moment go by as Sakura gathers her cool.

She’s unsure of what to take from his response – it’s one of those moments when he’s tough to read. Sometimes she thinks he enjoys making her this nervous. It drives her up the hypothetical wall; not the fact that he’s teasing her, per se, but that she falls so easily into his ploys.

Sakura clears her throat and kneads her neck, feeling very sheepish.

“So… is it okay if I use your toothbrush, then? Even though it’s yours, is it okay?”

“Of course,” he offers with a casual shrug. But, absent warning, that impossibly straight, beautiful, handsome face of his, always so proper and prim, steadily darkens with titillating intent. His hand reaches up to her face, cups her cheek tenderly; he parts her lips with his fingers.  “Your mouth is always so welcoming.”

“S-Sasuke-kun!!” The small hairs on her skin rise to meet his implication. Something pulls their bodies together, something far beyond their control. “W-what are you do—ahhh… h-h-hey… oh.”

His lips claim the skin of her collarbone, instantly rendering her weak. There’s something wild and empowering about the idea of making love outside, under a myriad of shimmery stars and by the raging heat of the fire.

It could be the thrill of being exposed, out in the open; the risk it implies. It sends her heart on a frantic rampage, almost as much as this side of him does – the side of him that speaks words she would never have dreamt he would speak, that kisses the places she had always yearned to offer him. Blunt as he’s always been, it’s not usually in his nature to be so suggestive.

Her hand runs up the lentgh of his thigh, from the knee upward, until she reaches that familiar spot. There, she finds the throbbing ridge trapped beneath his slacks; it thrums eagerly against her touch, begging to be liberated.

She complies with the silent request.

Sliding to her knees, her hands nimbly undo the confinement made of dark fabric. He hisses, trembling when she kisses the inside of his toned thigh; then the soft roundness bestrewn with curls that tickle her lips; then the base of his member.

“Sakura... That’s not a toothbrush,” he teases, smug, emboldened; hotness dripping from his voice.

“I know. But it’ll do,” she purrs, right before she draws all the arrogance away from him and into her mouth.

Her lips begin to tease that spot she now knows so well, hidden by the cover of his foreskin – a hint of dark pink flesh, rushing with heated blood. It is nothing short of a delight, to hear him moan so eagerly, to feel him throb into her mouth.

Preparation is key, she thinks to herself; but improvisation is a skill just as valuable.

*

He rises to the sight of her tousled pink hair, creamy legs bent under her chin. She’s opened the tent to watch the world awaken, owlish green eyes fluttering lazily as she accompanies the slow outburst of dawn. Her figure is lost inside a familiar t-shirt, too large on her small frame.

It takes him a moment to drink it all in; he smiles, already stirring, thankful for the warmth that pools inside his chest.

“…why are you wearing my clothes?”

“What’s yours is mine, what’s mine is yours. Remember? Besides… don’t you think it looks good on me?”

“Hn. It would look better on the floor, actually.”

“…Oh.”

Such lovestruck thoughts consume her. Perhaps she is being greedy, or needy, or just downright insatiable; but something in her very core yearns for more. More fuel for this fire that burns for him, that leaves a trail of undying embers in its wake. More of this quiescent peacefulness, of time stood still and unperturbed; shattered only by the eager rhythm of their passionate throws.

Never could she have imagined how liberating it would feel to share a bed with him. How tender and giving he can be, revealing a side of him she cannot wait to fully unravel and behold. But she must treat softly still, careful not to rush his cautious pace.

Patient, Sakura takes everything in stride… But some nudges along the way can’t hurt.

“We could stay here today,” she suggests, barely a whisper. Sasuke opens an eye, blinks at her, gleaming as if covered in morning dew. She licks her parched lips. “Take a bath, and have breakfast. Then come back inside, and…”

Her eyes flicker rapidly – to their legs, tangled and warm and naked – and bites in her breath.

He chuckles, and she cannot resist kissing the budding smile at the corner of his mouth. It still amazes her, how such a simple thing can make her heart flutter so earnestly.

"Last night wasn't enough?" He asks, unabashed. "And this... just now?"

Sakura can feel the heat climb up her neck and cheeks and ears, all at once, and her bravery almost evaporates with the temperature. The only coherent answer she can offer is to hide her face in the nook of his armpit.

“We can’t just waste a whole day, Sakura.”

She groans in response, snuggling closer up against him. Affectionate, Sasuke’s lips brush against the crown of her head as if to appease the impact of his words. She feels giddy, almost high on her fondness for him, but somehow still aching for more – more, more, always more of this genteel man that emerges in the most intimate moments.

Sakura doesn’t like to give things up easily. Especially not when it comes to him. She looks up, faces him, determined.

"I don't think love is ever a waste, Sasuke-kun... do you?"

He shifts in bed, but doesn't get up.

"We have a mission. The sooner it is finished, the better." He avoids her question with a firm reminder, but his hand betrays indecision; resting on her hip, his thumb circles her skin with a caress so sweet Sakura could not hold back the tight little shiver running up her spine.

“But it’s not even urgent, and… it’s your birthday,” she reasons, despite her rapture.

“It’s like any other day."

“We can make it special.”

She doesn’t hold him, doesn’t force him to stay. She knows, by now, that Sasuke is not someone who can be bound to a place or a person or a feeling. He remains only where he wishes to stay, comes and goes as he pleases. As he needs. As he must.

The more time passes, the more Sakura realizes how powerful his choices are, how much of himself he pours into them – and how much it must have taken for him to touch his fingers to her forehead, the day he left Konoha as a free man. It was his decision, his own design; just as it was to return to the Village, to make his way back into her life, to choose her as his companion, and to be bound to her. To elect her as the starting point, the finishing line – home. His home.

So Sakura does not insist.

"Hn."

While he thinks, she counts the heartbeats with an ear to his chest; it may as well be her own heart, thudding away outside of her body.

Finally, Sasuke sighs.

"We'll see. We’ll have breakfast, and then –"

"Right," Sakura bolts up, smiling, and offers him a wink. His eyes are delayed on her breasts for a moment, before composure beckons for him to divert his gaze elsewhere. She guises her bashfulness and celebrates this small, subtle victory.

I’m no seductress, she thinks to herself, but I have my ways... I just need to convince Sasuke-kun. (and what better way to convince a man but through temptation?)

Thin robe loosely tied around her waist, Sakura stands up. Padding lightly over the cool floor, she is suddenly very aware of her own gait and she hopes – she prays, and prays – that her feet do not betray her.

(how does Sasuke-kun always manage to carry himself so nobly?)

She pulls the curtains open with a swift flick of her arms, and stands in the bright sunlight to greet the sweet summer air.

Sakura knows fully well that the sheer fabric of her garment reveals all her secrets in the light.

She understands the subtle differences of context; how it can cast a light of its own. Seeing Sasuke without a shirt while training, for example, was an entirely different experience from seeing him shirtless the first time they’d slept together.

So she takes the extra step; careful to make sure there is no one beneath the small window, Sakura steadies her hands on the wooden sill and leans forward.

“It’s such a beautiful day, you know.”

“I can… see.”

There’s something odd about his voice. Sakura decides not to look yet, as curious as she is about his current facial expression.

“The shower. I’ll go first.”

She merely hums in response, as if distracted by her own thoughts. But as she hears him step away, Sakura turns her head just in time to see her very naked, very toned husband’s backside vanish through the bathroom door.

And she makes a decision.

Sasuke lets the cold water blast down on him at first, before regulating to a warmer temperature. He appreciates the coolness of it. His skin is still sticky and warm, but it is his mind that needs a wake-up call.

Sakura is right, of course. The mission is not urgent, and a day’s worth of delay would not compromise the situation.

(Besides, Sasuke has just decided how fond he is of sheer robes.)

His thoughts drift toward her request. Sex isn’t just about the physical joining and the pleasure, but also the emotional bond that forms when they’re just tangled up in each other… the peace and comfort that she carries into his very soul.

There was a time when he would have thought such a thing impossible. Those sorts of emotions were unwelcomed. Signs of weakness, of an unnecessary connection to a person he could potentially lose, and be weakened by the grief of loss.

But those days are long past, and the Sasuke of today knows all too well that what you fear losing is exactly what makes it worth living for.

Besides, if it makes Sakura so happy… she deserves it.

His hair is soaked now, so he prepares to reach for the small soap when he hears the bathroom door open and then click shut. He assumes Sakura only wishes to use the adjacent toilet when –

“Can I join in?” She asks, but awaits no reply. She slips into the small space and squeezes in with him, forcing him to back closer to the shower head. Perplexed, Sasuke drops the soap.

“Why are you–”

“It’s faster this way, right? I’ll get that,” she chimes, pulling off an impossibly innocent smile before dipping after the white bar. She hands him the soap as if she hadn’t just nearly pressed her face to his crotch.

Sasuke’s mind debates the practicality of the situation.

“There’s only one soap,” he tells her, rather tensely.

Sakura shrugs. “We can share.”

“Aa.”

There’s water falling on his shoulders, and the sound fills in the awkward gaps of silence.

“Can I soak while you lather up?”

Sasuke nods.

Neither of them can quite keep a straight face as she squeezes around him, pushing him against the wall so she can manoeuvre through the small place. Her dampened skin is hot against his, pert nipples gliding across his chest. He watches the water cascade over her body, rivulets accompanying her shapes and curves; the desire to follow the same path with his tongue stirs a scintilla of doubt for his self-control.

Tension coils in the pit of his stomach, and he curses his treacherous body for being so eager now, so soon. He begins to wash himself as Sakura stands beneath the water, letting her head grow damp and heavy. Her eyes closed, she hums something tuneless, unaware of the vivid red pinwheels ardently set upon her.

“I can rub your back, if you like,” she says, and though her eyes are still closed, Sasuke retreats his own gaze out of some infuriating form of modesty. Everything is still so new, so fresh and unbelievably exciting to him, and even though he has seen her naked before, this – this is something different.

“That would be nice.”

There’s so much left to see. So much of each other to explore, still. It’s not as if his mind had never devised how to make love standing up, but to actually have the opportunity presented to him was a reality he hadn’t quite prepared for.

“Hand me the soap, then.” Green eyes look up at him with an adoration he oftentimes still feels he does not deserve.

Sasuke holds his derailing train of thoughts and redirects its course. He feels the faint, but steady healing chakra flow into his muscles from the tip of her fingers. When she runs her thumbs up his spine, all the tension he didn’t know he was holding eases off his back. The relief is so unexpected he has to bite back a moan.

Get it together, he tells himself. But this is not an easy task, he finds, when the woman you love is mapping out an entire world onto your body; an entire galaxy, stars awakening with every touch as she kneads vital energy into his skin.

She traces his scars, leaving a seal in his body that is invisible to the naked eye; but one he feels in his heart.

Sasuke remains silent when she lingers on his neck, feeling the pulse that is, once again, racing for her. Fingernails brand his flesh like flames, like red-hot metals fusing, melding into one another in heated contact. Sasuke almost expects her to continue her descent, but Sakura stops at the very base of his spine.

Once she is finished, she kisses him between the shoulder blades and wraps her hands around his hips, embracing him from behind. He stays as he is, unmoving and nearly helpless, stirred and conquered by this woman who brings spring into his life.

He looks down, at the way her arms are crossed over his stomach, and wonders if it is fair to break the spell that has formed between them.

But now he’s the one who can feel her pulse; her heartbeat reverberates into him, and only then does he realize how fast hers is going, too.

Slowly, she reaches beneath his navel.

“… Sakura?”

“I…” Her voice is muffled, her lips pressed to his back. The water keeps pouring over, warm and inviting, as if begging them not to part. “Today, all I want… is to love you.”

One hand rests on his thigh but the other, oh – the other hand envelops him and, with tender strokes, evokes that restless yearning in him.

He chuckles, then, a small laugh mingled with a moan. At this pace, he thinks to himself, by the end of the day he’ll be left dry and empty and perfectly content.

Sasuke looks down, at how gentle her hand still looks even while holding his swollen, hardened cock. How delicately deceiving, he muses, knowing all too well the hidden power that her fists enclose. Those very same hands, capable of healing his wounds and nursing his heart, can crush craters into the ground and reduce buildings to rubble.

She can tame seas, this woman, and level mountains.

And she holds him – with all that power, with all that might – but so lovingly tender.

He needs to see her. Needs to look into her eyes, so desperately now that he pulls her hand away, holds it to his face, kisses her knuckles sweetly.

He turns around, wraps his arm around her waist, brings her flush against him. Sakura knows what is coming; she stands on her toes and steadies herself on his shoulders just before their lips meet.

It’s a wet kiss, fun and careless and light, and she laughs into his mouth as they part for air. Sasuke doesn’t know who pushed or who pulled; it doesn’t matter; but he’s got her pinned against the wall of the shower and Sakura already has one leg lifted over his hips.

Sasuke catches on quickly. He hoists her up with one hand under her ass; and fits into her so seamlessly, so magnificently, that he cannot help but hum in delight as she, equally as delighted, mewls into his ear.

There are very few things in this world, he thinks, that can equal the delectable pleasure of joining for the first time. The initial penetration sets off an array of delectable titillation, sensations that bring them closer together the more they give and take from one another.

How devilishly devious, she is, with her coy smile and her calves enfolded around his backside like a boa wrapped around her prey, fingers tangled into his hair as her own drapes down in soft pink tendrils.

“Your chakra control…” he begins, taking notice of how secure she is against the wet wall.

“Still the best in our team, hmm?” She purrs.

Fuck, he curses under his breath, too turned on to think of a proper reply. He can’t win against her when she’s got him like this, willingly conquered.

So, instead, he kisses that prelude of smugness off her lavish lips and sinks deeper into her, until his steady thrusts begin to waver and each breath carries her taste into his lungs.

As his mind drifts away, and pleasure overtakes him – her body wrapped around his, bare and open to him and undeniably beautiful, raw, passionate – the final thought that accompanies his relief is the answer to her question:

Love is never a waste.

He makes sure to let her know this, the best way he can; through his feelings, his thoughts, and his body connected to hers.