Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

A Living Secret	By : viridianglare Category: Naruto > General Views: 3159 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Naruto anime/manga/franchise and do not make money from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-results
- 2-exchange
- 3-seed
- 4-public
- 5-foundations
- 6-resolve
- 7-trust
- 1
- 2
- 3
twelve years ago
The flaxen yellow flower petals were delicate between Sakura’s gloved fingers as she plucked them from the leaning stems, her fingers painted a golden sheen as the early evening light breathed through the trees and colored her outline a deep gold. There was a twist about her lips as she placed the valuable petals into her pouch - her long journey through the winding woods had finally been successful, and now she could think about making her way home.
Her mission from Tsunade to hunt down this ingredient was a trifle compared to what she was capable of, but her mentor had noticed Sakura's listlessness as of late, and this assignment was her way of giving Sakura a chance at a brief getaway to clear her head.
Sakura exhaled quietly. She enjoyed this solitude, but her foray into the woods had not allowed her to escape her loneliness and that nagging feeling of emptiness that followed her after the end of the war almost a year ago. Sasuke was gone, off wandering indefinitely, and Sakura had put him from her heart with determination. The world was, for the moment, peaceful - leaving high ranked missions rare - and she felt increasingly off-kilter in her personal life, like something vital was missing.
She lifted her head as she sensed something nearby; she had not heard or seen anything, but her instincts stirred deep within herself in a way she had not felt in a long time. Sakura was on high alert then; she trusted her instincts implicitly. Though her mind registered this swathe of deep woods to be devoid of anything but wildlife - there were no villages in any direction for miles - she would always trust her gut over her thoughts.
Then she swerved to her feet, kunai gripped in her hands in a defensive stance as she faced the quietly approaching figure. Her quick mind assessed the person - a man, seemingly average, with dark hair and a nondescript face in unmarked, simple clothing. He looked to her like a villager, which prompted her confusion as the map in her head declared again that this area was uninhabited. Her eyes flicked behind the villager as two other figures followed him; she narrowed her eyes, sensing by their chakra that they were nin. Sakura regripped her kunai with renewed vigor, ready for a fight, as the first one who had approached her stopped a few feet before her and inclined his head respectfully. “I’m sorry, but you will have to leave.”
She glared with flashing green eyes at him. “Says who?”
The two other nondescript, dark-robed nin behind the man stood at his side with their weapons drawn. “This is not a place for wanderers. I ask you again, please leave, or we will have to use force.”
“I just needed the flowers,” Sakura said, deciding to take a more open approach before she had to resort to violence. “They’re a valuable medical ingredient. I’m a medic-nin; I still need to gather more before I leave.”
The nin drew their swords, and with a curse Sakura stepped back. “Leave,” said the man, eyes flashing, and with a hiss Sakura dodged as the two men lunged at her with their blades drawn. Rolling to the side, she threw a kunai at one of them while she dodged the other, twisting left; the blade skimmed past the first attacker and the other grabbed at her. She rolled back and then leapt forward past them; she yanked her kunai from the dirt and her blades clashed with theirs as both men brought their blades down. I don’t want to use my chakra, Sakura thought with clenched teeth as she lunged upward, the strength of her push sending them tumbling back. I can’t destroy this part of the forest where these petals grow.
She was forced to back up in the direction the men had come from as she fended off their attacks; though their kenjutsu was not strong enough to overtake her, they were quick enough to keep her backing up in the same direction. The villager that had approached gave a sigh as she noticed a small encampment showing up in the distance behind them where they were approaching; as she glanced back at it, he spoke. “You’re just going to have to work it out with our leader then.”
With a frustrated exhale, Sakura danced back another step from the swing of the nin’s sword. “Fine.” She would much rather work this out peacefully than waste her energy in a pointless fight. At this, the nin stopped, and she turned to face the tiny village before her as she stepped through a simple stony gate and toward the central simple longhouse that she presumed was where their leader resided. They halted behind her as they reached the steps leading up to the door, and she stopped as well, glancing back at them as the longhouse doors slid open. Sakura found herself cast in shadow, and she dragged her gaze back upward. As she recognized the encampment’s leader, her face grew pale, and her jaw fell slack.
“Hmm.” He blinked at her with his visible dark eye, looking imperiously down at her from the massive shaggy black mane that ran over his face and down his shoulders and back. He wore his traditional red metal-plated samurai armor; his sword was sheathed and his arms crossed in a casual manner. Hearing his voice confirmed his identity in her mind with a sinking finality and Sakura could not fathom how he could be standing before her as he was now, completely alive and well.
“How?” she managed, and Madara Uchiha’s dark eye blinked again.
He turned to a nearby shinobi, ignoring her. “Bring her in.” Then he turned, the tangling black shadows of his ebony mane swishing in the night air as he disappeared into the longhouse.

Sakura did not get another glimpse of him as she was brought to a side room and then released; the door was shut behind her, and she found herself apparently alone as she brushed herself off and appraised her surroundings. It was a simple guest room with a small bedroll, adjoining bathroom, and a table by the door. She saw the bowl of hot rice sitting on the table and eyed it hungrily. I can’t trust that food, she told her stomach, and she used her chakra to check around the room. No traps; no foreign chakra traces for other kinds of traps, nothing but an ordinary room.
Sakura sat tentatively on the bedroll and stretched her legs. She sent chakra through her body and healed her injuries; all were minor, and they were healed and gone in minutes. Only one left any sort of mark - a long pink line across her arm where one of her attackers’ swords had grazed her. Then her stomach ached and she eyed the rice again.
She reached out to it this time and poked through it thoroughly with a chopstick, inspecting nearly every individual grain and sniffing it for strange smells before she dared eat any. She found that the rice was untainted and harmless and it was gone in a minute once she decided it was clean. Then her eyes lifted to shift between the bathroom and the door to her guest room. Guest? I’m no guest. I’m a captive. Madara Uchiha being their leader proves that. She got to her feet and peeked into the bathroom. A captive with a shower and a sink. She was sorely tempted by the shower and ran her fingers through her dirt and blood-matted hair. Do I dare do it? She inspected the perfectly-normal showerhead, watching the water run from it for a minute before she made her decision and stripped down. She took a two-minute shower and quickly pulled back on her clothes. Stepping back into the room and drying off her hair with a towel, she found that she was yet still unhindered and uninterrupted.
Strange.
She tossed the towel into the bathroom and turned her refreshed attention to the door. If I’m a guest, it’s unlocked. If it’s locked, I’m a captive.
She moved to it and pulled it with force; it opened easily, the sliding door slamming in its frame, and she winced at the loud sound before she stepped into the hall. There was a light at the last room down the dark hallway and she moved toward it, her boot-clad feet silent on the bamboo floors.
Sakura drew up near the open doorway just out of sight. She willed her pounding heart to slow as she listened. There wasn’t a sound in the room; warm light poured out into the hallway. She reached into her side pouch. Gripping the kunai’s handle, she then swerved and stepped into the room with the blade raised and ready.

Madara sat cross-legged with folded arms in the middle of the room. He wore a casual black yukata instead of the blood-red samurai armor; to Sakura, the added dark fabric completed the image of a living shadow from the past. The lantern light from the corners of the room reflected off the dark black mass of hair that rested on his shoulders and painted his outline with dull gold. He lifted his head slightly, and the midnight hair shifted; he regarded her with one visible, unreadable dark eye.
Disarmed by his casual appearance, Sakura shifted her stance back a step and reassessed. No weapons, no armor. If he means to fight me, this is an insult to my abilities. Sakura glowered at Madara, and he raised a slim eyebrow as she gritted her teeth. She considered throwing the kunai at him, but she knew that it would be a fruitless effort if he was anything like he was when she had last seen him at the end of the war. “Tell me why you’re here and what you want with me,” she hissed.
Madara simply patted the mat next to him with his flat expression unfaltering.
Her eyes roved over the room once in her need to find another exit should she need to run. Behind Madara was a small private onsen, steam rising into the air of the room; to the right was a raised platform with a large bed. To the left was nothing but a small table. The room was bare, like it was a guest room and not his private quarters, and she suspected that he had been expecting her to approach the well-lit room. Sakura felt a flash of annoyance at herself for being so easily lured. Madara Uchiha is a cunning, capable, and dangerous individual, she recalled, and she swallowed as she again beheld the legendary warrior sitting nonchalantly on the mat before her, her gaze flicking between his black-gloved hand on the mat and his face.
Madara had been waiting patiently, and when her eyes settled upon him he finally answered her earlier demand. “It’s you who are approaching with such hostility. You are the one who caused the trouble that necessitated this meeting.” He was infinitely calm and looked pointedly bored as he folded his hands in his lap and let out a quiet exhale through his nose.
She sputtered, her fingers regripping her kunai. “Nonsense. Your nin’s initial hostility is what led to this ‘meeting’. I’m not stupid - you and your men want something with me, or you would have killed me instead of taking me captive.”
“Captive?” Madara stretched out his long legs and yawned; despite his relaxed demeanor, his dark gaze never left her. Sweat condensed on the back of her neck as his visible eye traveled down her slim figure and back up to her face. “I see you partook in the food and bath offered to you, as well as the unlocked door. Are those the amenities of someone who is trapped?” He returned to his casual sitting position, folding his arms. “Anyway, I have no interest in swapping insults with a mouthy kunoichi. You can sit here like I already suggested and have a peaceful discussion with me about making an arrangement. If that’s somehow not amenable to you, then you can try to fight… But seeing how that went between us last time, I don’t advise it.” Madara’s dark eye glinted and Sakura brandished her blade, her pulse throbbing under her skin. “Liar. You would never make a peaceful arrangement.”
Her heart stammered in her chest as Madara rose to his feet, his tall frame dimming the room with shadow as he grew in height. His dark mane fell forward around his face in a mass of approaching darkness; in the shadows of his face, his crimson Sharingans spun with a reddish glow. “You insult me with too much confidence, little kunoichi.”
She backed up a step, her previous boldness faltering at the rumble of his tone. She knew better than to try and fight Madara; she had hardly forgotten the war and his impossibly deadly fighting prowess. Her memory replaced the visage of Madara momentarily with what she best remembered him looking like -- his wild mane of hair a blinding white, two Rinnegans glinting in the moonlight, his black and white robe fluttering in the breeze around his lithe and deadly figure. She found it difficult to reconcile his apparently normal younger self with the wild-eyed white-haired demon who had nearly killed them all from less than a year before. She felt anger stir within her from these memories; though Madara had relented as he died, ultimately having realized and been shown he was wrong -- she had not forgiven the near-deaths of herself and the ones she loved.
Madara’s intimidating aura shrunk back slightly as the corner of his mouth twitched. He had been observing as she’d dragged her eyes all over him in her remembering and Sakura felt heat begin to rise to her face. There was a purr in his voice then, and she wanted to kick herself. “Hn. It’s rude to stare.”
“But you…” Sakura lowered the kunai, feeling her anger be overcome with her curiosity for a moment. “How are you even here?”
Madara folded his arms with a sigh; gloved fingers tapped on his sleeve. “You give me no reason to explain anything to you.”
Sakura bit her lip, considering her options as he again awaited her reply. He was right; not only had he shown no hostility to her, but he had also been forthright about making a peaceful agreement, even though she wasn’t sure she believed he was being genuine. She’d not given a thought to taking this a non-violent way since she had recognized Madara and her mind ached as she switched mindsets.
Sakura slipped the kunai back into her pouch as she kept thinking. She eyed Madara; he had turned from her to resume sitting casually on the mat. He stretched out a long leg and leaned on an elbow to look up at her, the dim light around them flicking on his skin; as more heat rose to her face, she remembered that there were other ways as a young and beautiful kunoichi to get information from him should he be resistant to answering her questions.
As if he’d seen the idea cross her mind, Madara flashed her a smirk, and she swallowed as she moved to sit with him. He is certainly not bad to look at, she allowed herself to think, and cursed softly as her body confirmed the thought in warm circles that drained through her stomach and pooled below. She looked blearily up alongside Madara as a servant quietly entered the room. The servant kept his eyes averted respectfully from them as he set down a tray, pouring the expensive-looking sake into the two glasses, setting them down again, and quickly hurrying out of the room. He quietly slid the door shut behind him.
Without hesitation Madara took a glass and lifted it to his lips. Sakura’s eyes followed the glimmering liquid as he took a sip, and when his dark eye lowered to hers she averted her gaze. She caught his smirk deepening in the corner of his mouth after this exchange; her cheeks burned as if she had pressed her face into a stove.
Damn the Uchiha for always being beautiful, she thought. Damn Madara for appearing the way he does now. She saw how his skin was hale, how his body was lean and toned beneath the yukata; his shaggy mane of black hair shone in the light. He was older than she was by a measure, proven by the crease beneath his eye, but not by much.
“So, medic,” Madara mused, “You stole valuable herbs and fought the villagers, causing unrest and damage. There is also the problem of you recognizing who I am.” He moved his dark eye from the glass in his hand to her. “What would I possibly gain from explaining anything about my presence to you on top of all of that?”
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, and she flushed a little at his arching dark eyebrow.
“All that pondering and you didn’t come up with anything.” Madara was smiling this time as he took another sip. He had put an emphasis on pondering and Sakura knew he was teasing her for her blatant staring. Her heart rate pounded loudly enough against her chest that she was certain he could hear it. This is going a dangerous direction, she realized, feeling the adrenaline begin to pump into her blood. I’m flustered and it’s difficult to focus on coming up with a bargaining chip like this. Madara of all people is flustering me. She resisted cursing aloud as she adjusted herself on the mat, her thoughts spinning. “I didn’t take that long,” Sakura argued, her petulant tone a little high-pitched to her ears. “We could talk about an arrangement. I might have some insight about the war, or something else,” she added, avoiding his watchful eye as she worked to maintain a neutral tone.
Madara shifted, and her attention pinned back to him as he poured more sake into his glass. “Hmm. You might.” His visible ebony eye closed a moment as he enjoyed the drink. “But I’m not sure it’s anything worth my time. You are already too much of a risk for how you intend to inform everyone in Konohagakure that I am here.”
Sakura glanced away, frustrated that he was right again. Not only did she have no intention of telling him any Konoha secrets, but she also fully intended on going directly to Naruto and informing him that Madara Uchiha lives and breathes - and drinks, she thought, as he finished off his second glass. She eyed the other glass of glimmering gold sake on the tray between them again, feeling tempted.
“Go ahead.” Madara was watching her again and his voice’s low timbre warmed her ears. Sakura wondered if she had expressed her temptation aloud as she glared up at him. “I’m not touching the sake or anything else.”
His eyebrow arched higher, and she hated how her cheeks smoldered. How had the slightest slip of her tongue sounded suggestive? Sakura shook herself of her thoughts and folded her arms. “Then if we can’t agree on an information exchange, perhaps you will be gracious enough to simply tell me.”
Madara’s arched eyebrow rose another tick as she continued. “You stabbed me through the gut, took Kakashi’s eye, and very nearly killed both of my teammates as well as… well, everyone else. I have a lot of reasons to begrudge you. Perhaps, if you satisfy my curiosity about you, I could let that grudge go and promise to keep quiet about your presence here.” She knew it was a bold, foolish long shot, but she hoped it could work, fixing her green eyes intently on him.
He considered her for a long moment. She found that it was increasingly difficult to look him in the eye the redder she got and she cast her eyes again to the glass of sake. Her skin felt the pressure of his gaze as she stared unseeingly forward, and then he finally spoke. “And what would your forgiveness be worth to me?”
Madara’s long arm reached out to set his empty glass down and retreated into his shadowy figure. His gloved hands folded and he leaned forward on them, piercing gaze watching her. She did not have an answer for his question, but she was relieved of the pressure to answer when he continued. “I remember you, kunoichi. You have the Strength of a Hundred seal, like that Senju descendant Tsunade.” He gestured with a finger at her forehead, and she automatically reached up to touch the small purple diamond; she blinked back at him with the memory that came to her then. She had been speared in the air, the blade erupting from his palm, both Rinnegan eyes staring back at her - she had seen the spark of recognition in his expression as she had healed around the normally fatal wound. She could hear Tsunade already in her head, scolding her for the way she was butchering this exchange with Madara.
“I’m surprised you remember me,” she murmured, eyeing the sake again. “Who knows how many other people you’ve speared through in your time.”
Amusement flickered in the dark eye and Sakura’s face burned. The sake was more and more tempting if just to drown out her embarrassment. She had never been very good at diplomacy, and the more she felt that she embarrassed herself in front of Madara, the more she wanted to sink into the earth and disintegrate. The gloved hand dipped aside once more as he poured yet another glass of sake that he lifted to his closed-eyed smirk. “Hn. You have a fire in you, kunoichi; I’d like to know your name.” At his words, spoken in an amicable rumble, the redness seared from Sakura’s cheeks to her ears.
She hated how Madara’s request flattered her; she hated how her grudge and suspicions against him were slipping, losing their hold on her heart as the heat bloomed darker in her face and began to sink through her body. Dammit, no, she told herself, inhaling slowly. Regardless of his peaceful manner now, regardless of how he appears, I cannot let my guard down for a single moment. She unconsciously rubbed her legs together, feeling glad she had showered. Absolutely no sake, she told herself as she burgeoned her resolve and met his ebony eyes that watched her with a spark of interest. I can do this.
“I am Haruno Sakura.” She made no effort to dress up her official introduction.
“Sakura.” Madara rolled the name around in his mouth and then downed his glass, eyeing her all the while. “I see why.” One black gloved hand crossed the gap between them and he took a lock of her hair between his fingers, examining it a moment before releasing it.
Sakura was momentarily stunned by the unexpected contact. It occurred to her then the true danger she was in, dancing around a flame with one of the most dangerous shinobi ever to live, and it occurred to her again as she picked up the sake glass and slowly brought it to her lips. For diplomacy, she thought, meeting Madara’s dark gaze and feeling something in her instincts stir as she took a sip.
“So,” she said, feeling the pleasant burn of the sake tingle down her throat as she spoke, “Can we agree to that accord? You satisfy my curiosity, and I’ll keep your presence here a secret?”
Madara rested his chin on one of his folded gloved hands, long hair shifting slightly as he gave her a wicked smile. “Hmm… why not.”
Sakura swallowed another sip of sake before setting it on the tray. She was amazed he’d agreed. Madara could crush her easily without a second thought, wiping out the threat of her telling anyone about him; the only reason he would be interested in a more peaceful agreement with her would be if he wasn’t as ruthless as he once was. She felt her shoulders slowly relax as she began to trust that he had no intention to attack her. Perhaps the end of the war really did make a difference for his mindset. Sakura’s eyes flicked back to him with renewed interest.
“Are you going to attack or otherwise harm Konoha?”
Madara tilted the side of his face against his hand, his dark eyes unreadable. “No.”
She opened her mouth to fire back another question, and he lifted his other palm; she paused, feeling impatient, and his lips twitched with a smirk. “My turn.” She swallowed her words and waited.
“Did you previously know I was here?”
Sakura’s fingers tapped on the tatami mat between them. “No. I wandered out here on a personal expedition into the forest to find herbs for medicinal use. I didn’t expect to get attacked at all, let alone come across you.” She narrowed her eyes, tracing a finger along a freshly-healed scar that ran along her bare forearm; Madara’s eyes followed the finger and returned to her face. She bit her lip and cleared her head as she then asked her next question.
“How are you alive?”
“I was brought back again,” he answered simply. His gaze shifted from her and to the sake; the bottle was half-empty. Sakura felt her frustration rising to a boiling point and her tone grew petulant as her questions spilled over the edge of her lips. “Well, I gathered that. Who was involved? How did it work? Are you planning anything else?” She folded her arms, her face still feeling hot as she regarded him.
The dark eye slid over her and Sakura shrunk backward as Madara leaned toward her then, his shadow running across her form. He shifted the tray away from the space between them, the glasses clinking together as they were unceremoniously pushed out of the way. One black-clad knee slid forward as he leaned ever closer to her.
She trembled slightly as Madara drew close enough to whisper in her ear. His midnight-black hair curtained them both; she was overwhelmed with scents of sake and ash, like she was surrounded by bonfire smoke. She felt his lips brush against the curves of her upper ear. “Why are you blushing?”
Sakura shuddered, the sensitive skin of her ear tingling from his warm breath. His gloved hand cupped her shoulder, and she gasped softly at the touch; she reached into her pouch for her kunai, but her arm was caught by his other hand. An absurd instinct pressed within her to reach up and touch the shaggy black mane that surrounded her, to thread her fingers through it and feel it; his face hovered just beyond her sight by her ear, and she felt the hand that enveloped her shoulder tighten. Her body responded to the nearness of him and she felt herself growing tense; more thoughts of reaching into the blackness and giving in bloomed within her, and Sakura exhaled sharply into his mane as she tried to tamp down her rising desires. He knows.
“Answer me, Sakura.” Madara’s hand slid off of her shoulder and rested on her waist. Her blood throbbed where his nose brushed her ear and his breath washed across her sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps. Pull away, she told herself, but she had no motivation to do so as her skin sparked where his hands were. Her hand rose up toward him, hesitating between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
“Th… the room is hot,” she blurted, and Madara’s responding chuckle reverberated through her being. “Is that so? It feels fine to me.” His other hand shifted down to her waist and she found herself pulled into his lap as he sat back to where he was on the mat. She scrambled to adjust, her heart pounding in her ears - she settled into his lap, letting one leg sling around his back and one leg rest bent against his inner thigh. He made a pleased rumble in his throat and his hot breath dragged along her ear as he moved back enough to see her face. She felt the sound that he made thunder down her core and boil her blood as she dared to meet his eyes. Kami… I’m lost.
Resist, Sakura told herself as she lifted her hands with fascination. She was shaking slightly as she pushed away the black hair that covered the other side of Madara’s face. He tensed at her unexpected touch, but he didn’t move to stop her as she rested her small hands along the sides of his jaw, her fingers tracing thoughtfully along his features. Both of his ebony eyes transfixed her as the heat rose between their entwined bodies. She felt his warm sake-tinged breath across her face as she explored him; he waited for her patiently as before, smirking down at her red face.
One of Sakura’s hands withdrew and splayed lightly along the side of his neck. She could feel his pulse beneath his skin where her fingers rested and it was elevated like hers. Sakura’s eyes widened at this discovery, and she tried again to pull her mind from the warmth between them and think clearly. He's a terrible person and I shouldn’t be in his arms. Should get off of him and leave. Should...
“Hmm.” The rumble of Madara’s voice shattered Sakura’s thoughts and she brought her eyes slowly back to his face. He bent down closer to her, watching and feeling how her responding shiver made her tremble in his arms as he spoke in a teasing tone. “Is this more comfortable?”
“Is this… some kind of… jutsu?” Sakura willed herself to cool down, to stop reacting to his touch, but she only managed to tug her other hand from his face. They both watched as it fell onto his chest, fingers catching on the edge of his yukata. It occurred to her with a spreading shock how she was tangled in his lap, how her one bent leg was keeping a distance between their centers. To adjust to a more comfortable position would mean slinging her other leg around his waist, pressing her body fully against his, and she began to panic as she realized how much she wanted to do exactly that.
“A jutsu?” Madara’s hand slid up her back. “Are you trying to flatter me or yourself?”
She could not help but to lean into his touch, his spiced smoky smell intoxicating her, and she exhaled his scent sharply as she tried once more to stop herself. Sakura chose to answer the question that hung between their entangled bodies instead of their increasingly heated spoken ones.
“I--- I shouldn’t, Madara---”
“Why not?” There was a growl at the edge of his question. Her blood pulsed, and she dared to meet his eyes. Twin scarlet Sharingans spun there, and Sakura swallowed her fear. Her mind recovered for a moment and she spoke more clearly than before. “Because you didn’t answer my questions,” she said, an unintentional purr in her voice. She allowed her hand to slide down his chest and rest on his side. “Because…” Because he at least used to be terrible. I have to keep trying to resist. Cannot give in.
The gloved hand on her back lowered, dancing dangerously along the hem of her qipao. “I think,” came Madara’s rumble as he took her bent knee and moved her calf to hitch around his waist with her other leg, “that you want this, badly, and that you don’t have the will to resist. I think,” he continued as his hands slid under her shirt, “that you are simply wasting time that we could be taking advantage of.” Sakura gasped as his hands moved across her bare back beneath her clothing. His thumbs caught along the fabric; it bunched as he drew his hands up slowly, about to rip the shirt from her. She pushed her weight forward, managing to pin him back against the tatami mat and halt his hands’ progress. She settled on his lap where she straddled him and hovered her face over his. “Arrogant bastard,” she whispered, and she felt Madara’s hands slide up her thighs; another shudder wracked her frame, and she knew she was beyond the point of no return as she looked down to see the desire in his expression. Why not? his words repeated in her mind, and her instincts expanded with warmth, pushing against her will to resist. She knew he was waiting for her to be the one to give in completely, and she knew that there was no way she could stop now. The past is the past.
Sakura felt every part of Madara’s responding laugh beneath her. He squeezed her thighs with his warm gloved hands; she inhaled sharply as he pressed up against where she straddled him against the mat. She felt then exactly how their conversation had affected him, and she leaned further down past his face, breathing in the wild smoky musk of his hair and skin. Her breath made the strands of black hair flutter, and she felt him shudder beneath her as her lips grazed the heated skin where his neck met his jaw. Sakura couldn’t help but to smile into his warm skin at his reaction.
“Sakura.” Madara’s warning tone reverberated through her body again. Clenching her legs around his waist, she sat up again, her hand sliding up to his face; she drew close enough that their noses brushed. One of his hands on her thigh dragged up her body to run through her hair; she felt the final threads of her resolve fray and break as he stared up at her with darkly imploring eyes. “Damn it all,” Sakura murmured, and she finally gave in, melding her lips to his.
Madara grinned against her mouth, responding with an edge, his pleased deep rumble making her groan with need. He bodily flipped them both over, pinning her to the mat. He slanted his mouth against hers, pressing his weight along her body, and she sighed into the crashing of their lips. She felt him shudder again as her hands ran down his back and pulled him tighter against her, and she gasped at the hardness she felt pressing between her legs; he smiled against her mouth, his hand taking her wrist and lowering it, inviting her hand to drag down his yukata and feel him. She stared up at him with unveiled, pure desire, her hand gripping him, and he made a pleased sound in his throat as he lowered again and kissed her roughly. Her legs lifted into the air and then crossed behind his back; his rumble deepened into a growl, and Madara picked her up, tossing her onto the nearby bed.
He wasted no time in resuming what he was doing; he pinned her back to the bed, lips moving along her throat and then along her collarbone. His quick hands removed her qipao, and his kisses moved from her breasts to her stomach; his dark eyes met hers as he teased the shorts down her waist, and she watched him with green eyes that smoldered with desire.
Madara smiled into her heated skin as his hands spread her legs to arch around his head of long black hair. “Mine,” he murmured as he tossed aside his gloves; Sakura groaned with desire as he teased her with his bared hand, thumb stroking along her clit. Her blush had spread to her entire body; she cried out as his slow ministrations burst her thoughts into flames and burned through her core.
“Madara,” she moaned. He slid a finger into her, smiling at her wetness and the sound of his name spoken sinfully from her lips; she reached out and gripped his ebony mane, crying out as he teased her in a slow rhythm. He bent, and she shuddered violently as he let out a deliberate hot exhale against her vulnerable flesh.
“Madara...” His mouth descended, and she cried out as his tongue flicked in circles, lapped along her folds, and then moved into her. Her hands curled into his hair and she arched against him with her cries. Sweat glistened on her naked figure and his hands snaked up her sides as he dragged his mouth slowly upward. She stared into his burning red eyes as he rose above her, groaning with need as he kissed her neck once more.
“Madara.” She tore at the ties of his yukata which loosened easily; he helped her along, tearing it away, revealing his slender body that gleamed with sweat in the dim light of the room. Her legs crossed behind his back, and he pressed his length against her thigh, meeting her eyes. She reached down, stroking him, watching the way his eyes closed briefly with pleasure before opening again to pin her with his intense gaze. “Sakura,” he murmured, lips crashing against hers as he began to push his hot member into her.
“Madara!” She screamed out his name as he plunged himself into her depths. His growl resounded throughout every part of her as he drew himself almost entirely out of her and then savagely pushed back in, making a slick wet sound. Her hands ran up his back, breaths coming hot as she arched up and kissed him, desperate as he began to move in and out of her with a steadily faster rhythm. She felt her body raging with sensations and pleasure, her mind bursting with desire and a building need as he took her over and over. She lost herself in his eyes as they both grew close, and she clenched her teeth as he smirked down at her, slamming into her fiercely.
Their gasps were unified as they both reached the peak, shuddering against each other as they lost themselves to the pleasure. At once, their bodies relaxed, and he lowered against her as she curled around him. His breaths were long and slow against her neck, his face buried in her halo of pink tangled hair; she exhaled into the shaggy mane that tangled around them like a blanket. She fell asleep with him still inside of her.

Sakura awoke pressed into a darkness that was both soft and coarse at once. Her fingers curled into it, and she stretched her body in the sheets; her muscles were pleasantly sore. She pressed her face into the wild nest of hair and breathed in the bouquet of smoke, spice, and sake; but the very obvious traces of the scents of sex made her pause. Where am I?
She made herself sit up on an elbow to examine what she had been nestling into and blinked several times as Madara Uchiha rolled over onto his back, amused eyes dancing as she stared at him in disbelief.
Oh.
Her face bloomed with color, and he lifted a lazy hand to push a tangled lock of bedhead hair from her face. “Sleep well, cherry blossom?” Madara smirked up at her.
Oh, kami.
She realized her nakedness and jarred her arms together to cover herself. He laughed, and her body responded warmly to the rumble of his voice like it had the night before. She smacked out a hand along his chest. “Don’t you laugh.” She covered her face with her other hand, forgetting her goal to cover her chest, and her breasts bounced as she hid her face. “You know what it does to me.”
Madara’s laugh became a deep chuckle and Sakura slammed both hands on his chest, her expression twisting as she pressed her thighs together. “Did you hear me?!”
“Yes,” he said then as he reached up and pulled her down to him. She melted into his kiss. “Again?” she murmured as desire filled her; he tugged her body to move onto his, and he met no resistance as he teased her. She sighed against his mouth and Madara whispered against her lips as he slid into her. “You’re staying.”

Late in the darkness, Madara woke; his arm pulled around the slender body against his side, and he tilted his head to look down at the mussed head of hair against his shoulder. His hand lifted and threaded through the light strands as he frowned down at her. He could have easily killed the girl, even after their pleasant hours together, and the threat of his existence being told to the world would have been wiped out. But there was a warmth where she curled around him, and he found that he did not have any interest in quenching her life’s flame. She sighed in her sleep against his skin; his fingers fell from her hair and rested on the creamy-pale curve of her shoulder. His frown deepened at the sound of her heart beating near his as he closed his eyes, calling back the dark of sleep. The last conscious thought that crossed his mind was of how there might yet still be reasons for him to live.
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A Living Secret