Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Triumph of the Uchiha	By : c0p13r Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 20555 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Naruto'. I do not make any money off of this story, and I do not condone rape of any kind; this is purely written for recreation.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Afterhours
~~~
            Business was slow, but the Ramen Ichiraku stayed open as late as usual. Now that Naruto was gone, their main source of income was absent, and no one wanted to go out for ramen on a gloomy night like tonight. With nothing else to look forward to on a rainy night on the evening of the first day of war, the father/daughter business closed. The front, steel doors were pulled down and locked, sealing the family of two in the dimly lit shack.
            Scrubbing his large pot clean, Teuchi smiled. “We should work extra hard tomorrow,” he told his precious daughter as she set away the cooking supplies. “When Naruto comes back, we should have a new soup for him to try: a ‘Naruto Special’!” He beamed up at the lamp lighting their workspace. “That boy sure has grown. The Hero of Konoha, and he’s been our best customer for twelve years.”
            Tying up the bag of waste, Ayame looked at her father with a smile. “That means the Ramen Ichiraku will become renowned throughout all the countries, and our business will spread.” She snickered to herself, imagining the wealth and fame she’d acquire when nobles came to try her tsukemen; she harbored the desire to usurp her dad’s ramen recipes with her own discovered foodstuffs.
            Sighing and wiping a sleeve over his brow, Teuchi looked woefully at the wasted noodles. It was a shame no one’s spirits were high enough to go out for a soul-warming brew at his restaurant; it was quite hard to think of business while friends, neighbors, and customers might be on the front line, dying in a war brought about by the fear of someone’s name. “That boy,” he sighed, referring to Naruto, “may have grown, Ayame. But he’s still a boy. Should he really be out there?”
            “Now, now, Father,” Ayame lovingly scolded him, patting his back. “Sakura and Kakashi-san said that he would be in hiding, unaware of the war itself! You’ll have your best customer back in no time!” She sounded a little doubtful, even if these assurances came from Naruto’s teammate and their handsome instructor. Her dad smiled at her, but it certainly wasn’t convincing of lifting his mood. “I’ll finish cleaning up here,” she offered, already scooting the old man towards the backdoor. “You go home and start thinking of those new ‘Naruto Special’ recipes!” She was ambitious and stubborn, but she was a wonderful daughter.
            Teuchi smiled, thanked her, and kissed her forehead. “I’ll get right home and do that.” He seemed the happiest he’d been all day. It never failed to brighten his mood when face with the challenge and prospect of making a new kind of ramen to thrill Naruto – and possibly Chouji; the latter of the two certainly was harder to please with his culinary knowledge.
            Their one umbrella was left for Ayame to use; she had no problems accepting the fact that her father would be trudging home in the rain. After all, it was a perfect excuse for him to hop into his evening robe, snuggle up to their kotatsu, and start scribbling down ramen ideas; it was one of his favorite things to do at home.
            In hindsight, Ayame found herself wishing that she asked her dad to at least take some of the trash bags with him on his way out. It couldn’t be helped now. With the umbrella in her left hand and a trash bag of old ramen and vegetable scraps, she hobbled outside. Doing this one-handed certainly proved irksome, particularly when the bag lost altitude due to tiring muscle and started to drag through the mud.
            What a way to end a horrible day… At least there was a pleasant aroma wafting through the wet air, almost like perfume. It wasn’t a usual odor, but Ayame didn’t question it. Her major concern was scurrying back out of the cold. The shack didn’t have much, but it was certainly warmer than this stormy chill. The lightning and thunder in the black sky dissuaded her from searching out the source of what must’ve been a woman’s perfume.
            There couldn’t possibly be someone lurking around the shack, smelling like that at this time of night or in this weather. Ayame returned, shivering and shaking the raindrops from her umbrella before collapsing it and setting it aside. It wouldn’t be much longer before she was hurrying down the soaked roads to join her father at home and start jotting down her own ‘Naruto Special’.
            That thickheaded idiot just needed to open up to the idea of tsukemen instead of gorging himself solely of ramen. “Heh, if I can get him to eat tsukemen,” she consoled herself with a scheming grin, “everyone will want to try.” Profiting off of her customer’s success and status didn’t seem like a bad thing to her; Ichiraku was already famous, but they started having more frequent clientele once Naruto was named the hero of Konoha. Many came, some shinobi wishing to express their gratitude or regret for past actions against the jinchuuriki, others aspiring ninja children looking for an autograph or advice.
            Ayame found herself a little flushed when she thought about it. Naruto certainly grew up from the brat who used to come to Ichiraku every night with Iruka, discussing big aspirations to be a great ninja. With all of his heart work, his dreams had become a reality. Shuffling her sleeve up over her right bicep, Ayame flexed her arm boastfully and pledged, “I’ll work hard, too! Just you watch, Naruto!”
            Determined to plow through the rest of her clean up, she charged for the sink. She normally hated washing the dishes most of all, but she doubted that Naruto was discouraged when it came time to doing unlikeable chores. She would’ve submerged her hands into the murky dishwater without a second thought had the lamplights not suddenly flickered, as if there was a presence that upset the light.
            “Ayame…” The voice called low in a tone colder than ice.
            In a trice, Ayame wheeled about. Wasn’t she supposed to be alone?! No customer could have been accidentally closed in, after all. That was why she found it to be a shock to see that someone actually was perched on one of the bar’s stools, elbows propped up and fingers interlaced. Dark, maniacal eyes of red and black peered at her, cutting through the flickering light.
            Ayame’s chestnut eyes widened with terror and surprise. He might’ve matured since last she saw him, but there was no mistaking who had visited her on this wretched night. Her mouth did not work, and all she managed to breathe was the name of her dark company: “Uchiha Sasuke…” She swallowed hard, unsure of what to expect. How did he even show up here?! Well, the door had been opened several times, and ninjas – particularly of his class – knew how to be sleek and stealthy. Slipping by her when the door was opened and her back was turned must’ve been the easiest thing.
            Lowering his hands slowly onto the bar surface, Sasuke rose from his seat. That seemingly insignificant gesture made him appear to be growing, towering over lonely Ayame. It was merely an illusion brought on by fear, of course; Sharingan didn’t need to be used to intimidate non-ninjas.
            Karin was not with him. To conquer someone like Ayame, he wouldn’t need her support; she would be put to better use isolating and detaining another target. Quite a bit reluctantly, Karin nonetheless agreed to help him secure a separate conquest.
            Without thinking, the first pan Ayame touched was flung at the rogue ninja, but it passed through him. It must’ve been some sort of ninjutsu, but Ayame was working on fear and adrenaline; more cooking supplies, utensils, and even a bag of rubbish was hurled to fend him off and possibly create an opening. Raining or not, she planned to make it out the door and at the very least rouse a commotion that would bring the attention of Konoha’s current guard.
            She’d exhausted all ammunition and hostility, and Sasuke hadn’t budged an inch. He must’ve used some jutsu that threw off her aim.
            Civilians were never aware of their helplessness in the presence of a Sharingan wielder. Though she could swear to putting forth all of her efforts to expel him, the truth of the matter was that she’d not so much as picked up a washcloth to flag at him. Her entire outburst had been nothing more than a simple genjutsu, used to spend all of her aggression in a single instant and slow her heart rate before it could even spike.
            Sasuke moved with wicked purpose when he lifted himself to stand elegantly upon the stool. Then he took a step towards Ayame, striding over the counter to tower over her. He dripped rain over the surface as he moved to finally hop down and stand face to face with his target.
            She had saved her father’s life by sending him home and taking on the rest of the chores herself. If he had still been present, Sasuke wouldn’t have had a second thought about skewering him and leaving him bleeding on the floor of his restaurant. The Uchiha’s target was the daughter, not the father. She was fortunate to have unwittingly saved Teuchi’s life.
            Ayame, of course, didn’t know of her good fortune. A run-in with a rogue Uchiha wasn’t what most would consider a prosperous encounter. Sasuke was a dangerous criminal now, able to hold his own against the fearsome Raikage no less. A mere cook’s daughter could probably be slain by him if he simply stared at her long enough.
            There was a time when Ayame could admit to finding Sasuke objectively attractive – for someone his age – but she was nothing if not scared to death by him now that he was standing just a few inches from her. She had leaned back over the sink. Just a centimeter more between them was a world of relief amongst a universe of terror.
            “How-? Why-?” The rampant questions sped through Ayame’s head far too quick for her to complete a single one.
            She matured well, Sasuke noted as his eyes – his Sharingan receded after its purpose was fulfilled – wandered across her body. Back when he lived in the village, she was at an age of developing maturity; the development bore eye-pleasing fruit, though her chef clothing certainly didn’t accentuate that fact. Clothes could be made short work of with a well-placed slash from his Kusanagi blade, but Ayame was terrified enough without him wielding the mighty sword.
            Hands came up slowly, making Ayame flinch and try to pull back further; she would’ve thrown herself to one side if she could get her legs to move. She gasped when the front of her robe was fisted in either hand, and with a sharp yank, Sasuke pulled open her clothes and slid them halfway down her arms. Her immodest viewing sparked the instinct to cover up, but Sasuke’s hands were still faster than her own; he kept her by the wrists while his eyes trailed over the mounds he’d uncovered. As he had guessed, she had grown, but she was hardly anything more than a generous b-cup, and that was just fine; he was not out, scouring only for the most endowed women to bear his children. Nonetheless, he did find this presentation most pleasing, though that plain, white bra of hers was obscuring the view.
            Short work was made of the bra when he took one hand from Ayame’s to grab the undergarment between the two cups and tear it from her chest. Breasts, high and perky, were brought to his attention with light-brown nipples pert at the tips. Lovely things; attractive and supple, fitting neatly in his hand when he set it upon her body. The hardened tip poked gently against his palm, and his fingers smoothly closed around it to tease.
            Ayame hissed a little before plucking up the nerve to finally shove at Sasuke’s chest; he went away one step, but only on his own whim. Red in the face, Ayame quickly threw her arms across her chest, drawing her shoulders up defensively while turning away. “Just… just what do you think you’re doing?” She had briefly forgotten that he was a criminal and not some pervert.
            She could perceive him any way she wanted, but that wouldn’t stop him from using her as he wished. He allowed her another moment of defiance and separation before he stalked forward. This time, he did not waste time unclothing her while standing. She’d tensed her arms should he try to expose her again, but instead, she was swept up in his arms and laid out on the counter. It was so deft that she couldn’t even recount when her feet left the floor.
            Left in somewhat of a stupor, her hands fell away from her breast, and she found herself beneath Uchiha Sasuke. He moved like a serpent: silently, stealthily, and sinisterly. He had taken the liberty of settling in between her thighs while she was too dazed to close them. Her apron was unknotted easily enough, allowing her robe to loosen more and granting him access to her pants.
            “W-wait!” Ayame frantically refused when she felt his finger prodding the hem of her pants. She tried valiantly to push his hands away, ignoring how her breasts freely bounded with her movement, but it was all for naught; when he had set his mind to it, Sasuke would not be easily swayed from his course. With a cry of mortification, Ayame watched as her pants slipped from her body.
            Sasuke elevated her legs so that her feet were pointing straight up while he drew her clothes off. Like her bra, he carelessly threw the garments to some haphazard spot to be forgotten. The robe could stay; he himself didn’t plan to shed his attire completely anyway, but her panties had to be discarded, and he did just that. The flimsy undergarment stretched out and tore with one, sure tug from his fist. And again, Ayame shrieked and tried to cover herself.
            If Kurenai, Yoshino, and even Yuugao could not fend him off, a girl of no ninjutsu background had a nonexistent chance to stave off the offender for even a moment. All she really managed to do was irk the quiet Uchiha, but he’d put up with far worse migraines when he was a part of Team Seven.
            He effortlessly uncovered her sex, though Ayame still squirmed beneath him. The cleft of her sex was bordered with sparse chestnut hair, and there showed no signs of moisture. That was certainly a hitch, but not one that would put him on pause for long. He could easily implant suggestions of willingness and arousal in the civilian’s head to have her crave him, but there was hardly any skill in bewitching someone without any sort of genjutsu resistance; it’d be a waste of use of his brother’s eyes.
            Spreading out her clenching thigh, Sasuke pressed forward, using his right hand to keep himself propped over Ayame so that the nimble fingers of his left could work on Ayame. He felt her tense when his fingertips grazed lightly, almost sensuously across the inside of her thigh. Jolts of dangerous pleasure sent warnings to her head of troubles to come, and she would fight it to the best of her capabilities; that was, at least, what she told herself before those wicked digits went to her core and started their job.
            Ayame’s breath caught in her throat when he first brushed against her folds. It was not so much the contact as the sheer audacity he had to invade such private space. Still, that area hadn’t known foreign fingers for some time, she was a bit embarrassed to admit. “No! Stop!” Her hands tried to pull away the one that lazily danced against her vagina, but he was resistant. When her struggling intensified, his middle finger jabbed successfully into her unprepared entrance.
            The friction was almost as uncomfortable as sandpaper and made Ayame whine. She implored some mercy, but Sasuke simply went ahead to wedge in his forefinger in too. She was so tight, and not just because the passage was nearly completely dry. Though he had started the process rather brutally, he proceeded with gentler care, tenderly stroking her inner walls and nudging them apart with scissoring gestures.
            Ayame – with cheeks dyed red – bit down on her lower lip, stifling a groan. The hands that had once tried to fend off Sasuke’s assault were now latching onto the sides of the bar with fingernails biting into the wood. Her upper body was lifted up on her elbows to stare down her body to where she was being assaulted; a bit uncomfortable for her abdomen while curling, especially with her breath hitching, but she couldn’t take her eyes away…
            After including her clitoris in the stimulation with some ginger, but firm strokes from his thumb, Sasuke began to detect a spreading moisture over his intruding digits. The snug walls yielded easier than before as blood circulated more prominently in that area. “Kyah~…” Ayame wished she had a bit more reserves, but it was hard to fight when her body was responding so eagerly to these hot caresses; it was a quicker process of breaking down when Sasuke – pressing his advantage – bowed his head to feast upon her left breast.
            A hand came up to the back of Sasuke’s head, and rather than yank his hair in a last desperate attempt to pry him away from her, she cradled him to her bosom to encourage his stimulation. Surely, allowing Sasuke to have his way with her wasn’t treason; Ayame reasoned with her conscience that there was no way for her to escape anyway. It made it much easier for her to spread her legs invitingly for his fingers. She could hear the wet movement of his flourishing digits as they purged her now-glistening folds.
            Chewing on her bottom lip, Ayame did her best to filter her moans. Sometimes, she managed to contradict her actions by mewling a “Stop” or “Wait”, but her hands did nothing but encourage Sasuke with urgent tugs. She was not a lonely mother or a forlorn kunoichi as his other targets had been, she was still a young woman with blooming sexuality. Against his skillful advances, she could hardly put up a decent struggle.
            Sasuke continued to suckle on her pert breast, often nuzzling the spongy flesh affectionately. After birthing his child, he was sure that Ayame would grow a cup size to nurse their offspring. He did not alter breasts when he was finished with the one; he had grown far too impatient to keep himself confined in his loose pants for much longer.
            Sitting back on his haunches, providing leeway for Ayame to escape – which he was pleased that she didn’t take – he began to tug at the purple rope about his waist. With bated breath, Ayame watched the makeshift belt fall away so that he could kick out of his trousers. What leapt up into her view shocked her. She had heard boisterous female customers giggling over the sizes of boys they’d slept with, and even one or two boys offered their ‘measurements’ to Ayame when her dad had taken off work, but she doubted they could honestly boast what Sasuke could. He was not freakishly huge by any means – more or less seven inches – but that was a solid two inches longer than any of Ayame’s past lovers, and his girth was substantial in comparison.
            Ayame gasped when the Uchiha suddenly surged towards her, closing the gap between them. He held her breast in his left hand, thumbing the stiff nub gingerly. Clenching her teeth, the brunette involuntarily parted her thighs for the rogue when he shuffled towards her heat. She could feel him pass over her folds, missing her entrance entirely – most likely intentionally. The underside of the rigid shaft grazed over her protruding clit, stimulating her to make a weak mewl.
            Waiting for him to amend the lazy jab of his erection was frustrating, enough to have the cook’s daughter fidget uncomfortably and roll her hips. It was useless, as she’d only be impaled when the Uchiha deemed it time, but she couldn’t control herself. It was all she could do not to reach down in between them herself and take matters into her own hand. Sprawled out on the Ichiraku counter where she served loyal customers, caught underneath one of the greatest villains Konoha had ever produced, driven to a fearful arousal; she couldn’t wait to have Sasuke pounding her!
            All without the influence of the Sharingan, Sasuke marveled at how he broke her. He didn’t much care for the superficial girls – like Sakura and Ino – fawning over his looks and ‘cool’ attitude, but following through with a mission like this, his appearance was a great weapon in itself. The older women – like Yoshino and Yuugao – were not so easy to dominate, but he had already overcome those obstacles. There were certain to be more difficulties to encounter – he could name a few certain targets that would not go down without a fight (literally and figuratively) – but Ayame was a simple catch.
            Hopefully Karin was tending to her own task…
            “Are you ready, Ayame?” Sasuke had moved his lips to the panting girl’s ear, his breath airy and smooth as he spoke. He was so close that she felt his lips lift in his smirk.
            Ayame was starting to sweat as her vagina pulsated with the need to be filled. Again, she made a fruitless endeavor to bring the thick cock inside of her, but Sasuke drew out of her way. A hopeless gasp left her, and she couldn’t hesitate to stutter, “Please…!”
            With her reduced to this, Sasuke doubted he would be able to get much more out of her than just that. He could’ve stalled his own urges a while longer, but there was no real point in teasing the girls like this. Besides, time was of the essence; Yuugao may have been put out of commission for some time – long enough for Sasuke and Karin to make an escape from Konoha – but there was still another, better tracker out there that would soon discover his presence.
            Keeping haste in mind, Sasuke secured himself over Ayame and adjusted his hips until the blunt head of his cock was appropriately lined up with her snatch. She held her breath and almost smiled when her glistening folds parted around him. All she could manage as her tunnel was stretched out was short, quick, anxious gasps.
            She was quite snug, Sasuke deemed; nearly as tight as Karin had been. It took him several, shallow thrusts to finally get all the way inside of Ayame’s heat, and he could not help but exhale ecstatically when his cockhead nudged back against her cervix. The girl beneath him quivered and rolled her hips, doing her best to accommodate his girth. Being spread so wide had been more uncomfortable than she thought; she’d known of some girl boasting about how big their guy was, and that led her to believe that the bigger a man was, the more pleasure she’d get. She didn’t consider the discomfort of wedging the large penis into her drenched pussy.
            Wet or not, Ayame’s body clung tightly to Sasuke’s shaft, creating a little difficulty when it came to drawing back. She held him almost with the strength of a refusing fist, and while that may have caused her to hurt a little, for a man, it felt wonderful. Sasuke knew he should be fast, but he feared losing his load to quickly if Ayame didn’t loosen up a little. Feeling her legs enclose his waist certainly didn’t help his plight either.
            He breathed meditatively, calmed his excitement, and then proceeded to push into Ayame’s channel. She droned a little, expressing the slight pain of taking his large cock inside of her again. He inserted himself completely, and then drew back after a brief pause.
            By this third thrust, Ayame felt significantly better about taking the Uchiha’s member inside of her. A few thrusts later, and she only made noises of longing and encouragement. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling her up against him so that their chests could rub together. Her taut nipples brushed against his pectorals, breasts bouncing more and more when the ease of pushing in and out of her increased. The resistance of her hardly-touched quim had all but dissolved; she now fit Sasuke neatly as he glided deep to her womb and out again.
            The chef burrowed her face in the crook of Sasuke’s neck, moaning frantically against his collarbone while her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades. The pain of it hardly registered to Sasuke; his focus was centered on loading his cock up Ayame’s tight and slippery snatch. She clutched him with her arms and legs, whimpering and moaning from the mighty force of his thrusts.
            “Oh~, Sasuke~!” Her face was scrunched up from the mounting pleasure. Her toes curled in her sandals – she hadn’t removed them, and neither had Sasuke – and her arms pulled tighter on him. As she breathed in his scent, she could detect a faint, but certain aroma underneath his natural, charcoal scent: perfume. Either she was not the first girl he’d visited tonight, or he had some very odd customs.
            His hips rolled sensually, hitting her at an angle that – after being struck several times – she felt herself coming undone, though her muscles went taut until she was knotted around Sasuke in a desperate embrace to keep him deep within her. Her feet at his backside pushed him deep inside of her collapsing hole. Muscles quivered around him, and he felt the shot of hot, viscous splatter over his balls from her crammed snatch.
            His otherwise cool demeanor faltered for a moment when Ayame’s body hugged him. He buckled fiercely and almost fell over her, but he caught himself, bracing with a deep, meditative breath, and resumed his dutiful thrusts.
            All the while, the cook’s daughter convulsed underneath him, still in the shocks of bursting pleasure that had her inner walls clamping down on his pushing member. Her hips shakily rocked against him, often times grinding the sensitive nub against his pelvis to keep the raging lust in her loins stoked. His right hand came up to the small of her back, elevating her butt off the counter and pulling her to the gyration of his pelvis. A lengthy wail echoed in the shack when Sasuke ground the head of his cock against her cervix. Fingernails ripped into Sasuke’s shoulder blades, raking red streaks across his skin.
            With a ragged grunt from Sasuke, Ayame was forced down hard on the counter. The missing-nin breathed roughly in her ear, his hands latching tightly to her waist to pull her sex onto his. She’d be wearing bruises with his fingerprints in the morning. She wailed when his thrusts became harder, pounding her into her counter as if he meant to pulverize it. Her juices squirted out with each, deep impaling, soiling the bar; she’d need to make sure to clean up her mess before heading home.
            There were three deeper thrusts, jabbing her cervix brutally, before Sasuke finally stopped. A hot and sticky warmth suddenly pasted Ayame’s insides. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before; she’d never had a guy explode inside of her before. Sasuke’s breath was tattered and his body shook above her. Their bodies kept flush, her breasts mashing against his chest.
            Ayame’s snatch was overflowing with an abundance of semen by the time Sasuke had successfully emptied himself. As always, since spearheading this lustful expedition, chakra joined the passage of semen into the target’s uterus, enhancing vitality and chances of conception. To keep the majority of his semen inside, Sasuke chose not to pull out, residing deep within Ayame while they both caught their breaths. The fingers that had once been digging into his back had now loosened their tension and idly grazed down to gingerly cup his hips.
            Ayame wasn’t quite sure of how she should feel about herself when her eyes wandered off to the side. It was easily the best sexual experience of her life thus far: abrupt and passionate, immoral even, somewhere familiar but taboo to fuck at; the fact that his penis was rather large didn’t hurt either – in a manner of speaking, of course, for there was some discomfort when she first fitted around him.
            On the other hand, Sasuke was a vengeful killer. He had slain the man who was about to be officially titled the Sixth Hokage, and had set things into motion leading to this war by attacking and almost capturing the brother of the Raikage. Ayame wasn’t quite sure what he was doing in Konoha or what he had done before coming to her, but she doubted it was for the good of the village.
            She was content to lie there in silent contemplation, avoiding seeking the answers to her questions just yet, but Sasuke had an agenda to keep to. Surely, Karin’s duty was being tended to if she hadn’t already snared the next target. Carefully, to avoid excess spillage, Sasuke supported Ayame’s hips with a hand at the small of her back and pulled out of her. Some of his cum leaked out of her, sliding to the crevice of her buttocks, but it couldn’t be helped; Karin’s invigorating-chakra restored his vitality each time he supped it from her bite marks.
            He deftly crawled off the tsukemen/ramen cook and began to dress himself without a word. He didn’t so much as look up when his brief lover propped herself up to watch him; she modestly pulled her robes over her breasts and closed her thighs to keep her soiled snatch from his view. What was to happen now, she wondered? Sasuke wasn’t the type for small talk, but after doing what they just did…
            “Go home, Ayame,” Sasuke said to her after tying his sash around his waist. His cold eyes lifted, illuminating in the dark. “Do not tell anyone I was here.”
            His voice was so cold and callous. She hadn’t really expected less from someone who was considered a national criminal, but it still surprised her and chilled her to the bone. Normally, she could be fiery, snapping at him for giving out orders right after pounding her into the sacred counter where she and her father served loyal customers. Against Sasuke, however, she was feeble and couldn’t shoot any angry words at him. If anything, when she looked dead-on at him, her eyes were quickly forced to the floor.
            She made not a peep as the rogue Uchiha slowly rounded the counter and treaded through the cook’s area to the back exit. There was ominous silence until the door was pushed open. For a moment, the Uchiha stared out at the night storm, lightning flashing and thunder rumbling fiercely in the distance.
            Ayame had yet to move from where she was. Her legs still quivered; she doubted they’d be able to support her weight so soon if she slid off the counter. She flushed when she took a peek at the juncture of her thighs. Sure enough, she was leaking more of a shameful mess over the counter, though there was still enough of his abundant heat flooding her womb.
            Wordlessly, she looked back at the dark silhouette standing in the doorway, eyes glowing like some otherworldly being as they focused solely on her.
            “Go home, Ayame…”
~~~
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Triumph of the Uchiha