Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Swim with the sharks Tsunade X Naruto	By : D-lilith Category: Naruto AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 391 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or its characters

Chapter List
- 1-One-Shot
- 1
Every part of him knew this was a mistake—walking into that suite, tasting the wine still on her lips, and letting his ambition swallow the last piece of his morals.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, his on her waist— fingers digging into silk and soft skin. She kissed him with the confidence that comes with knowing exactly how to make a man come undone under her touch— slowly,thoroughly, as if she knew precisely where to press.
Every glide of her mouth,every brush of their lips.
She didn’t rush.
Tsunade never rushed.
She took her time dismantling his resolve, like she did to his principles— one kiss at a time, one sigh, one calculated shift of her hips against his aching cock.
He should’ve pulled away. Said something. Anything.
But he didn’t.
Not once since it all began had he been able to refuse her.
Instead, he let her deepen the kiss , let her press closer, his back against the wall now. Her hand slid into his hair, slow and possessive, and when she pulled just hard enough to make him hiss, she smiled against his mouth.
Wrong.
This was all wrong.
His promotion, the fake congratulations he had received from his colleague once the email notification hit their inboxes—forced smiles, claps on the back, the kind of praise that dripped with suspicion. No one said it, but he could feel it. Every glance whispered the same thing.
He didn’t earn it.
And they were right.
He slept his way into that title. Into the polished chrome nameplate on the door next to the woman who owned every inch of his success…
…or his downfall.
The same woman, old enough to be his mother—maybe even older. The woman with whom for the past year he had spent most nights beneath silk sheets,learning the different ways to please her body better than he’d ever learned his own job.
She taught him with her body—where to touch, when to bite, how to listen.
She trained him.
Not in management strategy, or how to lead a meeting.
No.
She taught him how to please her.
To be able to tell when she wanted it rough, her legs wrapping around his waist. The angle she liked to feel his fingers inside her, the exact moment her voice broke when he got it right.
This is what she taught him.
It turns out…he was good at it.
At least better than he was at his own work.
He was no fool, he was well aware that his output was at best slightly above average. If promotions were earned only through intellect and output, Sakura or Ino would have gotten that promotion months ago.
They had discipline and ambition.
And while Tsunade had come to take them under her wing, when she called them to her office it was to discuss departmental targets, performance metrics…
When she called him to her office?
They fucked.
He wasn’t a mentee.
He was her outlet.
Her indulgence…her distraction.
And tonight was no different.
He let her lead him to the couch, let her push him down with one hand on his chest as his back hit the plush cushions.
His breath caught in his throat, the bulge in his pants obvious as he looked up at that temptress.
She still hadn’t taken off her dress and he couldn’t help but admire how the fabric hugged her curves.
Dark, body-hugging, slit high on one thigh. She stepped between his knees, one heel slowly dragging along the carpet. Her thighs shifted beneath the slit, teasing the edge of skin, his eyes followed the line up—past the curves of her hips to the plunge of her deep neckline.
That damn cleavage.
He hadn’t made it through dinner without staring.
He hadn’t even tried. Every time she leaned forward ,every slow sip of her wine, the fabric dipped just enough to remind him how it felt to have those full breasts against his face, wrapped around his cock—tight and warm.
Soft and heavy.
She had caught him staring.
Of course she did. She wore that dress on purpose, she wanted him to stare at her—wanted him to desire her, even now, with the promotion signed , even after the guilt still gnawed at him.
Yet, as she straddled him, sitting on the bulge in his pants, looking down at him, he could feel the leash—invisible, but so impossibly strong.
He didn’t resist when she tugged him by the tie, pulling him closer until their lips barely touched. Her breath was hot, the threat of a kiss hanging in the air between them.
“Do you still feel guilty about this?” The smirk on her lips wasn’t cruel, not exactly. It was as if she enjoyed watching the myriad of emotions on his face—ultimately knowing which one will win.
Her mouth hovered just above his, each syllable a pointed caress:”Or are you finally beginning to understand how things work?”
A shuddering breath escaped as she nipped at his bottom lip, tugging between her teeth, his hips arching up against her. He groaned as she ground against the bulge in his pants, the heat of her cunt soaking through the fabric.
She chuckled as she released his lower lips, hers brushing over his cheek,down his jaw,until her teeth sank into the curve of his neck, hard enough to make him whimper.
Tsunade loved that sound—the helpless, undignified little cry she coaxed out of him. He clenched the arms of the couch to keep from grabbing her, squeezing that perfect ass of her.
The older woman’s mouth worked over the tender flesh on his neck, the heat of her tongue soothing it, making his cock twitch. A small kiss was placed on the bruise, and another, before her tongue grazed the shell of his ear.
“If you want to get ahead in life, you can’t feel sorry for others…” Her hips rocked against him, slow and deliberate.
“…You have to use everything at your disposal…” She was going to drive him crazy and she knew it.
“…Use me…“ The breath of those last two words tickled his ears, a shudder running down his spine, the ache between his legs growing more desperate.
“…Fuck me…” Her teeth sunk into his earlobe, his hand on her waist now, squeezing the fabric of her dress.
“…Take whatever you want…” His grip tightened.
“…Whatever you need…” A strangled moan escaped his lips.
His hands were on her ass, pulling her closer, their lips mere inches apart.
His breath came faster now, his chest heaving against hers,their bodies pressed together, her eyes locked into his.
His heart was pounding, his cock throbbing, and all he could see was the lust in her eyes.
“…and leave the rest to me.”
He could no longer resist the temptation.
Fingers found the split of her dress and bunched it higher up her thigh, palm hot and eager against her mature skin. Her body settled firmly in his lap as he dragged her in a messy kiss.
She made a low, approving sound in the back of her throat and rolled her lips deliberately, pressing herself tight to his erection. Tsunade gripped his face between her hands—no gentle caress this time—and then easily took back control of the kiss, consuming his mouth,tongue moving with a ruthless rhythm he could barely match.
She kept him like that: pinned by her weight and lust, no space to breathe except the air she allowed. Her tongue swept over his, and her hands found their way under his shirt.
She didn’t bother with the buttons, just yanked until the first one snapped and the rest followed.He gasped as her nails scraped over his chest, a possessive survey of what she owned.
He shuddered, and her mouth traced the tremor, lips skating over his jaw to bite the side of his throat again, leaving him panting for fresh air.
But his hands had other plans. They worked up her sides, fingers spaying over ribs, tracing that obscene neckline with greedy,reverent hands.
She allowed it.
Let him worship her.
It hadn’t mattered, in the end, how much he told himself to hesitate. Once she pressed his hand beneath the plunging V, guiding him to cup and weight her chest…
…He forgot every bit of shame.
He kissed the space she offered, mouth hungry and eager. Tsunade laughed and pressed him deeper, molding his head to the scent of her skin, the salt and perfume. She reached behind herself, one-handed, and the bodice of her dress slackened, giving way to his touch.
She leaned back, hands resting on his knees for support, her bare breasts exposed for his eyes only. Her nipples dark and already erected.
She ached her back slightly, an unspoken command for him to indulge.
He didn’t hesitate.
Both hands full and face buried. He brought his mouth to her nipple, tongue swirling slow as his hand kneaded the other breast, feeling the way she shuddered in his lap. The taste of her, perfume and sweat…irresitable.
Her breath hitching, she cradled the back of his neck, forcing him deeper against her chest. He suckled hungrily, slicking her skin with his tongue, while his thumb rolled the other nipple between his fingers. She pressed her hips forward, grinding down on him so shamelessly his vision blurred. The couch’s cushion squeaked and dipped beneath them.
She was making him crazy.
He sucked harder, teeth grazing her nipples until she gasped,raked her fingernails through his hair, and pulled his head back.
She angled his face up, forcing him to meet her gaze once again, and he saw it— the darkened pupil, the slight blush on her cheeks and chest.
She smiled…a feral, predatory smile.
“Good boy.” She whispered before pulling his mouth up to hers for a kiss that left his lips stinging.
The hands not tangled in his hair drifted to his belt, and with years of practice,opened his trousers. His erection sprang free.
Stiff.
Hard.
His arousal implified by how deftly she slipped her fist around the base. He could barely breathe;his vision pulsed at the edges.
She stroked him, slow at first, her thumb swirling pre-cum in small circles over the head, then squeezed tighter and picked up the pace, watching his face with wicked satisfaction.
He panted heavily, shuddered, close to coming undone from her hands alone.But she must have sensed how close he was—how his hips jerked up against her grip. She eased off for a moment.
“No,” She whispered, lips brushing his ear—almost gentle. “Not yet.”
She slid down his body, fluid and predatory, until her knees met the floor and she was looking up at him. Her lips parted, painted and obscene. For a moment, she just watched him—his chest heaving, the wild dilate of his eyes, his cock standing shamelessly hard and leaking in her hand. Then, she licked the tip, eyes never wavering from his.
He almost folded there.
Almost lost it in the wet, patient way her tongue played over him. She took her time—first a flick, then a lingering swirl along the crown, then another, lower and slower, hot velvet tongue lapping up and down his length.
When she finally took him in her mouth, it was piece by piece—deliberate, methodical. Her lips sealed around him with perfect, vice-like pressure, tongue working him as she sucked. The sounds she made—smacking, deliberate—filled his ears, pulling him deeper down the rabbit hole. She hummed, low in her throat, and the vibration sent a line of electric need straight through his entire body.
He reached out, fingers desperate for something.
Anything,
They found the soft crown of her hair, the silk of her as she drew him into her mouth.
She didn’t gag.
Didn’t shy away.
Instead, she took him inch by torturous inch, until her nose pressed to his pubic bone, amber eyes glinting up at him through her lashes. One hand held his cock stead, the other clutched his thigh, nails hard enough to anchor him.
He could do nothing else but stammered out her name as she bobbed her head, slow and deep, each movement measured to keep him at the brink. Every slide of her lips, every scrape of her teeth, every wet hollow sent another spike of pleasure down his spine.
He was dizzy with.
Craving.
Longing.
Desire overshadowing his guilt.
He let his head fall back, the world narrowing to the wet heath of her mouth, the vice of her throat. She watched him without blinking, savoring every twitch, every sound, every desperate clutch of his hand in her hair.
He was going to come.
He was going to come and she knew it—knew every signal of his body, every quiver and catch of breath.
And yet—
She pulled away, mouth pulling off with a wet pop that made his balls ache. His cock slick and twitching in the cold air of the hotel room. Her thumb smeared the spit and precum mess up and down his throbbing dick.
She smiled, standing slowly, fingers hiking her dress up her thighs until it gathered at her waist.
No panties.
A spurt of gooey precum dripped out of his slit of the sight.
She let him stare, drinking in the sight of her: strong thighs, the softened tan skin, trimmed blond hair and her soaked entrance.
He was transfixed.
She climbed into his lap, knees bracketing his hips, one hand guiding him to her entrance. It was warm and slick, wet enough that even the barest nudge had his cockhead sliding against her hole.
She did not sink down.
Not yet.
Instead, she circled the tip along the seam of her cunt, teasing herself as much as him. Using his arousal for her own ends.
He bucked, involuntary, and she relented.
When she took him in—when her ass finally met his thighs— he nearly blacked out.
Tight.
Hot.
Her walls squeezed around him as she took and took every inch he had to offer, settling her weight fully into his lap. A low breathless moan escaped her throat.
She held herself there,impaled fully, letting him feel each maddening throb, every wet clench.
Then, she leaned, hands braced on his shoulders, breath fanning across his face.
She moved.
Rolling her hips, slow at first, almost lazily, savoring the way his cock twitched with every grind. The hotel room filled with the slap of skin, the labored breathing, her low guttural laughter.
She directed the tempo.
She always did.
He gripped her ass, letting the meaty warmth of her cheeks fill his hands, as she rode him. Each time she rose, gliding up along his cock, she paused long enough to make him fear she’d leave him empty. but she always slammed back down, black spots dancing at the edge of his vision.
She knew exactly where to angle her hips, how to squeeze, how to pulse her inner walls so he felt wrung out.
Next, she rode him faster, a rhythm building, her breasts bouncing against his chest, the slap of flesh on flesh louder. He tried to thrust up to meet up with her, but she pinned his wrists to the cushions and forced him to take it—what she gave.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Every time he strained to match her, she pressed his hand flat, smiled her wicked smile, and slammed down on him until all he could do was gasp and shudder.
Her breath was uneven now, snatches of ragged air punctuating each thrust. He could see her skin flush deeper along throat and chest, a glisten forming at her hairline.
He opened his mouth to tell her— warn her that he was close— but Tsunade leaned in, tongue in his mouth, swallowing every sound, stifling his words with her heat.
He came.
Hard.
Hips bucking in desperate little jerks beneath her. She groaned against him, riding out his orgasm with patience, squeezing every last spasm from him before letting herself fall forward, pressing her body flat to his, both of them breathless and trembling.
They stayed like that for a time, tangled and heavy and sweating through their expensive clothes. He was vaguely aware of her soft, almost affectionate kisses pressed along his jaw and neck, as if they were lovers.
Perhaps they were?
He never asked.
And he might be better off not knowing.
End
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Swim with the sharks Tsunade X Naruto