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Sakura hooks one leg over the arm of her chair. The other is draped across Kakashi's shoulder. She is wide open and bare before him. Sakura knows better than to allow a blush; she can't stop the uneasy clench of her muscles.
Kakashi turns his head, nuzzles the inside of Sakura's thigh. His lips are dry, mouth closed. The face Kakashi is wearing is blandly handsome. His jaw is square, lips firm, eyes the colour of dark chocolate. There is a coldness beneath the surface warmth of Kakashi-sensei's expression that Sakura sees, and understands.
She is not the child who once froze during missions.
She has not been any kind of child for years.
Sakura flips her hair, and smirks at their hostess, watching them from the doorway to the bedchamber. She has performed for an audience before: she and Ino swaying together to the rumbling appreciation of the crowd, her fingers pushing into Ino's wet cunt as if they'd been born to it.
Duty to Kohona finds many uses for a kunoichi.
Sakura breathes past her tension, loosens her muscles. She grabs a fistful of Kakashi's hair, pulls him closer. His tongue slides over Sakura's clit, wet and quick--a deliberate tease. Sakura's hands tighten in Kakashi's hair; she pulls on it, hard. Kakashi's soft grunt is muffled between Sakura's legs.
"Behave," Sakura says, haughty and confident.
While Icha Icha is Kakashi's constant companion, Sakura has never seen him with a woman. There is a clinical distance in the way he works his lips, tongue, teeth against Sakura. She is wet, breathing hard, hips rolling upwards, upwards, a wordless plea for more. She distantly wonders how many women Kakashi has fucked during missions.
She wonders how she compares.
(Sakura has always been the least of Kakashi's students.)
Sakura digs her booted heel into Kakashi's back, and rocks her hips. Her hands twist in Kakashi's hair; surprisingly fine strands hopelessly tangled around Sakura's fingers. Her hands jerk against Kakashi's bent head when she comes. He waits out the last of her tremors, and rocks back onto his heels. His mouth and chin are wet, eyes dark with something that might be self-disgust.
He is hard, straining against the bindings of his pants.
Sakura draws her legs together, and smoothes her skirt down her hips as she stands. She does not look at Kakashi again, but flickers a smile at their hostess. The woman's eyes are hungry, but Kakashi is Sakura's.
(For tonight, and shame is hot in Sakura's belly, between her slick thighs).
She is a good kunoichi.
Sakura is a kunoichi even Kakashi-sensei can take pride in.
Later, alone in the bath, she unravels the tangled strands of Kakashi's hair from around her fingers, one by one.
Check out redbrunja's remix of this story: http://redbrunja.livejournal.com/369154.html