So, I wrote this probably two or three years ago, but it was during that time when I swore I wasn't going to post smut ever. This is the first I've ever written. I've got some serious mixed feelings about this piece, but given that I've changed my mind and posted Children's Rhymes, I might as well give this a shot, right? Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

"Sensei? Kakashi-sensei?" A hissing whisper filters into my brain.

I had been so caught up in my own thoughts that I hadn't quite registered it when Sakura sat on my lap. She had been laughing at a joke our teammate had told and she simply settled herself on me.

"Hmm?" I question back.

"What is that?" She shifts herself a little and I suddenly realize that, lost in my thoughts as I was, I hadn't stopped a natural reaction to a gorgeous woman seating herself so close to me.

She's muttering, "Oh, please tell me you've got a stick in there or something…"

Sakura has always been such fun to tease, so I answer, "Well, it's definitely not a stick, Sakura-chan." She elbows me in the ribs, forcing a grunt from my lungs. "Ow… well, what did you expect when you sat on my lap?"

"I expected you to do something a normal boyfriend would—like put your arms around me or rest your chin on my shoulder. I did not expect you to pop a woody because I sat on your lap!"

I'm mildly shocked at her phrasing, and I know it has to be the anger and embarrassment I can see coloring her cheeks allowing her to use those words. More than that, though, I'm amused by her. This, of course, serves only to further infuriate and humiliate her.

"'Pop a woody'? Sakura, are you feeling okay? You usually don't talk like that," I say. "Besides," I add, like she should already know what I'm going to say, "that is something a normal boyfriend would do. A normal man, in any case, if a beautiful woman sits on his lap—a beautiful woman he's attracted to and who has invaded and conquered his thoughts."

Deciding for a bit more fun, I snake one arm around her hips and pull her flush against me. Then I reach my other hand to gather her hair and expose the pale contours of her bare neck and shoulder. She shivers when my breath ghosts her skin as I murmur below her ear, "Like you've done to me," before my lips touch the area. I give it a light suck and a gentle bite and release her hair. The vibrant pink curtain swishes back into place.

I fully expect her to stand, spin around and try to clock me—or at the very least screech that I'm a pervert—but she remembers our mission and the roles we've adopted for it.

I'm not sure whether to be thankful for that or not, because she begins to return my teasing.

"Have I now?" she asks seductively, pressing more of her back against my chest. "What was my first act as reigning queen, I wonder?"

Damn, I think. She's more grown-up than I realized. I am curious as to how far she'll let this go, so I allow her to continue.

She turns so she's sitting on one of my legs with hers between them, and leans in close to my bare face. Her mouth wanders near my ear, and she simply breathes very close to me.

"I'm all growed up, sensei," she murmurs, using a child-like tone. "You shouldn't be teasing me if you can't take it in return." Her teeth nip my lobe and her tongue traces the shell of my ear.

She's obviously felt a little more of my reaction.

"This teasing is dangerous," I warn.

"Oh, but I've got lots of practice. Kunoichi classes and all that. Helps a lot," she says flippantly. She nibbles on my ear some more, then nonchalantly pulls her legs closer, sliding her hands down my chest. She pauses at my waist and I can practically feel her fingers continuing down but then she pops away from me, brightly smiling.

She's on her feet, but I can't have her running off and leaving me in this state. She's got to learn that she can't do that. Using that ninja skill I've been perfecting my entire life, I snatch her wrist and yank her down again.

"You've gotten to be quite the little vixen, Sakura-chan," I husk. "Where's that little prude I used to know?"

"She died a quick painless death about two minutes ago," she whispers, twitching her knee against me. "Besides, you don't seem to be complaining, Kakashi-sensei," she adds.

"Would you like me to?" I ask innocently. My voice takes on a breathy beseeching note. "Oh, please, Sakura, please, stop. Stop. I can't—"

"Shut up, you pervert," she laughs, slapping my chest at my mockingly pleading tone. I know I've seriously amused her because her eyes are dancing in a way they haven't in a while. I've missed that look.

"Let's dance," I say, standing up and offering my hand. She accepts it and beams at me, following me onto the crowded dance floor. Our teammates eye us suspiciously but ultimately shrug it off. They know we've got a history that stretches back almost seven years; beyond that, we're posing as lovers on this mission. It would raise more suspicions if we didn't dance.

There's a heavy bass beat pounding through speakers hidden in the walls and ceiling that vibrates through us. We roll ourselves together and I know the poor saps who've been watching Sakura all night are totally entranced by our bodies—hers especially. To be honest, I am as well.

They're also probably thinking I'll be getting lucky later, and are most likely bitterly jealous.

Again, so am I.

But I know Sakura far better than they do, and the only luck I'll be getting later is her not ripping my head—and assorted other body parts—off and stuffing them in my bodily orifices.

I'd been joking about her being a vixen, but out here on the dance floor, she seems to be taking me seriously, because her hands have resumed their wanderings.

They start out on my shoulders but are soon creeping down my chest. She stops at my waist again before trailing her fingers down to my hips, then back up my arms to rest on my shoulders once more.

She smirks at me and spins on her heel so that her back is to my front again. She's no longer simply rolling her body with mine—she's grinding against me. Sakura's fingers are clasped behind my neck.

My own hands betray me as I begin to journey around her body. They'd managed to stay on her hips as she turned but now one wraps firmly around her waist to pull her even closer, leaving no room between us, and the other finds its way to her shoulder, skimming her waist, side, and a good portion of her breast in the process.

The fingers at my nape find their way into my hair, tugging at the short silver strands there and further disheveling my already slovenly-looking style.

That's perfectly acceptable though—her hair gets tangled in my own grip when I throw it over her shoulder to graze my lips and tongue over her neck again.

I'm more fully able—and prepared—to appreciate her taste. It's a mixture of spice and sweet, like warm apple pie or fresh cinnamon rolls, a hint of salt from the sweat that's just barely beading her skin, and pure woman. It's a delightful combination, absolutely intoxicating, just like her scent—a tangy prick of fresh fruit, underwritten by honey.

I haven't tamed by body's reaction to her initial move of using me as a chair; it hasn't bothered Sakura, and it's more fun than I've had in a long time to gauge her reactions.

Aside from her first awkward question.

But that's far behind us now.

If anything, she's tempting me more by rubbing her backside on me. I latch onto her throat, knowing I'm going to leave some nice purplish marks and eager to see them tomorrow. One's not enough. I move my mouth to her ear. "Don't heal these marks," I order her.

I faintly hear her exclaim, "Marks?"

"These," I rasp, and attack her soft skin again. I lavish the area with my tongue and lips and teeth, savoring her superbly heady taste and scent and texture.

I suck at her pulse point, and feel it jump and heat. She stops grinding as the music changes into something resembling Latin music.

Sakura arches her back, swaying her hips now, and tilts her head, giving me more access—and absolutely no reason to stop, even though my brain is screaming at me that this madness has gone on long enough.

Sadly, though, my senses are drunk on Sakura and I'm quickly finding out that you can be in total agony and enjoy every second of it.

She shifts in my hold, facing me again.

Her hands are still playing world-explorer on my body and clothes, exploring areas I never before considered sensual.

Light fingertips trace along my collarbones, exposed by the buttons she's teasingly opened on my casual charcoal button-up shirt.

Unbelievable, I muse to myself. She's undressing me in public.

I am thoroughly amazed that I haven't spontaneously combusted from the blazing heat of her skin on mine. Right now, I feel like I could walk around the South Pole in nothing but my underwear and stay warm.

I return the favor, passing my mouth across her throat and up her jaw, cheek and temple, and slip my hands under her spaghetti strap top.

I feel her pleasured hum before I hear it; both equally affect me, leaving me to stifle an answering groan and the nearly overwhelming need to divest the girl of her clothing and ravish her till kingdom come right here on a crowded dance floor.

The tip of my nose is in her hair and I can't keep myself from imagining how it would look, mussed, on my sheets, mingled with mine.

That drags a rough, low groan from me. Sakura pulls back a little, her fingers stilling on my chest.

"What is it, sensei?"

I'm not sure if I like her calling me sensei. It seems dirty more than anything else, but I haven't spent most of my life reading Icha Icha for nothing. At the moment, I'm torn between cursing and blessing Jiraiya.

One of my palms finds its way down to her backside, cupping the firm muscle. She doesn't jerk away like I expect her to, but she does twitch, exciting certain parts of my anatomy even more.

"This is going far past harmless teasing, Sakura," I tell her.

"I'm a big girl, Kaka-sensei," she says back, fisting my shirt in her hands and pushing her bottom into my hand. Her tongue meets my neck, mimicking the way mine had been on hers moments ago.

She's licking, kissing and biting me almost raw. It's not helping my control any, because I know that anything that happens with this girl will be more serious than a one night stand. She's been part of my life for far too long to be able to shove her aside in the morning.

"You stopped breathing, sensei," she whispers, her breath light and warm on the shell of my ear, which her teeth begin to nibble.

"Well, then, it's only fair if you do, too," I whisper back. My lips trace along the path up, but stop at the corner of her jaw to work over to her lips, brushing them, feather-light, and continuing across the other side of her face.

Her breath hitches. Not nearly good enough. Tipping my head back, I offer a wolfish smirk to my prey and move in for the kill.

First, I brush against her petal-soft lips again, just the barest contact. I feel her breath leave in a light sigh and use her open mouth to my advantage. It's a hard kiss from the start.

Sakura responds with equal pressure and searing fire races through my already-boiling blood.

The hand located on her rear pulls her tighter against me while the other one, under her shirt, runs up and down without obstacle—she's not wearing a bra.

Good girl, I approve, and ponder if she's wearing panties.

I quickly find out.

I hum my appreciation and angle my head to deepen the kiss, licking along her bottom lip, tasting her more strongly. She reminds me of freedom—wild abandon and running through leafy forest greenery—and carefree afternoons of lounging with friends.

She opens to me with almost no prompting and a bit of a moan. I claim her tongue with mine and leave my own flavor behind.

Sakura's hip is situated dangerously near my groin so I feel it the moment she begins to rock back and forth. When she finally rips away from me, her chest is heaving for air.

I eye her—what small amount of her I can see, anyway, since most of her is pressed quite snugly against me—with what I know has to be smoldering intensity.

Sakura smiles suggestively at me as her fingers grasp my head to pull me back in for a peck on the lips.

Then she untangles herself from my grip and our rather intimate embrace and smirks triumphantly into my face.

I try to snatch her back, but she skips away, laughing.

"What is it, Sakura?" I growl, confusion slipping in through the mush she has turned my brain and self-control into. "You're not really going to leave me hanging, are you?"

"You're damn skippy I am," she chirps over the music. "Consider that payback for all the crap you pulled on Naruto, Sasuke, Sai, and me."

"The boys were in on this?" I feign hurt.

"Puh-lease," she huffs. "They planned it. Though I doubt they could have pulled it off quite the same way," she adds proudly. The self-satisfaction is back, along with an amused sparkle.

I fail to see the humor.

"How is that funny? You really got me hot and bothered," I pretend to whine.

"We'll stay out of the room for a while," Sakura retorts carelessly. "Self-service." She giggles. "Just keep it down. The neighbors might not appreciate the noise."

"Self-service my ass," I rumble. "You're coming with me."

She gives a highly undignified snort and opens her mouth to reply.

I put my speed to good use—darting forward to scoop her up and throw her over my shoulder. She shrieks in protest and pummels my back, sans chakra, thank goodness. If she decides to use her monstrous strength against me, I'm done for.

As I pat down my pants pockets, I remember—Dai has the key card.

That, however, is remedied easily enough. I begin the trek across the club to our bemused-looking teammates, the pink-haired medic slung over my shoulder and pounding on my back.

"Key," I demand without preamble.

"Hang on," Dai stalls. He saunters around me to peer cautiously at the enraged Sakura. "Hey."

She grunts unenthusiastically in return.

"You wanting to leave with him?" he asks, voice thick with restrained mirth.

"He's carrying me, moron," she grumbles. "What the hell do you think?"

"I'm sure I can convince her otherwise," I chime in, smiling. "Ask her again in the morning. She'll be in a much more pleasant mood, I'm sure." I crinkle my eyes like I'm wearing my mask, then repeat, "Key."

The redhead strolls indolently back to my front to gaze at me. My face hardens a smidge.

"I can take it from you," I say mildly.

"No need for a showdown," he chuckles and reaches into his pocket to withdraw a rectangle of green and white plastic.

"Dai, if you give him that key, I'll remove essential male parts while you're sleeping," Sakura growls by way of belated deterrent.

"Too late, darling," I quip, palming and pocketing the thing in one sure move. Dai grins cheekily at me.

"Have fun," he mumbles. "Done by three?"

"We shall see," I reply, grinning back.

"Dai!" she screams, slapping my back furiously.

"Calling another man's name," I chide. "Now that just won't do." I move my hand from behind her knee up to her thigh, perilously near to where her legs meet. She shivers but I can't tell why—anger or something else.

With a conspiratorial wink from Tetsuya, the fourth member of our team, I turn and exit the bar.

It was dangerously close to becoming more than a game, but I had managed to pull myself away and taunt him.

It hadn't been a plan, per se, to turn him on like that. Naruto had blurted it out randomly one day in his typical blockhead way while Team Kakashi (minus Kakashi) sat at Ichiraku Ramen, reminiscing about the past—and the infuriatingly cold enigma that is Kakashi.

A wicked gleam had entered Sasuke's eyes at that point, quickly followed by a blank but disturbingly eager smile from Sai.

Their heads swiveled toward me, innocently choking down some ramen.

"It's an idea," Sasuke said. "To get a little revenge on him."

It was never brought up again, but it never left my mind, after they discussed it that day.

I certainly never expected it to go so far, though. I certainly didn't expect to feel his erection poking into my leg when I sat on his lap like a good girlfriend would.

Nor did I expect to be tossed over his shoulder and carried off like a sack of potatoes.

Which has all led me to my current predicament: being lugged through darkened city streets to a hotel room, presumably so he can return the favor of turning me on (which I hope he doesn't begin by sitting on me) and then have sex with me.

I'm slamming my fists against him and ordering him to put me down because I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own, thankyouverymuch.

"You'll try to run off again," he says like it's obvious.

"No, really?" I bite back, my teeth gritted tight. "Have you considered that maybe that's because I don't want to sleep with you?"

He shrugs. "Like I told Dai, I'll change your mind."

"…You're sure about that?" I comment dryly.

"Positive."

The thought of sleeping with Kakashi twists my stomach into knots. Not because I'm a virgin—one of my boyfriends took care of that—or because he used to teach me things—he wasn't a very responsible sensei—or even that we're on a mission—it's more of a joke, or maybe a paid vacation.

It's more because of the electricity I can feel every time he touches me, and because of the knowledge that this man does not do relationships beyond one night. I consider him a friend—

Dammit, am I moaning?

Why am I moaning?

Oh.

Kakashi has put me down and leaned us against a wall and begun feeling me up again and it feels really, really good.

Stupid treacherous body.

One of his large hands is playing havoc with my breasts through my skimpy top and the other is discovering that my skirt is short enough to slip under. It's drawing lazy patterns on my upper thigh.

Apparently I'm responding in kind because feeling slams into my limbs and they're all strategically placed around Kakashi's.

His knee has been forced between mine; his thigh is rubbing in a very sensitive area. The leg that isn't pinned between his is encircling his waist tightly, holding him to me. A hand is swept in his hair; the other is on his back, groping him under his shirt.

I'm keeping his face to mine, too, and he's giving every appearance of trying to suck, lick, and kiss it off. His tongue is in and out of my mouth, stopping to nibble my bottom lip and then soothe it with long, slow strokes.

And I'm moaning, gasping and whimpering the whole time.

Kakashi smirks against my lips. I'm reminded in full force of what a manipulative, insufferable bastard he is.

But he's a manipulative, insufferable bastard who's invaded my every sense, including that of the so-called common variety.

Common sense isn't very common anyway, and he's filling up my mind with his proximity, until my perception begins and ends with the man plastered on me.

His taste in my mouth.

His scent in my nose.

His body under my hands.

His heavy breaths and pants in my ear.

His form before my eyes.

My brain is frantically trying to control the rest of me whilst remembering why I shouldn't be doing this.

He's licking my bottom lip, pleading to be given access to even more of me. And, traitorous, my body obliges. He explores the inside of my mouth, seeming to relish every bit of me.

It's like there's three of me: my uninhibited inner self, who is screaming at me to rip Kakashi's clothes off and ride him into oblivion; my more rational, conservative side, who is telling me to pull away, talk to him about what will come after, and then rip his clothes off; and my moral center, who is whispering that I need to shove him off, run like hell and hope this doesn't happen again.

They all go silent when he very blatantly rolls his hips against me.

Inner Sakura pipes up excitedly, Take. Off. His. Pants.

A sound gurgles in my throat. It's halfway between a squeak and a moan.

All of a sudden, I feel like I've been slapped in the face.

I gave my sensei an erection…erection…sensei…oh, gods. I'm so screwed.

No, Inner Sakura interjects, you're being screwed. Pay attention! Ugh, why does my Outer have to be so stupid?

Kakashi moves against me again and this time I moan.

"Sensei—"

"If you keep calling me that, I'll be forced to take authoritative action, Sakura," he tells me.

"Like what?" I tease back, and saucily add, "Sensei" in a lower tone.

He doesn't answer me—at least not verbally—because I've begun to reciprocate his earlier actions. A tangled groan rips from him.

"You like it?"

"Like…what…?" he chokes.

"Why…being called 'sensei,' silly," I say as innocently as I can while I'm practically having sex. Needless to say—not very.

He makes a strangled noise that I take as a yes.

Colored sparks are beginning to fill my vision and my breath is coming shorter and heavier. If I'm not careful, we won't need to go to the hotel.

"Sa…ku…ra…" Kakashi is out-and-out panting.

"Mm?" is all I can manage. It's tantalizingly close, but we can't…not in the open.

I work to regain my control, at least a little, to move my hands to his shoulders to shove him off me. He tries to return right away, but I hold up a hand.

"They invented rooms with doors that lock and put beds in them for a reason," I say.

"Right," he mutters, stepping closer and taking my wrist. He's gotten some control again as he pulls me into the shelter of his arms, away from the wall, and attaches to my neck.

He doesn't let up in his attentions for a moment, except when we pass a disgruntled-looking young woman, my age or a little younger, who yells at us to "get a room."

And he stops walking, releases my throat to grin suggestively (and quite possibly leer at the poor girl), and retort, "We're working on that. Care to join us?" before returning his focus to me.

"Pervert," I grumble half-heartedly, watching the girl scurry off over his shoulder. "Did you have to do that?"

He grunts.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Kakashi detaches from me to say, "I can feel the vibrations of your vocal cords when you talk."

"Really?"

He grunts once more, already back to my throat.

"What does 'ughn' mean, exactly?"

"It tickles," he mumbles. His mouth is roaming my entire neck, up my cheeks and temples, all the way down to my chest.

I want to feel his lips on mine but every time he draws himself to my face, he deliberately passes over my mouth. Trying to wait patiently, I begin to wonder how he's managing to walk. He is, after all, going with his face firmly secured to my shoulder, in the dark, hunched over.

"Kakashi-sensei," I say, for no other reason than to say it.

"Mm?" He continues with my throat. I know it will be a mess of vivid purple marks tomorrow, but at this point, I can't bring myself to care. It all just feels too damn good.

After an uncomfortable pause, where we keep walking, I come up with a question.

"How much farther is the hotel?"

I quickly realize the question is a mistake which fuels his desire to get us there. His hands leave my body, securing me in an embrace, as his arms encircle me.

He's trying to perform hand seals.

"Idiot!" I hiss, slapping his head. "Tsunade-shishou expressly forbade jutsu!"

"Did she?" he muses. "Must have missed that in the mission briefing. Which means it doesn't apply to me." Laughing, he continues to sign.

"We're in a civilian city!" I hiss. "Imagine how traumatic it would be for some poor little kid to poke his head out the window and see us disappear into nowhere? Most of these people have never even heard of ninja."

"They'd already be traumatized," Kakashi asserts. "By this."

Before I know what he's doing, he has a hand under my skirt, touching an area that is overly sensitive.

Air freezes in my throat, eventually escaping as a soft whimper.

"Now that was not nearly loud enough," he says, voice rough. He presses a little more, rhythmically, repeatedly. I find myself rocking back and forth. And I'm making far too much noise.

Which is strange, because I'm almost completely breathless, what with the sparks and the coils.

And then his hand is gone, just before the sparks turn into fireworks and the coils break loose.

"Enough for now," he growls lowly into my ear. "You won't mind if I carry you again, since you won't let me jutsu us to the hotel?"

I don't respond.

Quite honestly, I can't. I can't stand on my own, let alone think or speak.

He takes my lack of answer as an affirmative and lifts me off the ground once more.

By the time my senses return, we're in the lobby area of the hotel where we're staying.

"—in a bit of a daze since I proposed," Kakashi is saying. The receptionist tried to flirt with him again.

The bleached blond woman smiles sweetly at him and wishes me dead with her eyes.

"You can put me down, sweets," I say, simpering. "I can walk, you know." Simply to irritate the woman some more, I sweep my hand over his chest in a semi-possessive, attached way.

After Kakashi sets me on my feet, I raise myself up on my toes and lazily slide my mouth across his …accidentally… brushing my hand across the tent being pitched in his pants in the process.

He twitches.

I smirk.

"Sooo…" he comments idly, and I can hear the higher pitch of his voice. "…ahem…you can still walk, eh? We'll have to see about that."

He takes my hand from where it had been lingering near his hip and starts to lead me toward our room. He doesn't stop or slow down until he's slid the key card through the slot, opened the door and pulled me through.

The door slams closed behind me. I hear the lock click and the rattle of the chain seconds before I'm sandwiched between a jonin and a slab of wood.

Neither of them in entirely in control of the situation. It's mostly the passion; the sparks flying—or that would be, if there had been an inch of space between them.

But the taller, broader, pale-haired man has the shorter, slimmer, pink-haired woman against a door and his hard body.

They aren't thinking, either; more feeling each other.

His hands move her shirt out of the way, up and over her head, tossing it carelessly away, as her fingers clumsily move on the buttons on his, each desperate for skin touching skin.

Kakashi stills when Sakura's small hands find the diagonal scar on his chest.

"I know that one," she sighs, lowering her head to kiss it gently, and then say, "I don't remember ever thanking you for that, Kakashi-sensei."

"What's that?" he mumbles.

"For putting yourself in front of Zabuza to protect me," she replies, reaching for his right hand. She presses her mouth to the ragged scar on his palm. "And at the chunin exams, and every other damn time I need saving."

"I'd say we're even, Sakura," he murmurs breathlessly. "You've done your fair share of saving me, too." He crashes his lips against hers again.

There isn't much to say after that, because he's snuck under her skirt, fiddling with the zipper on the side. She's unbuttoning his pants, toying with his zipper, as well.

The black shoes are long gone, pitched across the room the moment he set foot in it. Her black and silver heeled sandals are still firmly buckled around her ankles. Her skirt joins the top on the floor, the miniscule black garment contrasted beautiful against the pale silvery-pink.

Kakashi contemplates leaving the shoes on, but decides it'll be more fun if he goes to his knees before her.

So he does, deftly releasing the silver clasps and teasing his hands up her calves, shins, and knees to restlessly trace lazy shapes on the insides of her thighs.

He touches her softly—almost timidly—at first and grows bolder as her voice gets louder.

The cocky grin gets bigger on his face.

Other parts of him get bigger, too.

His mouth replaces his hand, driving her to the brink of it all—madness, pleasure, sanity, reason—and shoving her off a cliff.

Her flavor is exquisite on his tongue.

Sakura tastes herself with him as their lips meet once more.

Kakashi moves to remove his trousers, but her hands stop him. A devilish gleam has taken up residence in her jade eyes.

"No, sensei," she purrs. "Let me."

"Vixen," he husks back. His pants are around his feet; Sakura's porcelain hands are around parts of him he never imagined her touching before less than an hour ago.

Now he can't imagine anyone else touching him there.

The thought terrifies and exhilarates him, adding to the delicious sensations her hand is eliciting. Then there's wet warmth on him.

It's his turn to get pushed over the brink. There's a long fall to the bottom, where he can see the wicked gleam in his lover's gaze, and the self-satisfied smirk to match. His own lips quirk in response.

He takes her hand and leads her to the bed, leaving their clothes precariously scattered around the room.

A sultry look crosses Sakura's features. Feeling bolder than she ever has, she flips them and throws her team leader on his back and immediately straddles him.

She grins, fox-like, and seats herself on his middle, moving in much the same way she had on the dance floor.

The thing is, though, this is much more enjoyable for both parties, particularly because there is no crowd of people looking on, and no clothes to separate them.

Heat blazes everywhere they touch—and they touch everywhere.

Kakashi is sure he's being branded with every touch she passes over his chest, shoulders, and stomach, and he is equally certain he is branding her in return, gliding his hands over her gentle curves. He realizes, however, that he doesn't mind so much, if it's her marking him.

Shoving these thoughts aside, he reaches to pull her down and seal her lips to his—all the better to drink in her sounds.

And she's making them: mewls, moans, whimpers, cries; and she's making him make noises, too. She tastes his groans of triumph and pleasure, reveling because they're her doing.

So caught up in her movements is Sakura that she doesn't notice when Kakashi reverses their positions again and begins to meld two bodies into one.

She meets him move for move, sound for sound, over and over, a running uphill start for a sheer euphoric drop that they share, like they've shared so much else tonight.

Including the realization that they're far too attached to one another—much more than they should be, but it's too late to halt Fate.

They don't want to, anyway.

Because lust is something both are more than capable of compartmentalizing, and their cliff-diving would never have taken place if they didn't know something else.

"Kakashi?" Sakura says, once their breath is back.

"Mm? Don't tell me you want to go again. Give an old man time to rest, Sakura."

"Not yet, no," she laughs. She sobers rapidly. "This is something more, isn't it? More serious."

"Could be, Sakura-chan," he muses. "Let's talk more later…you didn't need to sit in my lap to kick start this one."

And he rolls over to grab her and kiss her soundly once more.

Three A.M. rolls around.

Dai and his ill-looking teammate, Tetsuya, stand outside the door, hesitating to knock.

The noises coming from the hotel room belong in an X-rated film—not something they want to associate with their normally stoic comrades.

Finally, after about half an hour, Dai sighs, turning to Tetsuya, who is fending off wave after wave of nausea—and not all of it is from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed at the bar.

"Guess we better get another room, dude," he remarks. "They're busy, and I don't think they're gonna be done soon—or even tonight."

"You mean…?" Tetsuya says.

Dai nods.

Tetsuya smirks as they make their way to the slutty blond night receptionist to request a new room.

"About damn time they figured it out."