This game they were playing was nothing new, though it certainly was between them. This game has existed for as long as man has; for as long as man has craved woman. It existed before red lipstick, before alcohol, before hair gel – although those things helped. This game had many players, across many generations, and it ensured its survival every time a new life was brought in to the world. Of course, not everyone that played won, but the game itself was fun – and that's how it blinded many.

They thought they were clever, pointing it out for what it was (supposed to be): fun, casual, meaningless, a comfort, a one-time thing. But there were never any one time players, and while the rules seemed simple, a deep complexity laid unexplained.

The game, when played between friends, always altered the relationship. People were funny in this sense, using the game for the physical closeness they were simply too afraid to admit the wanted aloud. So they keep labeling it, and saying what it is (supposed to be), ignoring what the heart is telling them it is.

For two people who risked their lives whenever they were called upon, who had faced insurmountable odds and came out on the other side, it was strange what a little emotional vulnerability did to them...

"I thought they were never going to leave," Sakura remarked as she pulled her shirt over her head.

A low hum was the only response. She clucked her tongue as the zipper on her skirt caught half way down. "A little help?"

"Leave it on," he murmured as his arms circled her waist, drawing her close.

His mask was pooled around his neck and she couldn't help but eye the fabric as his mouth came nearer. It was funny, she thought, that amid all of the intimacies they shared, of all the exposing they did, seeing his bare face was the most intimate of all. And now, full cheeks, a strong jaw, a stubble covered chin, and sinfully delicate lips were her undoing.

Her thumb brushed over the beauty mark (mole, as he often corrected) on his chin before his mouth crashed upon hers. A hint of shochu lingered in the taste that was undeniably Kakashi. There was no soft prodding of tongue, no asking for entrance, it was claimed – forcefully, as if it was rightfully his, and perhaps, somewhere, he thought she was.

And Sakura returned the gesture in earnest, her tongue colliding with his like angry waves against the shore. They weren't a pair of gentle lovers, this was them just giving in to base desires, almost animalistic. She tore his shirt off over his head. Throwing it to the side carelessly, as his fingers made short work of his fly. She pushed him down the hall, his back hitting her bedroom door and forcing it open.

A wicked smile quirked her lips as his pants slid down his thighs and gathered around his ankles. In one fluid motion he stepped free of them, took her by the waist, and toppled them onto her bed.

His fingers found her already wet so foreplay was short. He husked his approval against her ear and all she could reply with was a heady moan and "What did you expect?"

All evening, while all anyone else saw was the same lidded, laze gaze, what Sakura saw was hunger. His single eye alone spoke volumes, raw need simmering just beyond the surface, that little glint when their eyes met. While everyone else drank and told stories and jokes, all she heard was the promise of pleasure, a warning that he was going to devour her.

Her panties were ripped down her legs and she sucked in her bottom lip in anticipation. He didn't keep her waiting long, he never did. Settling between her thighs, he aligned himself and slid into her molten paradise until he could go no further. Dual sighs mixed in the air between them, and after a moment to adjust he began to move with deep languid thrusts. His tongue traced her collar bone, and up the sensitive tendon of her neck to flick her earlobe and pull it between his teeth.

There was no fanning of flames; this was no slow burn. It was like dropping an entire book of lit matches on gasoline soaked logs, and Sakura had no qualms with being engulfed by him. She welcomed it – yearned for it – and he never disappointed her.

"Nngh... Kakashi..." Her hand rested on the firm expanse of his toned buttocks, urging him to go faster, harder.

Time slipped away from them as they found solace in each other and drowned in the pleasure that their escalating rhythm brought. The intensity of their union spiked rather quickly, as it always seemed to. Sakura's moans were nearly as loud as the lewd slapping of slick flesh coming together. Her fingers clawed at his back in desperation, as she whimpered and cried out that she was "almost there," pleading for release.

His own grip was bruising, but he had to hold on. There was a need for an anchor lest he get swept away by the tidal wave of bliss. Where Sakura didn't mind drowning in it, he wanted to surf it. He wanted to watch her, every inch of her from the clenching of her abdominals, the jarring of her breasts, the dip and furrow of her brow to every sigh, moan, and scream escaping her contorting mouth, every bead of sweat and roll of her eyes as she succumbed to what he gave her. The feel of her curves, the scrape of her nails, the tremble of her legs. He was memorizing it all. The flutter and eventual constriction of her passage as she called out his name like some lost mantra. He could barely contain a shout of his own as his orgasm was ripped from him, body jerking against hers.

In the time afterward, they would lie there, together but apart, regaining breath and clarity. Sometimes she'd caress his skin and he'd hum in contentment. Others he'd smoke a cigarette, or run his fingers through her hair, smirking as she almost seemed to purr in post coital bliss. He rarely stayed the night, unless they had been apart for an extended period of time in which they more than made up for.

This night, however, Sakura turned toward him, slinging toned leg over his after finally getting the zipper unstuck and ridding herself of her skirt. Kakashi's fingers trailed over her hip, outlining muscle in her stomach, and up between the valley of her breasts. His calloused touch was relaxing, and she cooed at the rare attention he gave.

"You know... we may not get to do this as much soon," she commented, eyes closed still.

"And why is that?"

"There's talk about you becoming the Hokage... nominated at least."

"Mindless gossip I'm sure."

She hummed. "I'm not sure."

"Do you have reliable sources, Sakura-chan?" he teased, voice low in her ear.

She grinned a little. "Always do."

She reached down for her bedsheets and he pulled them up for her, covering her body, his legs still tangled with hers. Her fingers found his chest and she ran them up and down the muscled plane. "You can stay if you want... or leave... it's up to you, but I'm spent. I worked my ass off today."

Then for show, or maybe to prove her point, she yawned and closed her eyes.

She was leaving it up to him; it was his call to make. She didn't want him to think she wanted him to stay. She wanted to remain indifferent, even though it was difficult. She had spent too many years pining after those that wanted nothing to do with her. She wasn't going to give her heart away again so easily. Least of all to the man that she shouldn't have any kind of intimate relationship with. This was all for fun, and for a while it was. Lots and lots of fun. And he seemed happy with their current arrangement, so she wasn't going to do anything to disrupt that.

"Goodnight, Kakashi."

"G'night, Sakura."

She waited, her breathing evening out and her muscles relaxing. But not once did she feel him so much as twitch – no dip of the bed and shuffle of clothes. His legs were warm against hers, and for a moment she felt like sleep would truly reel her in when Kakashi let out a deep sigh.

He rubbed his hand down his face. He had caught himself staring at her face, yearning to lean over and kiss her, to cradle her body against his and sleep, and maybe even dream. It was quite a fancy notion.

"Fuck," he whispered, and sighed again. He turned his face back to look at her and, against his better judgment, lifted a hand to caress her face ever so gently. "What have you done to me?" he asked, not expecting any answer.

"One day, you're going to let me take my time and make love to you properly like I want. And you're going to ask me to stay the night. And we're going to wake up in the morning together, and have breakfast, and it won't be awkward at all." His fingers threaded into her hair. "One day, I'll take you out for tea and let you drag me into the medical section of the bookstore. And I'll pay for everything. And you'll be happy. With me."

He closed his eyes and enjoyed her close proximity, soaking up her warmth and memorizing the pattern of her breaths, taking his fill. Then he sat up and gently removed her legs from his. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and looked back at her. "It seems like today won't be that day."

He stood and gathered his clothes, methodically putting the layers back on. When he was done, he leaned over her still form and placed a quick kiss to her head before slipping his mask back up. Then he turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Sakura's eyes popped open and she let out a long breath, lifting her hand to rest against her chest. Why was her heart beating so fast? She could faintly make out the sound of her front door closing, and she suddenly felt very alone. And cold. Of all the words to say... why did he say those? Why did he have to...

She rolled over onto her back and let her arms fall open beside her. It sounded nice, but... a warmth trickled down the side of her face and she only laughed. "Idiot."

And so, for another day, neither player had won in the game. But they were both slowly learning that rules could be broken and made up as they went along – and now they only needed the courage, that little push, to break those rules. But for now, they'd continue telling themselves what this was (supposed to be), and ignoring what their hearts were telling them.