Work Text:
"Mitsuki, are you alright?" Despite Eida's arrival marking the official start of the mission, Sarada couldn't help but become more concerned about her teammate. The composed teenager who was just having a serious conversation with her about the mission suddenly looked strange.
"Maybe not..." As he spoke, Sarada could see a thin layer of flush floating on his cheekbone.
The time when they were closest, they leaned together on the balcony, watching her father and Boruto. To help her regain her father's attention, he pretended to kiss her. His right hand pressed against the wall, left hand surrounded her waist, rubbing her belt gently (if it was the reverse, his arm would block Sasuke's sight. It's what a mature shinobi could think over in a second). The tip of his nose gradually went for hers, as did his lips, but staggered the moment they were about to meet and went for her ear instead, "Sorry, Sarada. Seems like it fails." The platform where Sasuke stood last second ago was empty, not a trace of breath was left.
Even though it was a week ago, Sarada could still easily recall the searing heat around her earlobe, her father's neglect, and Mitsuki's pale skin as usual. And now, in a similar situation, still leaning against the railing with Mitsuki, the long afternoon, only the observee was Eida instead of Papa.
Mitsuki’s remaining sanity barely kept his professionalism as a shinobi, not dashing toward Eida like Chocho. But his upper body leaned forward at the greatest possible angle, his golden eyes glinted with dilated pupils, under his wide sleeves, his hands clutched the railing intensely. The hollow wood received all his shivers silently and transmitted to Sarada, who was leaning nearby.
Sarada hated Mitsuki like this.
Not because love was slightly out of scope for a twelve-year-old girl. Sarada was all too familiar with such feelings, having grown up with her mother’s one-sided wishful thinking, stubborn obsession, and foolish devotion to her father, and later herself to her father.
It’s just Mitsuki’s tremor reminded Sarada of herself. On the way to her first encounter with Papa, she was the same as Mitsuki, her heart burdened with excess anticipation with every beat, causing her body to tremble. Every cell screamed the silent longing that could not be stopped, even by the tip of her father's sword.
During her ninja school days, Sarada took a boat ride to the Land of Water with her classmates. It was the first time she saw the sea, wide and tumbling with waves. Even for the sea, if one threw a stone into it, the water would splash, causing ripples. It was small and fleeting, but it did exist. But Papa's heart was different, no matter how she tried(or Mom's twenty years), couldn't seem to move it a bit.
"...da." Mitsuki's voice interrupted her thoughts. Sarada reflexively looked back, only to find that Mitsuki was not calling her.
"Eida..." Mitsuki's low gasp spilled out again, "gorgeous..."
Following his gaze, Sarada saw a young woman standing on the terrace of the half-hill villa ahead. The setting sun shined through her gauzy blouse, outlining her full, upturned breasts, her ribs slightly bulging, following the curve of her abdomen down, the remaining sunlight pouring over her rounded thighs. The edges of the high-waisted shorts were curled by the breeze, revealing half of her ass. Even from hundred meters away, the sensuality she aroused flowed through the air and sneaked into Sarada's nose.
Sarada suddenly heard her heartbeat, hammering on her chest, suffocating without any reason. Her cheeks were burning.
But the determined Uchiha would never be charmed.
She was just thinking, if Papa was here, this strange jutsu that can awaken the desire of this synth, will it also win over Papa’s heart?
Enough. Sarada heard herself saying.
She silently approached Mitsuki, as he circled her uninvitedly before - out of the same desire to help. Sarada loosened the girdle of his kimono. The teenager immersed in love was slow to react. It wasn't until her deft hand wrapped around his penis that he realized what was happening.
Before he could react, however, a new frenzy wrapped him. Sarada rode on him, swinging regularly. The light blue kimono fell to the floor, her hot breath encroached his left ear, her free hand caressed every inch of his skin, the heretic was re-baptized and led into the sanctuary. But the inside was empty, only the endless reflection of strangely amplified sensuality. Mitsuki tried to grab something. Like a cruise ship sucked in by a whirlpool trying to set the anchor, his stretched arm climbed up Sarada’s thigh and twined around her waist, the other went under her armpits, wrapped around her breast, tightening.
He was the one applying the force, but Mitsuki felt squeezed by something invisible, unable to breathe. Consciousness gradually blurred. For a moment, he remembered to look for her eyes. In her crimson gaze, he saw floating hair and thick horns, then the bubbling tank in laboratory, the full moon on the ridge, and Mikazuki's pupils glowing in the dark night. They all melted, intertwined with rampant desire, injected into soft flesh that did not belong to him.
When Mitsuki regained consciousness, Sarada was standing half a meter away from him. He saw circles of red marks on Sarada's arm. Under the dried blood he could her skin pierced by some sharp drills. The yellow silk scarf around her neck was held in her hand, wiping the cums dripping from her thighs. It was not the first time Mitsuki saw such a scene; when they were on missions together, Sarada sometimes utilized other advantages when facing enemies far beyond their level.
"Thank you, Sarada."
Sarada gave a half-hearted smile to indicate it’s not a big deal and continued to deal with her own situation. They leaned on the railing once again, maintaining a distance that is proper for teammates, carrying on the remainder of their observation mission.