NADESHIKO VILLAGE
Shizuka stared at the door finding herself unable to go beyond it. Her hand hovered inches away from the fixture; hesitant. She bit her lower lip in frustration as she tried again to steel her resolve, only to fail once more. She was terrified, she realised. Petrified by the presence that lay beyond.
Shizuka had earlier made the misguided assumption that she was prepared for the undertaking required of her by her village. She had bid her beloved a sorrowful farewell, seeing him well beyond the village's borders; Sagiri, heartbroken, yet understanding of her plight, was on route to return to his homeland to continue his family business.
Upon her return, she had spoken to her master with such confidence, assuring her she was prepared for the task ahead. She had let her fellow kunoichis prepare her for the occasion; her body washed with rose-scented water, her hair braided, and her cheeks powdered as one would a high-class Geisha.
On her shoulders hung a flowing kimono of the softest silk; a dress fitting for a bride who was one all but in name.
The kunoichi inhaled, forcing her nervousness down as reached for the door. Every inch was one hard-won, but eventually, her fingertips touched the smooth lacquered wood; the shoji slid open with a soft, sinister hiss as it ushered her entrance in.
"...And here I was thinking you wouldn't have the resolve to come in," said a voice within. The speaker was calm and in control; everything Shizuka wished to be at that moment.
She glanced up to meet his placid gaze. Uchiha Sasuke… His horrid burns now healed off, she could see where all the high praise showered on him originated from. Young, strong, beautiful… very beautiful, very brilliant—haunted, hopeless. He was most things her beloved was not. Rumoured not to fear enemies or fear collecting enemies. A charming, sociable recluse.
A strange description, yes, but that was what the dossier on him claimed.
Her consort-cum-master-cum-partner regarded her with a side eye, his body profile oriented towards the open window at the other end of the room. Shizuka sensed a disdainful flavour to his stare. At this, she felt anger bubble within her.
He was looking down on her!
The gall of this boy!
Incensed, Shizuka sniffed, raising her chin in a manner that similarly radiated disdain as she sauntered into the room, her earlier trepidation entirely forgotten.
"I am here!" she announced curtly. "Let's get this done with."
In response, he raised his eyes, and she saw a gleam go across his blacks in quickness. He did not appreciate her attitude; still, he did not reject it, begrudging her at least that much. After a moment's silence, he turned and took her to bed. Hovering above her, his insolent hand tugging at her dress to reveal her shoulders and bosom, she saw his Sharingan descend, stark and vivid in his face, planes of which were brushed by black hair. Then he held her long hair to his nose, inhaling its latent scents, his eyes closing, face changing, red rising to his countenance.
Arousal.
With a muffled grunt, he slipped between her open thighs. He was much too robust for one his age. Her maidenhead tore violently; she squinted as pain radiated through her groin, a trickle of warmth running down her thighs. At first, it hurt: soon, his thrusts turned hypnotic for her flesh.
Shizuka could not bring herself to say she hated the act
She could not tell if he had been with many women before—or any woman at all. It was hard to tell with him. She felt him intensely inside. His strokes were not gentle, harsh; but her groove quickly grew used to the shape of his organ that it accepted him readily.
Pressing body upon body, soon it was all frantic movements from her end. Unable to help her baser nature, her hips pushed against his, innards tingling with the wet slides of his movements. Her hands pawed at his broad back.
His lips sought her, but she rebuffed him, finding herself unwilling to indulge him further. In retaliation, he bit her neck harshly; she moaned at the sudden pain, her innards contracting as she wrapped her legs around him.
And it went on and on and on—till she grew weary of the vibrations that he induced in her system. His movement grew faster, deeper, and she knew he was close; she encouraged, tightening her grip around him; his organ pulsed, expanded, expelled, his pelvis smacking against her engorged member briskly in a rhythm that quickened by the second.
The weight that flooded into her lower half released, and her backside was up off the bed for a moment. It passed and sank; and she sank back down along with it, feeling as his organ discharged his potent, valuable, chakra-rich essence into her uterus.
Releasing a quick breath, he rolled off her onto the futon, which was as wet as their bodies. The smell of him was in the air, tangy, a little bitter, but not unpleasant. He closed his eyes and opened them, looking up at the flickering silvers that went across the ceiling in broken and moving ellipses. She could not tell how he felt after their union.
Shizuka did not say a thing, rising to her feet to leave. She returned to her room soon after. There she crawled under her bedsheets, rolled onto her side and folded in on herself; in moments, sleep overcame her…