Tsunami was framing this as an obligation, as some sort of repayment rather than desire.
Not Perfect, I thought, recognizing the psychological opening. But I take what I get in.
The kind of rationalization a traditional woman like her would need. I could work with that, build on her sense of duty and gratitude until...
The blood pounding in my ears drowned out strategic thinking. My dick had been hard for what felt like hours, and the sight of her beneath me, resigned and willing, made patience impossible.
My attention drifted to her lips, slightly chapped from worry and sparse meals, but still beautifully shaped. The way they parted slightly when she was nervous, the tiny lines that spoke of smiles despite her hardships.
I wondered what they taste like.
I leaned forward to find out.
Her face turned away at the last second, one hand pressing against my shoulder. "Not... not here," she whispered, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "If we're truly going to... my room would be more... appropriate."
The embarrassment killing her seemed more about the inappropriate words rather than the implications behind them.
I licked my lips and nodded, pulling back from her. As I stood, she began to rise as well but damn if she expected to just walk it off after refusing me a kiss.
I slipped one arm behind her back, the other beneath her knees, and lifted her against my chest in a bridal carry.
Tsunami gasped and immediately stiffened, hands flying to clutch at my shoulders to steady herself. Her mortified eyes went wide.
"Huh!!"
She felt like expensive silk in my arms—surprisingly light but with substance, her weight distributed in all the right places. I could feel the subtle tremor running through her frame, part fear, part indignation.
"P-put me down this instant," she said, her voice taking on an edge I hadn't heard before. A tone she most likely often used for her son.
And damn, was she cute when she was angry. It was also nice to explore other faced of her.
The thought must have shown on my face because her expression darkened further.
"This is not amusing, young man! I am not some maiden to be swept off her feet like in those ridiculous stories!"
Are you not now?
This move, however satisfying, was not just out of childish pettiness at being denied a kiss.
Women of Tsunami's age, raised with traditional values, found being carried like this deeply unseemly. It challenged every notion of propriety she'd been taught, forced her into a position of complete physical dependence.
For a woman who'd been managing everything alone for years, it was both humiliating and psychologically destabilizing.
But that was exactly the point. I needed her to take me seriously, and for that,t I needed to shatter her perception of me as just a young man she could manage or deflect.
She'd been conditioned by her culture to respect and submit to men who demonstrated true authority, not the kind that asked permission, but the kind that simply acted.
Just so happen, I was that kind of man.
These traditional women, as cliche as it may sound, had been molded from childhood to respond to decisive masculine energy, to find comfort in yielding to someone stronger.
Her protests were as much testing as they were a genuine objection.
"Guess we'll find out," I said simply, my voice carrying none of the defensiveness she was probably expecting. The complete lack of reaction to her anger. Any boy would have stammered apologies or gotten flustered.
I'm not a boy.
She opened her mouth again, one finger raised in that distinctly maternal way, preparing to deliver what was undoubtedly going to be a proper lecture about respect and boundaries.
"That's not how—ayp!"
I hoisted her higher in my arms, adjusting her position against my chest.
The movement cut off whatever she'd been about to say, replacing a cute sound as her arms tightened reflexively around my neck.
The sound was breathy, surprised, entirely too unfitting for a woman her age to be making.
Or so were her thoughts, if the deep flush spreading across her cheekbones was any indication.
Truly, cuteness never cares for age.
I licked my lips as she rubbed her small feet together. A nervous tick, perhaps.
"Now then," I said, my voice carrying just enough command to make her shiver, "which way to your room?"
Her lips parted—those chapped but beautiful lips I'd wanted to taste—and for a moment, she just stared
After a long moment, Tsunami closed her eyes and heaved a sigh that seemed to release all her remaining resistance. When she opened them again, there was a resigned smile on her lips.
"You're as... uncompromising as you are kind," she murmured, adjusting her hold around my neck with careful fingers. "Down the hall, second door."
I nodded and made my way.
As we walked, I could feel just how fragile she truly was beneath my hands. Her back was all delicate bones under thin skin, ribs I could count through her shirt. She weighed barely anything, less than she should have.
Her room was exactly what I'd expected—sparse but meticulously clean. A small space with tatami mats, a low table pushed against one wall, and a narrow closet. Everything hinted at careful economy, of making do with less.
The only decoration was a single framed photo of her, her son, and two men. All smiling.
Life loves smiling people. They were its favorite to break. It was a telling half of those in that photo were now dead.
"You can... " the woman in my arms tapped against my chest. "You can put me down now."
My gaze drifted from the sad photo, and my clenched jaw relaxed. I just smiled at her.
Her cheeks colored deeper. "I need to... the futon needs to be rolled out, and I cannot very well do that while..." The words trailed off as she gestured weakly at our position, clearly more embarrassed by having to explain the practicalities than by what those practicalities implied.
Traditional women and their strange sense of propriety.
I set her down, watching as she immediately busied herself with unrolling the thin futon from the closet. Every movement was efficient but self-conscious under my gaze. She kept glancing back, then away. Her hands often shook just slightly as she smoothed the bedding.
Once finished, she stood, moved to the photo, and flipped it around so her later husband and her father faced the wall.
She stayed there for a while before turning to face me. Then, to my surprise, she began untucking her pink shirt and slowly lifting it up, to reveal her pale belly.
She's actually going to...
I stayed perfectly still, part frozen, part fascinated, drinking in every detail of her embarrassment. The way she couldn't quite meet my eyes. How her fingers fumbled slightly.
This wasn't seduction. To her, this was duty, the way a traditional wife might approach an obligation.
Married twice but never properly fucked.
The shirt dropped away, revealing a simple white bra that had seen better days. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in places. I could see the outline of ribs, the sharp definition of her collarbones. Her shoulders were narrow, fragile.
She folded the shirt carefully before reaching for her skirt's zipper.
The navy fabric pooled around her ankles, and she stepped out of it with practiced modesty. Plain white underwear, practical rather than pretty. Her legs were even more slender than I'd imagined—thighs with barely any meat on them, calves that spoke of too much walking and not enough eating.
She folded that too.
She stood there for a moment, arms crossed over her chest, eyes fixed on the floor.
"I... should I..." she began, then stopped, clearly uncertain of the protocol.
Beautiful. My mouth went dry. Absolutely beautiful.
Even malnourished, skinny, and bonny, even worn down by hardship, she was stunning in her vulnerability. The curve of her breasts above her crossed arms. The gentle slope of her hips. A mother's hips. The way her dark hair fell around her shoulders.
She was real in a way that made my chest tight with want…. and for my dick to jump in my pants.
— — — — — — — —
NARUTO UZUMAKI
Naruto's fists clenched as he landed hard on a thick branch, the impact sending a sharp jolt up through his legs that he barely noticed. Stupid pervert bastard. The words bounced around in his skull like angry wasps, but they felt hollow somehow, like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else.
He launched himself to the next tree with more force than necessary, bark splintering under his sandals. What kind of sick freak tries to kiss another guy? But even as the thought formed, something twisted uncomfortably in his stomach—a weird flutter that made his cheeks burn all over again.
"Damn it!" Naruto snarled, punching the nearest trunk so hard the whole tree shuddered. I should've punched him right in his stupid, smug face the second he—
The second he what? Put his hand on Naruto's cheek like that? Traced his fingers down like Naruto was made of something precious?
The memory hit him like a physical blow, and suddenly his knees felt wobbly again, just like they had back there against the rocks.
No, no, NO! Naruto shook his head violently. I'm not thinking about that perverted crap!
He grabbed onto a branch and swung himself around it twice before dropping to the forest floor with a thud. The impact rattled his teeth, but it wasn't enough to shake the weird buzzing feeling under his skin. Nothing was enough.
Even now, stomping through the underbrush like some kind of angry boar, he could still feel phantom warmth where Eishin's arm had been around his waist.
He wanted to scrub himself hard.
Ugh, what's wrong with me? Naruto kicked savagely at a fallen log, sending it tumbling into a cluster of ferns. He's the pervert, not me! I was just pranking him like always!
But that wasn't exactly true, was it? The Sexy Jutsu had never felt... like that before. Usually it was just funny—watching some old geezer get a nosebleed or seeing a teacher stammer and blush. Simple. Harmless. Easy.
This had been anything but easy.
"Naruto!"
The familiar monotone voice made him freeze mid-kick. Naruto spun around to find Sai emerging from between the trees, that blank expression firmly in place as always. Great. Just what he needed right now.
"What do you want, you weirdo?" Naruto snapped, but there wasn't much heat behind it. He was too tired, too confused, too... something.
Sai tilted his head slightly, studying Naruto with those unsettling dark eyes. "You seemed distressed when you left. I thought I should check on you, since we are teammates."
"I'm fine!" Naruto crossed his arms defensively. Liar. "And I wasn't distressed, I was pissed off! That perverted bastard tried to—" He stopped, his face heating up again. Tried to what? Kiss me? Why can't I even say it?
"Kiss you," Sai finished helpfully, and Naruto's entire body jerked like he'd been struck by lightning.
"He did NOT—I mean, we weren't—NOTHING HAPPENED!" The words tumbled out in a rush, pitched higher than normal. Smooth, idiot. Real convincing.
Sai blinked slowly, that infuriating way he did when he was processing something. "But something did happen. You were pressed quite closely together, and both of your breathing patterns were elevated. Your pupils were dilated, and—"
"Stop looking at me like some kind of bug!" Naruto shouted, his hands flying up to gesture wildly. "It wasn't like that! I was just... he was just... we were..."
What were we doing? The question hit him like a punch to the gut. Because honestly, Naruto had no idea what to call what had happened back there. It hadn't felt like pranking. It had felt like drowning in something warm and comfortable and electric and terrifying.
"You seemed to enjoy it," Sai observed in that matter-of-fact tone that made Naruto want to throttle him. "Your body language suggested arousal and—"
"I DID NOT ENJOY ANYTHING!" Naruto's voice cracked embarrassingly on the last word. Liar, liar, liar. "Dammit, what is wrong with you? Why would you even think that?"
But Sai's words sent another wave of that weird fluttering sensation through his stomach, and suddenly Naruto could feel it all again.
The weight of Eishin's chest under his hands, solid and warm, like a furnace made of muscle. ba-dump... ba-dump... ba-dump. His fast heartbeat stupidly loud. Like it was echoing in Naruto's own chest. He couldn't stop hearing it. Couldn't stop feeling it.
The way those dark eyes had looked at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, the brush of calloused fingers against his transformed skin...
No, no, no, stop thinking about it!
"I think it's because of observable evidence," Sai replied with that same blank expression. "When Eishin-san touched you, your breathing became shallow and your cheeks flushed. You leaned into the contact rather than pulling away. These are typical indicators of—"
"SHUT UP!" Naruto spun away from him, his fists clenching so tight his knuckles went white. He's wrong. He has to be wrong. I'm not... I don't...
But something was still curling warm in his gut, low and restless, just from remembering that moment—how close they'd been. The way Eishin's arms had wrapped around him, solid and sure, like it was natural to hold him like that. Like Naruto didn't have to prove anything, or be loud, or strong, or his father's son. Just be. And for a second—just a flicker—it felt good. Too good. Like a part of him had been waiting for it without even realizing.
What the hell is happening to me?
It was like that time he called him a good boy, but a thousand times worse.
Naruto grabbed the nearest tree trunk and punched it as hard as he could, relishing the sharp crack of bark and the sting in his knuckles. The pain was good. It helped. It cut through the confusing mess in his head.
"Feel better?" The annoying prick asked.
"No," Naruto admitted through gritted teeth. He hit the tree again, harder this time. Stupid perverted Eishin. Stupid, confusing feelings. Stupid everything.
The third punch sent a spiderweb of cracks racing up the trunk, and Naruto found himself grinning fiercely. Yeah, this was better. This made sense. Punching he understood. Punching was simple.
"Naruto," Sai said, and something in his tone made Naruto pause mid-swing. "May I ask you something?"
Probably gonna be something weird. "What?"
"Did you want him to kiss you?"
The fucking….
Naruto wanted to switch up the tree trunk with this bastard's face. Yet his question…..
It made his whole body rigid, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. Did I? Did I want...?
The memory flashed through his mind again!
Caged against the rock, looking up into Eishin's dark eyes as he leaned closer, feeling like his whole world was narrowing down to the space between their lips...
"I..." Naruto's voice came out as barely a whisper. I don't know. I don't know, and that's what's so messed up about this whole thing.
It should be a no!
Instead of answering, he drew his fist back and put everything he had into one final punch. The tree trunk exploded in a shower of splinters and bark, the massive oak crashing to the forest floor with a sound like thunder.
And there, revealed in the wreckage, was a small wooden structure half-hidden by overgrown vines and moss. A shack, by the looks of it, old and abandoned.
"Interesting," Sai observed, staring at the revealed building. "I wonder how long that has been there."
Naruto didn't answer. He was too busy trying not to think about it.
"Um…. be careful. Someone has recently been here."
— — — — — — — —
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