Their intimacy was no longer something fragile or new.
It lived in small things now: the way Sakura adjusted Naruto's sleeves before public appearances, hiding old scars without shame; the way Naruto's hand always found the small of her back when rooms grew crowded or tense.
That night, after the residence finally fell quiet, Sakura traced idle patterns across Naruto's skin as they lay tangled together, sheets half-forgotten.
"You're still tense," she murmured.
He smiled faintly. "Guess you're losing your touch, doctor."
Her response was a slow kiss to his collarbone—unrushed, deliberate. "Hardly."
Naruto's breath caught as her presence pressed closer, warmth and familiarity melting the last of his restraint. There was no desperation between them, no frantic need to prove anything. Just a deep, steady hunger shaped by trust.
Later, when they lay side by side again, Sakura rested her head on his chest, listening to the heartbeat she had fought so hard to protect.
"This," she said quietly, "is my favorite part of being strong."
Naruto kissed her hair. "Mine too."