Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ mischief's cracktastic shorts ❯ Private Dance [Yamato/Sakura] ( Chapter 25 )

A/N: birthday fic for wildwesternwind. Hopefully, this isn't too far from what you were wanting. I fail at writing anything smutty for Sakura without her teammates involved. I guess I'm more attached to my OT3 than I realized. >.>

Pairing: one-sided YamaSaku

Warnings: mentions of sex

 

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It's a prickling of awareness at the edge of his senses that rouses him. Blinking the disorientation away, Yamato suddenly sits up on his bedroll and glances around the wooden shelter he'd created for them a few hours earlier. To his left, Sai is sleeping quietly on his side, and on the other side of him, Naruto is sprawled out on his back, snoring lightly.

 

Sakura's bedroll is empty.

 

Shit!

 

Immediately, he's up and out the door. There's no one in front of the building, well, that he can see anyway; it's only slightly less than pitch black out here. The half-moon that had been out earlier is now hidden behind clouds, allowing only a faint illumination of his surroundings.

 

Yamato curses silently. Sakura's not the sort to run off, but it would be virtually impossible for someone to have taken her without waking at least one of them. Where is she? his mind screams.

 

A thud pulls his attention away from the woods in front of him and around the side of the shelter. In an instant, all the tension drains from his body, because he can see the outline of his missing teammate in the small clearing running through kata.

 

She doesn't stop, doesn't turn to greet him, so he assumes she doesn't realize he's there yet. Silently, he leans against the side of the building and watches. He watches her punch, kick, and flip in a style completely opposite from the one chakra fighters such as herself are known to use. From what he can tell - and he really wishes the clouds would clear now - her movements are near perfect. She's practiced these kata a lot, a testament to her drive, no doubt. Considering the circumstances, he's not surprised at all. Understanding her motives and expectations of herself do not keep him from admiring what he sees, however. In fact, Yamato thinks it makes him appreciate it even more.

 

Graceful, he thinks. Like a dancer.

 

He smiles to himself when the moon begins to peek through a thinner batch of clouds, allowing him better sight as he stands hidden in the shadows of the building. It's then that he notices her form is off with her kicks; she looks slightly off balance, and his first instinct is to point it out to her. He doesn't, though, because he's decided likes watching her, and if he makes his presence known, she'll know she's been caught and might go back to bed. And he doesn't want that, he realizes, not just yet. Sakura's next kick is even worse, and she makes a small sound of frustration. It looks as though she's fully aware of the problem.

 

It isn't a conscious decision to let his mind wander right then; it just happens. Later he'll blame it on the time of day, that he rarely wakes in the middle of the night without those kinds of thoughts being on the forefront of his mind, that he was tired and it had nothing to do with the way his young subordinate wore a short, short skirt with skin-tight shorts or how she panted breathlessly and grunted with the effort of her movements. Certainly not!

 

But right then Yamato isn't thinking about protocol or appropriate behavior. All he's thinking about at that moment is sliding up behind her and how her hips would feel in his hands as he adjusts her stance, the angle of her leg. Sakura smells faintly of flowers and sweat, he already knows, but he imagines he could pick up a few other scents as he leans down to whisper encouragement in her ear.

 

When she leans back into him, he takes that as the invitation it's intended and slides his hand from her hip, down under her skirt where it rests between her thighs. She's hot to the touch, and he can feel the moisture already pooling through her thin shorts.

 

Sakura gasps when he begins to tease, rocking against his hand, and he buries his face in her neck as his other hand cups a breast. It's too much. He can't stop now, he realizes when a low, throaty moan escapes her lips and the mood turns frenzied. He has her shorts and panties down around her shin guards in one swift movement, and two seconds later, he frees himself from his pants as he bends her over. She grabs onto a nearby tree for support as he does so, and then there is nothing but heat, sucking him in, suffocating him as he pulls her hips back to meet each thrust.

 

Yamato blinks and refocuses on the scene before him as he notices just how far his thoughts have strayed. With an inward sigh, he steps forward to make his presence known.

 

“Sakura,” he begins, and she whips around suddenly, a guilty expression on her face. “You should be inside. I need you to be rested for tomorrow.”

 

She fidgets a moment before answering. “I..I know, but I couldn't sleep.”

 

Yamato immediately shoves down the thought that he could easily help her get to sleep, because this is getting ridiculous. He decides right then that it's a good thing he's ANBU, because he'd make a terrible sensei.

 

“Well, you look like you've been working hard out here. Maybe you'll be able to sleep now,” he offers with a smile.

 

Sakura smiles back slightly, and as he turns to walk away, she says, “Thanks, Taicho.”

 

He pauses midstep. What she's thanking him for, he has no idea but nods in acknowledgement all the same. Yamato then ducks inside and burrows as deeply as possible into his bedroll, thankful Naruto's snores have increased in volume since he stepped outside. It gives him something else to focus his frustration on besides the way Sakura sighs as she tries to get comfortable.