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The first time it happens is the first time he goes to her new clinic for treatment.
It’s night time and she’s about to head home, just finishing the last of her charts for the day. She’d stayed late enough as it is.
There’s a sharp, crisp knock on her office door.
“Clinic’s closed!” she hollers apologetically, without looking up. “But I’ll open at nine a.m. tomorrow!”
There’s no response from the hopeful would-be patient.
The door shuts, the locking mechanism a loud click in the silence.
She glances up, curious as to why she hears no confirmation of returning in the morning, or the usual plea to accept just one more patient for the day.
Oh.
Oh.
Standing in her doorway is a tall man in an ANBU uniform, jagged black hair framing a porcelain mask carved into the features of a hawk.
She has seen, treated, and worked with many attractive men in the course of her career as a medic and as a nin. But this man in the ANBU uniform is something else entirely, even with the mask concealing his face. The greyish white flak jacket emphasizes his broad chest, and the sleeveless black turtleneck shows off strong, sculpted shoulders. The visible scars on them only add to the air of danger, marks of a victor and survivor. Long black fingerless gloves cling to the length of his defined, muscled arms like a second skin.
Power radiates from him in an intimidating aura, chakra forceful and aggressive, like fire barely contained inside the shape of a man.
His body language is focused squarely on her. He’s staring at her, too. Drinking her in. She could feel it, even with the mask covering his face, the heat of his gaze setting sparks across her body.
The atmosphere crackles between them. Everything else but him fades into the background, and she can’t tell if time stands still or stretches inexplicably longer. She’s stunned by the force of her attraction. When he draws nearer the tension between them grows heavier, more potent. It’s the kind of feeling people write prose and poetry about.
The file on her desk only names him as ANBU Agent 1106. Information on ANBU agents’ identities are kept to a minimum, especially on something as physically accessible as paper.
They step closer to each other, both of them caught in the other’s gravitational pull, until she has to tilt her head back to look up at him.
Hands glowing green, she performs a quick scan. It yields nothing alarming, just a contusion below his ribcage and a gash on his left shoulder, near the ANBU tattoo. She tries to ignore the fluttering in her stomach as she heals him and closes up the wound, the nearness of him heating her skin.
Maybe it’s stress, or hunger, or loneliness.
Or, her heart whispers, it could be fate. There certainly seems to be a string dancing and pulling between them, and it feels like it could be the red one of lore.
Sakura decides, in that moment, to leave all rationality at the door for the nameless, faceless ANBU in her clinic.
So when the dark, mysterious ANBU reaches up to remove his porcelain mask, she stops him with a bold hand over his.
“Keep the mask on,” Sakura says, low and breathless. “ANBU-sama.”
He goes completely still, and Sakura feels his burning stare even from behind his mask.
The next moments are a blur and she finds herself pinned against the wall of her office, her clothes a discarded heap on the floor.
Calloused hands dig into the underside of her thighs to haul her up and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist for support, gasping at the feel of him hot and hard against her entrance. The ANBU lifts her up some more then sinks her down onto his cock, tearing a long, drawn-out moan from her throat.
Sakura’s eyes glaze over as she stares at the expressionless hawk mask while its wearer fucks into her, using both gravity and his strength to pump her up and down his cock. She whimpers, simultaneously clinging and clawing at his shoulders, digging her heels into the small of his back, wanting him deeper, wanting even more.
The ANBU doesn’t utter a single word, her office silent except for her broken little ‘ahh-ahh-ahh’s punctuating his quick, rough thrusts and the slap of skin against skin. A particularly deep thrust undoes her and she cries out her release but still he continues, fucking her through the waves of pleasure until they subside.
Th ANBU sets her down on shaky legs only to turn her around, and she barely has enough time to brace her hands against the wall when he slams into her again from behind and fucks her some more until she screams and crests a second time. He follows soon after and she feels hot spurts of come hitting the curve of her ass, dripping slowly down the backs of her thighs.
She would never look at her clinic the same way again.
She walks gingerly into the hospital early the next morning with an unsteady gait that has Ino crowing in delight and rising to her feet to give her a standing ovation.
Her best friend demands details on the identity of the man who had managed to rip the panties off her workaholic ass and fucked her so good she couldn’t walk straight the next day.
Sakura says she honestly doesn’t know.
It doesn’t matter, she thinks, because it won’t happen again.
—
The second time it happens, the ANBU commandeers her chair and pulls her onto his lap. First he has her riding his hand, coating it wet as he plunges two fingers in and out of her, over and over, his thumb swirling her clit in maddening patterns until she slumps forward against his chest, whimpering in his ear as she comes all over his fingers.
Then he has her riding him, fucking herself on his cock, moaning wantonly on every downward slam, her bouncing breasts squeezed roughly in his gloved hands, nipples brushing against the fabric-covered center of his palms.
She thinks she sees a flash of red inside his mask, where the eyeholes are.
—
The third time is barely a week after the second.
The ANBU has her flat on her back, laid bare and spread out on her own desk like an offering.
Sakura turns her head to the side and watches him pull out a blue hitai-ate from his pocket. The blue fabric is the last thing she sees before it descends over her eyes, the metal plate providing an extra layer of opacity.
Free to remove his mask, he explores her body with lips and teeth and tongue until she’s thrashing and begging.
“Please,” she gasps, and she feels his lips curve wickedly around her nipple before trailing openmouthed kisses lower and lower until he hooks his hands under her knees and puts his mouth between her thighs.
Every slick slide of his tongue makes her hips roll and arch of their own accord. Her fingers bury into his hair, torn between pushing him away because it’s too much, and pulling him impossibly closer because it’s too, too good.
He makes the decision for her, keeping her firmly in place and held open for the torture he metes out. She cries out into the darkness of her blindfold as he makes her come again and again, gushing into his greedy, unfaltering mouth.
For the first time, she wishes she knew his name so it could fall from her lips every time he takes her apart.
—
He returns for a fourth time, and a fifth, until Sakura stops counting. It seems he can’t stay away, and neither can she.
The ANBU never shows his face. Blindfolds her when necessary. The only sounds he makes are those of his breathing. If not for her medic’s awareness noting the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the racing of his pulse, and the spiking of his chakra, she’d be insulted at his ability to stay quiet when he can so easily reduce her to a moaning, quivering mess.
It doesn’t matter how rough they get. He is unfailingly tender, after.
From the very beginning she’d noticed the little things he did. Steadying her as she stands on trembling legs, helping her clean up and get dressed, rubbing circles on her hip and back. Tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, brushing his thumb across her jaw, poking her forehead with a gentle tap.
Sakura has never seen that particular gesture before, but it’s the one she likes most of all.
—
It’s their monthsary, if they could call it that.
Sakura doesn’t dwell on why she knows the date by heart.
Apparently he knows it, too. Because he’s at her clinic again, exactly four months to the day since they started their sordid affair.
There’s something different about him the second he walks in. He rounds the side of her desk with a steely, almost angry, resolve. He seems pissed about something, and she shivers at the thought that he might take it out on her.
Sakura stands from her chair and moves to examine him, but the ANBU places a firm hand on her shoulder and pushes her down, down until she’s on her knees before him.
He tugs at the neckline of her red tunic, and she takes it as a command to undress. Looking up at him, she keeps her eyes on his masked face as she slowly strips to nothing, her underwear and black shorts pooled around her knees as a cushion.
Heat blooms on her cheeks and spreads down her neck, chest, until it curls into hot anticipation low in her belly.
The ANBU undoes his standard-issue black trousers, slowly and deliberately, making it clear to her once again that the intent of his visit is anything but professional. Sakura watches the slide of the fabric over the rigid outline of him, her breath coming quicker and her insides burning hotter. He pulls out his cock, gripping himself at the base.
He’s hard and fully erect, already leaking at the slit of the head. Sakura feels a rush of satisfaction that the ANBU is just as aroused as she is, maybe more eager than he let on. That maybe he’d been thinking about this, about her, before he’d even set foot in her office.
The ANBU steps even closer, burying the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of her head. With his other hand he angles his cock to point it directly at Sakura’s mouth.
Then he drags the tip of his cock across her lips, smearing them shiny with precome.
Sakura licks her lips but keeps her mouth closed, gazing up at him from beneath lowered lashes with a look that is both defiant and teasing.
The mask simply stares back at her. A black-gloved hand encircles her neck, fingers putting pressure on just the right points until she has to gasp for air.
As soon as her mouth falls open for breath, he releases her neck and tugs her hair back, driving his cock inside her open mouth with a sharp push of his hips.
He’s so fast and she’s taken by surprise, that he’s able to drive all the way in without resistance until it registers a second later and she chokes on instinct, eyes watering, struggling not to gag. But he keeps her in place and forces her to adjust to the length of him inside her mouth. After a while she does, and she begins to move her head, sliding her lips up and back, tongue caressing the shaft, hand twisting and pumping at the base.
She can feel his eyes on her, watching her every movement, so she lifts her eyes to his mask, stares into where his eyes would be. The sight of her looking up at him with her lips wrapped around his cock clearly has an effect on him, because his throat bobs and his fist tightens in her hair.
Sakura lavishes his shaft and head with little kitten licks, moves her mouth forward and back along the length of his cock, then hollows her cheeks to give him suction. Her eyes don’t leave his mask and is immensely gratified when the ANBU throws his head back, Adam’s apple rippling the line of his exposed throat, his face tilted upward to the ceiling in uncontainable pleasure. Pleasure she is giving him.
Something in him snaps because the rocking of his hips quicken, thrusting forward in escalating speed. Sakura’s hand falls away from his shaft and uses both her hands to grab hold of his hips for leverage as he bucks into her mouth, sliding back and forth roughly between her lips.
His fingers grip into her hair to hold her head steady as he pumps into her, taking his pleasure in her willing mouth. She tries to relax as much as possible and lets her jaw go slack. Lets him fuck her mouth at the rhythm and pace he likes.
Eventually the ANBU’s thrusts grow faster but more uneven, his hips stuttering and cock twitching as his orgasm approaches. The loss of his control turns her on even more and she moans around his cock, the vibrations sending him over the edge and seconds later he comes, shooting his load down her throat.
Just before he finishes completely, he pulls out to splatter come on her lips and cheek. He pauses, unmoving, simply watching as she licks her lips clean.
She sees that flash of red again inside the mask’s recessed eyeholes.
She begins to rise shakily from her kneeling position. He helps her up, both his hands holding both of hers, but as soon she’s fully standing on her feet the ANBU spins her around with dizzying speed and roughly bends her over facedown on her desk, one hand in her hair and the other between her legs.
The ANBU inserts a boot between her ankles and kicks them apart, forcing her legs to spread wider. Then he pushes two fingers into her, sliding in and out easily with how wet she got from sucking him off. By now he’s memorized exactly how she likes it, exactly how to make her come with a few well-placed strokes.
It only takes moments until she keens, her inner walls clenching around his fingers.
Her climax is barely over when suddenly she feels him pressing against her, cock hard and ready again so quickly, parting her drenched folds open.
A ragged cry escapes her as he plunges into her, sheathing himself to the hilt in a single thrust.
The impact of his hips against her ass pushes her forward, and she has to hold on for dear life to the edge of her desk as he fucks her brutally, railing her back and forth across the surface of the desk, her nipples rubbing in pleasure-pain against the wood.
As if it wasn’t enough, the hand between her legs begins to thumb at her clit in a devastating rhythm with his thrusts.
She comes again with a scream, her body shuddering almost violently.
He doesn’t stop.
He’s a man on a mission. It seems he wants something from her, and is determined to fuck it out of her. If it’s the total submission and control of her body, he already has it.
What do you want from me, Sakura wants to ask, if only her mouth wasn’t so preoccupied with making broken, incoherent noises. Her fogged-up mind has no idea what time it is anymore or how long he’s been working her.
He speeds up again and brings her up to the edge once more for the nth time, and sensing she’s close, swirls repeatedly on her clit and fucks her even more viciously.
“No more, please, I c-can’t,” she pleads as yet another orgasm rips through her.
She’s sobbing now, and he appears to have mercy because his fingers withdraw from her clit and he lets himself go, the snapping of his hips turning frantic and deeply pronounced, hitting that spot inside her that has her wailing, bringing both of them to one last peak.
They come together, almost at the same time. Sakura gripping the edge of the desk, the ANBU gripping her waist like a vise. Her mouth falling open in a long, helpless moan, his hips riding out the jerky, rapid thrusts of his release.
When he finishes, he covers her upper body with his, peppering her nape and shoulders with kisses. The press of both his hot mouth and cold mask, which he had shoved to the side of his head, sends an aftershock throughout her body and she whimpers, curling in on herself while he holds her through it.
Long minutes pass until he slowly helps her up, helping each other put themselves back to rights. When she turns around to face him, his mask is back in place.
The rustle of their clothing and their heavy breaths are the only sounds in the room, until Sakura gathers the courage to speak.
“Who are you?” she whispers, voice slightly hoarse from having his dick in her throat and having all manner of sounds pulled from her. She backtracks a bit, nervous that he might prefer a less direct approach. “I, um, I was thinking—” she starts again, careful and tentative, as if the ANBU might bolt at any second, “—since we’ve been doing this—” she makes a wide, sweeping gesture between and around both of them, “for months already, I was thinking maybe we should, um, at least introduce ourselves?”
The ANBU’s shoulders relax. “Finally. That’s what I wanted to hear.” Her lips part in surprise, and the ANBU lets out what seems like a sigh. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that. Tch. So annoying.” There’s no malice in that last sentence; instead, it’s strangely affectionate.
“What?”
“I’ve wanted to since the first time. You stopped me from taking off my mask, remember? So I thought you preferred the anonymity.”
Even slightly muffled by the mask, his voice nearly makes her swoon. Deep, rich, just the right amount of rough. Now she wants them to do everything all over again and more, this time being able to hear him uninhibited, with no holding back.
She ducks her head. “I did, at first,” she confesses. “It was hot, you have to admit.”
“It was.”
“But now I’d like us to get to know each other. If you want to,” Sakura adds shyly.
“I do.”
“May I?” she asks, gesturing to the hawk mask in place.
“Go ahead.”
She lifts the mask off his face, and she nearly gasps.
He’s beautiful, just like the rest of him.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she blurts out.
He shrugs. “As far as I knew, you were single—” A fluttery little thrill passes through her at the thought that he’d checked, “—but I thought maybe you were secretly married or had a lover and you wanted to maintain some sort of detachment. Like you could still disassociate yourself if I remained a stranger.”
Sakura blinks up at him. “Yet you still came to me even if you thought I might be involved with someone else? And I’m not, by the way.”
“I was willing to take whatever you were willing to give. And I’m glad you’re not with anyone, by the way,” he says, echoing her last sentence, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Sakura’s heart somersaults, and warmth unfurls across her skin. “Haruno Sakura,” she says, holding out her hand for a handshake.
“I know,” he says softly.
Her eyes widen, trying to wrap her mind around the implications of his statement.
The ANBU takes her hand to return the gesture, then lifts it to his mouth and brushes his lips against her knuckles. “Uchiha Sasuke.”
It feels surreal. His hands have been all over her body, and her hands all over his, and here they were exchanging handshakes like it was their first meeting.
It technically is. She stares at him in wonder at how they had ended up here, together.
“Like what you see?” he smirks.
“Much better than the mask, I have to say. If I’d known you looked like that, I would have asked you to take it off sooner,” she teases, grinning up at him.
“And here I was thinking you’d only like me for my cock.”
A shocked giggle escapes her at his own teasing and she blushes. Conversation seems to flow between them with ease, as if they had known each other longer.
“Well, it’s an excellent cock. I have no complaints,” she says demurely.
“Good,” he rasps, his voice turning low and serious. Sasuke closes what little distance is left between them and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. She gasps when she feels him aroused again, that now-familiar hardness pressing against her belly. He lowers his head to brush his lips along her ear. “Because I want my cock to be the only one you touch, suck, and come all over.”
“That can certainly be arranged,” she says breathlessly. “And I want to be the only one who can do those things to you.”
“It’s always been you.” Sasuke lifts her up and settles her on the edge of her desk. He grasps under her thighs, coaxing her to wrap her legs around his hips. She slings an arm around his shoulder, drawing him even closer, her fingers threading through the messy hair at the back of his head.
His gloved hand cradles her cheek, and her heart along with it.
They have their first real kiss.