come on (turn a little faster)

The Mickey Mouse keychain dangling from her rearview is teasing her. The sun-faded tchotchke is a constant reminder that the end of this day is merely the beginning of the next. Sakura knows that tomorrow is inevitable — they get their work schedules at the start of every week — but all she can do is pray that it is not as hard as today was. No more batty widows trying to spread their partner’s ashes in the Haunted Mansion. No more people getting stuck on It’s a Small World. And hopefully no more kids throwing up on her after getting off the Teacup ride.

The sigh that creeps out of her loses itself in the scratchy Hikaru Utada song coming out of her car speakers. The Bluetooth-to-cassette adapter that Yunjin found for her at the swap meet is dying on legs it never had to begin with. As the music starts to meander away from the song to another scintillating broadcast by the local ham radio club, Sakura takes it as a sign to turn the car off and stop moping.

Reaching for the paper bag on the seat beside her, she slams the door as she exits — anything less might leave the vehicle in a partially-closed purgatory and she is not risking another dead battery. But it gets the job done, never mind the undercarriage rattling as she walks away and approaches the house she had parked outside of. There are noises coming from the inside — familiar ones that tell her that coming here instead of heading straight home was the better decision. She knocks.

The wait is short, the door opens, and behind it appears a tall woman with kind eyes and a warm smile. The sight is enough to drop the shoulders she had subconsciously raised prior.

“Sakura! We weren’t expecting you — Kazuha didn’t say anything about you visiting.”

Sakura’s mouth defaults to the cordial smile she reserves for her elders, but the extra wrinkles on the side of her lips are there solely because she actually likes talking to the woman in front of her.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Nakamura. Sorry for dropping in like this, I didn’t know I would be coming over today either.”

“That’s perfectly alright. You know you’re always welcome here.” The way that her head cants when she speaks tells Sakura that she actually means it. “Will you be joining us for dinner? You know I always make too much,” she says with a laugh.

Sakura shakes her head in the most polite way she can. “No thank you, I’m eating with my family later,” she responds. “I actually got off work early today, so I wanted to bring these over.”

The older woman takes the bag that Sakura offers her, pinching it between her thumb and index fingers. “Let’s see what we have here…” She peers inside and her eyes light up the same way Kazuha’s do when presented with a treat. “Oh, these are beignets, right?”

“Right. My friend works at the booth and she made a fresh batch for me before I left.”

“How sweet of your friend — and of you.” She smiles and steps aside before ushering Sakura in. “Come in, let me get these put away.”

As Sakura follows her into the house, she notices that the radio drama coming from the kitchen is the same one her family listens to. Once inside, she reaches down to slip her feet out of her shoes before sliding them into the guest slippers that have unofficially been marked as hers. After that, instead of following Kazuha’s mother into the kitchen, she turns left and heads into the living room. She’s there to pay respects to the stocky, stentorian man filling out every inch of his recliner while the news plays out on a screen in front of him. The sound is off, but the captions are on — all whilst the radio from the other side of the house plays.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Nakamura.”

The man’s chair creaks as he turns towards Sakura. He narrows his eyes and takes her in, as if making sure this is the same girl that has visited a dozen times before. Once he’s confirmed she is who she is, he offers her a nod before turning those approximating eyes back to the television.

“Are you staying in school?” His voice is gruff and Sakura suspects he’s only talking to her because he’s had one too many conversations with his wife about how rude it is to ignore their guests.

“Yes, Mr. Nakamura.”

“Is my daughter?”

“Yes, Mr. Nakamura.”

He takes a deep breath and sighs. “Good.” He sounds relieved as reaches for the can of beer beside him.

The conversation is awkward, but brief. To be honest, there are times she would prefer coming home to these stilted exchanges than the chaos that usually welcomes her. She loves her family, but peace is hard to find under a roof that also houses her little brother, her parents, and her grandparents.

“Here you are, a little snack for the both of you.” Kazuha’s mother appears behind Sakura and hands her a plate. Alongside some of the beignets are various fruits cut up into different fun shapes and sizes.

“Thank you.” Sakura smiles and takes the plate. The older woman doesn’t linger — doesn’t even register her husband in the same room — before she turns around and returns to the kitchen.

With no more parental obligations keeping her downstairs, Sakura makes her way to the second floor. The plush carpet under her sinks beneath the weight of her slippers as she climbs the steps to Kazuha’s room — the increasing volume of the 50 Cent song telling her that she’s on the right path. The idea that her girlfriend is just a few feet away puts a little pep in her step and she hurries up the last flight of stairs. But when she finally ascends to the top step, she doesn’t just see Kazuha, she’s seeing Heaven itself.

“42…43…”

Grunts. Groans. Small, little dins of effort eke out of Kazuha as she works the pull-up bar hanging from her bedroom’s door frame. She hasn’t noticed Sakura yet — her gaze up and focused entirely on her own two hands — but Sakura has definitely noticed her.

Standing there, mouth agape, Sakura struggles with the burden of where to focus her eyes first. Do they stay on Kazuha’s biceps bulging every time she lifts herself up? Or maybe they should follow that tantalizing rivulet of sweat working itself down into the recess of her underarm. But who could forget the cliff of Kazuha’s jaw and how it clenches when she reaches the apex of her climb?

It’s an embarrassment of riches, but ultimately, she defaults to the feature that she took note of when the two first met. Sakura looks to the bottom of Kazuha’s shirt and the firm stomach it’s framing. A distinct set of lines and ridges rise up to greet her with every pull-up and she has to resist the urge to just reach out and touch the art.

“50!”

With a final exhale, Kazuha heaves herself off the bar and lets her feet fall to the floor below. Keeping her arms raised, she pulls at her elbows and cracks her neck to work out any of the residual kinks. It’s a silent show for her biggest fan and it isn’t until a rather loud and hungry gulp escapes from the girl watching that Kazuha realizes she’s not alone.

“Sakura!” Her girlfriend greets her with a sweaty hug and a golden-retriever smile. “You got here fast!”

“Yeah, I did.” Sakura’s answer cracks as it comes out, her mouth feeling particularly dry after everything she’s just witnessed. “Wait, how did you know I was coming over?”

“Chaewon and Yunjin told me you got off early.” Kazuha pulls back from the hug to rest her hands on either side of her — the grip solid enough to ground her. “Sorry about what happened with that Teacup kid.”

“Kids,” Sakura corrects, a shudder accompanying the flashback.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The hands on her arms are patient and the eyes on her face are understanding, but Sakura shakes her head regardless.

“Thank you, but I’m over it.”

Kazuha doesn’t press, which Sakura appreciates. She knows that if she eventually does want to vent that Kazuha will be there for her, but right now Sakura doesn’t want to think about any of that. She came here to spend time with her girlfriend and she wants to do that in a vacuum where she doesn’t want to think about the job she came from or the laundry she has to do afterwards.

“Okay.” The look in Kazuha’s eyes linger for a second before they drift down and see the plate in Sakura’s hands. “Woah, are those beignets?” The mood changes instantly as she reaches for the plate.

Sakura giggles as Kazuha takes them into the room, picking up one of the fried pieces of dough to examine it. “I remember you said you’ve never had one. Just make sure you don’t—”

But it’s too late and Kazuha’s already choking on the powdered sugar that’s been sucked down her airway.

Sakura’s eyes go wide as she rushes into the room. Her eyes dart around until they find what they’re looking for — a bottle of water on the night stand. She grabs it as fast as she can and hands it to Kazuha who takes one look at it and shakes her head. Instead of taking it, she points back to the night stand and the bottle of light blue Gatorade sitting right next to where the water was.

A moment later, the Gatorade is three gulps emptier and the two girls are recovering from their previous state of panic.

“Are you okay?” Sakura’s rubbing her girlfriend’s back, eying her carefully in case something else happens.

“I’m okay,” she coughs. After a few more heaving breaths, Kazuha returns to normal and picks up another beignet. “These are good though. You don’t want one?” She pops it into her mouth faster than Sakura can stop her.

Sakura waits for the pastry to clear Kazuha’s esophagus before shaking her head and laughing. “No, thank you. I brought them for you.” Instead, she reaches for one of the crescent-moon-shaped mango slices before Kazuha retires the plate to the top of her dresser.

“Darn.” Kazuha tuts her teeth as she looks down at the mess she made. “I got it all over me.” With a sigh, she snakes the shirt off her body, which succeeds in doing two things: 1) sending powdered sugar all over her bedroom floor and 2) dropping Sakura’s jaw down alongside it.

“Double darn.” Kazuha moves down to her hands and knees and uses the shirt she was just wearing as a makeshift rag. She’s not so much as cleaning the mess as she is just spreading it thin enough that it’s harder to notice.

“Do you…need any help?” Sakura asks as she’s licking the mango juice off her fingers, her eyes focused on Kazuha’s back and the way her shoulders bob with each dry scrub of the floor.

“No, I’m okay.” Kazuha stands back up and looks at the dirty shirt in her hand before exhaling disappointedly. “Sorry, I heard you were coming over, so I thought I’d try to look nice for you, but…” She raises her brow and throws her hands out to the circumstances surrounding them.

“You were trying to look nice so you…put on your workout clothes and started doing pull-ups?”

“Yeah! I thought I had enough time to get a little pump going by the time you got here.” Kazuha raises an arm in front of Sakura and flexes, the pop of the bicep almost enough to cause Sakura’s eyes to pop out of her head. “Barely even had time for my arms.”

“No no, you…” Sakura reaches out and squeezes Kazuha’s arm. The muscle is tense and doesn’t give at all beneath her touch. “Wow…” Sakura gulps. “Um, no, you look great,” she reassures. “I wish I could’ve looked my best for you.”

The two of them look down to the elephant in the room — the giant, red polo that’s been draped over Sakura’s body ever since work ended. She’s thankful that no one has mentioned it until now, but she can’t help but feel a bit goofy when standing next to the statue of a woman in a sports bra and basketball shorts beside her.

“I think it looks great!” Kazuha’s response is confident, but the raised brow that Sakura shoots her knocks it down instantly. “I mean… you always look good. No matter what. I promise.”

Sakura finds that hard to believe, but Kazuha extremely easy to believe in. Aside from her family or Chaewon, Kazuha’s probably the only other person to have seen her in such dire straits. Whether it’s after a long day of work or the rare morning after a night together, Sakura doesn’t think there’s been a moment where Kazuha hasn’t looked at her with the same eyes she’s looking at her with now.

“Thanks.” Giggling, she wraps her arms around Kazuha’s neck. She presses her lips against hers for a quick, chaste kiss. “I missed you.” Not just today, but everyday before.

“I missed you too.”

Sakura hums as Kazuha’s hands cinch themselves around her waist and brings them in closer. There wasn’t an exact plan of what to do with her girlfriend once she had arrived at her house, but a certain prospect is definitely growing more attractive with each passing second.

“It’s been a bit since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?”

“Four days.” Kazuha responds instantly.

“Four days since we’ve been together…” Sakura repeats as she leans in to kiss her again, this time letting her mouth linger longer to taste the powdered sugar on Kazuha’s lips. They were already sweet enough, but she’s glad they both get to enjoy the beignets that she brought.

When she breaks the kiss this time, Sakura comes away with a smirk. Cocking her eyebrow, she lifts her foot back and kicks the door closed behind them. “That means it’s been four days since we’ve—” She gets interrupted when the door swings back against her unexpectedly.

“Oh, sorry. One second.”

Kazuha extracts herself from Sakura to approach the problem. She reaches up and removes the pull-up bar from the door before laying it down next to her field hockey gear. After that, she closes it, locks it, makes sure it’s locked, and then promptly spins back around to face Sakura.

“There! Now we can do it.” She’s beaming — wriggling brow and all — but a second later the excitement falls from her face to reveal a quiet concern. “That’s what you meant, right? It’s been four days since we’ve… done it?” The words come out small, but not ashamed. Kazuha sometimes gets ahead of herself, but Sakura’s never seen her take a step she wouldn’t take back if asked.

The concern disappears from Kazuha’s face as Sakura responds by pressing her back against the door and her mouth back against hers. It’s instant, the way that Kazuha reacts to her. The kiss is hungry but patient as Sakura refamiliarizes herself with the girl in her arms. Her lips. Her taste. But shamelessly also her stomach.

Sakura groans as she finally gets to indulge in it. Her eyes are closed, but she can see it so clearly as her hands free-roam over the expanse of Kazuha’s abs. Her fingers dip into every tight divot they can find, creating this topographical map of hotness in her head.

A growl escapes from Kazuha’s lips when Sakura drags the blunt of her nails across her torso. In exchange, she takes a yelp from Sakura when she maneuvers her hands under her thighs and lifts Sakura up into the air.

“K-Kazuha!” She pulls her hands away to wrap themselves around Kazuha’s shoulders, her words bouncing as Kazuha starts walking them. “What’re you doing?”

“You stand all day for work, right?” Kazuha effortlessly carries Sakura to the bed. It’s not a long haul, and when they get there, Sakura’s not thrown on top of the mattress so much as she gets draped over it like a fine linen. A moment later, Kazuha’s crawling on top of her. The bed is bouncing from the movement and Kazuha’s general excitement spawns laughter between them before the mattress and them eventually settle down.

“You’re really pretty.” Kazuha’s looking down at her, her hands on the mattress on either side of Sakura’s face. “It’s nice to look at you.”

“I like looking at you too.” The corners of Sakura’s mouth raise up in a smile to meet the light rouge of her cheeks.

Kazuha leans down and envelopes Sakura in the experience that is her girlfriend. The slight chap of her lips. The lingering smell of Old Spice. The firmness of the mattress beneath her. It’s almost overwhelming and the only thing that can break her free from the kiss is the gasp that escapes her when she feels a hand slip under her shirt and over her bra.

“I missed this,” Kazuha says into the side of Sakura’s mouth. “I missed you,” she adds as she kisses down the angle of her jaw to her neck. “I missed…touching you.” Sakura sometimes has trouble responding to the earnestness that Kazuha doles out freely, but she doesn’t have time to process it — the deft roll of her nipple between Kazuha’s fingers wringing a moan out of her that serves as answer enough.

Sakura sucks a breath in when the cold air hits her stomach, Kazuha pulling her shirt up to get easier access to the body beneath it. The mouth that was on her neck is gone now, instead choosing to pay its respects to the new patches of exposed skin. The curves of her collarbones. The tops of her breasts. The expanse of her stomach. Sakura’s squirming beneath her, Kazuha indulging her desire for contact but never to the fullest extent. She keeps the bra on — touching her around and through it — and Sakura wonders if Kazuha’s hands are just too impatient right now to deal with the hooks as they work their way lower.

“Zuha…” The word gets pulled out of her as she looks down to see the girl at the waistband of her pants. She’s dragging her fingertips across the border where the bare skin and clothing meet.

“Kura…Can I…”

There’s no world in that Sakura tells her no, so she nods — hesitation hitting her only after Kazuha unzips and slides the slacks down. She wasn’t planning on visiting Kazuha today and her underwear reflects that. Fortunately, she had purged her closet of anything too cutesy when she started high school, but she wishes she had literally anything else on besides the plain pair of pink panties with the desperate wet patch on the front of it.

“Fuck…” Desire drips from Kazuha’s voice, her tongue peeking out through her lips as she drags her fingers slowly along the outsides of Sakura’s thighs.

It makes her feel like a gift waiting to be opened.

But instead of tearing through the wrapping paper, Kazuha places a gentle kiss on the inside of Sakura’s thighs. Sakura shivers when it happens and she shudders at the feeling of Kazuha’s hot breath washing over her as she continues to paint her with kisses. Finally, a whimper falls out of her when Kazuha finds one of the hickeys she left from their last encounter.

“Should I leave another one?”

“Anywhere you want.”

Kazuha inhales sharply when Sakura spreads her legs wider. She doesn’t say anything, but she does dig her calloused fingers deeper into the plush flesh of Sakura’s thighs. Dragging her nose and lips across the skin, it feels like she’s dowsing for the right place to mark.

She finds it quick, Kazuha more familiar with Sakura’s body than she is at this point. It’s a small spot on the front of her inner thigh that probably won’t rub against anything when she walks. It’s considerate in all the ways that Kazuha is. Testing the placement of the mark with a kiss, she proceeds it up with a longer one before fully latching her lips onto it.

The vessels bursting beneath Sakura’s skin loosen a moan out of her. She watches when Kazuha pulls away, shivering as the hot saliva on her skin gets cooled by the surrounding air.

“Mine.”

Kazuha whispers it like a prayer and Sakura answers.

“Yours.”

Kazuha looks back to the mark, admiring her handiwork. She runs a thumb along where the bruise will be before sliding it up to the edge of her underwear. She hooks her nail beneath it and lifts it up — sending a shake down Sakura’s spine as the damp fabric peels away from her.

“I’m going to eat you out now.”

The rest of Kazuha’s fingers join her thumb to pull down Sakura’s panties. The girl on the bed can only watch as they get dragged down her legs until they disappear off the edge of the bed — presumably landing somewhere on the floor below them.

“You’re pretty down here too.”

Sakura wants to blush, but instead her eyes roll back into her head when Kazuha follows up her compliment by dragging the flat of her tongue all the way up her core — the first of many.

“Zuha,” she gasps.

Sakura’s a mess. There’s no other way to describe it. She can’t help it — Kazuha’s just too good at this. With each lap against her folds, each dip of the tongue into her center, the only thing Sakura can do is lay there and let herself get taken apart.

Her hands are also in disarray. Though this is far from the first time they’ve done this, she still doesn’t know what to do with them as they go from rubbing over her own body to gripping the bed sheets to grasping at the empty air. They don’t stop until Kazuha grabs them by the wrist and shows them sanctuary.

“Here.” With a steady grip, Kazuha moves her hands until they’re resting squarely on the top of her head.

Sakura is still unsure what to do, but she figures it out when Kazuha returns to her previous duty. Her hands grip and clench at the locks between them and for a second she’s worried that she’s holding on too hard — the hair so taut in her fingers — but she’s reassured by the moan that leaks out of Kazuha following it.

It’s helpful. It settles her. It lets her push Kazuha deeper between her legs as she feels her orgasm approaching, signalling Kazuha to double down on her efforts.

Sakura doesn’t normally touch herself — a side-effect of the busy house she lives in — and she does so even less now with a girlfriend. But even when she does do it, all that happens is she ends up comparing those half-baked orgasms to the mind-shattering ones that Kazuha gives her — like the one that’s happening now.

The world turns white, but Kazuha doesn’t stop. She’s still there, mouth still in motion as Sakura’s vision returns.

“Zuha…” she whines, her hips fighting her words as they buck eagerly into Kazuha’s hungry mouth.

“One more, please,” Kazuha asks and again, Sakura can’t say no — can’t say anything — when Kazuha seals her lips around her clit.

She never comes down from her first orgasm. Kazuha doesn’t let her. She just takes her from the peak of one to the top of another in the effortless way she always does. Before she knows it, she’s coming again, but this time she has enough of her senses to get more than just a word in.

“Kazuha, please.” Sakura weakly thwacks the back of Kazuha’s head with her hand. Her own head is shaking, but she doesn’t know if it’s because she’s too sensitive or if her own body is disagreeing with her decision to stop this. “I can’t—”

“Oh! Sorry.” Kazuha pulls away from her. The embarrassment on her cheeks sits smudged by the wetness surrounding them. “Guess I got carried away, huh?”

There’s not enough air in Sakura’s lungs to turn into a laugh, so she has to raise her hand and wave off the apology. “It’s fine,” she says before patting the spot on the bed next to her.

She doesn’t move as the bed dips under the addition of Kazuha’s body. Still out of breath, she pulls her hand away so that the other has space, but Kazuha snatches it up instantly with her own before laying down beside her.

It’s a nice moment. The two of them with their legs dangling off the edge of Kazuha’s twin bed. Their fingers intertwined in the space between them. Sakura can barely even notice Kazuha’s workout jams still playing from the corner of the room.

She looks up — finally able to focus her vision on something — and sees little glow-in-the-dark stars stickering the ceiling. The thought of a small girl being lifted by her mother to turn their room into the night sky brings a smile to her face, but then she remembers that this is not the house that Kazuha grew up in.

“Were those there when you moved in?”

“No, I put them up,” Kazuha answers, the pride apparent in her words. “I think it was our first month here and I was out shopping with my mom when I saw them.” She chuckles. “I used to stare at the stars all the time back in my village, but they’re harder to see out here…Guess I missed them.”

Sakura didn’t know her back then — barely even remembers her showing up in their sophomore year — but every time Kazuha talks about being a new girl in a strange country, she wishes she did. She wishes she could’ve been there for her.

Sakura had grown up here, and even then, she still feels like a foreigner depending on where she is or who she’s talking to. It’s a feeling that probably never goes away. But even she can’t imagine what it must be like to be a whole person with friends and a personality and be dragged all the way across the world like Kazuha was.

“Do you like space?” she asks.

Kazuha chuckles.

“Space is cool. Did you know we’re technically in space right now?”

Sakura opens her mouth, but then she shuts it because there’s nothing to correct. Instead, she cranes her neck to look over at Kazuha — trading the stars above them for the one next to her. She doesn’t understand how someone like Kazuha can exist, that someone that can be so kind and understanding and cocky and cool and hot and beautiful and everything all at the same time.

As if feeling the eyes on her, Kazuha turns her head to face her. The smile that was already there grows brighter the instant they lock eyes and Sakura can feel herself smiling wider in return.

Sakura’s seen romance movies. She’s read romance books — even the ones that her mother keeps tucked away in the old rice cooker box — but Kazuha’s the only person in the world that’s made her feel like she’s in one. Those three words, the ones that can start or end a relationship just like that. She thinks about saying it. She wonders if it’s the time to do it. Mostly, she worries if Kazuha feels the same way.

But then she laughs right in her face.

“Kazuha?”

And then she keeps laughing.

“What’re you laughing about?”

Kazuha raises her hand to cover her mouth, shaking her head as if the truth might get her into trouble.

“It’s nothing,” she manages to sputter out.

Sakura sits herself up as if the higher ground will give her an advantage in this conversation, but all that does is lead to another bout of laughter.

“I’m serious! What’s so funny?”

“I just—” Kazuha starts, but then goes right back into it. “I’m sorry, but I just noticed you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”

For a few seconds, the only noise in the room is the sound of Kazuha’s laughter and the extremely loud blinks from Sakura as she stares at her girlfriend.

“Winnie the…” She’s thankful she was already sitting up because that makes it easier for her to scramble out of bed towards the closest mirror. The picture is clear, but she needs to see it for herself. When she flings open Kazuha’s closet, she comes face-to-face with her reflection showing who she is outside. Red shirt. No panties. She is the spitting image of Winnie the Pooh.

“Oh bother…”

Kazuha’s still laughing when Sakura decides to end this charade. She reaches down for the edges of the shirt and pulls it over her head before throwing it on the floor beside her panties. After that, she reaches for her bra — it’s black and it definitely didn’t match the underwear she had on, but that point is moot now as she takes that off as well. With nothing left to cover her, she can’t help but notice how quiet Kazuha has gotten all of a sudden.

“Not so funny anymore, is it?” Sakura places her hands on her hips, the confidence in her stance louder than ever with no clothes to cover it up.

Kazuha shakes her head as she rubs the tears out of her eyes. “Not at all,” she says with a lick of her lips. She’s looking at her — eyes going up and down — as she sits up with her back against the wall. “Come back to bed?”

Sakura feels like she’s being stalked as she approaches with the way that Kazuha’s following her every step. She returns the sentiment with her own gaze, the way that Kazuha is positioned on the bed enticing in its own way. One of her legs is folded up, causing her shorts to slide down and reveal the thick trunk of her thigh. Sakura likes the tan-line that cuts off in the middle of it and she’s grown to appreciate the bruises and scrapes that cover the rest of her leg.

Sakura doesn’t stop when she meets the edge of the bed, moving casually to take her rightful place atop Kazuha’s lap. After Kazuha straightens her legs out, Sakura’s hands instinctively find right below her ribcage. Calvin Klein — the name on Kazuha’s bra and the words she starts tracing with her thumbs.

“Do you want me to take it off?” Kazuha asks.

“I want you to be comfortable,” Sakura starts. Kazuha opens her mouth — probably to respond with the same mindfulness — but she’s quickly silenced by the finger against her lips. “But…” Sakura swallows. “I think you look really hot with it on.”

Kazuha chuckles as Sakura takes the finger back. She smiles, having found no offense where there’s none to be found.

“Good, ‘cause I do too.”

Sakura leans down to press their mouths against each others’ again. Her hands make themselves at home on Kazuha’s torso while Kazuha steadies her own mitts on Sakura’s waist. The kiss is slow, lazy, languid — it’s them enjoying each other in the most casual way.

Until it’s not.

Suddenly, Kazuha’s hands move from her hips to cup Sakura’s ass. She jerks — caught off-guard — but what surprises her is the sudden feeling of her core catching against Kazuha’s abs.

Kazuha notices it too, the moan that jumped out from Sakura a tell in and of itself.

“You like that?” Kazuha wastes no time — already such an inherently physical person — and angles herself in the perfect position for Sakura to grind against her stomach. She keeps her hands on her ass, but she lets Sakura take the reins for this.

Sakura’s hands have moved up Kazuha’s body, now steadying themselves on her broad shoulder as she rides her. It’s a new thing for the both of them — Sakura literally just using Kazuha’s body to chase her own orgasm. As good as it feels, she’s worried that she’s being overtly selfish and when she opens her eyes — she didn’t know when she closed them to begin with — she finds herself proven wrong immediately.

Kazuha is mesmerized with what’s going on. Sakura’s never seen her more enraptured then now as she just watches her girlfriend rock on top of her.

“You’re so beautiful,” Kazuha says.

That’s what does it. That’s what pushes Sakura over the edge. Not Kazuha’s words, but the sheer weight behind them, that knocks her from her arms and sends her falling headfirst into the safety of the alcove that is Kazuha’s neck and throes of another orgasm.

As she comes down from it — jolts of pleasure turn into blissful aftershocks — she feels Kazuha through it all. The sudden intake of breath in her chest. A whine. The erratic rock of her hips incongruous to Sakura’s own. The tight clench of her hands that loosens immediately after. It adds up to a conclusion that Sakura wasn’t expecting.

“Did you…” She whispers it into Kazuha’s neck, and Kazuha responds with the softest she’s ever sounded — a small and pathetic whimper that pushes Sakura back up.

She’s looking down at Kazuha now, who’s looking so soft and meek beneath her. Her cheeks are flushed and it seems like she’s still coming to terms with what had just happened.

“You just looked so pretty…”

Sakura doesn’t know what to say to that or the implications behind it. A simple thank you would never suffice for the history behind those words. So, she doesn’t say anything, but she does start to move again. She’s still sensitive, but this less for her and more for the girl that means everything to her.

“Kura, what—”

Kazuha hisses when Sakura reaches behind herself and slips a hand beneath her shorts and briefs. She’s absolutely soaked and Sakura finds it the easiest thing in the world to slide two fingers inside her and curl them in such a way that makes Kazuha reel her head back in pleasure.

Is this what Kazuha sees every time she does this to her? Not even a girl or person anymore, but just contortions of pleasure, strained tendons, and hot breaths? No wonder Kazuha’s always so enthused to do it.

“That’s it, Zuha.” With her fingers still working their way inside her, she presses her palm against her clit to bring her closer to the inevitable. “I’ve got you.”

It’s faster and harder than Sakura expected. She has to reach for the bed with her free hand, afraid to get knocked off, when the orgasm rips through Kazuha’s body. She doesn’t even make a sound, her mouth open in a silent wail, as the bed and the bodies above it settle.

“Wow…”

Kazuha nods in agreement, her breaths heavy as they try to gather back all the air she’s lost.

Slowly, Sakura removes her hand from Kazuha and brings it up to her face. She looks at the wet digits and without even a second thought, she takes them into her mouth and sucks them clean.

“Fuck.” Kazuha groans at the sight, her hips pitching up in response. “Please tell me you can stay over tonight.”

Sakura sighs and shakes her head as she wipes her fingers on the sheets beside them.

“Not tonight, I have to be home for dinner.”

“Oh…” The disappointment is tangible. It had already been four days since they had seen each other last, and this meeting was already incidental. Sakura starts to think about her work schedule and thinks to ask Kazuha about her practice schedule when —

“Can I eat you out again then?”

Sakura looks at her and Kazuha looks back. There’s nothing there but the sheer, earnest desire to spend more time with her doing what she loves.

So she laughs.

“Is that a yes?” Kazuha asks, her smile turning into a laugh as well.

Sakura doesn’t say anything, but she reaches for the Gatorade on the night stand. “As long as I’m home by 6,” she answers before killing the rest of the bottle.