How long? How long has this damn man's head been spinning and spinning every time his eyes meet yours? My god, this isn't fair. Why can't you be a woman? Why are your features masculine, why is your voice husky, why is your physique that of a man? Why can't you be like his wife? Polite, respectful, genuinely stressed at times, but a sweetheart. It's common for this to develop, considering the disturbed dynamic they both had. Naruto spent a huge part of his life chasing after you, wanting to pull you out of this pit of hatred forcibly injected into your veins. After all that, after hitting you, taking hits for you, both of you are here. Married with womens.

Do you remember the first time you looked at each other with veiled passion? Yeah, well, neither does he. Maybe it happened too many times. But what to expect? You're a man - both married to good wives, both have good kids, probably. It's really so cruel. It's cruel not being able to touch your body with passion, cruel that the only reminder of touch is from punches for the team, or from when you were traumatized teenagers fighting each other. At least, they laughed together when it was all but over. And my god, it's awful that this is happening, but it is. Maybe they're both blind, maybe they've had too much to drink, maybe they've gone back and forth too many times, maybe they forgot about the wedding ring, but they're here now.

The blond held your waist, his strong body pushing yours onto the desk that the Hokage's office offered, knocking over anything in the way. It was so wrong, but it felt so right. Naruto knows full well that your body is aching with desire just like his is right now - he knows you're hardening, that the moans coming from your throat were long overdue. The partially sweaty and panting face pulled away - a small thread of saliva sticking to both lips, followed by strained grunts. "It's the first and the last time," probably wasn't.