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“This feels strange,” Shisui frowns, his back muscles rippling underneath Sakura’s wandering hand, and her fingers tensed against the smooth tissue in retaliation.
“Will you quit complaining,” Sakura frowns as she wiggles her hips firmly onto his lower back and her thighs tightens around his hips, “I barely started.”
“Why couldn’t you be normal and use paper or something?”
Sakura pinches the skin at his waist and smiles when he yelp.
She honestly loves the shape and color of Shisui’s back. A mix of soft beige and honey with muscles toned and hardened from years of training and missions. Whenever Sakura brushes her fingertips over the small bumps down his spine or the muscles in his shoulder blades, he shivers and it makes the corners of her lips tilt upwards.
“Because you’re my boyfriend and you can show everyone your artistic girlfriend – granted Sai doesn’t have anything negative to say – and Sasuke will vomit with envy because we’re so adorable,” Sakura replies just as easily. It was a petty move, but given the state of affairs after that botched mission in Rock, she thought that he needed something non-stimulating for him to destress; plus she really wants to practice painting. She read somewhere that painting would help with keeping her joints, well, flexible.
“I knew there was a reason I was dating you,” he laughs, his body vibrating under her legs and Sakura places a kiss on the back of his neck before nipping his ear for that slightly mocking insult.
“Rude.”
“You liked it.”
Shisui snickers, “Can’t deny that.”
Mixing the blue with whites Sakura tries to find the right shade of sea to start building the waves and shore. Picking up a flat brush, slightly angled, she mixes a color labeled lace into a blue labeled winterwood until she sees swirls. Satisfied with the strings of pearl, she begins to angle the brush forward, lapping the waves in circles at the dip of his spine.
“It’s cold,” Shisui shivers as the pores on his skin rose.
“It’s wet,” Sakura replies dryly, picking up some more product from her pallet, she makes wider circles with her brush, the cerulean color fades at the edges with seafoam speckled in glazes. The white creating bubbles and reflections of the sunlight.
She rubs her free hand against his arm absentmindedly, creating some friction to distract him from the brushstrokes.
Shisui hides a smile into his arm.
“Maybe we should’ve done this under the sun,” Sakura comments more to herself than anything else, “I don’t want you getting cold, but you get sunburned pretty easily in the dead of summer. Do you want me to heat the room up?”
Shisui sits up abruptly—so abruptly, that Sakura topples over to the left trying to catch her balance. He steadies her with two hands on her hips and presses a kiss to her mouth, and she stops all train of thought until he pulls away. His eyes catch the light of the sun, coal melting into inky-black and he replies warmly, “I was joking.”
Sakura blinks and focuses a point on his shoulder, ignoring the nerves flying into her stomach at the blatant adoration in his eyes. She huffs, “I know. But I was serious.”
Shisui stares at his pink-haired medic for a moment before grabbing her jaw and pressing another smacking kiss to her soft lips. He coos, “You’re adorable, how did I not see this before?”
Sakura scowls half in embarrassment and half in frustration because she fell for this dolt. “Shut up,” shoving him back, she prods his back with quick fingers and sighs, “You’re so lucky that this didn’t dry.”
“Or what?” He snorts.
“...No sex for a month.”
Shisui looks at her in disbelief for a moment– she knows it’s a cruel punishment but the alternative is him burying himself in paperwork at HQ; she would rather him be home and away from that ball of anxiety for a bit – then his hand cups the back of her neck to press another quick, but passionate kiss against the side of her cheek, “ I won’t move; promise.”
“Shisui, you’re getting paint on me!”
“What are you even painting with all the blue?” Shisui obediently turns back onto his stomach, nestling into the plush carpet and she repositions herself on his hips.
“Remember when we went to that beach near Whirlpool? The one near that soba place? On the coast?” Sakura asks him while picking up a brush with more of that sea-foam color.
“For our anniversary?” he piques up, smiling at the memory, “Mikoto-obaa said the beach houses there were the best; that was a good week.”
“I’m painting the day we went and had that dinner at sunset. We went to the meadows later that night and watched the fireworks during the festival.”
Shisui hums and then said, “We should go back. I think we can take baa-chan on my next break.”
“Hm,” Sakura makes a noise of approval and picks up more sunlight on a fan brush, “That’s a good idea. The sea air would be good for her health.”
Shisui’s heart squeezes at the compassion and kindness etched in her voice. Maybe it’s the healer in her or just her, in general. His hands roam backward, sliding up the sighs of her thighs to give her hips a gentle squeeze, and he mumbles into the carpet, “How are we not married? You’re perfect.”
She pauses mixing the shades of baby’s breath and rose on her pallet. Green eyes widen at that comment, her cheeks flush at the seemingly innocent comment, she has to swallow the stupid smile on her face and ignores the rapid thumping of her heart.
“And you’re probably blushing too,” he continues pouting, “And I can’t see it. You know I live to see you blush—can you at least give me a mirror so I can see what you’re doing?”
“It’s a surprise!”
“Can I paint you next?”
Sakura pauses considering the weight of his question, and answers, “Fine. But you’re not allowed to move until I’m finished.”
“Okay, okay,” he agrees rapidly. Shisui inhales and nodes while making a list, “Fine. Painting first, then me, then back to Whirlpool, and then we get married.”
“Shisui, you don’t even have a ring,” she challenges him by scoffing and can’t help the silly grin on her face.
“Of course, I do. I bought it five months ago. It’s in my sock drawer.” he answers absentmindedly while playing with a stray piece of carpet.
Sakura freezes.
In the span of five seconds, she tosses her paintbrush into her jar of water, heart in her throat, a giddy laugh crawls out of her throat as she makes a beeline to the bedroom.
"Sakura, wait! It’s not in my sock—“ Shisui scrambles up, half panicking and half in embarrassment as he slides on a smear of jade paint near the carpet.
“Shisui! You’re getting paint everywhere!”
He swears before shoving on his slippers and runs in after Sakura, paint splattering on the expensive oak floors and white sheer curtains.