There’s not much in the world that Hinata loves more than waking up to Sakura’s mouth on her neck.
Okay, so that’s romanticizing the situation a little. Sakura is technically asleep and drooling all over Hinata's shirt, but Hinata still doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to sharing a life with the girl she’d loved from afar for so long. Sakura’s hair brushing her shoulder, Sakura’s hip pressed against her fingertips, Sakura’s toes touching her ankles—she holds these things close to her heart, safe inside her chest, and as long as she lives, Hinata knows she’ll never forget them.
She nuzzles Sakura’s brow, breathing in the fruity scent of her girlfriend’s shampoo. She’d be content to stay there forever, if she didn’t hear a muttered, “G’mornin’,” and feel a shifting underneath her body.
“Ah, good morning, Sakura-chan,” Hinata says. She leans back on her elbows so she can see Sakura’s face and giggles at the disgruntled, groggy expression she finds there. “Did you sleep well?”
Sakura rolls over and presses her face into her pillow, making a muffled, indistinguishable noise as she goes. The blanket rustles and shifts around her knees. Hinata leans her head against Sakura’s back and smiles. Silence stretches around them, but it’s not oppressive or stifling; on the contrary, it’s familiar and sweet and almost pliable, moving with their bodies as they breathe together, against each other. Rain patters rhythmically against the bedroom window. Hinata counts the freckles on Sakura’s back.
“Twenty-three,” she hums. In response, Sakura lifts her head up from the pillow and peers questioningly at her.
“You have twenty-three freckles on your back,” Hinata elaborates. When the only response she gets is a bleary look, she decides it’s maybe time to see about getting Sakura some caffeine. It's true that she’s not exactly known for being a morning person.
“Ah, I’ll go put the coffee on, okay?” She nudges the sleeve of Sakura’s shirt aside and kisses her exposed shoulder. “Do you want some toast too?”
Sakura groans again, and with an exaggerated show of effort, she rolls over, shifting Hinata to the side in the process. When Hinata tries to protest, Sakura looks her in the eyes and pouts.
“I don’t wanna get out of bed.”
“Well,” Hinata replies with a giggle, “I understand that, but we’re meeting Ino for lunch in an hour, and then you have a shift at the hospital after—”
“That can wait.” Sakura yawns. “I’ve got more important stuff to do.”
Hinata quirks an eyebrow. “Such as?”
In a flash, Sakura’s lying on top of her, pressing their bodies together and smoothing Hinata’s hair out of her face. “Such as you,” she murmurs.
There's a short pause, and then Hinata bursts into peals of laughter. Sakura tries very hard to look hurt, although there’s a smirk darting aross her lips.
“What?” she exclaims. “I was trying to—”
“Be smooth, I know,” Hinata says, still giggling to herself. “It was a very noble effort, Sakura-chan.”
“I was trying,” Sakura continues, “to seduce you. We’re in bed in our underwear; I thought it was a sexy moment or whatever.” She pokes Hinata’s forehead.
“Ne, Sakura-chan,” Hinata says. There’s a light blush dusting her cheeks. “You don’t have to seduce me, you know? You already have me.”
And just like that, the mood shifts. Sakura’s eyes go slightly predatory, and her hand comes up to caress Hinata’s right hip, rubbing against the cotton band of her underwear.
“Is that so?” Sakura’s chest is pressed against Hinata’s, warm and soft, and Hinata can feel the rumble of Sakura’s voice against her skin. She flushes brightly.
“Of course it is.” She cups Sakura’s cheek in her hand. “You know that. My Sakura-chan.”
Sakura smiles and turns her head, pressing a kiss into Hinata’s palm.
“Good,” she says, “because you have me, too.” Her lips move against Hinata’s wrist, then down to the crook of her elbow. Contentment blossoms in Hinata's chest, quiet but unbreakable.
“Can I take care of you now?” Sakura asks softly. More than anything else, it's the reverence in her tone that makes Hinata's cheeks grow warm.
"Yes," Hinata says. "Please."
Sakura smiles and begins disentangling herself from Hinata. She unlocks their interwoven limbs, gently nudges Hinata to the side, and settles in with her head against the headboard.
"Sakura-chan, what are you--?" The question dies on her lips as Sakura grasps her hips and tugs her upward, settling her into position so that Hinata's straddling her chest. "Oh."
"Okay?" she asks. Hinata nods.
“I’ll never get tired of the view from down here.” Sakura looks up at Hinata with a grin, eyes tracing the pretty pink flush of the skin across her chest. Hinata squirms in response to Sakura's heated gaze, and Sakura's smirk widens. Her hands slide in-between Hinata's legs, settling at the juncture of her thighs and nudging them apart.
Hinata blushes and looks away, taking her lower lip between her teeth.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Hinata,” Sakura says. “You’re beautiful.” She presses a chaste kiss to the inside of Hinata’s thigh. “So beautiful.” Sakura's mouth moves inward. Her breath is hot against the fabric of Hinata's underwear.
"I'm gonna go down on you now," she murmurs, her lips brushing against wet cotton. "Gonna spread you open and fuck you 'til you come all over my face."
Hinata can't suppress a moan at that, and her hips jerk involuntarily.
"You're impatient today," Sakura hums, sliding one finger nonchalantly under the seam of Hinata's panties to press against her slit. "You're wet for me already."
"Yes," Hinata says, the words barely more than a whisper.
"Good." Sakura slides Hinata's panties to the side and gently parts her lips with her fingers. "So wet," she murmurs, almost in awe, and Hinata's trembling like a leaf before her, legs spread open, flushed and wanting.
There's no time to finish the sentence before Sakura's mouth is on her, the flat of her tongue pressing against Hinata's clit. Hinata gasps out loud. Immediately her hands tangle in Sakura's hair, tugging haphazardly on the pink locks as Sakura tightens her hold on Hinata's back and pulls her closer.
Sakura moves slowly at first, dragging out every broad swipe of her tongue, steady and unrelenting. She's reduced Hinata to a quivering mess by the time she finally begins to speed up, rocking Hinata against her with the palm of her hand. The noises escaping unbidden from Hinata's lips are unintelligible, little hitched gasps and pleas. Sakura's tongue circles Hinata's clit as her fingers trace patterns against the inside of Hinata's thigh. She relishes the way Hinata's body tenses, her muscles pulled taut as she grinds her still-clothed hips against Sakura's face.
"These are in the way," Sakura grunts, scooting Hinata briefly to the side so she can slide Hinata's now-soaked panties down her ankles. They fall forgotten to the floor, and in an instant Sakura's got Hinata balanced above her again.
"Nice reflexes." Hinata giggles breathlessly, throwing her hair back and grabbing onto the headboard.
"Well, I am a ninja," Sakura says. "It's part of the job description." She takes Hinata's hips in her hands once more, adjusting her so that she's splayed open for Sakura, pink and warm and wet.
Hinata leans into the touch, more relaxed now; after all, she knows this by heart: Sakura's hands and the insistent press of her tongue are familiar in their gentleness. Sakura is her home now, she knows, and she couldn't imagine it any other way.
Smiling, she reaches down and brushes her thumb gently against Sakura's lip.
"Hey," she whispers.
"Hey." Sakura kisses her thumb. "How're you doing?"
Hinata laughs, still a little breathless, and runs a hand through her already-mussed hair.
"Good," she says. "I love you."
"I love you too." Sakura grins. "Now where were we?"
She's nudging Hinata's hips open a little wider when Hinata suddenly cries, "Ino!"
Sakura blinks up at her, looking slightly dumbfounded. "Did you just call another woman's name in bed?"
"No, I--" Hinata flushes. "We're meeting Ino for lunch! At noon!"
"Aw, shit," Sakura hisses. "Fucking Ino-pig would totally know exactly what we were up to if we were late, too. Damnit." She groans and squeezes her eyes shut. "Shit, shit, shit."
"It's okay, Sakura-chan, really." Hinata props herself up and climbs out of bed, eyes scanning the floor for her skirt. "I don't mind."
"I mind." Sakura pouts, folding her arms like a child. "I wanted to get you off. Your skirt is under the dresser, by the way." She gestures towards the offending garment, tucked not-quite-out of sight under the drawers.
Hinata blushes despite herself. "I'm--we'll have time for that later, Sakura-chan. We made a commitment to Ino-san."
"You're too sweet for your own good, Hinata," Sakura sighs. "All right, could you hand me my leggings? Let's get this show on the road."
(As it turns out, they never make it past the door. Sakura's got Hinata pressed against the couch, skirt rucked up around her hips and underwear dangling off one ankle, in ten minutes flat.
Ino makes them buy her coffee the next week for standing her up, but there's a smirk on her face as she orders the most expensive drink on the menu.
"I mean, you came three times," Sakura whispers conspiratorially to Hinata. "I think it was worth it."
Hinata secretly agrees.)