The sight before me should not have stolen my breath the way it did.
Kushina was hunched forward slightly, her long green dress hiked up and bunched at her waist, exposing those pale, mature thighs that seemed to glow in the soft light filtering through. Her hands fumbled over beneath the fabric, and when she looked up at me, her violet eyes burned with defiant shame. Like she was daring me to say something, anything, about what she was doing. Her hair spilled like bloody silk across her shoulders, one lock sliding forward to brush her flushed cheek as she glared at me.
My eyes widened, jaw slack. What the fuck was this woman?
No, seriously. What the actual fuck was Kushina Uzumaki? She was removing her panties just like that? The wife of the Hokage, the revered Red Hot Habanero, the mother of the Child of Prophecy, she was... For fuck's sake, what was wrong with her?
Every time I thought I was starting to figure her out, she proceeded to shatter my entire framework of her character. Every single fucking time, she did the unexpected, the astounding, the downright bewildering.
I couldn't wrap my head around her.
I hadn't even used Devil's Whisper, and she was removing her worn panties in front of me. Despite the shame painted on her face, I doubted it had any power to stop her. If it were any other woman, I'd say the shame only amplified her lust, yet... it probably did, but why couldn't I say she was like other women?
Perhaps that was the problem; I'd approached this with an erroneous foundation.
From the beginning, before I'd even met her, I'd viewed Kushina Uzumaki as this perfect woman with no vices, shortcomings, or weaknesses to exploit. A woman with the strongest will, where only luck and circumstance had allowed me to have my way with her. I needed to clean my lens and start viewing her again with fresh eyes.
But now—
"Wait." I moved swiftly, grabbing her arm before she could peel off her panties.
She looked at me like a cornered tiger interrupted mid-hunt, all burning eyes and bared teeth. The fury radiating from her was palpable.
Her lips curled back. "What now?" she growled, her expression twisted between mortification and rage. I could only imagine how humiliating this interruption must be for her—caught in such a compromising position, forced to freeze with her hand literally in her underwear.
While I really couldn't understand how the brain under that beautiful head of hers worked, her panties weren't actually my goal. Yes, it hurt every fiber of my being to admit that, because I did want those panties, my little energy boost.
I licked my lips as I took in the sight of her, my hand wrapped around her arm while her other hand remained frozen inside that long dress, those gorgeous legs exposed and trembling slightly from fury.
I prepared my cheat code and spoke carefully. "I need them to be like before... intensity of scent as last time," I said, letting Devil's Whisper thread through my words, "the way they are now won't be enough. Your scent won't last."
Kushina's eyes zoned out for a moment, and it felt more like she was remembering the last time we did it, than the ability doing its work. But then she yanked back, freed her hand, and let her dress fall to cover herself. She took several steps back, arms crossing over her body defensively.
"Absolutely not!" she shouted, then glanced toward the hallway, remembering her sleeping son. Her voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "There won't be a repeat of last time! I told you never to mention that again! I won't make that mistake—I'm a married woman and a mother! Last time was an accident that will never, ever happen again!"
I raised my hands placatingly. The Devil's Whisper hadn't seemed to work much, which wasn't entirely surprising. "I understand, and I had no intention of that. Just that if you gave me the panties you're wearing, they won't have a strong scent like last—"
"Of course they won't!" she interrupted, embarrassment coloring her voice. "They're perfectly clean and proper, unlike... unlike..."
Yes, but judging from her defensive reaction, it was hard not to think the opposite. That was interesting, if not entirely surprising. I'd already established her unnatural Uzumaki stamina that had overwhelmed me last time. It stood to reason biologically that her libido was off the charts to sustain it.
Biology, huh? Let me go that route then.
I coughed and adopted a more clinical tone. "I wasn't asking for anything inappropriate. Just a massage."
Her frown shifted from anger to confusion, though she relaxed slightly.
I continued, weaving Devil's Whisper through the most strategic parts. "Just a simple and innocent stomach massage. The body's natural reaction will take care of the rest—it's completely normal for the body to respond to therapeutic touch. Basic physiology, really. Nothing more than what the body already does." I let that last phrase linger unnaturally, the Whisper curling tight. "A simple, pure stomach massage."
Her reaction was subtle but telling. A slight softening around the eyes, though her guard remained up.
She sighed after a long moment and muttered, "I don't need you touching me anywhere, brat..." But then she caught herself. "This is ridiculous. Why am I even concerned about this?" She held her head as if fighting a headache.
"Because you're the best woman in the world," I responded without thinking.
I thought it was a positive reaction, though I couldn't tell if Devil's Whisper had any significant effect. Her flush darkened a level. But no, this didn't prove the Whisper worked. It was far likelier she was just rethinking how to hide already-stained panties, justifying it to herself somehow, now that she had committed to giving them away.
Yeah, that was more plausible.
She scoffed and straightened, brows drawing down hard. She pinned me with her eyes and asked, "Swear you won't touch anywhere else. Not one inch."
"Only if you don't tempt me." Of course…. what do you expect?
Her knuckles cracked as she forced them into fists. My survival instincts screamed. I quickly added, "It's just a stomach massage." Not really promising anything.
She clicked her tongue, eyes darting to the hallway, then back to me. Her hand moved to the strap of her green dress. "Turn around while I... adjust things."
I blinked. A moment ago, she'd been about to strip her panties in front of me without care, but now...
She growled. "I said, turn around, brat!"
This was unfair. I spun quickly.
Behind me, Kushina grumbled. "This is ridiculous... I can't believe I'm doing this... Give them an inch and they take the whole arm...brat turning my own house into a circus of perverts, Kami give me patience…"
More shuffling of clothes followed her complaints. The whisper of fabric against skin. My chest was tight, every nerve straining just to hear the foreign intimacy of those noises.
After a while, the movement stopped. "Well? Don't just sit there gaping. You can turn around now. Just remember—it's ONLY the stomach. Do you understand Dattebane?"
I turned, and the view stole my breath all over again.
I'd fucked this woman, seen her most intimate places, yet this sight still made my heart race. Her lips pressed into a thin line, corners twitching in irritation. Her eyes narrowed, but the blush betrayed her—spreading across her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, even down her neck. She looked like she was trying to scowl, but nervous heat flickered in her gaze.
Kushina Uzumaki stood bare from ribs to hips, skin flushed peach and hot. Her shirt and apron bunched under her breasts, clutched tightly in one fist. Her stomach curved smoothly, the faint ripple of muscle beneath satin skin, strong, but softer than a kunoichi's pride wanted to show.
Her posture was defensive, back straight, slightly angled to avoid giving me a direct view. One arm braced across her body, the other holding fabric. Her shoulders tensed high, the picture of discomfort masked by feigned steel.
I stood there frozen until she couldn't take it anymore.
"Don't act like you've never seen a woman before!" she scowled. "Stop staring! What's with that look? It's just skin on an old body."
I swallowed hard, her words snapping me back to reality. "Sorry," I said, shaking my head. "I thought I'd built up some immunity to your otherworldly charm after what we..." I caught myself before mentioning our previous encounter. "But apparently…" I exhaled through my teeth. "Apparently not."
Sharp intake of breath. Her flush spread dark crimson down her throat and chest. She tightened her grip on the gathered fabric, unconsciously pulling it higher. She looked away fast, biting her lip.
"You never shut up, huh," she muttered, trying to wrestle her embarrassment into annoyance. "Idiot." Then she looked up. "Just get on with it before I change my mind."
Her gaze flickered—just for an instant—to my erection, now straining again, visible as a fat line against my pants. She looked away instantly, pretending she hadn't noticed.
"Please," I said softly. "Lie down on the couch. It'll be easier that way."
"Fine," she clicked her tongue. "If it'll shut you up—but ONLY my stomach, you hear, dattebane? Touch anywhere else and I'll strangle you with your own intestines."
She moved stiffly to the couch, muttering insults the whole way. "Unbelievable... brat's turned my own house into a madhouse..." She lowered herself carefully, keeping her dress bunched, shirt pulled up, one arm hovering across her chest. She lay half-sideways at first, reluctant to fully recline, but eventually, growling under her breath, she forced herself flat.
Her eyes averted from mine, cheeks flushed, jaw clenched, lips pressed so tight I could almost see her teeth grinding. It was the look of a woman utterly uncomfortable, but keeping herself there out of sheer stubborn pride.
I stood beside her, looking down at that middle-aged woman, hair splayed, half-unwilling on her couch, and I felt like I had climbed the tallest mountain.
This was the life of an orphan. You want knowledge, you claw it with your own hands. No one would hand you understanding. And now… I had to figure out how to resonate the binding matrix hidden beneath that soft, perfect stomach.
And fake, if all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss it first.
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