Primetime: Chapter 25
Welcome to Chapter 25 of Primetime.
Tags: Uzumaki Kushina, MILF, Corruption, Cheating, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism
Discord server (Sublime Vectors) invite code: nm8hVrk7zr
Well, here it is, and I hope you all like it.
Thank you to my Discord server members for their valuable feedback and suggestions. I hope you like some of them being taken into account.
If you liked the chapter, kindly take a minute of your time to leave a review. They help me and encourage me to write the next chapter.
Posted on: March 31 2026
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Chapter 25 : Does it even bother me anymore ?
The lights were still on. Cold air from the central air conditioning hissed steadily through the vents, brushing over her skin. Her eyelashes fluttered open to the sterile white of the ceiling, still painted in the soft glow of room lights. For a second, she didn't move.
The air was dry on her lips. Her thighs stuck faintly together. Her chest rose and fell slowly.
Then it hit her. Her head snapped to the side. Shiro.
He lay beneath her, sprawled across the bed, one arm thrown over the sheets. His hair, silver and tousled, was spread across the pillow, a faint smile playing at his lips even in sleep. He mumbled something unintelligible in a half-groan.
Her heart jumped to her throat.
"Kami... Kami... I'm such a slut... I didn't even try to deny him..."
The words crashed through her like cold water. She jerked upright, slipping off his body, her knees wobbling as her feet touched the cool floor. Her skin prickled under the icy breeze. Her clothes were scattered like sins: her lace panties crumpled by the nightstand, her bra halfway beneath the bed, her blouse hanging from the chair like a ghost of dignity abandoned.
'No one forced me,' she told herself, hastily gathering the pieces. 'Not him, Not alcohol. Not even the setting. I… I let this happen.'
She would have to leave. Quick. Before Shiro wakes up, who knows what could happen then.
She slipped into her panties, the delicate lace brushing over her still-sensitive skin, then her bra, hooking it behind with shaky fingers. Her skirt followed, then the blouse, hastily buttoned as she moved around the room. Her heels clicked softly as she slid them on, avoiding her reflection in the full-length mirror as she picked up her purse, which had been discarded the moment she entered the room with Jiraiya.
She opened the door and slipped into the hallway, letting it shut behind her with a soft click. Her breath was short, her hands clutching the lapels of her coat as if it would protect her from the judgment crawling over her skin. The hallway was quiet, but the overhead lights hummed. As she walked toward the elevator, her heels tapped a rhythm too loud for her liking.
'You wanted control. And now look at you.'
She had passed two resort staff by the hallway, a man and a young woman in uniform. Both gave her a polite nod, but she saw it. The faint curl of a smile at the edge of the woman's lips. The man's eyes lingering a second too long.
She reached up instinctively, fingers brushing through tangled red strands. Her hair was disheveled, strands clinging to her neck, others curling from sweat and friction.
'Of course they're staring.'
Her cheeks burned, she knew what they were thinking. She jabbed the elevator button.
'But, I kind of like it.'
The doors slid open and she stepped inside. Alone inside and pressed the close button. The reflective walls didn't lie. Her lipstick was smudged. A faint red blotch marked her collarbone. Her skirt was askew. A sense of deja vu hit her. Memories of how this particular appearance being very common in her past everyday life came rushing to her.
'Maybe i shouldn't have given in and fucked him back. All it did was leave me wanting for more.'
She adjusted herself, smoothing the fabric and fluffing her hair with trembling hands.
'This isn't who you are, you are a changed woman.' she thought
The elevator dinged. As it reached her floor.
She stepped out, barely three doors down from her suite when she heard a voice.
"Kushina-san."
Her heart sank, Jin. He was leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, that insufferable grin plastered across his face. His shirt was open at the top buttons, sleeves rolled casually to his elbows, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"I was sure you'd come back to your room again. How was the shoot?"
She stopped, her fingers tightening slightly on her coat.
'I don't have the energy for this.'
She managed a faint smile. "It was good, Jin-san. Sorry, I'm a bit tired. Can we talk later?"
He pushed off the wall, closing the distance slightly. "I won't take much of your time. I was just asking if you'd be available after dinner? Just you and me. We can walk. You know... with all of us flying back to Konoha tomorrow."
Her stomach churned. She didn't want to deal with this. Not now. Not with Shiro's scent still on her skin, not with guilt tightening around her chest like a corset.
"Thank you, Jin-san, but I'm a bit tired. Maybe we can discuss this later, like after dinner?"
"Sure, sure," he said smoothly. But the grin never left his face. "By the way, I hear Jiraiya-san's personal shoots are... something else. Will you be sharing the pictures with me? Or maybe the after-shoot events? Or maybe we could do our own shoot, just you and me."
His eyes shamelessly roamed her body, pausing at the slightly crumpled collar of her shirt.
She stiffened. 'Why do I feel dirtier now than I did an hour ago?'
"That's up to Jiraiya-san, Jin-san," she said coolly. "We shall see."
She stepped past him, inserting her keycard, the door unlocking with a mechanical beep.
Before he could say anything else, she stepped inside and shut the door.
-----------------------------Primetime-Reloaded------------------------------------------------------------
Alone.
Finally,
Her back pressed against the door, her breath escaping her lungs in a long, shaking exhale. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, the bed untouched since morning.
The contrast was cruel.
She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling.
'Oh god, the way he looked at me just now. Why am I feeling this now?'
'Goddammit, Shiro. It is all his fault.'
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
'I let it happen. I let him have me. And now Jin is sniffing around like a hound, and everyone probably knows. Even if they do not say it. And with the way I am now, I do not think I could stop Shiro if he comes back again.'
She peeled off her heels, letting them drop with two muted thuds on the carpet. As she dropped purse on the counter. Her one hand drifted to her lower stomach, brushing lightly. Still tender and still warm.
Her thighs clenched involuntarily.
'Damn you, Shiro.'
She sat on the edge of the bed, letting the silence settle. The air conditioner continued to hum, but it didn't feel cold anymore.
What it felt like... was shame.
But underneath that shame... there was a flutter of something else. Something she didn't want to name just yet. She reached for the glass of water by the nightstand, taking a slow sip.
She still had to show up for dinner. Still had to walk among the crew.
'Just get through tonight, Kushina. Then leave this place. Leave them all behind. But who all knows from KTV? What would the Boss say ?'
But a small voice whispered back from within:
'You say that... but part of you doesn't want to leave, does it?'
She swallowed hard and stood.
Bzzz….
Just then, she heard a buzzing sound from her purse. "Damn, I put that in silent mode," she muttered as she reached for it.
Bzzz….
Her phone buzzed again.
Bzzz….
She blinked.
Bzzz...
Then again.
Bzzz...
Again, she fumbled open the purse to get her hand on the device.
The screen lit up in her hand. 20 missed calls. All from Minato.
'Kami...' she saw the times of the call
She hadn't even felt it buzz. Not once. Not when she had her legs spread on those sheets. Not when Shiro was inside her pussy. Her thumb hesitated before opening the screen. She scrolled down and saw the most recent message from her husband on Ninchat. She didn't have courage or will to call him right now but she could reply to him couldn't she.
Minato: "I saw your pics on Kurenai-san's Ninjagram. You look fabulous in that wet T-shirt. Can't wait to get my hands on you."
She sucked in a breath, thumb hovering.
'He saw those already?'
Opening the Ninjagram app, her screen loaded quickly. Right at the top, a collaboration request from Kurenai. It was from the selfie they had taken on the beach in morning arms around each other, soaked, laughing, nothing more than water and fabric clinging to every curve.
Kushina accepted it.
The image had already blown up. 10.2k likes. 1.1k comments. And that was just the selfie. Scrolling down, she saw Jiraiya's professional shots posted hours ago from some of the shoots from yesterday and morning. The morning set alone had passed 40k likes, with comment threads filled with fire emojis, stunned remarks, and indecent innuendos.
'Of course it did...'
Another buzz.
Back to NinChat.
Minato: "Why aren't you picking up?"
Minato: "Everything okay?"
More missed calls flashed in the log.
Her gut twisted.
She typed quickly, fingers almost trembling.
Kushina: "I'm good, Minato-koi. Just got caught up in another shoot. I'm really exhausted, going to sleep now. Will talk to you tomorrow morning, okay? Love you."
She hit send. Then paused.
Because while he had been calling her, worried and waiting…Her phone had been silent.
And she had been under Shiro. Moaning. Gasping.
Getting fucked.
'Kami...'
She shook her head, flushed deeply, and tried to push the thought away. Guilt curled at the edges of her stomach like smoke. She stood up, walking toward the washroom. Her hand was just on the door when her phone buzzed again.
Minato: "Ooh, another shoot? Send me pics when you wake up. Good night. 😘😘😘"
She smiled faintly. And then another message.
Minato: "Can't wait for you to come home tomorrow and let me have a taste of that waxed pussy. 🪒 🐈 "
A rush of heat lit her cheeks. She sent a single heart emoji and locked the screen.
'Kami, I let another man fuck me again...'
The thought hit her like a wave.
She dropped her phone on the dresser and reached for the buttons of her shirt. Each one undone with numb fingers. The fabric slipped from her shoulders.
The skirt followed.
Then the bra.
Her nipples still bit red and puffy tightened in the cool air, but her eyes avoided the mirror.
She stepped out of her panties, slowly.
And there it was. Between her legs. Reddened. Slightly sticky, her slit still glistening.
She dared to look in the mirror.
Her reflection stared back.
'He came inside me... I let him... I cheated, again. No, that's not it. I can't call it cheating, not with our past.'
Her inner thighs glistened faintly, dried streaks against pale skin. She turned slightly, peering over her shoulder.
No bite marks. There were no hickeys. A few faint finger-shaped blushes on her hips. Her ass had some faint pinkness, but nothing that would last the night.
'Thank Kami... no marks. No proof at least.' she thought . 'Minato wont know…but …''
She pulled open the shower door and stepped in.
The tiles were cool. She twisted the tap. Water burst from the showerhead in a sudden jet, quickly warming. She stepped under it, letting it crash over her.
It soaked her hair first. Then her face. Then her shoulders.
And the guilt didn't wash away.
She grabbed the body wash and lathered up slowly.
As her fingers slid across her stomach and down, she paused. Her skin was sore. Not in a bad way. But sore like she'd been touched too deeply, too long.
'Is it really cheating?' The question crept in uninvited in her mind. 'What am I thinking?' she thought again
'I didn't plan it. I didn't go to him. Shiro came to me. He pushed. He cornered me. I... I just didn't stop him. I couldn't stop him…like morning…he did everything…'
Her fingers ran through her folds, gently. The water streamed down, taking remnants of the day with it.
"It was his fault… He's to blame… I still love Minato, don't I?" she muttered out loud as water flowed over her body, conveniently forgetting how, in the second half, she had ended up fucking Shioro outright.
But even that felt like a lie.
Because it hadn't felt like a mistake in the moment.
'It felt like coming home.'
She swallowed.
'He was my past boyfriend. Before Minato. When I was just a horny teen. When I had let him cum inside me almost everyday.'
Her toe fingers curled against the tile as she fingered her pussy to clean it thoroughly.
"Ah.." she moaned as water spray from the hand shower hit her sensitive nub.
'Is it still cheating if it's someone who had already fucked me before Minato did again today? …It's not, is it?'
She opened her mouth and arched her head back as the jet hit her nubs again. As if she could scatter the thoughts like water.
'I didn't initiate anything. I told him no. He didn't stop, but I...does it count as really cheating?.'
Her forehead pressed to the wall. The water flowed down her back, along the curve of her spine. As she released the hand shower back.
'He just... kept pushing. And I tried to stop him…'
A bitter breath left her lips.
'It's not like I wanted this.'
But even that echoed hollow in her mind. Her legs shifted.
She slowly parted her pussy lips . A slick, slow warmth of leftover thick liquid that slipped free and traced down the inside of her legs. It was the reason she kept her head down and avoided longer talks with anyone coming here. The reason she did not call out to anyone. The reason she moved with care.
'I should have cleaned myself sooner,' she thought, aware of the faint stickiness that flew out of her parted lower lips . 'I should not be like this.'
'I am still leaking him,' she realized. 'Even now.'
The thought made her flush with something dangerously close to shame and hidden excitement. She reached for loofah and let the water soak it through. Slowly, deliberately, she began to scrub her thighs, starting at her hips and working downward. The heat loosened everything. What clung to her skin began to wash away, trailing toward the drain in thin white threads that disappeared as quickly as they formed.
She spread her legs even more and parted her pussy lips with her fingers now, careful and thorough. The water rushed over her, carrying away what remained inside her, what she had not chosen to keep.
'I cannot carry this with me,' she told herself firmly. She watched it all rinse away, the proof of the night dissolving into nothing. Only then did her shoulders finally relax. The soreness. The tenderness. The ache. All the reminders. All the truths.
She turned around and let the water hit her breasts, the hard spray splashing off flushed skin. Her nipples stiffened again. Her hand rose to one, touching it lightly. Still sensitive.
'Would Minato even notice if I don't say a thing? ' She felt a flicker of shame at the thought.
'Would he smell him on me?' Her stomach tightened.
She washed again.
Again.
Rinsed. Scrubbed. Rinsed.
'I didn't cheat... not really. I didn't go looking for it.' she repeated again in mind 'He caught me off guard. I was vulnerable. Confused.'
'It doesn't count if it wasn't love.'
'Right?'
She stood still, the water pelting her skin. Her breath was shallow. The fog built on the glass around her. Her reflection faded.
She turned off the water. Stepped out slowly.
The towel felt rough against her skin. She patted herself dry. Every curve. Every corner.
There will be no evidence and unlike Taikin there were no marks this time. .
Just memory. Which she will forget soon she believed.
She pulled on her robe and tied it loosely at her waist. Her damp hair fell across her collarbones.
She stared at her phone on the dresser. Still dark.
Minato would be asleep soon. And tomorrow, she'd be in his arms again.
Her eyes lingered on her reflection one last time.
"It's not cheating if I don't initiate it, is it? It's not cheating if another man who hasn't fucked me bare before cums inside me... I won't do it again... never let anyone else, other than Minato-koi, fuck me again..." she thought.
"Yes, I did not cheat..." she muttered again.
Back in her room, the still air greeted her like a silent confession. She reached for her phone and noticed several missed calls and messages. This time, they were from Kurenai.
"Where are you?"
A missed call.
"Call me when free, okay..."
Kushina quickly typed out a reply: "I'm alright, just the phone was silent."
She figured her friend was likely busy hosting the evening's Meet the Stars show by now. The screen buzzed again. This time, a message from Jiraiya:
Jiraiya: "Come down for dinner okay. We have a farewell sort of dinner hosted by Gatou-san."
"Coming in a few minutes," Kushina replied, setting the phone aside.
She moved to the wardrobe and selected a modest blue netted bra and matching lace-trimmed panties, the kind that hugged her curves just right without trying too hard. Over that, she chose an outfit Minato had once gifted her, an elegant yet casual ensemble: a white linen A-line midi skirt and a blue-and-white striped cropped wrap blouse. She'd seen it once in a fashion spread he bookmarked for her, a quiet hint at the look he imagined her in.
The wrap blouse hugged her upper body snugly, the soft cotton contouring over her full chest. Her big breasts swelled beneath the fabric, the deep V-neckline revealing just enough to hint at her cleavage, especially as the knotted sash cinched around her midriff and tugged the blouse closer inward. Every breath she took subtly shifted the lines, drawing attention to the valley between her breasts which looked elegant, yet undeniably sensual.
The crop stopped just above her navel, exposing the soft, toned skin of her stomach, the faint dip of her navel visible whenever she moved. The skirt flowed down from her waist gracefully, but in the right light, the natural linen allowed glimpses of her long legs beneath. The fabric swayed as she walked, casting delicate silhouettes of her thighs and calves with every step, suggestive but never vulgar, more an artist's teasing stroke than anything blatant. It was a fair contrast to what everyone had seen her in the past couple of days.
She stepped into her nude-toned high heels, which gave her calves an elegant shape and lifted her hips subtly. Her curves filled out the outfit beautifully, with the narrow cinch of her waist creating a perfect hourglass silhouette. Her hips pushed gently against the skirt's form, allowing it to drape like water while still catching the sway of her body.
At the vanity, she pinned her hair into twin buns, soft strands escaping to frame her face and brush her collarbones. A touch of blush, a light sweep of lip tint just enough to bring warmth back to her face and blur the guilt still clinging behind her eyes.
Then, adjusting the knot at her waist one last time, she turned from the mirror, shoulders square, chest lifted.
And without looking back, she walked out the door.
-----------------------------Primetime-Reloaded------------------------------------------------------------
The first-floor banquet hall was unrecognizable. Soft washi paper lanterns floated above, casting delicate golden hues across the wide hall. Dark polished wood floors were softened with tatami-patterned runners. In the center, a long rectangular banquet table ran the length of the room, set with white linen, porcelain dishes, and flower arrangements of blue wisteria, white peonies, and sprigs of pine. Small standing lamps at each end gave the space an intimate glow despite its size.
A team of servers moved with grace, wearing traditional navy yukata with thin silver embroidery, the Gatou resort motif faintly visible. Behind them, a side station displayed a lavish seafood bar: whole red snapper grilled and flaked, golden eel glazed in sweet soy, scallops still sizzling in their shells, and uni laid out on delicate beds of ice.
At another table, thin platters held artful arrangements of sushi, tuna, salmon, yellowtail, sweet prawn and beside them, tiny lacquer bowls with white miso soup garnished with seaweed and yuba skin. Steam rose from bamboo baskets containing chawanmushi with shrimp and ginkgo nuts.
Her mouth watered slightly at the sight.
But before she could take another step, a voice called out:
"There she is! The guest of honor tonight," Jiraiya called from the entryway. He stood beside Gatou and Yami, glass of sake already in hand. "To a successful event. I'm genuinely surprised by your progress, Kushina. I have a feeling you'll surprise me even more soon..."
She approached, smiling. A graceful bow followed.
"Thank you, Jiraiya-san. You've been a true gentleman and a genuine motivator." She meant those words.
As she straightened, memories flashed through her mind. On that first day when they had landed here on day zero when she had talked with him, nerves fraying just beneath her polite smile. She had been unsure then, deeply unsure. About her body. About stepping into the world of shoots, let alone one that would have her in bikinis.
She'd been terrified Minato would see her differently. Naruto would not like it. That strangers would gawk. That the curves she'd spent years hiding were ugly and won't look good on camera.
But Jiraiya had spoken to her then not like a director, not even like a lecher, which she had half-feared, but like a mentor. A man who had seen beauty in strength, who had recognized something in her she didn't yet see in herself. Talking to him had grounded her and given her the courage to later speak openly with Minato, to explain her fears and her reasons. And now, having come this far, her thoughts drifted toward the shoot from the honeymoon suite. She quickly corrected herself. She felt a flicker of pride so when she thanked him, she truly meant it.
Gatou chuckled behind his cup.
'A gentleman who fucked you today outright,' he mused wickedly, but said aloud, "We can't deny Jiraiya-san's talents, but don't sell yourself short. You and Kurenai were the true gems of this entire campaign. Thank you, from Gatou Resorts."
Kushina held back the correction burning in her throat.
'Uzumaki Resort. Not Gatou,' she reminded herself even though he was correct.
But she smiled politely. "Thank you for having KTV here and for the hospitality."
"Think nothing of it," Gatou said smoothly. "Pleasure was all mine."
' Especially if you're really that long-lost Uzumaki princess... I'll get to the bottom of it.; He thought
He pulled a sleek black card from his pocket and held it out.
"Consider this a small token of appreciation for wearing those Gatou T-shirts this morning."
Her cheeks tingled as she remembered the wet t-shirt shot again, The wet T-shirt shoot. The resort logo plastered across her chest.
"What is this?" she asked, brow raised.
"Oh, nothing much. I would have sent it to the KTV office, but I wanted to give it to you personally. It's a ten-day voucher for the honeymoon suite, all services included. Valid anytime next year. Even if it expired. Just bring it. Heard you have a family... bring them next time. Uzushio has its own pull. Ain't it ?"
"Thank you, Gatou-san," she said, tucking the card away though her mind was swirling. Would she ever use it? She didn't know.
"Come on, Kushina-san. Enough standing," Yami interjected, slipping in beside her. His grin made her instantly wary. "I'm sure you're hungry. And you promised me you'd eat dinner with me."
'I didn't promise you anything,' she thought, but nodded politely and let him guide her inside.
-----------------------------Primetime-Reloaded------------------------------------------------------------
The banquet was now in full motion.
Familiar faces smiled her way: Okie, Genma, Raido, Iwashi, the familiar faces from KTV and the camera crew. A few raised their cups in her direction.
"You killed it, Kushina-san!"
"Star of the shoots!"
She bowed her head, feeling her skin flush slightly. Not from praise. But from the lingering awareness of how exposed she'd been.
'They don't know. No one does. Except... him.'
Yami led her to a table toward the front. The view of the performance stage was clear, where a soft trio of shamisen players had begun a delicate tune.
He whispered something to a staff member. Moments later, a server placed a tray before her. A carefully arranged meal: miso soup, chilled seaweed salad, grilled black cod with miso glaze, three pieces of toro sushi, and a folded tamago with grated daikon.
She unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap, thankful for something to do with her hands.
"They say the sushi here is flown in every morning," Yami said conversationally.
"It looks wonderful," she replied. Her voice was soft but composed. She knew personally how every morning fresh ingredients were flown in and anything older than a day was sent to Uzushio to be distributed among staff or people who couldn't afford it. She didn't know if that was still the custom.
"You really do clean up nice," Yami added. "Different from this morning. Not that I'm complaining."
Her eyes met his. A quiet flash. A knowing smile on his face.
"Thank you. I try."
Yami chuckled and picked up his cup of sake. "Relax. I'm not trying anything. I just think it's nice to end the day on a good note."
She nodded, her focus shifting to her food. The fish flaked perfectly under her chopsticks. The flavors were clean, subtle and comforting. But the tension inside her refused to settle.
Her phone buzzed in her purse. She glanced down. Another message, she assumed, as Minato's name flashed on the screen within Ninchats' notification but she decided to ignore it for now, given that Yami was here and she was eating.
She smiled faintly and typed back: "It's going fine. Just eating now."
She slipped the phone away quickly. Yami was watching her.
"Husband?"
"Yes."
"He's lucky."
Kushina gave a soft smile but said nothing. Her mind drifted again.
-----------------------------Primetime-Reloaded------------------------------------------------------------
The night had worn on, the banquet softening into pockets of laughter, lowered voices, and the clinking of half-emptied glasses. The main hall still bustled, but a quieter warmth now filled the private bar section just beyond the sliding panels on the banquet floor. Gatou and Jiraiya had slipped away, each with their own reasons, but one very much aligned.
The private lounge was dimly lit with warm golden hues, the shelves behind the bar a showcase of rare international liquors: polished glass bottles of deep amber scotch, elegant carafes of aged sake, gleaming French cognac with gold-leaf labels, and crystal-clear vodka straight from Russia. The marble-top bar stretched long and low, with high-backed cushioned chairs and velvet-lined booths tucked around dark corners. Ambient music hummed in the background, a jazz tune with a faint oriental twist.
Attending the bar were four women, each from a different corner of the world, each trained to perfection. One with porcelain skin and jet-black hair tied in a traditional Japanese knot wore a black satin kimono with silver embroidery. Another, with honey-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, wore a sleek modern French cocktail dress. A third, with milk-white skin and platinum locks, wore a crisp white blouse tucked into a pencil skirt that whispered Russian elegance. The fourth, dark-haired with a cheeky smile and a pair of suspenders over a pale-blue shirt, spoke English with a teasing lilt.
Gatou leaned back in the cushioned chair at the bar, a small glass of rum between his fingers, watching as the Russian bartender bent slightly to pick a bottle from the lower rack. His grin flickered.
"You have an eye for staffing, Gatou-san hic" he muttered, as he sipped from glass.
Gatou, who was lazily swirling a glass of aged sake, chuckled without turning. "An artist like yourself should be surrounded with beauty, Jiraiya-san. It keeps the imagination sharp."
Jiraiya nodded and grinned eyed the beautiful women
"Since we're being honest tonight, Jiraiya... I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Only one thing?"
The older man gave a sharp grin.
"The honeymoon suite shoot. The one with the redhead."
Jiraiya grinned his cheeks tinting perverse red and he took another sip, eyes never leaving the shimmer of his drink.
"Ah," he said smoothly. "Yes. That one."
"You know well I want the images." Gatou spoke
"Mmm," Jiraiya nodded slowly. "You did mention that."
"I left no strings pulled for that suite, gave you my private and most luxurious space, even sent you one of the oldest wines from my collection," Gatou said, keeping his tone light but firm. "I think I've been quite... accommodating."
Jiraiya turned to face him finally, the lines around his eyes crinkling in amusement.
"You have, and I appreciate it."
"Then why are you hoarding the shots like a miser hiding his coin?"
"Because," Jiraiya said, pausing as the French bartender arrived and gently refreshed his glass with more sake, her fingers brushing his wrist for a second too long, "what I captured that night... wasn't just for anyone…. It is for me….and the model….I may be lecher but even I have my ethics unless she gives permission I wont share…."
Gatou raised an eyebrow.
"Spare me the poetic excuses. It's not like you haven't shared risqué material before," Gatou said flatly.
Jiraiya, slightly buzzed, grinned. "Not like this… Not without their consent. Maybe she will, eventually. If she gives permission, they'll be yours. I promise."
Gatou leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Explain."
Jiraiya set his glass down and rested both arms on the bar, voice lowering.
"She came in nervous. Guarded. Wrapped in guilt, doubt… all those quiet burdens women carry when they're not sure if they belong. She'd just come out of a storm of decisions. And in that room... she didn't perform."
Gatou watched him carefully, his brow furrowing.
"It wasn't a shoot," Jiraiya continued. "It was an unveiling. I didn't direct her. She moved on instinct. Like a woman rediscovering the weight of her own breath. Like she'd forgotten she was allowed to be seen."
He lifted his glass again, gaze distant.
"And you think I can just hand that over like it's product?"
Gatou frowned.
"Then why even let it happen at my property?"
Jiraiya smirked.
"Because I knew you'd want it."
A short, tense silence followed. The Japanese bartender approached Gatou with a fresh pour, her eyes downcast, movements graceful.
He took the glass but didn't drink yet.
"I don't need the full set," Gatou said after a pause. "Just enough to justify the investment. You want to keep the private pieces? Fine. But at least give me something."
Jiraiya tilted his head. "You want a compromise."
"I want a taste. At least show me my investment was worth it."
Another pause.
The English bartender came by with a tray of finger snacks consisting of mini takoyaki, scallop skewers, and spiced seaweed crisps. She bent closer than needed to offer them, her voice playful.
"Careful, gentlemen. These pair dangerously well with indecent thoughts."
Jiraiya grinned. "Too late for that."
Gatou waved her off with a grunt.
"You know what I want, Jiraiya. Don't twist it in wordplay," Gatou said, his voice low but firm, the kind that cut through smoky air and expensive rum like a blade through silk.
The white-haired man leaned back in his barstool, gaze fixed lazily on the glass in his hand. He let the silence sit for a beat before finally giving a slow nod.
"Alright," Jiraiya said, his tone calm, almost casual. "You'll get five stills. Tastefully selected."
Gatou's eyes narrowed. "Full body?"
Jiraiya swirled the ice in his drink, letting the cubes clink gently. "Silhouettes. Shadows. Suggestion."
"No crotch? No nipple?"
"No clear view," Jiraiya replied, lifting the glass to his lips. "I can maybe throw in a few lingerie shots from earlier. But nothing explicit."
Gatou downed his rum in one long swallow, the edge of irritation flickering in his gaze.
"You know," he said, setting the glass down a little too firmly, "I could've installed private surveillance in that suite. Gotten everything raw, unfiltered."
Jiraiya turned his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into a grin. "But you didn't. Because you like being surprised. You're not a voyeur, Gatou. You're a collector."
For a moment, the air between them held tight. Two seasoned men, both predators in their own games, locked eyes across the bar.
Then Gatou cracked a smile. Slow. Measured. Dangerous.
"Five stills," he repeated. "But I want them tonight."
Jiraiya stood, adjusting his loose collar with practiced ease. He glanced over at the Russian bartender behind the counter and a silent nod passed between them. She wordlessly slipped away, heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
"You'll have them in your inbox before sunrise," he said, voice smooth.
He turned and began walking out, the sway in his stride just slightly too relaxed for a man who had just handed over a sliver of something sacred in direction where russian bartender had walked
Gatou remained seated, staring into his empty glass. He tapped the rim once, thoughtful.
"Old fox," he muttered with a shake of his head.
But the glint in his eyes said everything his voice didn't.
He'd gotten his taste. For now.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd find a way to get the rest.
-----------------------------Primetime-Reloaded------------------------------------------------------------
"By the way, Kushina-san, you'll be happy to know Jin won't be disturbing you tonight," Yami said as he took another sip of his sake, voice light.
'Us, I mean,' he thought privately, glancing sideways at her. He had gone out of his way to ensure it. Locked Jin in one of the bathing houses and paid a particularly chatty attendant a thick envelope to keep him occupied with games and drinks. 'The gall of him inviting her when I had asked her first.'
"Why?" Kushina asked, a little annoyed. Jin hadn't exactly been pleasant lately with how he'd been looking at her, but his sudden absence felt strange. Usually, he hovered near Yami like a shadow with a punchline.
"Oh, nothing. He was assigned a task by Jiraiya-san," Yami lied smoothly.
Kushina gave a soft, skeptical "Hmm," but didn't press. Her eyes flicked to her plate.
The dinner had become quieter now. Soft instrumental music continued in the background, guests drifting in and out. In front of them, a warm spread of traditional Japanese dishes still steamed gently. Kushina took a bite of the grilled black cod glazed with miso, savoring the way the buttery flesh melted on her tongue. Delicate slices of sashimi rested atop crushed ice, and a warm bowl of seaweed and tofu miso soup accompanied it. Lightly vinegared seaweed salad with sesame seeds added crunch to each bite, and the tamagoyaki was sweet rolled omelet that balanced it all.
Kushina nibbled absentmindedly. Her body still buzzed faintly. Despite the guilt of her acts a few hours ago, the image of her on top of Shiro, her moans filling the suite, hadn't entirely faded. Her wild side awakened. Her thighs tensed under the skirt as a warmth pulsed deep in her belly again. She hated it.
'Why am I still like this? What the hell is wrong with me?'
"Want to take a walk?" Yami's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.
Kushina blinked. "Hmm?"
"The beach. Just a short one. You've barely stepped out since morning. Today's our last day here."
She hesitated. She should decline. She wanted to. But a breeze through the side doors reminded her how much she would miss this place, the sound of the sea, the smell of home. Not to mention lingering warmth in her loins. The night air. And deep down, she knew she'd wanted to walk alone anyway.
"…Alright. Just for a bit," she said finally.
-----------------------------Primetime-Reloaded------------------------------------------------------------
The sand was cool beneath her heels. The moonlight shimmered on the water like scattered pearl dust, soft waves brushing the shore gently. A breeze carried the scent of salt and something floral from the resort gardens.
They walked along the edge of the beach, the resort lights fading behind them. Slowly, the chatter and music dulled, leaving only the soft hush of the sea and the distant laughter of a few late guests still lingering near the open deck.
Yami kept pace with her, his hands in his pockets at first, speaking lightly about the event, the photos, the board.
"This shoot," he said, "It'll definitely show the KTV board not sp[eak about someone without facts."
Kushina glanced at him, brows raised. "Huh?"
"Yeah, of course," he said, kicking at the sand. "You know what some of them said a few months ago. About you. That you were too…boring, flat, predictable. Some even said you were not hot enough to retain the audience's attention and would lose charm soon, as your peak had plateaued."
She stiffened. "I see." remembering the day Boss had called in the office and spoke to her and changes she had made. She was in her thoughts and walked in silence. That stung more than she wanted to admit. She'd worked hard, carefully, every day to toe the line.She had given her best and they still had gall to throw fingers at her when she was giving her best, even then, they judged her.
"But not after this. After these shoots? They won't dare say that again." Yami continued as he spoke Kushina eyed him 'Yes they wont,' she thought, She wanted to see their faces now and ask them to call her boring and flat on her face.
"And if they do," Yami continued, "I'll be there to stop them." He stepped a little closer. His shoulder brushed hers. She didn't move away. Her mind spun, she wasn't naive to know what he wanted. She had been with him in the past when he had almost had her . She should. She really should. But her body… her body didn't mind the warmth.
"Yami-san…" she began.
"We're friends, aren't we, Kushina-san?" he asked, his voice soft.
She paused. "Of course."
By now, they were nearly five hundred meters from the resort, the lights behind them fading into a dull flicker along the beachline. Ahead, only shadows and the sea remained, quiet and endless. A large rock stood there, one Kushina remembered well. It carried wild memories, not just for her but for several other Uzushio residents too, memories of playing hide-and-seek here when she was a child, and something far different or more wild when she was a teenager. She said nothing as Yami led her behind it, his hand firm around her wrist. When they stopped, he turned toward her, his face half-lit by the pale shimmer of the waves. The resort itself was hidden behind this rock, as if the world beyond no longer existed.
"You remember the last time we were alone?" he whispered.
Her heart skipped. 'Don't say it.'
"In my car," he added, voice lower.
Her cheeks flushed instantly. She remembered she was just thinking about that. She had been on his lap. Her blouse open, breasts out, skirt up to her waist. His hands…
"I…" she started, but the words caught in her throat.
"You do remember," he grinned, stepping closer. His hand pulling her closer as it grazed down her sides
"You're so beautiful, Kushina-san. You don't even realize how much." He paused, eyes lingering on her. "No… you must realize that, don't you?"
His hand found her waist.
"I don't think you understand how crazy you make everyone sometimes. How crazy you make me."
And then he didn't wait. His lips were on hers. Almost devouring her with firm soft warmth.
Kushina inhaled sharply, hands at her sides. She could push him away.She should have. But she didn't. Her purse slipped from her hand into the sand.
His other hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her into his chest.
"We shouldn't…" she whispered weakly as she got a moment to stop him, kissing her
"Maybe," he said, against her lips. "But do you want me to stop?"
Kushina said nothing. His warm breath already made her already aroused body more prone. Her thighs pressed together. Her breath quickened and he kissed her again.
And this time, her lips moved with his almost on his own letting his tongue invade her mouth. His fingers weren't idle and quickly found the knot of her wrap blouse at her back and with a trained motion of an expert it loosened without ceremony.
'She is in the mood today' he thought with a private, hungry smile. Without a word his hand slipped inside the wrap blouse. She didn't realize the knot had loosened until the fabric gave and fell loosened around her body barely hanging on. One of his hands moved with practiced ease beneath the cloth, ghosting under the soft band of her bra. The other hand slowly pulled the hem of her white skirt and worked it higher. The wind had been flirting with the edge of the fabric; now his movements took over, and the skirt drifted up, gathering at her hips until only a sliver of cloth left to tease her sight.
Kushina's breath came out sharp and surprised. "Hey…" she started to speak, finally noticing what he was up to , but his mouth was already on her neck throwing gentle soft kisses down her soft skin.
'Kami, I want to bite her; she smells so delicious'. He didn't let her speak as her head arched back allowing him more place to trail his mouth and splash kisses. His lips closed over the pulse there, and his hands continued to work on her. Like the expert he was, the bra was soon pulled over the top exposing her nipples that hardened in cold air.
She stood there with the blouse open, breasts freed from the bra's restraint, nipples lifting at the cool air and the burn of his gaze. There was a moment, a tiny flash of an opportunity when she could have stepped back and tied the knot again, when propriety and rings and the small, private life she had with Minato could have pulled her away. But the mouth at her throat, the deliberate slow pressure of his hand between her legs over her now slightly moist panties, and the heat in her belly turned her resolve into unsustainable hunger.
'Not now,' she thought, tasting the sea-salt in the air and the metallic tang of anticipation. 'This is only just a moment. It won't mean anything.I won't let him do anything that he hasn't done before.'
His mouth again crashed over her mouth again as he cupped one breast with the heel of his hand and rolled his thumb over her nipple until she hiccupped against his mouth. His other hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers that had been soft up until now pushed inside her now wet slit without abandon. He wanted the sound and he got it when the small involuntary cry escaped her mouth when fingers found the right place.
"Mhhnn…" She moaned in his mouth.
His thumb stroked again, this time slow at the entrance of her pussy, teasing at the drip that had already begun.
'How is it always like this with him?' she thought remembering again of the last time in his car, her breath hitching as she felt her body responding again, traitorous and eager.
He broke the kiss, trailing down kisses along her throat, kissing her boobs and trailing down. His hands pushed her against the rock, firm but not forceful, her back pressed against the cool surface. The hard, cool surface layered with sand stuck to the backs of her thighs, but she barely noticed.
He lowered himself between her open legs, crouching with reverence her panties pulled down to her thighs. The moonlight fell on her bare skin, and her violet eyes shimmered in the soft light. She was panting now, breasts with hard nipples rising and falling beneath her half-open blouse. Her pussy was already dripping.
Yami looked up and grinned. "You know how long I wanted to see this? Ever since the first time you ran away from my car..."
She blinked, trying to steady her breath. "That was ….."
"I know a while ago but, still worth the wait," he said, voice low as his gaze returned to the sight before him.
Her glistening slit pulsed gently, slick with arousal. The scent made his nostrils flare.
'I escaped last time,' she remembered. 'But tonight...'
He buried his face in her cunt, inhaling deeply before his tongue dove in, devouring her with slow, firm licks.
"Ahh... Ya…mi..." she gasped, one hand instinctively clutching at his hair.
He groaned into her folds, the vibration making her legs tremble. His hands held her open, thumbs parting her lips so he could trace every ridge, every trembling twitch with his mouth.
"Mmm," she moaned again, hips rolling against his face. When his tongue pressed into the soft spot where her thighs met, she bit her lip, stifling a sound that could have been a laugh or a plea. He was different from Shiro or any other man she had her eat her out . It was like he knew just by one touch where to press her it was the right amount of tender pressure and force.
"You taste like you already wanted this," he said, pausing only to kiss her inner thigh.
"Shut….. Up…. ahhhh," she muttered, voice shaky. "Keep going…ahhh."
'Why am saying things like that?' she thought, but her hands never pushed him away. Instead, they pulled him closer.
He didn't need another invitation.
His tongue circled her now visible clit now, slow at first, then faster, as her moans grew louder. One of her legs lifted slightly, draping over his shoulder to give him better access.
The rock behind her scraped her back, but the sensation was distant. Her entire body was focused on the wet heat of his mouth.
He slipped a finger inside her without warning.
"Ahhh... Ya…., fuck..."
"Say my name again Kushina-sannn," he whispered against her.
"Yami," she said, this time slower, drawn out like a moan.
He smiled.
'If anyone saw us now... if someone from the resort wandered here...' she thought, but the idea only made her pulse faster.
Another finger joined the first, stretching her gently as his tongue never stopped working. She could feel something building now, tight and electric, curling in her belly.
"I'm gonna..." she breathed, not even able to finish.
"Let go," he murmured, voice muffled against her cunt.
And she did.
The orgasm hit hard, a jolt through her spine that made her cry out, body clenching tight around his fingers as his tongue milked every second of it.
She collapsed against the rock, legs weak, breath ragged.
He pulled back slowly, licking his lips. "Still think coming out here was a bad idea?"
'Goodness, this is turning out to be wild… what did Jiraiya-san do to her during that private shoot? Did he drug her or something? Or did he fuck her brains out so thoroughly that she can't even make sense of anything now?' Yami thought, watching Kushina giving in relatively so easily.
He had expected her to be the usual hard bitch a tease, wriggling out of reach, trying to escape just when things got heated.
'Whatever it is, it's my gain,' he grinned, looking at her with a gleam in his eye.
Her feet trembled, sinking into the cool sand behind the rock as she struggled to catch her breath. The moonlight traced her outline, soft and trembling, her body still shaking from what he had just done to her. She sputtered, the salty air brushing against her flushed skin. Yami didn't give her a chance to recover. He caught her by the wrist again, pulling her closer so her back hit the rock.
"We're just getting started," he said, voice low and rough.
"Mhh..." she moaned faintly, her breath catching as he pressed into her, his knee nudging between her thighs, pushing her legs apart. One of his hands rose, cupping her breast through the loosened wrap blouse. His thumb brushed her nipple, teasing until it hardened under the thin fabric.
He leaned forward, biting at the edge of her blouse's tie, pulling it completely open at the front with his teeth, just like the last time in his car, when he had done the same to the pasties she'd worn over her nipples. The memory alone made her more aroused. The fabric fell to the sides, barely hanging from her shoulders. His hands slid upward, kneading her breasts hard enough to make her gasp.
"Ahh…Yami..." she breathed, her voice half protest, half plea.
He smirked. "Don't act shy now. You were moaning like this rock was our witness."
She shivered, not from the cold but from his tone. He bent lower, pressing his lips around one of her nipples, sucking slow at first, then with a hunger that made her arch against him. His other hand gripped her waist, fingers digging into her skin.
'My god, what's gotten into me? How much can I allow him ? Can I really stop him?' she thought, feeling her legs weaken as his tongue circled her nipple. He flicked it lightly, then drew the bud deep into his mouth, rolling it between his tongue and teeth.
"You taste just like I remember, maybe even more delicious ," he muttered, pulling back for a breath before switching sides.
She moaned again, louder this time. Her blouse fell completely to the sand, and with it her bra as well, which had already been useless for quite some time now, dangled for a moment before being pulled down by gravity and the breeze. Yami's hand moved to her waist, tugging at her white skirt until the clasp came undone. The skirt slid down her hips, catching for a second on her panties at her knees before both joined the rest of her clothes in the sand.
The redhead now stood there naked, bathed in moonlight. Her skin glowed pale against the dark sea, her hair a wild halo of red strands shifting with the wind.
"You're a goddess, Kushina-san," Yami whispered, stepping back slightly to take her in. "Let me worship you….your body deserves that."
He dropped to his knees again, his hands sliding up her thighs, his mouth following soon after. He kissed her stomach, slow and reverent at first, then rougher as his lips trailed up between her breasts. His tongue darted out, tracing a wet path up to her collarbone.
She tilted her head back, eyes half-closed. "Yami…" she breathed, her voice trembling, unsure if it was a call for him to stop or to continue.
"You like that," he said against her skin, his breath hot. "Don't lie. Your body already told me everything."
He sucked at her breast again, his tongue swirling over her nipple, then gently nibbing until she gasped. Her hands found his shoulders, nails digging slightly, not to push him away but to steady herself.
'He's so damn greedy… but… why does it feel so good? And his touches and bites are so annoyingly good… I just hope they don't leave a mark,' she thought as her breath grew uneven.
He trailed kisses lower again, across her stomach, down to her navel, and then just below it. He paused, his eyes meeting hers. "You want me to stop?" he asked, voice teasing, knowing her answer before she gave it.
She bit her lip, silent. Her silence was the permission he needed.
'Just this once, it won't happen again.'
He grinned, leaning forward again. His tongue traced her slit once more, tasting her, drawing another moan from her lips. She was trembling again, one hand reaching down to clutch his hair.
"Mmmh… Yami…"
He looked up briefly. Her violet eyes glowed faintly under the moonlight, glassy and dazed. Her chest heaved with every breath.
"You're beautiful like this," he murmured, kissing the inside of her thigh. "But I want to see more."
He stood, his lips brushing her ear. "Get on your knees."
She blinked, her breath still ragged. "What?"
"You heard me," he said, voice lower now, coaxing rather than commanding. "On your knees, Kushina-san."
For a moment, she hesitated. Then, almost mechanically, she sank down. The sand was cool beneath her knees, and she looked up at him, her red hair falling over her shoulders in messy waves.
'What am I doing?' she thought, but she couldn't pull away.
Yami unbuckled his belt, eyes locked on hers. His grin widened when he saw her watching, the faint blush spreading across her cheeks.
"You've got no idea how long I've dreamed of this," he said, pulling himself free. His cock stood hard, veins pulsing in the moonlight.
She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking between his face and what was in front of her. He guided her hand to it, wrapping her fingers around the base.
'He's thicker… There is no denying that and this slight curve upwards will hit different spots inside me. He seems a bit longer than Taikin-san, close to 7 inches I suppose, but clearly more veiny. Gods, Why am I even comparing them, what am I doing here? Why am I so turned on by his warmth"
'He's… different from Minato, or Shiro… or even Taikin-san,' she thought her mind unconsciously thinking of recent men she had seen and comparing them like she was some kind of researcher , her pulse quickening. 'He's bigger than Minato… maybe almost like Taikin? No… slightly smaller… but still… kami, why am I even comparing right now?'
"There," he said softly. "Now show me how you worship." breaking her thoughts as her fingers tightened, moving hesitantly at first. He groaned, the sound low and guttural. Encouraged, she began to stroke him slowly, her hand sliding up and down, her thumb brushing the tip. His hips moved slightly in response.
"Good …ahh," he murmured.
Her gaze lifted, meeting his again. He placed a hand at the back of her head, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Open your mouth," he whispered.
She mesmerisingly nodded , then parted her lips.' 'It's so wrong but I want to suck it, it won't mean anything, Its not fucking right?'
He guided himself toward her mouth, pressing against her tongue. She closed her eyes, taking him in, inch by inch until he hit the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, her hands resting against his thighs for balance. The upward curve of his cock was making her hard to breathe, the point it pressed was making her eyes watery.
"Breathe through your nose," he said quietly
'I know how to do this.' she thought, feeling the heat of him, the taste of salt and sweat.
She started to move on her own then, her head bobbing slowly with practised ease, the wet sounds of her mouth blending with the waves crashing in the distance. Each time she pulled back, her lips glistened with saliva and pre-cum. Each time she went down again, his breath caught.
"Fuck, Kus….hina…san…. that's it," he moaned.
Her eyes flicked up at him, and for a moment, he froze. The sight of her naked on her knees, red hair tousled, moonlight shimmering off her bare skin was too much.
"You like this," he whispered, more to himself than her.
She didn't answer, just moaned softly as she continued, her hand joining in the motion, stroking the base while her mouth worked the tip.
He couldn't hold back much longer. His hips began to thrust lightly, matching her rhythm. She felt it, adjusted to it, taking him deeper each time until her throat constricted around him.
Next to her, an imaginary image of herself as a teenager formed, also on her knees wearing only a bikini bottom while sucking and swallowing the cock of a guy she no longer remembered, behind that same rock.
It was like a ghost of her past self manifesting in her mind. as if something deep on her wanted to remind her of something about herself and how to do the job of pleasing a man with her mouth.
Overcome with emotion and a competitive desire not to lose to her past self, Kushina increased the intensity with which she sucked Yami.
"Ah… shit… Kushina, slow down, or I'll…" Yami groaned.
He usually wasn't this quick to cum, but Kushina had been his fantasy for a long time, and tonight it was finally coming true. The heat, the sight of her on her knees, the feel of her mouth, it overwhelmed him. Despite his best efforts, he felt himself cumming too soon, involuntarily.
"Ahh.. wa-wait..," he tried to pull himself out of her mouth, intent on painting her face with his cum.
But she didn't let him. Her hands went around his thighs and hooked them in, pulling him towards her as she buried her face in his crotch.
Caught off guard with that sudden move, he was unable to hold back the floodgates. His body tensed, and with a low groan, he came, pulsing deep inside her throat. The heat between her legs rapidly rose at the sight of his head tilted back in pleasure along with the noises he made as he came.
She pulled back slowly, sucking as her hand left his thighs to wrap around the base of his cock, stroking it to milk him further all the while looking him in the eye.
When it was over, she pulled back slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her cheeks flushed.
Yami looked down at her, chest heaving, eyes dark with satisfaction. He felt weak in his legs, shaking after that soul sucking experience. He reached down, cupping her face, thumb tracing the corner of her lips.
"You really are something else," he said in between heavy breaths.
Kushina stood up slowly, her mind finally catching up to what she just did. She hadn't really meant to pull him deeper into her throat when she felt him pull out of her mouth. Her body acted before she could even process what it was doing. She looked up at him, then lowered her gaze, licking her lips delicately. The salty taste of his release lingered on her tongue thicker than Minato's, muskier, warmer. Not unpleasant, just… different. More primal.
'Not like Minato at all…' she thought, swallowing the last of it. 'His was lighter, cleaner… Yami's taste is rougher, rawer. Like everything else about him.'
Just then, faint voices echoed nearby, laughter, footsteps crunching over the sand. She froze.
Her heart jumped in her chest. The illusion of the secluded moment shattered in an instant. She turned quickly, eyes scanning the darkness behind the rock.
"Someone's coming," she whispered, the tension gripping her spine. 'It's one thing to be doing this what if…'
Without another word, she bent down to reach for her scattered clothes. Her fingers grazed the soft fabric of her blouse when Yami moved forward, catching her wrist.
"Kushina-san," he murmured, voice still laced with post-release warmth, "we can continue… Just let them pass."
She paused, staring at him, lips parted. He was still half-hard, clearly not finished. His eyes carried that same hunger from earlier, but she shook her head. For a moment she wanted to devour him but then shook her head 'no I promised myself…never again…i may have suck but I wont let him have me…my…' she looked at her wet cunt.
"Sorry, Yami-san," she said gently, tilting her head slightly with an apologetic smile. "Someone will come. We can't risk it."
Her voice was soft but resolute. She bent down again, grabbing for her bra, but he was faster.
Yami snatched up both her panties and bra before she could, holding them just out of reach. He smirked.
"Come on," he teased. "Do you really need these right now? You can have them once we are done…"
"Yami-san," she said, her tone warning.
But he held them tighter, clearly enjoying the small power play.
She narrowed her eyes, ignoring his antics. She turned quickly and reached for what mattered her skirt.
The white linen midi skirt felt cool in her hands; it was slightly damp. She shook off the sand and stepped into it, pulling it up with swift precision. The fabric clung to her hips, the hem brushing mid-thigh.
The voices were getting closer now. A group of tourists, maybe. Or resort staff. Whoever it was, they were far too near for comfort.
Kushina reached for her cropped wrap blouse next blue-and-white stripes, soft cotton, tied in front. She wrapped it around herself quickly, hands moving with urgency, tugging the fabric closed around her chest.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she tied the knot tight under her breasts over her still hard nipples.
"We can still have some fun…" Yami said again, his voice lower now, more coaxing.
"We need to leave, Yami-san," she replied firmly, slipping her sandals on and bending to pick up her small purse. Her heart was still racing not from arousal this time, but from fear of being caught.
She didn't want to imagine what anyone would think, seeing her flushed, half-dressed behind a rock with a man like Yami.
'No one can see this,' she thought, adjusting her blouse a final time, checking the knot.
Yami stood there, still holding her bra and panties like trophies. He looked disappointed but amused.
"Guess I'll keep these for now," he said with a shrug.
She shot him a look but didn't argue. Her focus was elsewhere.
The voices were nearly around the bend.
Kushina turned, stepping lightly across the sand, moving to the opposite side of the rock.
"Stay hidden for a minute," she whispered, not looking back. "I'll walk out first."
Yami said nothing.
She rounded the rock, disappearing from sight, her silhouette swallowed by moonlight and shadows. She didn't look back.
Yami then looked down at his hands, still holding her blue netted bra and damp panties. The fabric was warm, the scent faint but unmistakably hers.
'Well… at least I got something. No…more than something. I didn't even think she'd be this aroused… or allow me this much,' he thought, grinning to himself.
He gave the delicate items a slow twirl between his fingers, as if savoring the moment. Fuck, that was one of the best blowjobs I have had in a while. I did not know she could deepthroat with such ease. She is wilder than she portrays, and now I cannot wait to have her. I could always continue this in Konoha… or maybe even during the flight tomorrow.' The idea made his grin widen.
Still looking at the damp lingerie in his hands, he chuckled and thought of Jin.
"I won again, you dumb cousin of mine," he muttered under his breath, amused at the thought of what Jin would say when he saw these. The idiot was probably still locked up in the resort baths, enjoying the attendants and assuming Yami was just killing time, same as him.
'Everything's fair, Jin,' he thought smugly. 'You enjoy your steam, I'll enjoy my victory.'
-----------------------------Primetime-Reloaded------------------------------------------------------------
As Jiraiya stepped into his room, the soft click of the door behind him silenced the distant hum of the resort. The lights inside were dimmed, casting a warm, amber hue over the suite. The Russian bartender was on his arm, her steps slow and flirtatious. He guided her gently toward the bed, a teasing grin on his face.
She sat down gracefully, crossing one leg over the other, her eyes scanning the room before settling on him.
"Ty ochen' zlobny, sensey," she purred, fingers playing at the edge of her blouse. ("You're very naughty, sensei.")
Jiraiya chuckled, already slipping off his jacket. "We'll have fun, baby. Jiraiya's not called the Lady Worshipper for nothing."
The woman giggled, tilting her head. "Udivi menya." ("Surprise me.")
He was just about to close the distance when his phone buzzed from the table.
Jiraiya paused, brows furrowing. "Tch..." He walked over, snatched up the phone, and read the message.
Gatou:I'm waiting.
"Cursed brat," Jiraiya muttered, rubbing a hand down his face.
The Russian woman tilted her head. "Problema?" ("Problem?")
He turned, offering a sheepish grin. "Odin minut, kroshka." ("One minute, baby.")
Walking to his bag, he opened the side pouch and pulled out his portable ninja scroll notebook. It activated with a soft hum, blue light dancing across his fingers as he connected his camera's memory card.
"Now where are you, beauties..." he murmured, scrolling through thumbnails.
He stopped at five select frames:
One tasteful lingerie shot from the back, Kushina turning just enough to give form but not reveal detail.
A soft portrait of her on the couch, still clothed, framed by soft light.
Another where her blouse slipped a little too low, but her face looked like art.
A shot of her lying sideways in the honeymoon suite's silk sheets, the outline of her leg stretching under them.
And finally, a capture of her just standing in the light, barefoot, wearing the blouse and white skirt she had come in the very picture of undone elegance.
'Let that greedy fuck stay blueballed,' Jiraiya thought with a grin.
He tapped the screen twice, compressing the files, encrypted and timestamped.
Attached to a blank message, he typed:
Jiraiya:Enjoy the preview. That's all you get.
And hit send.
The screen dimmed, and he closed the scrollpad with a snap. Just as he was putting scrolling in touch he noticed something and realised
"Curses... I left one of the cameras in the honeymoon suite," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
He turned back to the Russian woman, still sitting on the bed with her blouse now halfway unbuttoned.
"Vozvratim'sya k udovol'stviyu?" she said, voice like honey. ("Shall we get back to the fun?")
He looked down at her, then smirked.
"Let's go to the honeymoon suite," he said, and this time in his very best clunky Russian: "Poydem v lyubovnuyu komnatu."
She laughed, not at his pronunciation, but at the idea.
He grabbed his coat, threw the camera bag over one shoulder, and looked at her with mischief in his eyes.
"It'll be worth the walk. I promise."
As they left the room, the hallway lights flickered overhead, and Jiraiya's thoughts drifted. 'Well this visit was definitely fruitful and wild'
He glanced sideways at the Russian beauty trailing beside him.
'And tonight, maybe she will too.'
TBC
Ok, here's chapter 25 of Primetime.
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MrVectorPath Out!!