Bruises and Kisses
“This is so good. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” Boruto mumbles while biting into his sandwich, filled with turkey, mayo and salad. The pub adds a homemade sauce too and he cannot figure out what it’s made of, something spicy for sure.
Sarada lifts her glass for a sip of water, nods and swallows her food.
“They have remodeled the inside here until about two weeks ago and it was very different before,” she explains to him. “I go here if I don’t want to cook at home on the weekends.”
“We should go here during our lunch breaks,” Boruto says, winking at her. “I like spending my breaks with you. Fewer friends who stare at us while trying to appear nonchalant.”
He huffs in annoyance. After their last date the prior week, the two of them returned to normal behavior – as normal as it can be, that is. Their friends waited for news on the pair, but none came. Shikadai didn’t get any info because Boruto avoided being alone with him like the plague, and Sarada didn’t tell Chocho a single thing about what happened before Boruto had dropped her off.
Whatever happened that changed Boruto’s mind, Sarada didn’t know it. But she knew for a fact Chocho would be merciless towards her boyfriend if she knew he’d refused to spend some quality time between Sarada’s bedsheets.
She decided to protect him from this scrutiny.
Even today, four days after their last date Chocho tried to press Sarada for details and the girl remained silent, much to the dislike of her friend.
“Same. Chocho is so nosy for no good reason.”
“What…did you tell her?” Boruto asked, uncertainty tainting his eyes.
“Is there anything I should have told her?” Sarada replies and relieve comes from Boruto through a tight smile.
“I told you, what happened wasn’t your fault. Do you believe me?”
She looks into his blue eyes, eyes she has been looking into for most of her life and she cannot find a good reason not to trust him.
Still.
“I’m trying,” she answers, taking another bite of her panini. He nods and decides it’s time to change the topic. She welcomes it.
“So, tomorrow there will be the first soccer match of the season.” He rests his chin on his elbow and watches Sarada with amused eyes. She in return pretends to not understand the implications.
“And what does that mean?” She tries to sound innocent but really she sounds sly, the grin on her face adds to the impression.
“That means I will be running around for about 90 minutes, trying to make sure my team wins,” he drawls, explaining the obvious to her like she needs help understanding what he means.
“Ah, what does that have to do with me though?” Forgotten are the food and the drinks. She leans in, lowering her voice like there are sharing a secret.
“Well, obviously I’d like you to be there. Cheering on me – not that I would need the extra motivation to be the best player on the field – but a bit extra strength can’t hurt, you know?”
They stare into each other’s eyes before bursting into laughter a moment later.
“Seriously,” he mumbles in between giggles, “will you come?”
“Depends. When does the game start?”
Face lighting up with happiness, he says, “5 pm on the dot. I have to be there by 3, you could come at 4 to make sure you get a good spot. I want you to see me when I score.”
“Whoa, you sound so self-confident you’re going to win this game – that you’ll even score. What happens if you lose?” Sarada questions, folding her hands on the wooden table.
“Well, then I have someone nice to cheer me up afterwards.”
The blush that comes up to coat her skin in red flames is almost sinfully obvious and she wishes her self-control would be better around him. Then again, her lack of recent self-control has gotten her quite a few good dates with him, hasn’t it?
Neither does she want to regain her self-control when he kisses her good-bye later that day. The more he kisses her, the more she finds herself pulling him closer. And the more she pulls him closer, the more she remembers his lips on hers for the rest of her day. She comes home and still smells like him.
When she puts her clothes on the bed, his smell lingers on her bedsheets for a while and she wants to press her face into them the way she did before class with his chest. At night it is harder to lie to yourself because the world comes down to rest and soon enough you’re alone with your thoughts. What remains is the question how she feels for him, now that she has him for herself temporarily, but she cannot make herself say it out loud.
Instead she goes to Chocho’s room and Sarada lets her friend fill the silence inside her head with constant chatter.
Her bedsheets do not smell like Boruto anymore when she goes to bed.
The first soccer match of the season arrives with sunshine and a mood as clear as the sky. The boys are excited and fired up even during the early training before the match, they meet just to discuss their strategies once more before the game begins. Once more before it matters.
The chatter and echo from hundreds of fans comes even into their dressing room and their trainer, Coach Sarutobi, comes to a halt to peg them in the eye. He doesn’t smile, and yet it’s obvious, he is as excited as his players are. Inojin has managed to stay unharmed until today so Boruto isn’t the top player on the field.
Usually this would cause him to pout, Boruto doesn’t enjoy being put into place number two. Today though, Sarada would be watching and he cannot trust himself not to risk a glance or two into her direction. The team is counting on him to perform to the best of his skills nonetheless, so he cannot slack.
The walk to the field is as loud as it is unnerving. At this point of the game, the waiting is the worst thing, once it starts all the nerves fall away and he is able to concentrate. The fans’ screams and cheers whirl around his head in a blinding echo until it is only a blur. He is to go onto the field during the first half, as long as he can, the second half is meant for Inojin. If he gets badly injured before the end of the first half, there will be Shikadai to go in for him, but he isn’t supposed to play today.
And he doesn’t want to disappoint Sarada either, not if she has come here today, in her free time, just for him. A quick glance at the seats – and he can spot her among the crowd. He’s spent too much of his life singling her out from crowds to fail at it right now.
He waves at her, she waves back after a heartbeat.
They line up, the voices of the crowd like drums for their feet, left right left right, and the captains shake hands. Formalities exchanged, then everyone back onto their rightful place. The seconds go by and he is hit by a wave of calamity, nerves gone, the only thing left is the heartbeat in his ears.
The first pass of the game goes to the opponent team. It doesn’t take long for everyone to get down to business – 14 minutes in and Boruto gets fouled for the first time so far. He’s small, built for speed and not strength, so his opponents like to gang up on him. Most of the time he can get past them, even if he doesn’t score, to rattle them up, but as he goes down for the 7th time in the game, he knows he’ll suffer for this. Sure enough, he notices as he looks down, his nose is bleeding.
The referees stop the game, again, and he limps off the field. The medics take a look at his face, wipe away the blood and tell him nothing is broken. He’s glad for their affirmation, he cannot feel it for himself anymore. His entire body aches.
“Can you continue playing?” Coach Sarutobi asks.
“Yeah,” he replies, trotting back on the field. He makes sure to keep his face away from the seats where he knows Sarada sits. He doesn’t want her to see this right now. She should enjoy the game.
Coach Sarutobi stands on the outskirts of the field, motioning for him to get more aggressive with his gameplay. He scores 3 minutes later, with the help of Iwabe, and can finally limp off the field another 9 minutes after that. To say that he is beaten up is an understatement and the medics take their time with him in the medic area. His face got hit the worst, but there are bruises on his ribs, too.
“You might want to go to a doctor after the game to get checked out if the bruises get worse.”
The medic stares at him with hard eyes and he can only nod. He’ll go get checked tomorrow maybe, not today. He is too tired to do this right now and none of the minor injuries are dangerous at any rate.
He turns to get back to the field when someone else comes down the hall. It’s Sarada, she isn’t limping and sweaty like him, but there is worry in her eyes as she takes a good look at his beaten up state. It really shouldn’t please him so much to know that she worries about him, but it does.
You worry about me, he thinks. Almost like you have a soft spot for me.
“It’s nothing big,” he begins to tell her but she cuts him off. “I can’t believe they’d injure you like this. They ganged up on you! This is no fair play.” She gently takes his chin in between her fingers and twists his head from side to side. By now, she must be able to see the bruises well enough.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Boruto asks. Her face is serious and she bites her lip.
“Looks serious enough. Do you want to go to a doctor?”
“Nah, don’t have to unless it gets worse.” He smiles at her even if his face hurts because of it. When she doesn’t reply, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her in for a hug.
“It’s not as bad as it looks. If it were bad, trust me, I’d go to a hospital. It’s okay. Here,” he whispers, pressing his face into her hair and taking a deep breath.
“Just hug me for a while. That should make me feel better, I think.”
She huffs and leans into his body. Finally, because the warmth that spreads throughout his chest is better than any painkiller. He can relax now, knowing that the result of the game is out of his hands and she is at his side.
“Physical affection isn’t going to heal your bruises,” she tells him, but there is no hostility in her voice.
“I think you are severely underestimating the kind of effect you have on me, especially when you’re so close.”
“Oh, do I now?” She’s cheeky and he likes it. He presses them closer together.
“Oh, absolutely.” They both lean in for a quick kiss, but when she pulls away, he comes closer again. A roar coming from outside the medic area makes their heads peek up. Another goal for their team.
“How about we go somewhere else?” Boruto asks her, his eyes returning to her lips. “I think the medic area will get full soon enough. Our opponents will get desperate and desperation makes you aggressive.”
“And where would we go?” Sarada asks him, her fingers tracing over his chest.
“Let’s go to the dressing room. I need to take a shower.” They walk the way to the dressing rooms without anyone batting an eye at them and Boruto is more than glad that the dressing room is empty. He wants to be alone with her.
“So, do you need help taking off your clothes? Since you’re so badly hurt.”
He laughs, partially because he knows she is being truthful. If he needed help, she’d offer it to him.
“Yeah, come help me take my clothes off, please.” The sly grin that makes his mouth stretch should be forbidden.
She steps closer and within an heartbeat, their lips are pushing against each other again, tongues reaching towards each other until they’re panting. Her hands are warm and light on his skin and the first thing that he takes off is his shirt. His shoes and the socks follow, until soon enough he is only covered by his underwear. The bruises on his skin must be gruesome, but she doesn’t let her reaction show. If she is worried about him, she isn’t showing it. Instead her cheeks are flushed in a lovely red hue, lips bruised. As they kiss, Boruto sneaks a hand beneath her shirt, wraps it around her waist and squeezes the skin, feels the muscles there. She is still soft, all smooth skin under his fingers.
He allows himself to let his hands wander, feel every inch of her that he can get his hands on. However, he does not take her clothes off, what if some of the guys would come in? He doesn’t wish to embarrass her like that.
When she moans into his mouth, he takes the cue and moves his hands upwards, cupping her breasts as good as he can – she is still wearing her bra. It doesn’t bother him anymore that his ribs are aching or that his legs feel wobbly – he does not know any more if this was caused by the game or by her. Her skin is silk in his fingers, warm and smooth without blemish.
He wants her, badly. There is no shame in admitting this to him. He’s been wanting her for years while simultaneously hating himself for it for the longest time. As a kid, he’d been ashamed to realize he felt more for Sarada than an average friend would. Admitting to sexual attraction came easier, but accepting that he wanted to be her boyfriend and not just some fling had taken him years – until graduation from high school to be exact.
At this moment, with his hands over her skin, lips pushing against each other, heat building in his guts, it would be so easy to give in to everything. It’d be easy to forget himself – where they are standing, his teammates about to win the game and entering the dressing rooms, Sarada’s and his arrangements. It’d be easy to just give in and get lost in her.
It’d be easy to drown in her.
Boruto takes a step back and lets his hands rest on her hips, squeezing, but firmly putting space between them. “You’ve helped me take off my clothes, but I still need to take a shower,” he whispers, her cheeks still a delicious pink color.
“How about you wait for me outside? I think the boys are going to come in any second now and as much as I enjoyed making out with you…,” he lets his words trail behind, hopes for her to understand what he wants to say.
“You…you want me to just leave?” The last bit of lush heat leaves the dressing room and reality weighs down heavily on the air.
“No, not to leave the stadium! Just…wait for me outside, I’ll come back to you in five minutes and we can grab something to eat perhaps?” he playfully suggests, trying to pull her closer for a final kiss, but Sarada is already leaning away from him.
“Sarada –“ “It’s alright,” she tells him, but somehow Boruto cannot believe her.
“I’ll just wait for you outside. Don’t take too long, alright?”
She doesn’t look back as she leaves the room. Boruto is half-way done with his shower by the time his first teammates enter the room. Cheer, created by their victory today, seems so oddly misplaced in Boruto’s head.