Chapter 116: Mikoto [2] 18+

The storage room stayed quiet except for the soft sound of their breathing. Mikoto still stood with her back to the wall, the front of her dress marked by what he had left on her. Kael finished pulling on the clean shirt she had given him, then stepped in close again before she could recover her composure or reach for a cloth.

He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her.

Mikoto’s eyes flew open. A muffled sound of protest rose in her throat. Her hands came up to his chest, pushing half-heartedly, the same gentle resistance she had always used when the boys got too rowdy. Kael only tilted his head and deepened the kiss, mouth moving over hers with slow, deliberate hunger.

"Mmmwah..."

She tasted like the tea she had served earlier, warm and faintly sweet. For a moment she held herself rigid. Then the pressure of his lips, the heat of his body, and the long years of quiet emptiness after Sasuke’s birth loosened something inside her. Her fingers stopped pushing and simply rested against his shirt.

When he finally drew back, a thin strand of saliva connected their mouths for a heartbeat before it broke. Mikoto’s cheeks were scarlet. Her breathing had gone uneven.

"Naruto... we can’t," she whispered, voice soft and motherly even now. "This isn’t right. You’re like one of my own. Let me clean up and we’ll forget this happened, all right? You’re just... worked up. It happens to young men."

Kael’s hands slid down to her shoulders. He guided her gently but firmly until she bent forward at the waist, palms bracing against the low chest of drawers for balance. The position made her dress tighten across the full curve of her ass. He stepped in behind her only long enough to make sure she stayed bent, then moved around to her front, already half-hard again from the kiss and the sight of her like this.

"Aunt Mikoto," he said quietly, "help me one more time."

She looked up at him from her bent position, dark eyes wide with conflict. "Naruto, please. Listen to me. This has gone far enough. You’re going to regret it, and so will I. Let me talk to you properly—like I always have. You’re not thinking clearly."

He freed himself from the borrowed pants and let the weight of his cock rest against her cheek. Mikoto flinched at the heat of it, at the lingering scent of the release that still marked her dress. Her lips parted as if to keep speaking, but the words tangled when he guided the head across her lower lip.

"Just for a little while," he murmured. "You always took care of me."

The appeal to the long years she had watched over him landed in the same soft place that had made her stroke him earlier. Mikoto closed her eyes for a second, clearly fighting herself. The sensible part of her mind—the part that was Fugaku’s wife, Itachi and Sasuke’s mother, the respected matron of the compound—screamed that she should stand up, push him away, and end this before it became something she could never take back. But another part, quieter and starved, remembered how many years it had been since anyone had touched her with real want. After Sasuke’s birth the nights with her husband had grown rare, then almost nonexistent. Duty, clan politics, and the simple exhaustion of raising two intense sons had left her body untouched for far longer than she ever admitted.

The heat that had started during the handjob still pulsed low in her belly. It made her hesitate just long enough for Kael to press forward.

The blunt head of his cock slipped between her lips.

Mikoto made a small, startled sound around him. Her hands tightened on the edge of the chest. She did not pull away. Kael rested one palm lightly on the back of her head—not forcing, only steadying—and began to rock his hips in short, careful strokes. The wet heat of her mouth closed around him. She was unpracticed; her tongue moved uncertainly at first, her lips too tight, her breathing uneven through her nose. Every time he pushed a little deeper she tensed, then forced herself to relax, the same patient discipline she had always shown with difficult children.

"Gluck... gluck... mwah"

"That’s it," he said, voice low. "Just like that, Aunt."

The soft, wet sounds of her mouth working over him filled the small storage room—quiet, filthy, impossible to mistake. Mikoto’s eyes stayed closed, lashes trembling. A flush had spread down her throat and across the upper curves of her breasts where the dress had shifted. Each time the head of his cock brushed the soft palate she made a muffled, helpless noise that vibrated along his length. The vibrations made his hips twitch. He kept the pace measured, letting her adjust, watching the way her lips stretched around him and the thin strand of saliva that eventually escaped the corner of her mouth and trailed down her chin.

Her internal struggle played out in every small movement. She would start to pull back, clearly intending to stop and lecture him again, only for the slow drag of his cock across her tongue to make her pause. The neglected heat between her own legs grew harder to ignore. Her thighs pressed together under the dress. A soft, involuntary moan escaped around him when he threaded his fingers gently into her hair and guided her a fraction deeper. The sound was pure need, startling even to her.

Kael groaned under his breath. "Fuck... your mouth..."

Mikoto’s eyes opened at the crude word, dark and glassy. She looked up at him while he used her mouth, the caring aunt and the starved woman warring openly on her face. The caring aunt still wanted to stop, to calm him, to put everything back the way it had been an hour ago. The starved woman only opened a little wider and let him sink deeper.

"Ghlk... ghlk... hnnk! ... cough... mmm"

He fucked her mouth in steady, shallow thrusts, the wet glide of her lips and tongue growing more coordinated as the minutes stretched. Saliva slicked his shaft and dripped onto the floor between her braced hands. Her jaw ached; her lips felt swollen. Still she did not pull away. When he pushed a little too far and the head nudged the entrance to her throat she gagged softly, eyes watering, but stayed in place and breathed through it the way she had once breathed through the worst of her sons’ fevers—patient, enduring, strangely tender even now.

Kael’s breathing grew rougher. His fingers tightened in her hair. "I’m close, Aunt..."

Mikoto made a small sound of alarm and tried to draw back, clearly thinking of the mess on her dress already. He held her gently but firmly and kept the same rhythm until the pleasure peaked. He came with a low, drawn-out groan, pulsing across her tongue in thick, heavy spurts. Mikoto’s eyes widened; she tried to swallow out of pure reflex and still ended up with some of it escaping the corner of her mouth and running down her chin to join the earlier stains on her clothing.

He stayed in her mouth until the last tremor passed, then slowly pulled free. A thin strand of saliva and release connected her lower lip to the head of his cock for a moment before it broke. Mikoto remained bent over the chest, breathing hard, lips shiny and parted, the taste of him still heavy on her tongue. Her legs trembled. The heat between them had not eased; if anything it had grown worse, an ache she had not allowed herself to feel in years.

Kael brushed a strand of dark hair from her face with surprising gentleness.

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