In Naruto, I Have an Affair with Mikoto and Kushina

Mikoto barely had time to react before Souta's arms tightened around her waist, and in one swift motion, he pulled her into his lap. A startled gasp left her lips, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest for balance.

"Souta—"

He cut her off with a smirk, his grip firm but gentle as he adjusted her until she was straddling him. "There. That's better."

Her body tensed, heat rushing to her face as she felt just how close they were. "You—You can't just—"

"I can," he said easily, his hands settling on her hips, holding her in place. "And I did."

Mikoto swallowed hard, trying to gather her thoughts, but his presence—his warmth—was overwhelming. Her thighs rested against his, her hands splayed against the solid muscle of his chest. Every inch of her was hyperaware of him.

"We can't keep doing this."

"Then why aren't you stopping me?"

 Because she didn't want to.

Souta's smirk softened into something deeper, something almost tender. His fingers slid up her back, tracing the curve of her spine before tangling in her hair. He tilted her head slightly.

Her fingers clenched against his cloak, nails digging into the fabric.

Her breath hitched as his lips Moved along the side of her neck, lingering over the faint mark he had left earlier. A shudder ran through her as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss there, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly.

"Souta…" she breathed, her resolve crumbling.

He hummed in response, his hands roaming lower, fingers pressing into her thighs as if memorizing the way she felt against him. "You fit so perfectly," he muttered against her skin. "Like you were meant to be here."

Mikoto squeezed her eyes shut. "We can't—"

"We already are."

Her heart pounded wildly against her ribs. He wasn't wrong. She was in his arms, in his lap, letting him touch her in ways she had never let anyone else. She should be pushing him away. She should be thinking of her family. But all she could think about was how good it felt to be held like this, wanted like this.

His lips found her jawline, tracing a path to the corner of her mouth. He paused there, his breath mingling with hers, waiting.

Mikoto's fingers curled tighter into his cloak. She should stop this. She had to stop this.

But instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, her lips barely brushing his in silent permission.

That was all it took.

Souta closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a slow, heated kiss. It was different from before—deeper, more claiming. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her impossibly closer as his mouth moved against hers, coaxing her past the last remnants of hesitation.

Mikoto melted into him, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as she kissed him back with a hunger she didn't even realize she had been holding back.

Souta groaned softly, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against hers. His breathing was uneven, his grip on her still firm. "You're mine," he murmured again, his voice raw with emotion. "Even if you don't want to admit it."

Mikoto swallowed, her fingers still buried in his hair. "…I don't know what to do."

Souta exhaled, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Then don't think," he whispered. "Just stay."

She didn't answer.

Because, for now, she didn't want to leave.

Souta's arms remained locked around Mikoto's waist, holding her in place as she caught her breath. His eyes, dark and intense, studied her every expression, every hesitation.

"You're thinking again," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Mikoto's hands pressed against his chest, her fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his cloak. "You need to let me go," she said softly, though even she wasn't sure if she believed it.

Souta tilted his head, a slow smirk forming on his lips. "I will."

She blinked at him in surprise.

"But only if you give me a kiss."

Her breath hitched. "Souta—"

"A real one," he added, his grip tightening just slightly. "Not some half-hearted excuse."

Mikoto exhaled slowly, steeling herself. She couldn't give him what he wanted—not fully. But she could do just enough to make him let go.

She leaned in, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. Souta's breath hitched slightly, his grip unwavering, as if waiting for her to give in completely. But just before their lips could meet, she turned her head, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek instead.

Souta froze.

It wasn't what he expected. It wasn't what he asked for. And yet, her lips against his skin, warm and lingering, sent a different kind of shiver down his spine.

Mikoto pulled away slowly, meeting his gaze. "There," she whispered. "Now let me go."

For a long moment, Souta simply stared at her, unreadable. His fingers twitched against her waist, as if debating whether to pull her back in. Then, with a quiet exhale, he released her.

But not before brushing his fingers along her jaw one last time.

"You win this time," he muttered, smirking. "But next time, I won't settle for just your cheek."