The air was thick with the scent of ozone and scorched earth when Boruto finally found her, trapped in a crumbling cave. Sweat and grime streaked Sarada’s face, her black hair matted, her uniform torn to show a glimpse of her taut stomach. Her Sharingan, wide with rage a moment ago, now softened with a burning, desperate relief.

“You came,” she breathed, her voice raw.

Before her chained arms could lower, he was there. His hands, still trembling with post-battle adrenaline, grabbed her hips, pulling her pelvis flush against his. “Couldn’t leave you to rot,” he muttered, voice thick. He didn't speak of battle, of strategy. His gloves were off, his calloused fingers digging into the flesh above her waistband. The dank air was soon filled with hot, ragged breaths.

He tilted her chin up and kissed her, not a soft peck, but a claiming press of lips that spoke of survival. Sarada moaned, her body folding into his. His hands moved, sliding under her torn vest, finding her pussy through the wet spandex of her shorts. He pressed his palm against the heat, feeling her wetness soak through. “Fuck, you’re soaked already,” he growled against her neck, his other hand snaking down the back of his own pants to free his own thick, hard cock. It was slick and pre-cum already beading at the tip.

Boruto didn’t wait. He yanked her shorts and panties to her ankles, letting the wet fabric stick to her boots. With one powerful, forward thrust, he shoved his entire length into her. Sarada gasped, a choked, primal sound