A bead of sweat cut across one black eyebrow as it arched up. Braced against his tree, Asuma watched the swell of well-trained muscle ripple beneath skin as Natsumi moved. She had archer's shoulders; every inch of them defined and solid. And the sleeveless ANBU turtleneck did nothing to hide how the movement translated through her lean, well-curved body. Her ribcage lifted with each breath, shivers chased through shapely limbs, unsupported breasts begged for the attention of hands or tongue...

Asuma wrenched his thoughts back into line. He hurt. Natsumi hurt. Now was not the time to tumble into fever-drenched fantasy, even if it made the world a much more pleasant place to be.

He licked split lips, tasting blood.

"If I make it twenty, you owe me a reward, princess." He released the tree, finding his balance; one hand braced against his side, flattening over stained bandages and the raw-feeling mess beneath. He swallowed down a hiss, straightening his shoulders. Steadying himself with pride when willpower wouldn't do it. "Something naughty'd be favourite."

He managed a wink, followed it with a step, and didn't let it matter when his voice cracked.