The pool water had gone still around them, as if even the ripples were afraid to disturb what was building.
Minato's hands were no longer gentle. They were iron, branding her through the soaked fabric of her bikini. One palm clamped the back of her neck, fingers tangled in wet hair, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
The other was lower, wedged between their bodies, cupping her so possessively that the heel of his hand pressed right against the aching seam of her bikini bottoms. He didn't move it. He didn't need to. The pressure alone was torture.
Robin's breath came in shallow, frantic puffs against his lips. Every tiny shift of her hips dragged that merciless hand across her clit, and she couldn't stop herself from doing it again. And again.
"Feel that?" he rasped, voice shredded with restraint. His hips rolled once, slow and deliberate, letting the thick, rigid length of him glide along the cradle of her thighs.
Water sloshed between them, warm and slick, doing nothing to cool the burn. "That's what you do to me. Every time you breathe, every time you look at me with those fuck-me eyes, I get this hard. I stay this hard. For hours. Days. Only for you."
Robin whimpered, nails carving half-moons into the muscle of his shoulders. Her thighs clenched around his waist, trying to pull him closer, trying to get more friction, more pressure, more anything.
Minato denied her. He held her suspended on that cruel edge, letting her grind helplessly against his palm while he watched her unravel with predator's eyes.
"Look at you," he growled, teeth scraping her lower lip hard enough to sting. "Soaked through this pathetic little scrap of fabric and it's not from the pool. I can feel how wet you are, Robin. Dripping for me. Desperate. And I haven't even put my fingers inside you yet."
A broken sound tore from her throat. She tried to rock harder, chasing the heel of his hand, but he tightened his grip on her neck, forcing her to stillness.
"No," he said, dark and velvet-rough. "You come when I say. You come where I say. You come only when my name is the last coherent thing in that beautiful, filthy mind. Understand?"
"Yes," she gasped, trembling so violently the water trembled with her. "Yes, Minato, please—"
He rewarded her with a single, slow circle of his palm, pressing the soaked cloth against her clit until her back bowed and her head fell back on a silent scream.
Her breasts thrust up, nipples straining against the thin triangles of her top, and he dipped his head to drag his tongue across one stiff peak through the fabric.
The sound she made was raw, animal, desperate.
He did it again. And again. Licking, sucking, biting through the barrier until the bikini was translucent and her nipples were dark, swollen, aching. Every tug of his mouth sent lightning straight to her core, and his hand between her legs never stopped its slow, merciless torment.
"These tits," he snarled against her skin, teeth closing over one nipple and pulling until she sobbed. "I'm going to take this top off with my teeth later. I'm going to suck bruises all over them so that every time you look down for the next week you remember who fucking owns them."
Robin's hands flew to his hair, yanking hard, trying to drag his mouth back to hers. He let her, crushing her lips beneath his in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and violent promise. When he pulled back, a thin string of saliva still connected them, obscene and perfect.
"I can feel your pulse in your cunt," he whispered against her swollen mouth. "It's fluttering against my hand like a trapped bird. You're so close already, aren't you? So close to coming just from this. From my voice. My hand. My teeth on your tits while I hold you right on the edge and don't let you fall."
She nodded frantically, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in her lashes. "Please, Minato, I need—"
"I know exactly what you need." His voice dropped to something deadly soft. "You need to remember that this body no longer belongs to you. It answers to me now. Every shiver, every drop of slick between these gorgeous thighs, every single orgasm you'll ever have again; mine to give, mine to withhold, mine to drag out until you're begging in languages you didn't know you knew."
He flexed his hips once more, letting her feel the full, brutal length of him dragging along her slit through their clothes. The friction was maddening, almost enough, never enough.
Robin shattered against him with a strangled cry, no penetration, no relief, just the grinding pressure of his hand and the filthy truth in his words.
Her entire body seized, thighs clamping around his waist, back arching so violently he had to lock an arm around her to keep her from slipping under the water.
Wave after wave crashed through her, and he held her through all of it, palm still pressed ruthlessly against her pulsing clit, drawing it out until she was sobbing his name into his neck.
When the last tremor left her boneless, he didn't let go. He simply shifted his grip, cradling her limp body against his chest while she panted, dazed and wrecked.
"That," he murmured against her temple, voice rough with satisfaction and lingering hunger, "was just from my hand and a few words. Imagine what I'm going to do to you when I finally get you spread out on my bed, legs over my shoulders, mouth on this sweet pussy until you forget every name but mine."
Robin could only whimper, clinging to him, utterly claimed.
The sun was sinking, painting them both in blood and gold, and still he held her there, suspended in the water, letting her feel every inch of the promise still throbbing hard against her.
Because the night was young.
And Minato Namikaze was nowhere near finished with her.
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