Like a tornado, everything whirled together. Mouths clashed, tongues slipped between lips, and bodies pressed together. Shisui could still taste the sake on her breath, and wondered if Sakura could detect the alcohol on his own.
Everything about her was delicious: her breathless sighs that were something between a laugh and a moan, the sweet scent of her hair, the softness of her skin. He blamed it on the alcohol, but somewhere in the very far back of his mind where the sake hadn’t quite reached he knew it was only an excuse.
We Are What We Feel 