Title: the noble wife
Pairing and Genre: Naruto/Sakura/Sasuke. Romance.
Notes: M. Set post-series. Featuring polyamory. For LJ polyship's smut comment fic meme (prompt: N/S/S; worst kept secret ever).

The daimyo has four wives. The first was born and raised in Konoha (a civilian, but burning with the spirit of her birthplace); the second is a wise seamstress from the southern peninsula; the third, the daughter of an influential businessman from the east; and the last, a beautiful Sand maiden he met during a diplomatic conference. They are good at smiling and creating the image of national warmth, compassion and ease for the people of the Fire Country; but they do little else. It is not their place, it is said, to have influence.

Everyone loves the Four Noble Wives (the name for them which sprung up one day in a quiet fishing town and soon became a fixture in the people's vernacular). No one whispers harsh things about them, nor do they question him for bringing these women into his life.

Sakura tries not to think about the Four Noble Wives. She tries very hard and very often not to, but there are times when she feels the confused, judgmental gaze of someone who doesn't understand her or her marriage, and Sakura can't help but remember the Wives. Familiar bitterness, resentment, and self-consciousness always overtake her in that moment, and it is only months of practice that keeps her mouth shut. She hates doing so; she wants nothing more than to defend herself, but she knows she can't and wouldn't even if she could.

Then Sasuke notices. Sakura knew he did as soon as she (feeling a particularly ugly stare) flinches, and she is relieved when he doesn't mention it as they finish their errand.

But when night is upon them, he asks her about it in the quiet, awkward way he speaks to Sakura when he wants to sound empathetic (it's not that he's not empathetic: he just... speaks in a certain impersonal monotone that's perfectly natural... for him). They're in bed, naked and relaxed as they wait, and Sasuke presses his hand along her inner thigh affectionately, absentmindedly, manipulatively. She doesn't want to talk about it but before she can change the subject, the words "They don't understand" fall out of her mouth the same way Sasuke's hair slides against her neck as he kisses her shoulder. Her body tenses up unconsciously, and she says, vaguely, that it's not fair. That there's no controversy with the Four Wives because the people know that the daimyo has a separate enclosure for each of them on his land. The women do not share a bed. They do not share a life. They only share a man—the most powerful man of their country (and probably, the world).

There is also just the one man. There's that.

And it's not that she believes what they have is wrong. She's not criticizing them. (Sasuke kisses her breast, rings her nipple with his tongue, and Sakura trusts that he is still listening to her.) She's just...

Frustrated.

Sasuke never responds quite the way one would want him to (he says nothing, and instead kisses her sleepily), but Sakura has too much to say, too much to rage against, too much hypocrisy she sees in the world. She suddenly can't stop and won't stop even if she was told to, even when Sasuke moves further and further down her body.

It's not fair, she moans as Sasuke pushes her thighs open to allow room for his head between them. It's not fair. It's not. It's not. It's notnotnotnot—

She's in the middle of a sentence when the bed sags from the weight of a third body. She sputters to a stop as she turns to him—to Naruto—to her husband (the word sends spikes of pleasure throughout her body)—and she grabs his hand as Sasuke rolls her clit between his lips.

Naruto kisses her forehead like an apology. An apology because it's not fair that "they" (a faceless, unnamed mass) stare because their Hokage kisses both his wife and his husband in public, and that his husband and his wife kiss each other as well. That they stare because Sasuke is the Captain of the ANBU (they shouldn't know, but there is no way to deny it when word gets out that the Captain has the Sharingan) and because Sakura is the highest ranked medical-nin in Konoha and because they hold power individually from Naruto. They stare as they gossip about what will happen if/when Sakura becomes pregnant—who the "true" father will be and what it will mean for Konoha. They stare like they know that Sasuke privately identifies as gay even though he also loves Sakura and wants her and lusts for her, or that he had to ask Naruto "how to pleasure her," which resulted in one of the best, sweetest, most awkward, most hilarious nights of Sakura's life. They stare like they know that Naruto still blushes shyly when Sakura asks him to dance, or that Naruto accidentally knocked a bowl of hot ramen into Sasuke's lap on their first date as a triad. They stare like they know Sakura and her husbands, like they understand them, like they have the right to judge them or like—

"Are you jealous of them?" Naruto whispers filthily into her ear like it's an innuendo as he runs a hand encouragingly through Sasuke's hair.

"Who?" (Despite her anger, Sakura is having trouble concentrating: Sasuke has slowly begun fingering her in broad, uneven strokes.)

"The Wives." Obviously, he doesn't add.

Sakura pauses as she sees the convoluted mix of emotions spiraling in Naruto's eyes from the seriousness of his own question. She thinks: she has two husbands. One is the charismatic leader of her land, who she has grown alongside and who has never let her down. The other she has seen destroyed and rebuilt, has seen smile and disappoint. Together, they are unstoppable. Separate, they are still unstoppable.

She smiles and Naruto smiles as he sees Sakura finally relax, limbs pliant and shaking. "Never."