Temari/Anko - Interlude
*pokes clock* It's not 12:12, really. It's uh. 11:12.
My challenge was,
Requested pairings: crack! Temari/Anko, Tsunade/Ino
Up to three things you want: real women, I don't much care if there's fighting, but real reactions would be utterly rad and loved.
Up to three things you don't want: I'm pretty open minded, so umm... no uh... ah yes, no referring to a girl's poon as a rose unfurling.
Preferred ratings: r and up ---for velutlunas, if I'm remembering correctly.
So I wrote:
Title: Interlude
Pairing: Temari/Anko
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,885
Notes: There are no rose unfurling poons, I promise, and I hope Temari & Anko's reactions feel real to you. Also, this takes place just shortly before the Sakura, Naruto & Co mission to Sand. Not sure if that comes through in the fic. Also, TemaAnko could possibly be the hottest crack pairing ever :D
Temari’s first emotion was the irritation that rises naturally from carting around lists and letters, bundled and piled high in arms, and finding in the way someone not so laden - someone in fact, who is sucking the last sweetness from a dango skewer.
“Glad I don’t have to work the exams this time around,” the woman said. She looked familiar. Temari thought that she might have been from one of the exams she had tested in. She inspected the wooden stick a final time and frowning, discarded it.
“Well, I do,” said Temari. “And I’d like the duty better if you’d get out of my way-”
“Sure thing,” she said, and moved nearer the wall. This was less than helpful, in the narrow corridors of Konoha’s administration (lower level administration, sluggish and never trusted with anything that was either important or less than ten years out of date - to be sure, she had checked. After all, alliances broke when someone sneezed out-of-turn. It was wise to be prepared.)
As Temari passed her, she could feel the woman’s eyes on her. “You know what. How ’bout I buy you a drink to celebrate?”
“Celebrate,” said Temari.
“Your getting honor of wading through applications and kissing other villages’ ass, and my not.
“Mitarashi Anko,” she added, sticking out her hand. Temari looked pointedly from it to the stack of papers she carried. With a shrug, Mitarashi drew it back. “So how about it?”
Temari felt the leer in the air, though the physical leer was more of a lopsided grin. She breathed out in irritation. Words, dismissive and cutting words about age, and looks, were on her tongue, then at her lips. And then in a moment, she recognized her. She had been at that chuunin exam, the one that didn’t crop up much in conversation.
She’d cut that blond boy, Gaara’s blond boy, on the cheek. After she had licked his blood from her kunai, of all things. Temari had watched. How unsanitary, she’d thought, and said as much to Kankuro. But there’d been heat curled up wetly below her belly.
Somehow her lips lost the remark. Her mind couldn’t find it again. The memory of the slick danger that could be this woman’s smile and body, when she wasn’t slouched against a wall, lips sticky from sweets, had taken up a place in her thoughts and wouldn’t be shaken long enough to think of another. “I’m busy tonight,” she said instead.
Anko shrugged. “Shame,” she said, turning aside.
To her surprise, she found herself liking the easy gesture, the easy confidence that went with it. It warmed something in her towards Anko, and the more surprising, something not found between her thighs.
“But you can buy me a drink tomorrow night,” she said. She didn’t look for Anko’s reaction. She was sure she gave the impression that she didn’t care.
But there was something running under her skin. It was hot and eager.
----------------
Tomorrow night was now tonight. Temari gave thought to bringing Shikamaru in tow. You can congratulate two of us examiners this way, she would say, cheerily, as if unaware that the invitation had been meant as a date.
Anko’s expression would be amusing, no doubt.
But she put that thought aside. Shikamaru would just get in the way. He would be, to use his word, troublesome.
So she left her guest accommodations and found the address that Anko had left in her mailbox earlier.
It was a bar, upscale, with neat booths and good lighting. The drinks were served in clean glasses, sometimes with garnishes. Anko looked out of place.
Temari told her so.
Anko shrugged and leaned over the table. Her stand-by long jacket parted around her body. Beneath it she had a blouse cut low over her breasts, mesh beneath up to her collarbone. Temari looked, hungry, at the pale top of each breast, the way they eased into a flat slope and then ran into the bones at her throat.
There was nothing about Anko that could really be called beautiful. She had a practical body, solid hips, lean sturdy limbs. Her breasts would fit in Temari’s hands and spill over, but not so much that they would be unmanageable in a fight. Even her hands were practical, broad palms and solidly inelegant fingers. Temari looked at her and liked the un-beauty, and more, how Anko seemed never to have noticed that she was not beautiful.
She had an ordinary face until she grinned, which she did now. With the grin, it managed a rakish handsomeness. She said, “I usually drink at this cute hole-in-the-wall. Anyone worth drinking with ends up there at sometime or another during a good night. We can go there later if you want.”
“So this, then, is for appearances.”
“I like to serve my dates something other than dog piss.”
“Considerate,” said Temari.
Anko shrugged. “It’s also self-serving. If you think about it.”
Soon a server brought round a bottle of sake and cups. Anko helped herself; Temari, deliberately, reached for the same cup as Anko. Her fingertips brushed the fleshy base of Anko’s thumb, slid up over the calluses higher on her palm, and then closed on the cup.
Anko poured her a drink, a smirk on her lips. Maybe her lips were beautiful, Temari thought. Maybe. A hot little shiver ran down her spine. Her own lips suddenly felt cold, for lack of touch.
She swallowed and raised her sake glass. That hot little shiver slunk forward into her belly, slid down wet between her thighs. She said, matter-of-fact, as if the shiver had run its course and disappeared, “To chuunin exams. Rewarding hard work and inborn talent, and running examiners ragged.”
So they drank. Temari let Anko imbibe the greater share. After all, she was on home territory. She knew full well there were factions in Leaf, and not all of them were thrilled to have Sand as an ally. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say none of them were thrilled, and not all of them fell in the range of comfortable to indifferent.
When Anko commented on it, she didn’t say that. Instead she told the truth, but the diplomatic side of it. She thought that Anko would appreciate the other side, though, and liked her as much for it as if she had said it and Anko had nodded. She said, “Where I come from, it’s easy enough to get dehydrated, no fault of your own. It’s not very clever to help.”
Anko looked at her. “You’re not in Suna,” she pointed out. “Drink up now, and when you go back to your rooms, run the tap and drink up again.”
Temari just smiled.
Anko was a very functional drunk. After the sake bottle had been drained, they both walked upright out the door and never stumbled once. Temari was faintly buzzed. By her calculations, Anko should have been halfway to dead drunk.
“So,” Anko said, tossing her arm around Temari’s shoulders. “Do your tastes run to women, or is this one of those sexual escapades you upper class girls like to have? Not that I mind either way. Just curious.”
Temari laughed out of surprise. “You’re blunt,” she said.
“It’s part of my charm.”
“So arrogant too,” Temari said, close to Anko’s ear. She made her voice rough, husky. She didn’t know if she wanted to shame the other woman, or turn her on. “You assume this will end in a sexual escapade.”
Anko grinned. Exuberantly and far too wetly, she pecked Temari on the cheek. “Fair ’nough. I’ll return to wooing you, then. Ironically, by taking you out to the bar with the aforementioned dog piss.”
They cut across Konoha, first along well-lit thoroughfares and then opting for shadier streets and alleyways. (Temari shrugged, and patted the kunai sheath on her inner wrist, though the seedy districts of ninja villages were safe next to the outside world’s.)
Halfway there (Anko assured her), Temari remarked, “I’ve had an aristocratic girl on escapade. More upper class than any of yours, I’m sure. She could trace her mother’s lineage back to the rise of Suna, and her father’s to before.”
“You must be very proud,” Anko said dryly.
“She did, too, far too often.”
At that Anko chuckled.
“The reasoning behind such escapades goes that the world won’t know in nine months, you know.”
“Oh, I know. Very sensible. It wasn’t a slur-I like straight women, upper class or otherwise, who sleep with other women. Hell knows without ’em, I’d have been one frustrated teenager.”
Temari smiled in the dark.
And with that, she turned and caught hold of Anko by the lapels of her long jacket. She kissed her hard. The kiss said:
so you realize I’m not the sort of woman you pursue prettily and say the right things to. And maybe she lets you kiss her waiting lips, maybe the other set too - if you’ve fed her the set of lines that start out with how no one knows a woman’s body like another woman. But Anko, I’m a pursuer myself.
Well, the kiss might have said all that. It was a lot of words for one kiss. More likely it only managed, I want to fuck you. But that was more than adequate.
Anko’s lips parted, her mouth warm and wet and waiting. When she ran her tongue between them, running along the warm softness of lips, the warm slickness of teeth, Anko nipped her tongue. Just lightly, gently, but it was enough to make her shudder. Anko’s palms ducked beneath her blouse and found her shoulderblades. They stroked all around and between the bones as Temari kissed her harder and longer and - more. Just more; she wanted more of this and more of that.
Less of clothes, though. She yanked up Anko’s blouse and mesh at once. She shuddered again as she ran her hands over Anko’s stomach: the hard muscle etched above, the soft curve of belly below. She drew in a breath and made herself move slowly, fingers dribbling contact, circling it now, nails tracing patterns against Anko’s skin. It was gloriously soft.
Anko breathed, “Your place or mine?”
“The closer.”
“Mine, then.” Her hands slid up from Temari’s shoulders, up and caught in her hair without bothering to slip from beneath her shirt. It ended up high on her body, her belly exposed to the cool night air. Anko kissed her hard like that.
At last she broke away. “Come on,” she said, hand gathering up Temari’s.
----------------
Anko had just barely cracked the door when Temari pushed her back into and through it. There was a closet just to the side; it was against this that Temari pinned her and kissed her throat. “Mmm,” said Anko. She flashed a grin and toed the door shut. The keys, still in the lock, were forgotten.
Temari had no thought for anything but Anko and how much of her skin she could trace with her fingers, nothing beyond her warm mouth and strong hands. The latter made short work of her dress. She heard a tear. Somehow she managed to say, “You will mend that-”
“But of course.”
Anko slid her leg between Temari’s, her inner calf caressing Temari’s. Her skin was sleek, soft, lovely - lovely, and then she slid it further still, to part Temari’s thighs. Temari hissed and eagerly, let her.
She stripped away Anko’s blouse. She debated ripping it for a moment, to be fair, but decided to tug it nicely over Anko’s head. She had to put the thigh between her own out of mind to steady her hands; Anko jerked her knee sharply, hitting her clit just perfectly, and that was the end of that. But she already had the shirt. To make a point, she folded it neatly in half.
Anko snorted and grabbed it away. She flung it off over Temari’s head.
She shook her head. “And here I was going to do you a favor,” she said against Anko’s cheek.
“Oh, hush,” Anko said, and moved her knee again.
They fucked right there. The door never did make it all the way to shut. One minute Temari had it in her head that they could make Anko’s bed. The next Anko had her hand between Temari’s flesh and underwear, and then she had driven two fingers into her, hard and good, and there was no question that they wouldn’t. Temari wriggled and got the nub of Anko’s clit pinned beneath her thumb.
Everything in her was warm and wet and good. She rocked her hips hard and moved her hands as best as she could remember to, as best as she could think to through all this lovely heat. She wanted to come now. At the same time, something in her kept shying back, greedy to make all of this last as long as possible before the final moment.
Still she came first. It wracked her in a hard savage rush. It spilled up from pussy to belly and then somehow ended in her toes. Still riding it, she bit Anko’s neck and slid her middle finger deep inside her. She wanted to drag her headlong over that edge with her.
Come, she thought with teeth gritted. It was an order.
Anko followed some minutes later: a moan, head thrown back and face contorting unprettily. Temari supposed no one came prettily.
They fucked again in Anko’s bed. After, Temari curled up on the mess of Anko’s bedsheets, sweat slick and satiated. On the satisfaction sat a strange edge of odd disappointment. No blades, no blood. Not that she imagined she would enjoy such a thing. But the disappointment was still there. Temari-of-then had been drawn to the danger. It could be such a thrill.
Of course, Temari-of-then had not precisely understood sex. Not really. She knew its hows and whys. She knew it was what she did in the middle of the night. It just involved an extra person. But the particulars beyond that went hazy when she tried to picture them.
She’d never been quite able to connect that with the word sex. Then, first and foremost sex was what kunoichi from weak bloodlines did to make up for it.
I was such an arrogant genin, she thought, smiling. She supposed only half of it had really changed. There’d been such a flood of arrogance through her when she’d made Anko come around her fingers.
She rolled over and traced a finger down Anko’s spine. Anko shivered and shifted to take one of Temari’s breasts in hand. “Hhmm,” Temari said to herself. A stripe of light fell through Anko’s blinds, sliding crookedly across the bed. Anko’s movement had brought her throat and the curse seal nestled there into the light.
She was intrigued despite herself. Her fingers itched. She thought it would probably be rude to touch it. She did it anyway. She traced one of the dark whorls with her nail. It was a beautiful kind of ugly.
To her touch, Anko shuddered and moaned pleasantly. It seemed to hit her though in a moment what Temari was doing. She caught hold of Temari by the wrist, hard enough to ache.
Their eyes caught; Temari lifted an eyebrow. Anko grinned, a contorted forced sort of grin. In forced play, she brought Temari’s hands instead to her nipple and dropped a stiff arm over her waist.
Anko cleared her throat. “So. Have fun, Temari-sama?”
Temari frowned. The words said honorific but the tone said nickname. You just didn’t give a nickname to Temari of the Sand. She pointed this out, lightly so it seemed a joke. It was; it just happened to be a joke that was true.
“What? It’s perfectly respectful. You’re a Kage’s daughter and another’s sister. Here in Konoha we treat our nobility properly.” Anko stuck her tongue out at her. “We give them head.”
She leaned in close. The stripe of streetlight caught in her eyes. They were sharp and keen. Temari suddenly wondered if all that had all just been an elaborate set-up for what she was about to say. Then she spoke and Temari knew it.
“How is it to follow someone you were terrified of for, what, fifteen years?” Anko smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
Temari recoiled. She could almost taste the fear some nights when she woke with sheets drenched.
“I remember the way you looked at your youngest brother. He undid you for fear.”
“I love my brother,” Temari snapped.
“How?” asked Anko. It was not a disbelieving how. It was merely curious.
Temari hissed irritably. “All right, I shouldn’t have touched your curse seal,” she said. “Now don’t talk of this. You’re spoiling the mood.”
Anko shrugged. “Fair enough. Everyone has some things you don’t touch.”
“What an awful pun,” Temari remarked. The comment covered up the tension still in her. She had always despised backing down.
“I thought it was sort of clever.”
“Well, it wasn’t.”
“Aww, now you’ve hurt my feelings. You should make it up to me.”
“Hhmmph.”
Anko slipped a finger inside of her; Temari turned to her and kissed her; that was the end of talking for some time.
----------------
My challenge was,
Requested pairings: crack! Temari/Anko, Tsunade/Ino
Up to three things you want: real women, I don't much care if there's fighting, but real reactions would be utterly rad and loved.
Up to three things you don't want: I'm pretty open minded, so umm... no uh... ah yes, no referring to a girl's poon as a rose unfurling.
Preferred ratings: r and up ---for velutlunas, if I'm remembering correctly.
So I wrote:
Title: Interlude
Pairing: Temari/Anko
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,885
Notes: There are no rose unfurling poons, I promise, and I hope Temari & Anko's reactions feel real to you. Also, this takes place just shortly before the Sakura, Naruto & Co mission to Sand. Not sure if that comes through in the fic. Also, TemaAnko could possibly be the hottest crack pairing ever :D
Temari’s first emotion was the irritation that rises naturally from carting around lists and letters, bundled and piled high in arms, and finding in the way someone not so laden - someone in fact, who is sucking the last sweetness from a dango skewer.
“Glad I don’t have to work the exams this time around,” the woman said. She looked familiar. Temari thought that she might have been from one of the exams she had tested in. She inspected the wooden stick a final time and frowning, discarded it.
“Well, I do,” said Temari. “And I’d like the duty better if you’d get out of my way-”
“Sure thing,” she said, and moved nearer the wall. This was less than helpful, in the narrow corridors of Konoha’s administration (lower level administration, sluggish and never trusted with anything that was either important or less than ten years out of date - to be sure, she had checked. After all, alliances broke when someone sneezed out-of-turn. It was wise to be prepared.)
As Temari passed her, she could feel the woman’s eyes on her. “You know what. How ’bout I buy you a drink to celebrate?”
“Celebrate,” said Temari.
“Your getting honor of wading through applications and kissing other villages’ ass, and my not.
“Mitarashi Anko,” she added, sticking out her hand. Temari looked pointedly from it to the stack of papers she carried. With a shrug, Mitarashi drew it back. “So how about it?”
Temari felt the leer in the air, though the physical leer was more of a lopsided grin. She breathed out in irritation. Words, dismissive and cutting words about age, and looks, were on her tongue, then at her lips. And then in a moment, she recognized her. She had been at that chuunin exam, the one that didn’t crop up much in conversation.
She’d cut that blond boy, Gaara’s blond boy, on the cheek. After she had licked his blood from her kunai, of all things. Temari had watched. How unsanitary, she’d thought, and said as much to Kankuro. But there’d been heat curled up wetly below her belly.
Somehow her lips lost the remark. Her mind couldn’t find it again. The memory of the slick danger that could be this woman’s smile and body, when she wasn’t slouched against a wall, lips sticky from sweets, had taken up a place in her thoughts and wouldn’t be shaken long enough to think of another. “I’m busy tonight,” she said instead.
Anko shrugged. “Shame,” she said, turning aside.
To her surprise, she found herself liking the easy gesture, the easy confidence that went with it. It warmed something in her towards Anko, and the more surprising, something not found between her thighs.
“But you can buy me a drink tomorrow night,” she said. She didn’t look for Anko’s reaction. She was sure she gave the impression that she didn’t care.
But there was something running under her skin. It was hot and eager.
----------------
Tomorrow night was now tonight. Temari gave thought to bringing Shikamaru in tow. You can congratulate two of us examiners this way, she would say, cheerily, as if unaware that the invitation had been meant as a date.
Anko’s expression would be amusing, no doubt.
But she put that thought aside. Shikamaru would just get in the way. He would be, to use his word, troublesome.
So she left her guest accommodations and found the address that Anko had left in her mailbox earlier.
It was a bar, upscale, with neat booths and good lighting. The drinks were served in clean glasses, sometimes with garnishes. Anko looked out of place.
Temari told her so.
Anko shrugged and leaned over the table. Her stand-by long jacket parted around her body. Beneath it she had a blouse cut low over her breasts, mesh beneath up to her collarbone. Temari looked, hungry, at the pale top of each breast, the way they eased into a flat slope and then ran into the bones at her throat.
There was nothing about Anko that could really be called beautiful. She had a practical body, solid hips, lean sturdy limbs. Her breasts would fit in Temari’s hands and spill over, but not so much that they would be unmanageable in a fight. Even her hands were practical, broad palms and solidly inelegant fingers. Temari looked at her and liked the un-beauty, and more, how Anko seemed never to have noticed that she was not beautiful.
She had an ordinary face until she grinned, which she did now. With the grin, it managed a rakish handsomeness. She said, “I usually drink at this cute hole-in-the-wall. Anyone worth drinking with ends up there at sometime or another during a good night. We can go there later if you want.”
“So this, then, is for appearances.”
“I like to serve my dates something other than dog piss.”
“Considerate,” said Temari.
Anko shrugged. “It’s also self-serving. If you think about it.”
Soon a server brought round a bottle of sake and cups. Anko helped herself; Temari, deliberately, reached for the same cup as Anko. Her fingertips brushed the fleshy base of Anko’s thumb, slid up over the calluses higher on her palm, and then closed on the cup.
Anko poured her a drink, a smirk on her lips. Maybe her lips were beautiful, Temari thought. Maybe. A hot little shiver ran down her spine. Her own lips suddenly felt cold, for lack of touch.
She swallowed and raised her sake glass. That hot little shiver slunk forward into her belly, slid down wet between her thighs. She said, matter-of-fact, as if the shiver had run its course and disappeared, “To chuunin exams. Rewarding hard work and inborn talent, and running examiners ragged.”
So they drank. Temari let Anko imbibe the greater share. After all, she was on home territory. She knew full well there were factions in Leaf, and not all of them were thrilled to have Sand as an ally. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say none of them were thrilled, and not all of them fell in the range of comfortable to indifferent.
When Anko commented on it, she didn’t say that. Instead she told the truth, but the diplomatic side of it. She thought that Anko would appreciate the other side, though, and liked her as much for it as if she had said it and Anko had nodded. She said, “Where I come from, it’s easy enough to get dehydrated, no fault of your own. It’s not very clever to help.”
Anko looked at her. “You’re not in Suna,” she pointed out. “Drink up now, and when you go back to your rooms, run the tap and drink up again.”
Temari just smiled.
Anko was a very functional drunk. After the sake bottle had been drained, they both walked upright out the door and never stumbled once. Temari was faintly buzzed. By her calculations, Anko should have been halfway to dead drunk.
“So,” Anko said, tossing her arm around Temari’s shoulders. “Do your tastes run to women, or is this one of those sexual escapades you upper class girls like to have? Not that I mind either way. Just curious.”
Temari laughed out of surprise. “You’re blunt,” she said.
“It’s part of my charm.”
“So arrogant too,” Temari said, close to Anko’s ear. She made her voice rough, husky. She didn’t know if she wanted to shame the other woman, or turn her on. “You assume this will end in a sexual escapade.”
Anko grinned. Exuberantly and far too wetly, she pecked Temari on the cheek. “Fair ’nough. I’ll return to wooing you, then. Ironically, by taking you out to the bar with the aforementioned dog piss.”
They cut across Konoha, first along well-lit thoroughfares and then opting for shadier streets and alleyways. (Temari shrugged, and patted the kunai sheath on her inner wrist, though the seedy districts of ninja villages were safe next to the outside world’s.)
Halfway there (Anko assured her), Temari remarked, “I’ve had an aristocratic girl on escapade. More upper class than any of yours, I’m sure. She could trace her mother’s lineage back to the rise of Suna, and her father’s to before.”
“You must be very proud,” Anko said dryly.
“She did, too, far too often.”
At that Anko chuckled.
“The reasoning behind such escapades goes that the world won’t know in nine months, you know.”
“Oh, I know. Very sensible. It wasn’t a slur-I like straight women, upper class or otherwise, who sleep with other women. Hell knows without ’em, I’d have been one frustrated teenager.”
Temari smiled in the dark.
And with that, she turned and caught hold of Anko by the lapels of her long jacket. She kissed her hard. The kiss said:
so you realize I’m not the sort of woman you pursue prettily and say the right things to. And maybe she lets you kiss her waiting lips, maybe the other set too - if you’ve fed her the set of lines that start out with how no one knows a woman’s body like another woman. But Anko, I’m a pursuer myself.
Well, the kiss might have said all that. It was a lot of words for one kiss. More likely it only managed, I want to fuck you. But that was more than adequate.
Anko’s lips parted, her mouth warm and wet and waiting. When she ran her tongue between them, running along the warm softness of lips, the warm slickness of teeth, Anko nipped her tongue. Just lightly, gently, but it was enough to make her shudder. Anko’s palms ducked beneath her blouse and found her shoulderblades. They stroked all around and between the bones as Temari kissed her harder and longer and - more. Just more; she wanted more of this and more of that.
Less of clothes, though. She yanked up Anko’s blouse and mesh at once. She shuddered again as she ran her hands over Anko’s stomach: the hard muscle etched above, the soft curve of belly below. She drew in a breath and made herself move slowly, fingers dribbling contact, circling it now, nails tracing patterns against Anko’s skin. It was gloriously soft.
Anko breathed, “Your place or mine?”
“The closer.”
“Mine, then.” Her hands slid up from Temari’s shoulders, up and caught in her hair without bothering to slip from beneath her shirt. It ended up high on her body, her belly exposed to the cool night air. Anko kissed her hard like that.
At last she broke away. “Come on,” she said, hand gathering up Temari’s.
----------------
Anko had just barely cracked the door when Temari pushed her back into and through it. There was a closet just to the side; it was against this that Temari pinned her and kissed her throat. “Mmm,” said Anko. She flashed a grin and toed the door shut. The keys, still in the lock, were forgotten.
Temari had no thought for anything but Anko and how much of her skin she could trace with her fingers, nothing beyond her warm mouth and strong hands. The latter made short work of her dress. She heard a tear. Somehow she managed to say, “You will mend that-”
“But of course.”
Anko slid her leg between Temari’s, her inner calf caressing Temari’s. Her skin was sleek, soft, lovely - lovely, and then she slid it further still, to part Temari’s thighs. Temari hissed and eagerly, let her.
She stripped away Anko’s blouse. She debated ripping it for a moment, to be fair, but decided to tug it nicely over Anko’s head. She had to put the thigh between her own out of mind to steady her hands; Anko jerked her knee sharply, hitting her clit just perfectly, and that was the end of that. But she already had the shirt. To make a point, she folded it neatly in half.
Anko snorted and grabbed it away. She flung it off over Temari’s head.
She shook her head. “And here I was going to do you a favor,” she said against Anko’s cheek.
“Oh, hush,” Anko said, and moved her knee again.
They fucked right there. The door never did make it all the way to shut. One minute Temari had it in her head that they could make Anko’s bed. The next Anko had her hand between Temari’s flesh and underwear, and then she had driven two fingers into her, hard and good, and there was no question that they wouldn’t. Temari wriggled and got the nub of Anko’s clit pinned beneath her thumb.
Everything in her was warm and wet and good. She rocked her hips hard and moved her hands as best as she could remember to, as best as she could think to through all this lovely heat. She wanted to come now. At the same time, something in her kept shying back, greedy to make all of this last as long as possible before the final moment.
Still she came first. It wracked her in a hard savage rush. It spilled up from pussy to belly and then somehow ended in her toes. Still riding it, she bit Anko’s neck and slid her middle finger deep inside her. She wanted to drag her headlong over that edge with her.
Come, she thought with teeth gritted. It was an order.
Anko followed some minutes later: a moan, head thrown back and face contorting unprettily. Temari supposed no one came prettily.
They fucked again in Anko’s bed. After, Temari curled up on the mess of Anko’s bedsheets, sweat slick and satiated. On the satisfaction sat a strange edge of odd disappointment. No blades, no blood. Not that she imagined she would enjoy such a thing. But the disappointment was still there. Temari-of-then had been drawn to the danger. It could be such a thrill.
Of course, Temari-of-then had not precisely understood sex. Not really. She knew its hows and whys. She knew it was what she did in the middle of the night. It just involved an extra person. But the particulars beyond that went hazy when she tried to picture them.
She’d never been quite able to connect that with the word sex. Then, first and foremost sex was what kunoichi from weak bloodlines did to make up for it.
I was such an arrogant genin, she thought, smiling. She supposed only half of it had really changed. There’d been such a flood of arrogance through her when she’d made Anko come around her fingers.
She rolled over and traced a finger down Anko’s spine. Anko shivered and shifted to take one of Temari’s breasts in hand. “Hhmm,” Temari said to herself. A stripe of light fell through Anko’s blinds, sliding crookedly across the bed. Anko’s movement had brought her throat and the curse seal nestled there into the light.
She was intrigued despite herself. Her fingers itched. She thought it would probably be rude to touch it. She did it anyway. She traced one of the dark whorls with her nail. It was a beautiful kind of ugly.
To her touch, Anko shuddered and moaned pleasantly. It seemed to hit her though in a moment what Temari was doing. She caught hold of Temari by the wrist, hard enough to ache.
Their eyes caught; Temari lifted an eyebrow. Anko grinned, a contorted forced sort of grin. In forced play, she brought Temari’s hands instead to her nipple and dropped a stiff arm over her waist.
Anko cleared her throat. “So. Have fun, Temari-sama?”
Temari frowned. The words said honorific but the tone said nickname. You just didn’t give a nickname to Temari of the Sand. She pointed this out, lightly so it seemed a joke. It was; it just happened to be a joke that was true.
“What? It’s perfectly respectful. You’re a Kage’s daughter and another’s sister. Here in Konoha we treat our nobility properly.” Anko stuck her tongue out at her. “We give them head.”
She leaned in close. The stripe of streetlight caught in her eyes. They were sharp and keen. Temari suddenly wondered if all that had all just been an elaborate set-up for what she was about to say. Then she spoke and Temari knew it.
“How is it to follow someone you were terrified of for, what, fifteen years?” Anko smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
Temari recoiled. She could almost taste the fear some nights when she woke with sheets drenched.
“I remember the way you looked at your youngest brother. He undid you for fear.”
“I love my brother,” Temari snapped.
“How?” asked Anko. It was not a disbelieving how. It was merely curious.
Temari hissed irritably. “All right, I shouldn’t have touched your curse seal,” she said. “Now don’t talk of this. You’re spoiling the mood.”
Anko shrugged. “Fair enough. Everyone has some things you don’t touch.”
“What an awful pun,” Temari remarked. The comment covered up the tension still in her. She had always despised backing down.
“I thought it was sort of clever.”
“Well, it wasn’t.”
“Aww, now you’ve hurt my feelings. You should make it up to me.”
“Hhmmph.”
Anko slipped a finger inside of her; Temari turned to her and kissed her; that was the end of talking for some time.
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