endless_scrolls (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
endless_scrolls) wrote2009-08-14 11:17 pm
endless_scrolls) wrote2009-08-14 11:17 pm
Indecent Proposal
Title: Indecent Proposal
Type: Fanfic
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Hatake Kakashi, OC: Sarutobi Mei; brief mentions of Namikaze Minato, Hatake Sakumo, Sarutobi Hiruzen, OC: Sarutobi Kozuki
Pairing(s): ...Technically none, but... well, you'll see.
Warning(s): Discussion and... clear depictions of adult material. NO ONE UNDER THIRTEEN READ THIS. 8|!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words.
Note: An AU of an AU. Need I say more? Inspired by a certain someone's attempts to bludgeon me with plot bunnies. And I say that with love~
Dedicated to: Teaser. May she continue her violent inspiration...
Sometimes, it seemed as if her entire life centered around the candy cane swirls of the shower. It was a wonder how the tiles managed to not be tainted red from all of the blood Mei had been forced to wash off of her tired and tattered body time and time again. Or at least a faint blush of pink to give contrast and break the sterile white reminder of her days in the hospital. It was starting to become a game, really. Of who would live and who would die. Of how many casualties they would suffer this time around before mission's end. Some days were better than others. Some missions were less tragic. But as lucky as they all were to have survived... to return with all members accounted for, it never lasted for long.
This had been one of those times where their good fortune simply had run out.
Just two had managed to come back. Only two of the eight that had been sent out. Hatake Kakashi and herself. And while Mei was grateful that she did not have to make the trip back to the village by herself, it did not make the massive weight of having to report the deaths of their comrades any less difficult. Because the memory of them still lingered with her. Their voices. Their faces. They had been her friends. Her neighbors. Her companions both in and outside of the battlefield. And now they were gone.
Nicked and scarred, she pressed her hands against the tiled wall of the shower and stood solemnly under the water's spray, head bowed with nothing but the darkness of the drain to stare at as the last traces of their failure was washed away. They had not been the first to die in this war, and they would certainly not be the last. It was no secret that death came hand in hand with being a shinobi . But the numbers were adding up and Mei's heart was beginning to suffer from the weight of it. They both were, she supposed. After all, no one she knew was more effected by death than Hatake Kakashi. Certainly, the memory of it would still be fairly fresh in his mind.
Not a day goes by that she did not see the young man staring at the Memorial Stone with a distant gaze.
Such were the risks of the profession, she supposed. And with that thought, she turned up the warm water, letting it bring a scolding heat to her worn back. At least then Mei's mind could have something else to focus on. Still, knowing about the consequences and experiencing them were two different entities. And as much strength as she had -- as much pride as the kunoichi had in the village and its people -- death effected everyone.
"Even me..."
And people would deal with it in their own fashion.
Another moment under the sting of the water and Mei shut off the water completely, leaning forward to press her forehead against the slick surface of the tiles. The hot steam seemed to engulf her in a fog of nothingness, a feeling that she found rather euphoric and addicting. All other concerns and worries seemed to melt away to it. And the kunoichi breathed in the clouds with every fiber of her being. Because at least for one instance, the kunoichi wanted to forget about everything else.
But before her mind could settle back into reality, she was already stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel to dry off, pausing to wipe a single strip of condensation away from the clouded mirror. And as Mei looked at her own reflection, she could not help but to feel old and worn. To cringe just slightly at seeing all the white scars that was scattered about her from. This was the result of a shinobi's life. A physically fit body, but still wholly imperfect.
Mei scoffed at the thought as she squeezed and patted away the excess water from her long strands of hair. And, for one brief moment, she wondered why it even mattered. Perfection was relative. Nonexistent, even. Especially in a profession where fighting was a constant factor. Scars were real. They were badges of honor and proof that she had managed to survive another day... unlike six others who never made it home that day.
Sighing, she wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the bathroom in search of a robe to put on. The instant draft of cold air had been her first clue. The mingled scent of fresh air and rain-kissed leaves was her second. And then Mei's eyes zeroed in on the slight ruffle of the curtains that draped over the door to her balcony. Not to mention the shadowed figure that stood illuminated by the light of the moon on the other side. The slouched posture. The unruly crop of hair. And the fact that only a handful of people knew that she had returned from her mission, a day earlier than expected.
It could only be one person.
"Kakashi?" she called softly, sliding the door open just a fraction more than it already was. Normally, unexpected guests would not be too out of the ordinary. Even, occasionally, at this hour. Mei was a fairly friendly person, after all, and there were always people coming in and out of her home for one reason or another. But it was a rare sight indeed to see the young Hatake overshadowing her doorstep -- or rather, her balcony. "Haven't I seen enough of you in the last week?"
"Maybe," was his response, shifting a pointed glance in her direction, "But apparently I haven't seen... enough of you."
Mei resisted rolling her eyes at that and tried not to physically coil at the look he gave her. Appreciative or not, it was just strange to get such a thing from the normally anti-social young man. Instead, she opted to trade in the towel for a more concealing robe. "Is there a point to you being here? Usually nothing short of the apocalypse would get you to come over, even with Minato."
Here, he paused. And for a long stretch of time, there was nothing except the silence that stood between them. Him staring up at the cloudless skies. Her watching him intently to continue. But while it might have been easy to simply nudge the conversation forward, there was just something about the way he stood and carried himself that caused Mei to stop and wait. After all, conversations involving Kakashi tended to be few and far in between. The fact that he would initiate this one meant that it was important, at least to him.
"It's hard, isn't it?" he finally said, "Forgetting the faces... ignoring the reminders."
And whether he realized it or not, Kakashi's hand reached up to light brush over where his forehead protector covered the scarred eye he had carried for so many years. Ever since that mission -- his first mission as a newly appointed Jounin.
She look away at the sight and the memory to give him a private moment as Mei hugged her arms around her slender frame. And in a small voice, she responded with a quiet, "...Yeah."
"Sometimes... dealing with them alone is not enough."
Such a statement could be interpreted in a number of ways, some fairly innocent. And others not so virtuous. The key was in reading the signs. In using that knowledge to come to a suitable conclusion. And if the way Kakashi seemed to be tracing over the outline of her body with his eyes said anything, it was that he was leaning towards the latter. That alone was enough cause to question her own sanity.
"Just... what exactly are you suggesting?"
Kakashi quirked a brow in response.
"You want... us to..."
As if he were almost embarrassed -- ashamed -- to respond with a clear answer, the young man looked away. And that was all the confirmation Mei needed.
He was normally not one for indulgence, of the flesh or anything else beyond serving as a useful agent of the Leaf Village. Those who knew him well and long enough, understood that. Living up to a legend like The White Fang of Konoha tended to instill a great amount of responsibility and a mountain of expectations. For as long as Kakashi was old enough to comprehend the history of the village, he had been following in his father's shadow. Mei was certainly familiar with how such a thing could age a soul. And sometimes she forgot that he was only eighteen years old. That she was only twenty-one.
Still, the kunoichi could not help but hesitate.
Sensing her hesitation, he tried reasoning. "We're both consenting adults - "
" - Barely. - "
" - Missions are only going to get harder to deal with if this war continues."
"You mean as this war continues..." Because, clearly, it would. That was the nature of all wars, especially when both sides refused to back down. Pride was a powerful force, after all. " - And I don't need you to tell me that, my father was the Hokage. I grew up in this."
He seemed to stop a moment to regard her with a unreadable gaze. "...It was just a thought. A means to an end, as it were, that we both could use."
"...Why?"
"Because we're both alive. And we don't know for how long." Turning from where he stood facing out towards the village, Kakashi lightly leaned back to rest on the rail of the balcony. To face her with the undeniable truth of the matter. "And sometimes we need to be reminded of that."
It made sense. As crazy and impossibly strange as it sounded, it was actually a practical course of action. Especially now, when the both of them remained the only survivors of their latest mission. Why not cling to and seek comfort in each other as they had clung to life after their companions were so forcibly ripped from the mortal coil?
"It's up to you. I won't force anything."
Leave it to Kakashi to make casual sex pragmatic.
"Do you know how many girls in this village would jump at the chance to spend a night with you, logical reason or not?"
She could almost see the cloth of his mask shift into a smirk at the comment. "...I have a fairly good idea."
"So why come to me? Of all people, why would you propose this to me?"
"Because... You're the only one who would understand."
They shared a similar cause. A common experience, both recent and profound in their long history of dealing with death. Mei was not quite as young as Kakashi had been when she had lost her mother. But she had carried it with her for a long stretch of time. Just as he had carried his father's death -- his legacy -- with him. And perhaps that was the most important indication that it had to be him. That it had to be her.
"So... what will it be?"
He was leaving it up for her to decide. And while the better part of Mei's psyche said to take the safe road and simply decline, there was another part of the kunoichi that urged her to simply take the risk. They were intelligent. They were unattached . If it did not work out, neither one would be worse for the wear and the both of them would be able to continue on as if nothing happened. Simple as that.
Sighing softly, the kunoichi pushed open the balcony door all the way and stepped aside, gesturing with her hand for him to enter if he pleased. And to her mild surprise, he did, stopping right in front of her. As if he were waiting for Mei's next move.
"Well?" he inquired.
"I let you in. It's your move now."
"...Not for long."
In an instant, his arms were around her, pulling Mei tight against him, his cloth-covered lips pressed to hers in a searing kiss. And even as her own hands fell to rest on him in an awkward manner, she could only wonder just how good Kakashi's lips would feel without the mask covering the lower half of his face. As socially reclusive as he was, when did the boy ever find the time to perfect his technique? And once more, why, of all times, did it really matter?
With one swift motion, Mei closed the balcony door and slid the lock into place, never once breaking the contact of her lips against his. And under the cover of shadows, the kunoichi's hands became bolder. Less reluctant as her fingers easily threaded through his silver strands. Over the hard and smooth lines of his back hidden under far too much clothing. They needed this. She needed this. And now that the flames of determination and resolve began, there would be no turning back.
Whether by his insistence or hers, they finally broke the kiss, heaving for air and yet wanting nothing more but to return to the sweet oblivion of the union. But before Mei could protest the loss in contact and heat, she felt the smooth nip of his lips on her cheek. Against her jaw. And then down along the column of her neck. It was not until he began lavishing his attention on the crook of her neck that Mei realized, there was no cloth hindering his advances. All symbolisms aside, there was no mask to hide Kakashi's face from the world.
When he had the time or forward thinking to even take it off, she could not begin to wonder. Because at that moment, his teeth grazed over a particularly sensitive branch of nerves that pulled a soft gasp from Mei's lips before she even had the time to register and stifle it. Which only encouraged his efforts if the gentle chuckle of breath was any indication. But as the smooth fabric of her robes slowly slide off the kunoichi's shoulder to give him more room to play, she could hardly bring herself to care at the small show of weakness and pleasure. All the better for the experience, right?
Nimble fingers moved to get his clothes off, making quick work of it with the help of an equally enthused Kakashi. All the while, stumbling towards the dark corner of the room where the bed was located. And then he was sandwiching her body between him and the mattress, tugging at the chord of rope that kept the last remaining patches of skin mildly concealed and pulling at the flaps of her robes. After that, it all became nothing more than a blur of motion and of color, of skin and shadows as it parted for him. As she parted for him and placed her trust in him. And with that trust, Kakashi slowly pushed himself in.
With the gentle thrust past her lips, the faces of her comrades flashed in her mind. Of those that they had both left behind on their last mission and of all the others in the village that they had lost to this war. Of her former life when the both of them were simply children playing a game of war instead of fighting one. Before they were faceless soldiers and minor casualties. Back when Kakashi had been the next generation of the Hatake family instead of the last remaining heir. When she was simply the daughter of the Hokage and not the leading commander of a legacy.
Sometimes it became a question of how either one of them managed to survive the reputation of their respective families. How they continued to deal with the overwhelming pressures that come with the names they were born into. But with every sigh of Kakashi's name that she gave, with every new patch of Mei's skin his fingers explored, it all melted away until there was nothing left but him and her. Two souls joined physically, mentally, and spiritually. Something that became more and more clear while he continued to slide in and out of her heated passage, slick with an unspoken agreement that they both shared. Understood.
If nothing else, they would always have this. They would always have each other.
He mumbled something against her mouth, his breath coming short in soft puffs breezing over her wet skin. And she whispered something in return, cheeks pinked from the mingled efforts of their gentle movements. And then came that hitch in her tone that told him she was close. Good. He was too.
His hands slipping around Mei's waist and back to bring their bodies closer, Kakashi continued the easy jerk of his hip into her tight passage, feeling her nails dig into his skin with a mingled bliss and pain that wholly described their union until with a low grunt from him and quiet shudder of breath from her, they both reached their euphoric peak.
Giving one final push he came inside of her.
Minutes passed -- hours -- before either one moved from where they laid stretched out over the mattress. He with his head cradled in the crook of her neck. She with her arms wrapped around his lithe form. Sweat clung to her curves, just as Mei suspected it clung to Kakashi's chiseled features. But still, they remained unmoving in the silence and the stillness until he lifted his head to face her. To cup his hand along her face. And after a moment -- after feeling the calloused skin of his thumb caress the curve of her cheek -- she smiled and returned the gesture.
"When's your next mission?"
"In three days. Yours?"
"Five."
"...I'll see you when you get back?"
"...Yeah. I'll come to you this time."
Type: Fanfic
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Hatake Kakashi, OC: Sarutobi Mei; brief mentions of Namikaze Minato, Hatake Sakumo, Sarutobi Hiruzen, OC: Sarutobi Kozuki
Pairing(s): ...Technically none, but... well, you'll see.
Warning(s): Discussion and... clear depictions of adult material. NO ONE UNDER THIRTEEN READ THIS. 8|!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words.
Note: An AU of an AU. Need I say more? Inspired by a certain someone's attempts to bludgeon me with plot bunnies. And I say that with love~
Dedicated to: Teaser. May she continue her violent inspiration...
Sometimes, it seemed as if her entire life centered around the candy cane swirls of the shower. It was a wonder how the tiles managed to not be tainted red from all of the blood Mei had been forced to wash off of her tired and tattered body time and time again. Or at least a faint blush of pink to give contrast and break the sterile white reminder of her days in the hospital. It was starting to become a game, really. Of who would live and who would die. Of how many casualties they would suffer this time around before mission's end. Some days were better than others. Some missions were less tragic. But as lucky as they all were to have survived... to return with all members accounted for, it never lasted for long.
This had been one of those times where their good fortune simply had run out.
Just two had managed to come back. Only two of the eight that had been sent out. Hatake Kakashi and herself. And while Mei was grateful that she did not have to make the trip back to the village by herself, it did not make the massive weight of having to report the deaths of their comrades any less difficult. Because the memory of them still lingered with her. Their voices. Their faces. They had been her friends. Her neighbors. Her companions both in and outside of the battlefield. And now they were gone.
Nicked and scarred, she pressed her hands against the tiled wall of the shower and stood solemnly under the water's spray, head bowed with nothing but the darkness of the drain to stare at as the last traces of their failure was washed away. They had not been the first to die in this war, and they would certainly not be the last. It was no secret that death came hand in hand with being a shinobi . But the numbers were adding up and Mei's heart was beginning to suffer from the weight of it. They both were, she supposed. After all, no one she knew was more effected by death than Hatake Kakashi. Certainly, the memory of it would still be fairly fresh in his mind.
Not a day goes by that she did not see the young man staring at the Memorial Stone with a distant gaze.
Such were the risks of the profession, she supposed. And with that thought, she turned up the warm water, letting it bring a scolding heat to her worn back. At least then Mei's mind could have something else to focus on. Still, knowing about the consequences and experiencing them were two different entities. And as much strength as she had -- as much pride as the kunoichi had in the village and its people -- death effected everyone.
"Even me..."
And people would deal with it in their own fashion.
Another moment under the sting of the water and Mei shut off the water completely, leaning forward to press her forehead against the slick surface of the tiles. The hot steam seemed to engulf her in a fog of nothingness, a feeling that she found rather euphoric and addicting. All other concerns and worries seemed to melt away to it. And the kunoichi breathed in the clouds with every fiber of her being. Because at least for one instance, the kunoichi wanted to forget about everything else.
But before her mind could settle back into reality, she was already stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel to dry off, pausing to wipe a single strip of condensation away from the clouded mirror. And as Mei looked at her own reflection, she could not help but to feel old and worn. To cringe just slightly at seeing all the white scars that was scattered about her from. This was the result of a shinobi's life. A physically fit body, but still wholly imperfect.
Mei scoffed at the thought as she squeezed and patted away the excess water from her long strands of hair. And, for one brief moment, she wondered why it even mattered. Perfection was relative. Nonexistent, even. Especially in a profession where fighting was a constant factor. Scars were real. They were badges of honor and proof that she had managed to survive another day... unlike six others who never made it home that day.
Sighing, she wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the bathroom in search of a robe to put on. The instant draft of cold air had been her first clue. The mingled scent of fresh air and rain-kissed leaves was her second. And then Mei's eyes zeroed in on the slight ruffle of the curtains that draped over the door to her balcony. Not to mention the shadowed figure that stood illuminated by the light of the moon on the other side. The slouched posture. The unruly crop of hair. And the fact that only a handful of people knew that she had returned from her mission, a day earlier than expected.
It could only be one person.
"Kakashi?" she called softly, sliding the door open just a fraction more than it already was. Normally, unexpected guests would not be too out of the ordinary. Even, occasionally, at this hour. Mei was a fairly friendly person, after all, and there were always people coming in and out of her home for one reason or another. But it was a rare sight indeed to see the young Hatake overshadowing her doorstep -- or rather, her balcony. "Haven't I seen enough of you in the last week?"
"Maybe," was his response, shifting a pointed glance in her direction, "But apparently I haven't seen... enough of you."
Mei resisted rolling her eyes at that and tried not to physically coil at the look he gave her. Appreciative or not, it was just strange to get such a thing from the normally anti-social young man. Instead, she opted to trade in the towel for a more concealing robe. "Is there a point to you being here? Usually nothing short of the apocalypse would get you to come over, even with Minato."
Here, he paused. And for a long stretch of time, there was nothing except the silence that stood between them. Him staring up at the cloudless skies. Her watching him intently to continue. But while it might have been easy to simply nudge the conversation forward, there was just something about the way he stood and carried himself that caused Mei to stop and wait. After all, conversations involving Kakashi tended to be few and far in between. The fact that he would initiate this one meant that it was important, at least to him.
"It's hard, isn't it?" he finally said, "Forgetting the faces... ignoring the reminders."
And whether he realized it or not, Kakashi's hand reached up to light brush over where his forehead protector covered the scarred eye he had carried for so many years. Ever since that mission -- his first mission as a newly appointed Jounin.
She look away at the sight and the memory to give him a private moment as Mei hugged her arms around her slender frame. And in a small voice, she responded with a quiet, "...Yeah."
"Sometimes... dealing with them alone is not enough."
Such a statement could be interpreted in a number of ways, some fairly innocent. And others not so virtuous. The key was in reading the signs. In using that knowledge to come to a suitable conclusion. And if the way Kakashi seemed to be tracing over the outline of her body with his eyes said anything, it was that he was leaning towards the latter. That alone was enough cause to question her own sanity.
"Just... what exactly are you suggesting?"
Kakashi quirked a brow in response.
"You want... us to..."
As if he were almost embarrassed -- ashamed -- to respond with a clear answer, the young man looked away. And that was all the confirmation Mei needed.
He was normally not one for indulgence, of the flesh or anything else beyond serving as a useful agent of the Leaf Village. Those who knew him well and long enough, understood that. Living up to a legend like The White Fang of Konoha tended to instill a great amount of responsibility and a mountain of expectations. For as long as Kakashi was old enough to comprehend the history of the village, he had been following in his father's shadow. Mei was certainly familiar with how such a thing could age a soul. And sometimes she forgot that he was only eighteen years old. That she was only twenty-one.
Still, the kunoichi could not help but hesitate.
Sensing her hesitation, he tried reasoning. "We're both consenting adults - "
" - Barely. - "
" - Missions are only going to get harder to deal with if this war continues."
"You mean as this war continues..." Because, clearly, it would. That was the nature of all wars, especially when both sides refused to back down. Pride was a powerful force, after all. " - And I don't need you to tell me that, my father was the Hokage. I grew up in this."
He seemed to stop a moment to regard her with a unreadable gaze. "...It was just a thought. A means to an end, as it were, that we both could use."
"...Why?"
"Because we're both alive. And we don't know for how long." Turning from where he stood facing out towards the village, Kakashi lightly leaned back to rest on the rail of the balcony. To face her with the undeniable truth of the matter. "And sometimes we need to be reminded of that."
It made sense. As crazy and impossibly strange as it sounded, it was actually a practical course of action. Especially now, when the both of them remained the only survivors of their latest mission. Why not cling to and seek comfort in each other as they had clung to life after their companions were so forcibly ripped from the mortal coil?
"It's up to you. I won't force anything."
Leave it to Kakashi to make casual sex pragmatic.
"Do you know how many girls in this village would jump at the chance to spend a night with you, logical reason or not?"
She could almost see the cloth of his mask shift into a smirk at the comment. "...I have a fairly good idea."
"So why come to me? Of all people, why would you propose this to me?"
"Because... You're the only one who would understand."
They shared a similar cause. A common experience, both recent and profound in their long history of dealing with death. Mei was not quite as young as Kakashi had been when she had lost her mother. But she had carried it with her for a long stretch of time. Just as he had carried his father's death -- his legacy -- with him. And perhaps that was the most important indication that it had to be him. That it had to be her.
"So... what will it be?"
He was leaving it up for her to decide. And while the better part of Mei's psyche said to take the safe road and simply decline, there was another part of the kunoichi that urged her to simply take the risk. They were intelligent. They were unattached . If it did not work out, neither one would be worse for the wear and the both of them would be able to continue on as if nothing happened. Simple as that.
Sighing softly, the kunoichi pushed open the balcony door all the way and stepped aside, gesturing with her hand for him to enter if he pleased. And to her mild surprise, he did, stopping right in front of her. As if he were waiting for Mei's next move.
"Well?" he inquired.
"I let you in. It's your move now."
"...Not for long."
In an instant, his arms were around her, pulling Mei tight against him, his cloth-covered lips pressed to hers in a searing kiss. And even as her own hands fell to rest on him in an awkward manner, she could only wonder just how good Kakashi's lips would feel without the mask covering the lower half of his face. As socially reclusive as he was, when did the boy ever find the time to perfect his technique? And once more, why, of all times, did it really matter?
With one swift motion, Mei closed the balcony door and slid the lock into place, never once breaking the contact of her lips against his. And under the cover of shadows, the kunoichi's hands became bolder. Less reluctant as her fingers easily threaded through his silver strands. Over the hard and smooth lines of his back hidden under far too much clothing. They needed this. She needed this. And now that the flames of determination and resolve began, there would be no turning back.
Whether by his insistence or hers, they finally broke the kiss, heaving for air and yet wanting nothing more but to return to the sweet oblivion of the union. But before Mei could protest the loss in contact and heat, she felt the smooth nip of his lips on her cheek. Against her jaw. And then down along the column of her neck. It was not until he began lavishing his attention on the crook of her neck that Mei realized, there was no cloth hindering his advances. All symbolisms aside, there was no mask to hide Kakashi's face from the world.
When he had the time or forward thinking to even take it off, she could not begin to wonder. Because at that moment, his teeth grazed over a particularly sensitive branch of nerves that pulled a soft gasp from Mei's lips before she even had the time to register and stifle it. Which only encouraged his efforts if the gentle chuckle of breath was any indication. But as the smooth fabric of her robes slowly slide off the kunoichi's shoulder to give him more room to play, she could hardly bring herself to care at the small show of weakness and pleasure. All the better for the experience, right?
Nimble fingers moved to get his clothes off, making quick work of it with the help of an equally enthused Kakashi. All the while, stumbling towards the dark corner of the room where the bed was located. And then he was sandwiching her body between him and the mattress, tugging at the chord of rope that kept the last remaining patches of skin mildly concealed and pulling at the flaps of her robes. After that, it all became nothing more than a blur of motion and of color, of skin and shadows as it parted for him. As she parted for him and placed her trust in him. And with that trust, Kakashi slowly pushed himself in.
With the gentle thrust past her lips, the faces of her comrades flashed in her mind. Of those that they had both left behind on their last mission and of all the others in the village that they had lost to this war. Of her former life when the both of them were simply children playing a game of war instead of fighting one. Before they were faceless soldiers and minor casualties. Back when Kakashi had been the next generation of the Hatake family instead of the last remaining heir. When she was simply the daughter of the Hokage and not the leading commander of a legacy.
Sometimes it became a question of how either one of them managed to survive the reputation of their respective families. How they continued to deal with the overwhelming pressures that come with the names they were born into. But with every sigh of Kakashi's name that she gave, with every new patch of Mei's skin his fingers explored, it all melted away until there was nothing left but him and her. Two souls joined physically, mentally, and spiritually. Something that became more and more clear while he continued to slide in and out of her heated passage, slick with an unspoken agreement that they both shared. Understood.
If nothing else, they would always have this. They would always have each other.
He mumbled something against her mouth, his breath coming short in soft puffs breezing over her wet skin. And she whispered something in return, cheeks pinked from the mingled efforts of their gentle movements. And then came that hitch in her tone that told him she was close. Good. He was too.
His hands slipping around Mei's waist and back to bring their bodies closer, Kakashi continued the easy jerk of his hip into her tight passage, feeling her nails dig into his skin with a mingled bliss and pain that wholly described their union until with a low grunt from him and quiet shudder of breath from her, they both reached their euphoric peak.
Giving one final push he came inside of her.
Minutes passed -- hours -- before either one moved from where they laid stretched out over the mattress. He with his head cradled in the crook of her neck. She with her arms wrapped around his lithe form. Sweat clung to her curves, just as Mei suspected it clung to Kakashi's chiseled features. But still, they remained unmoving in the silence and the stillness until he lifted his head to face her. To cup his hand along her face. And after a moment -- after feeling the calloused skin of his thumb caress the curve of her cheek -- she smiled and returned the gesture.
"When's your next mission?"
"In three days. Yours?"
"Five."
"...I'll see you when you get back?"
"...Yeah. I'll come to you this time."
no subject
You love my violent inspiration, and you know it. But the funny thing is how slow it works it's way into your head and forces you to do it's luscious, evil bidding. xD
*snuggles up, looking sweet and innocent* When is the next chapter coming out?
no subject
because you know you will 8|AND I NEVER SAID THAT I DIDN'T LOVE YOUR VIOLENT INSPIRATION....
*snuggles with* I'mgladyouenjoyedit.
PS. ...If I make into a one-shot collection, I'm gonna have to change the name of this fic.