endless_scrolls (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
endless_scrolls) wrote2010-08-05 02:47 pm
endless_scrolls) wrote2010-08-05 02:47 pm
Recipe for Disaster
Title: Recipe for Disaster
Type: Not-So-Drabble
Fandom: Naruto
Theme: Faulty Footwork [ Wordcount: 1387 ]
Character(s): Tenten, Uchiha Sasuke; brief mention of Aburame Shino, Haruno Sakura
Pairing(s): Hints of Sasuke/Tenten, implications of Sasuke/Sakura, implications of Shino/Tenten
Warning(s): Sexy tymes, omg, children under 16 should go sit in the corner until it's over ./////.;
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words.
Note: Based on a plot idea originally made for the RP community of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
circleobetrayal that eventually inspired the fic 'Inheritance of Betrayal.' Theme borrowed from 30_tortures and completely got away from me. In massive form. That I should've broken up into two or three smaller fics, Holy Freakin' Hell. >_>; Part three of three.
Dedicated to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
its_game_time you can turn Sasuke's head away now
"...Her voice is higher."
Tenten's eyes dart up to meet his own, brows furrowing in confusion at the sudden comment before setting on the simple understanding that this held no reason. That they held no reason. And perhaps due to a waver of the light or simply her own imagination, it seemed as if the edge of his lips quirked up for the briefest of moments. Challengingly. In amusement. Maybe even a mixture of both. All that she knew was that it was gone in a blink of an eye, like it was never there to begin with. And perhaps it wasn't. Everything she knew of him would have supported that notion. But some part of Tenten could not help but think otherwise. After all, considering Sasuke's history, he was nothing but an endless collection of contradictions.
Still, she pressed on. Because as strange and as unconventional as this battle of wits and words was, she refused to willingly lose to him. "His is deeper."
"Hm, maybe. But I hear yours more often than you hear mine."
"Tch. Keep telling yourself that." And in spite of herself, the kunoichi could not help but smirk lightly at the thought for the briefest of moments before her mask of neutrality returned.
But it had been enough. He had seen it, she knew, as he saw most other things happening around him. The Sharingan advantages that were his birthright granted Sasuke such. And the notable gleam in his eyes were telling enough of his careful observance.
"I'm not her." You're not him, she wanted to add in defense, but could not bring herself to, though a part of her didn't really understand why when it was a knowledge shared by both. It had been an agreement approved by both. Because while they held their distinct differences, there was no denying that Uchiha Sasuke shared a few prominent similarities with the young Aburame heir. Dark hair and dark eyes binded their two families in appearances. Tradition and expectations linked them in personality. Silent and reserved by nature. Secretive, almost, though the kunoichi had spent enough time with both to learn how to read the unspoken words that were written in their faces and locked in their mannerisms. Intelligent, calculative, and driven to become the best for the sake of their families. The fact that the Uchiha consisted of two estranged and waring brothers and an unknown relative didn't matter much where Sasuke's pride was concerned. A clan was a clan, even in memory.
It was easy to see how one could become the other to an all too willing mind. But, she wondered, was it really that easy to forget one and believe she was with the other?
"No, you're not," was his response, bringing the kunoichi out of her own mind once more, "And maybe it doesn't even matter anymore..."
Unsure of what he meant by that, the kunoichi furrowed her brows and continued to trail her eyes over the expanse of his face, seeking out the telling truths and hidden thoughts that the young Uchiha refused to speak. To ever speak. And it was in doing that Tenten realized how little she actually knew of him as a man, or how little he actually understood her. Before, it had been Shino's lips and hands exploring the curves of her body, his lines and muscles that she felt underneath her palms. And she was certain it had been so for him as well, picturing with delusional accuracy the feel and form of Sakura's body as he took pleasure from hers. That was why they had always kept the lights off, so that the illusion wouldn't be so easily broken. But something was different now, or maybe it had been for some time.
Maybe there had been more than one masking delusion the whole time.
"Hm..." he scoffed. And there was a thoughtful hesitance as his fingers brushed along the bruises on her neck, as if he were considering possibilities as well. "You wear a lot more than she does, anyways."
Except for now, Tenten wanted to add, but thought better of it and simply leaned her head back so that his lips could soothe away the stinging pain that still lingered. And in spite of herself and whatever strength of will remained, the young woman closed her eyes and let out a quiet breath at how good it actually felt for him to do so now that the skin was tender and more receptive to the touch.
"You wear a lot less," the kunoichi whispered in return. Carefully and attentively, she spayed her fingers over his back, slowly moving them down along the ridges of his spine to prove that particular point. And for what Tenten realized was the first time, she actually felt his muscles shift under them. His and no one else's, imagined or real. And with a roll of his hips, she was very aware of all his muscles.
Sighing against the kunoichi's shoulder, Tenten shuddered a breath at how his fingers and hands curled around her back and waist to bring their bodies closer; to arch her up against him as they began moving together. "She has less scars."
In a strict act of discipline, the kunoichi gritted her teeth and bit back any unnecessary sounds that could filter past the doors of the chamber -- to the outside world they were merely sparring partners and only mildly tolerated each other; that was the rouse the two had decided on -- and rolled her head to the side as an attentive tongue toyed with the pulse point in her neck. And in that moment, Tenten trailed her eyes over what little she could see of his skin in the candlelight and found it scarred as most shinobi would. But his was wholly different than Shino's, only a pale and jagged line here and there where a sword or kunai had managed to get past his defenses. But then again, she could hardly expect Sasuke to be able to recreate the markings of where the kikai entered and exited through the body. Or that he would have them in the first place. "He... has a lot more."
It was more than she ever knew it to be. The combination of feeling and seeing what she was touching was like a new experiment she never wanted to undertake because of the risk they posed. It was easy to believe -- to see -- someone else's face in the darkness; to give in to her desires of being in the arms of someone who still remained loyal to the village and its goals. And in an idealistic world, there would be no need to deceive herself into thinking that he was such a man. Or that he wasn't picturing another in her place as he swept a few fingers along her temple to clear away the dark strands that covered dirt-brown pupils, wishing that they were green. But they did not live in an idealistic world. And maybe, just maybe, they were no longer pretending.
"And your hair's too long."
In pointing out all the ways they differed and all the flaws that they both held in comparison to the ideal -- to the dream -- it was hard to pretend anymore. It was hard to remain in denial of what they both had known for some time.
Reaching up, the kunoichi tangled her fingers into the strands of hair that framed his face and looked deeply into the black swirls of the other's eyes for what seemed like the first time. And could not help but smirk at the irony of the thought as she leaned in to capture his lips with hers. "So's yours."
They had both stopped living one lie and began existing in another, one where the restrictions of their contract were still in place. And that the necessity for them still mattered. She wasn't exactly sure at what point she stopped, or started. But when it was all over and done with, the realization was hard to ignore. They had gone beyond implanting another's face, another's image in place of each other; beyond the need to. And though a small part of them might have wished for it, there was no turning back now.
Type: Not-So-Drabble
Fandom: Naruto
Theme: Faulty Footwork [ Wordcount: 1387 ]
Character(s): Tenten, Uchiha Sasuke; brief mention of Aburame Shino, Haruno Sakura
Pairing(s): Hints of Sasuke/Tenten, implications of Sasuke/Sakura, implications of Shino/Tenten
Warning(s): Sexy tymes, omg, children under 16 should go sit in the corner until it's over ./////.;
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words.
Note: Based on a plot idea originally made for the RP community of
circleobetrayal that eventually inspired the fic 'Inheritance of Betrayal.' Theme borrowed from 30_tortures and completely got away from me. Dedicated to:
its_game_time "...Her voice is higher."
Tenten's eyes dart up to meet his own, brows furrowing in confusion at the sudden comment before setting on the simple understanding that this held no reason. That they held no reason. And perhaps due to a waver of the light or simply her own imagination, it seemed as if the edge of his lips quirked up for the briefest of moments. Challengingly. In amusement. Maybe even a mixture of both. All that she knew was that it was gone in a blink of an eye, like it was never there to begin with. And perhaps it wasn't. Everything she knew of him would have supported that notion. But some part of Tenten could not help but think otherwise. After all, considering Sasuke's history, he was nothing but an endless collection of contradictions.
Still, she pressed on. Because as strange and as unconventional as this battle of wits and words was, she refused to willingly lose to him. "His is deeper."
"Hm, maybe. But I hear yours more often than you hear mine."
"Tch. Keep telling yourself that." And in spite of herself, the kunoichi could not help but smirk lightly at the thought for the briefest of moments before her mask of neutrality returned.
But it had been enough. He had seen it, she knew, as he saw most other things happening around him. The Sharingan advantages that were his birthright granted Sasuke such. And the notable gleam in his eyes were telling enough of his careful observance.
"I'm not her." You're not him, she wanted to add in defense, but could not bring herself to, though a part of her didn't really understand why when it was a knowledge shared by both. It had been an agreement approved by both. Because while they held their distinct differences, there was no denying that Uchiha Sasuke shared a few prominent similarities with the young Aburame heir. Dark hair and dark eyes binded their two families in appearances. Tradition and expectations linked them in personality. Silent and reserved by nature. Secretive, almost, though the kunoichi had spent enough time with both to learn how to read the unspoken words that were written in their faces and locked in their mannerisms. Intelligent, calculative, and driven to become the best for the sake of their families. The fact that the Uchiha consisted of two estranged and waring brothers and an unknown relative didn't matter much where Sasuke's pride was concerned. A clan was a clan, even in memory.
It was easy to see how one could become the other to an all too willing mind. But, she wondered, was it really that easy to forget one and believe she was with the other?
"No, you're not," was his response, bringing the kunoichi out of her own mind once more, "And maybe it doesn't even matter anymore..."
Unsure of what he meant by that, the kunoichi furrowed her brows and continued to trail her eyes over the expanse of his face, seeking out the telling truths and hidden thoughts that the young Uchiha refused to speak. To ever speak. And it was in doing that Tenten realized how little she actually knew of him as a man, or how little he actually understood her. Before, it had been Shino's lips and hands exploring the curves of her body, his lines and muscles that she felt underneath her palms. And she was certain it had been so for him as well, picturing with delusional accuracy the feel and form of Sakura's body as he took pleasure from hers. That was why they had always kept the lights off, so that the illusion wouldn't be so easily broken. But something was different now, or maybe it had been for some time.
Maybe there had been more than one masking delusion the whole time.
"Hm..." he scoffed. And there was a thoughtful hesitance as his fingers brushed along the bruises on her neck, as if he were considering possibilities as well. "You wear a lot more than she does, anyways."
Except for now, Tenten wanted to add, but thought better of it and simply leaned her head back so that his lips could soothe away the stinging pain that still lingered. And in spite of herself and whatever strength of will remained, the young woman closed her eyes and let out a quiet breath at how good it actually felt for him to do so now that the skin was tender and more receptive to the touch.
"You wear a lot less," the kunoichi whispered in return. Carefully and attentively, she spayed her fingers over his back, slowly moving them down along the ridges of his spine to prove that particular point. And for what Tenten realized was the first time, she actually felt his muscles shift under them. His and no one else's, imagined or real. And with a roll of his hips, she was very aware of all his muscles.
Sighing against the kunoichi's shoulder, Tenten shuddered a breath at how his fingers and hands curled around her back and waist to bring their bodies closer; to arch her up against him as they began moving together. "She has less scars."
In a strict act of discipline, the kunoichi gritted her teeth and bit back any unnecessary sounds that could filter past the doors of the chamber -- to the outside world they were merely sparring partners and only mildly tolerated each other; that was the rouse the two had decided on -- and rolled her head to the side as an attentive tongue toyed with the pulse point in her neck. And in that moment, Tenten trailed her eyes over what little she could see of his skin in the candlelight and found it scarred as most shinobi would. But his was wholly different than Shino's, only a pale and jagged line here and there where a sword or kunai had managed to get past his defenses. But then again, she could hardly expect Sasuke to be able to recreate the markings of where the kikai entered and exited through the body. Or that he would have them in the first place. "He... has a lot more."
It was more than she ever knew it to be. The combination of feeling and seeing what she was touching was like a new experiment she never wanted to undertake because of the risk they posed. It was easy to believe -- to see -- someone else's face in the darkness; to give in to her desires of being in the arms of someone who still remained loyal to the village and its goals. And in an idealistic world, there would be no need to deceive herself into thinking that he was such a man. Or that he wasn't picturing another in her place as he swept a few fingers along her temple to clear away the dark strands that covered dirt-brown pupils, wishing that they were green. But they did not live in an idealistic world. And maybe, just maybe, they were no longer pretending.
"And your hair's too long."
In pointing out all the ways they differed and all the flaws that they both held in comparison to the ideal -- to the dream -- it was hard to pretend anymore. It was hard to remain in denial of what they both had known for some time.
Reaching up, the kunoichi tangled her fingers into the strands of hair that framed his face and looked deeply into the black swirls of the other's eyes for what seemed like the first time. And could not help but smirk at the irony of the thought as she leaned in to capture his lips with hers. "So's yours."
They had both stopped living one lie and began existing in another, one where the restrictions of their contract were still in place. And that the necessity for them still mattered. She wasn't exactly sure at what point she stopped, or started. But when it was all over and done with, the realization was hard to ignore. They had gone beyond implanting another's face, another's image in place of each other; beyond the need to. And though a small part of them might have wished for it, there was no turning back now.