you can have whatever you like;
description; fic. 3 word pages' worth of porn. sasukasu. that's all there is to know.
note; this is what happens when i listen to anya marina on repeat. shahni, this is for you. ♥ if it doesn't caress your tagging erection back to life, i'm not quite sure what will. (but i can keep trying.)
Kasuga likes to joke about building bars in her window to keep him out, whenever he gets too close, slips too close to her heart for comfort, as a way of keeping him out, of warning him that her instincts are coiling up like a cobra, ready to strike at the threat that he poses. She keeps joking, sometimes she actually means them, but she never has them installed. Soon, those bars become a metaphor, a symbolism of her own wall-building that shields her heart from the bruises that he could cause with a few well placed words.
Eventually, Kasuga realizes that he has no intention of hurting her, not on purpose. Whether he realizes it or not, the fact that he retreats so easily once Kenshin arrives on the island makes her frown at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she’s not as important to him as he has come to be to her. Ten months change a person, especially ten months spent together, between the silent understanding (because she understands her more than anyone would, as a ninja, and as the woman beneath the ninja as well), the shared information (that neither truly need to share with each other, but it’s always a good excuse to spend time together, to wordlessly admit that they are allies here, just as, in a small, strange way, they have been in their own world, with the mutual help), and more importantly, the emotional moments spent together (being married to him turned her more into a woman than any dream could have, and she sometimes wonders how that would have gone, had she not sabotaged herself). So after all that, when he seems to disappear from her atrociously busy life, she feels the absence.
Maybe that’s why, when he slips into the garden she planted to ask if she’s done being busy over trivial distractions, she feel relief. And maybe it’s that silent something, the unspoken admission that he, too, needs her for something, that makes her tell him she won’t build the bars in her windows anymore. And the metaphor is not lost on any of them.
The first time after that, she’s the one to contact him. She asks that the rendezvous be on neutral grounds - though what she means by that is that she wants neither of their worlds to intrude on them - so they settle of a room in one of the hotels designed for intercourse. She doesn’t blush like a teenager, because they’d be fooling themselves to pretend that it won’t end in the bedsheets. But they manage to keep pretenses up for half an hour, while they pour over notes and compare information over this and that enemy and rival. Ninjas know and see everything, but they do not openly admit it. He tells her who to avoid, and she tells him about her new job at the bank - and, perhaps too kindly, offers assistance if he should ever ask for a loan to start his own restaurant instead of working at the usual one.
Then Sasuke makes a comment about her collar, and she makes a comment about his. There’s a scuffle, as there always is, because he still manages to irritate her no matter what, and then -
Neither knows who moves first, but they’re crashing together, falling onto the bed, lips locked in a fierce kiss. Her hands tug his headband off and her fingers bury in his hair, pulling him closer just as he runs his hands up her sides, languorously, making her arch. She pulls him between her legs, and it’s crash and burn from thereon. He grinds against her slowly, brings her to the brink of the first orgasm with just that, and bites her collarbone as his hips snap forward harshly, watching her gasp out his name as she shudders with the initial wave of pleasure.
It doesn’t stop there, though. As soon as she’s satisfied, she rolls them over, and yanks off his shirt, pushing him down on the bed and trailing her tongue from the dip of his throat up to his chin, finishing off with a bite. He growls softly, and grips her hips - those hips have his fingers imprinted on them by now - pushing up against her through too many layers of clothes.
It isn’t slow. It isn’t teasing. There’ll be time for that later, but the first time, their hands move expertly, pulling off clothes, touching the skin they uncover. He pinches her nipples as she pulls his erection free, and watches her bring him up to full hardness between the softness of her breasts. When it’s too good to stand it, he rolls them over again, and runs his hand up her skirt - silently thanking the modern clothes she wears to blend in - pushes aside her panties and slides one finger inside her warm heat slowly, loving the way she grabs at his shoulders and shakes, loving the small mischievous smile she gets on her mouth when he adds a second finger and loving the way that smile turns into a vague ‘oh’ as he curls his fingers and presses.
“Hurry,” she whispers at one point, lifting her head from the mattress - not anywhere near the pillows, not with how all-over-the-place they’re being; their heads at the end of the bed - and licks his left nipple, sucking it and giving it a bite as she arches her hips into his hand. “Hurry.”
And he thinks, for a moment, that he can still control her. Lifts her legs and sets them both over his left shoulder, spreading her folds with the fingers he pulls out of her, and with his other hand, positions himself at her entrance and pushes-
He can’t control shit.
- she’s never been this wet this fast before, and before he can help it, he’s stifling a groan against the soft skin of her calf, moving in and out at a paced rhythm. Kasuga murmurs something under him, her toes curling, and reaches for him with both hands, her nails digging into the skin of his ass as she pulls him closer, hard. “Fucking flexibility,” he breathes out, licks her leg before changing them until her knees are thrown over his shoulders, and leans down to kiss the top of her breasts. He moves, and she moves with him, short, hard, desperate to get there but still not too quick about it. She leaves red marks on his lower back with her nails, and tells him not to dare stop now.
So of course that’s his cue - because he knows how she gets when she comes - so he pulls out and flips her on her back, pushing back inside within the span of a few seconds. “God, I hate-“ she starts, but that ‘you’ turns into an incoherent moan when he slams inside her and pulls her hips up to meet him. Her face pressed to the mattress, the silky expanse of her back curved as she arches until her ass is in the air - she looks like a goddess, and he wants to bury himself in her, to wrap her up and take her away somewhere where this sort of thing can become a daily thing. He knows she hates the way he keeps switching positions mid-sex, but that’s why he does it, and besides - her moans always grow louder with the change of pace, and he knows too well when to change.
He knows she’s close, and she knows he is, and there’s a silent agreement that they want to see each other’s faces when they do. So he pulls out again, turns her on her side and lifts her leg, pressing it to his chest as he returns to her hot prison. She reaches for him with one hand, and he grips it, fingers entangled, squeezing, squeezing -
And then they both scream and crash, incoherent words flying out of their mouths - maybe even love, here, there - hands reaching, legs moving around his waist as he falls against her, mouths crushed together in another life-sucking kiss.
And then it’s over, but they don’t leave. Exhausted, they fall to the bed together, and Sasuke murmurs something about the room being rented out for the night before passing out.
She wakes him up in the middle of the night by licking the marks her nails have left on his back, and by the time round two ends and round three begins in the shower, they both know this won’t be a one-time occurrence.
note; this is what happens when i listen to anya marina on repeat. shahni, this is for you. ♥ if it doesn't caress your tagging erection back to life, i'm not quite sure what will. (but i can keep trying.)
Kasuga likes to joke about building bars in her window to keep him out, whenever he gets too close, slips too close to her heart for comfort, as a way of keeping him out, of warning him that her instincts are coiling up like a cobra, ready to strike at the threat that he poses. She keeps joking, sometimes she actually means them, but she never has them installed. Soon, those bars become a metaphor, a symbolism of her own wall-building that shields her heart from the bruises that he could cause with a few well placed words.
Eventually, Kasuga realizes that he has no intention of hurting her, not on purpose. Whether he realizes it or not, the fact that he retreats so easily once Kenshin arrives on the island makes her frown at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she’s not as important to him as he has come to be to her. Ten months change a person, especially ten months spent together, between the silent understanding (because she understands her more than anyone would, as a ninja, and as the woman beneath the ninja as well), the shared information (that neither truly need to share with each other, but it’s always a good excuse to spend time together, to wordlessly admit that they are allies here, just as, in a small, strange way, they have been in their own world, with the mutual help), and more importantly, the emotional moments spent together (being married to him turned her more into a woman than any dream could have, and she sometimes wonders how that would have gone, had she not sabotaged herself). So after all that, when he seems to disappear from her atrociously busy life, she feels the absence.
Maybe that’s why, when he slips into the garden she planted to ask if she’s done being busy over trivial distractions, she feel relief. And maybe it’s that silent something, the unspoken admission that he, too, needs her for something, that makes her tell him she won’t build the bars in her windows anymore. And the metaphor is not lost on any of them.
The first time after that, she’s the one to contact him. She asks that the rendezvous be on neutral grounds - though what she means by that is that she wants neither of their worlds to intrude on them - so they settle of a room in one of the hotels designed for intercourse. She doesn’t blush like a teenager, because they’d be fooling themselves to pretend that it won’t end in the bedsheets. But they manage to keep pretenses up for half an hour, while they pour over notes and compare information over this and that enemy and rival. Ninjas know and see everything, but they do not openly admit it. He tells her who to avoid, and she tells him about her new job at the bank - and, perhaps too kindly, offers assistance if he should ever ask for a loan to start his own restaurant instead of working at the usual one.
Then Sasuke makes a comment about her collar, and she makes a comment about his. There’s a scuffle, as there always is, because he still manages to irritate her no matter what, and then -
Neither knows who moves first, but they’re crashing together, falling onto the bed, lips locked in a fierce kiss. Her hands tug his headband off and her fingers bury in his hair, pulling him closer just as he runs his hands up her sides, languorously, making her arch. She pulls him between her legs, and it’s crash and burn from thereon. He grinds against her slowly, brings her to the brink of the first orgasm with just that, and bites her collarbone as his hips snap forward harshly, watching her gasp out his name as she shudders with the initial wave of pleasure.
It doesn’t stop there, though. As soon as she’s satisfied, she rolls them over, and yanks off his shirt, pushing him down on the bed and trailing her tongue from the dip of his throat up to his chin, finishing off with a bite. He growls softly, and grips her hips - those hips have his fingers imprinted on them by now - pushing up against her through too many layers of clothes.
It isn’t slow. It isn’t teasing. There’ll be time for that later, but the first time, their hands move expertly, pulling off clothes, touching the skin they uncover. He pinches her nipples as she pulls his erection free, and watches her bring him up to full hardness between the softness of her breasts. When it’s too good to stand it, he rolls them over again, and runs his hand up her skirt - silently thanking the modern clothes she wears to blend in - pushes aside her panties and slides one finger inside her warm heat slowly, loving the way she grabs at his shoulders and shakes, loving the small mischievous smile she gets on her mouth when he adds a second finger and loving the way that smile turns into a vague ‘oh’ as he curls his fingers and presses.
“Hurry,” she whispers at one point, lifting her head from the mattress - not anywhere near the pillows, not with how all-over-the-place they’re being; their heads at the end of the bed - and licks his left nipple, sucking it and giving it a bite as she arches her hips into his hand. “Hurry.”
And he thinks, for a moment, that he can still control her. Lifts her legs and sets them both over his left shoulder, spreading her folds with the fingers he pulls out of her, and with his other hand, positions himself at her entrance and pushes-
He can’t control shit.
- she’s never been this wet this fast before, and before he can help it, he’s stifling a groan against the soft skin of her calf, moving in and out at a paced rhythm. Kasuga murmurs something under him, her toes curling, and reaches for him with both hands, her nails digging into the skin of his ass as she pulls him closer, hard. “Fucking flexibility,” he breathes out, licks her leg before changing them until her knees are thrown over his shoulders, and leans down to kiss the top of her breasts. He moves, and she moves with him, short, hard, desperate to get there but still not too quick about it. She leaves red marks on his lower back with her nails, and tells him not to dare stop now.
So of course that’s his cue - because he knows how she gets when she comes - so he pulls out and flips her on her back, pushing back inside within the span of a few seconds. “God, I hate-“ she starts, but that ‘you’ turns into an incoherent moan when he slams inside her and pulls her hips up to meet him. Her face pressed to the mattress, the silky expanse of her back curved as she arches until her ass is in the air - she looks like a goddess, and he wants to bury himself in her, to wrap her up and take her away somewhere where this sort of thing can become a daily thing. He knows she hates the way he keeps switching positions mid-sex, but that’s why he does it, and besides - her moans always grow louder with the change of pace, and he knows too well when to change.
He knows she’s close, and she knows he is, and there’s a silent agreement that they want to see each other’s faces when they do. So he pulls out again, turns her on her side and lifts her leg, pressing it to his chest as he returns to her hot prison. She reaches for him with one hand, and he grips it, fingers entangled, squeezing, squeezing -
And then they both scream and crash, incoherent words flying out of their mouths - maybe even love, here, there - hands reaching, legs moving around his waist as he falls against her, mouths crushed together in another life-sucking kiss.
And then it’s over, but they don’t leave. Exhausted, they fall to the bed together, and Sasuke murmurs something about the room being rented out for the night before passing out.
She wakes him up in the middle of the night by licking the marks her nails have left on his back, and by the time round two ends and round three begins in the shower, they both know this won’t be a one-time occurrence.