a/n: Thanks to Daria/saboten drawing the ZenSachi sexytimes, I figured I should at least pay her back. I can't believe I wrote something smutty for something that wasn't GinTsu, but here we are. LOL
This is a sequel to "Off-Kilter", please don't read this before you read that one-shot.
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It's surprising how comfortably domestic they can get, considering their circumstances.
His large property is mostly furnished. He can cook well enough compared to her, which he does every day without a complaint unless she wants a take-out pizza. He knows her favorite drinks and snacks. And probably most horrifying of all, he buys her preferred brand of feminine hygiene products and stocks them in her bathroom. It's a little bit scary how Hattori Zenzou knows everything about her, but maybe that's how the story of childhood friends turned lovers is supposed to end up.
He doesn't force her to share rooms with him but he'll still read books under a dim light next to her futon before she dozes off. Sometimes she can hear him say "Good night" before turning the light off and he vanishes noiselessly into his room across from hers.
The general feeling she gets is that he trusts her with his life, but there's a part of his heart that he won't relinquish entirely to her. Not yet. Even after that one perfect kiss underneath the magnolia tree, it's as if they're moving slowly towards an unnamed destination. It's enough to be annoying, but also not enough of an incentive to rush through it all.
Figures she wouldn't have slept with him yet. It's not as if the chemistry isn't hot enough - she's no virgin, and he... Well, he's a man too, so there's no doubt he has some sort of feelings for her in that way, but either way, it just doesn't feel right.
The subject blocking their progress, she thinks, is really Sakata Gintoki, and with some annoyance she wonders why she'd wasted so much of her time on someone who never looked at her the way Zenzou does when he thinks she's not looking.
They can't really talk about him that much, because her affection had been obvious for years. She'd picked fights with Shimura Tae, even Tsukuyo at times if there was the tiniest insinuation that they'd spent any time with the white-haired samurai. She'd been a Class A Bitch, obsessed and wildly enthusiastic about knowing every dirty habit Gintoki had, spending hours in his cramped attic just so she could catch a glimpse of him - oh, maybe masturbating?
Pretty gross, she knew, but hey, she was a professional ninja.
Zenzou once mentioned off-handedly that he'd saved Gintoki's life once, but Sacchan never asked for the details. She gets the impression that both of them respect each other in a resentful way. They both liked Shonen Jump and were huge tsunderes. It was in their nature to help out people.
But that was where the similarities stopped. Sacchan can't figure out why she used to like Gintoki so passionately, and now she's trying to figure out how she can tell Zenzou that part of her life is over. A good portion of her screentime in the anime is centered around how devoted she is to Gintoki, so no wonder Zenzou hasn't been able to approach her again. It's almost like the whole incident of passion, where he asked her to stay with him so that he can protect her, was just a dream.
Maybe, she figures, he thinks it's a fluke.
-x-
The two of them are still on a sabbatical; they're not working because there haven't been calls for jobs and it's not like they really need the money. One week after the kiss, Sacchan finally gets fed up with the stalemate between her and her "roommate", and says he can get into her bed tonight. This happens after he sits down as usual, in his pajamas, with a book and a dimmed down lantern next to her futon.
"Um," he says. "I don't know about that, Sarutobi - " because he's a prude, she thinks furiously, and under the notion that he's supposed to be a Responsible Boss of the Oniwabanshuu.
"So what are we?" Sacchan counters, sitting upright, wanting to know the label to this madness. She's wearing the glasses that Gengai fixed for her. It can still laser through brick walls if she wants it to.
He swallows. "Um - " he says before she presses her lips to his and pulls him to her bed. They kiss for a few seconds, before he breaks free and asks, "Why me? Why now?"
Zenzou's weight is on top of her, his bangs are swaying out of his blue eyes, and she can feel her heart beating faster and faster as she tries to think of a good reply.
"Because," she says breathlessly. "I strayed. And then I found my way back."
Her trembling fingers unbutton his pajama top. Somehow paying anonymous strangers to make her submit seems so much easier than this, back before she met Sakata Gintoki, before things got so complicated between her and Zenzou. Thankfully, the article of clothing comes off effortlessly, revealing his slim physique.
Like her, he has scars stretching from the top to the bottom of his torso. They're both in their mid-twenties, and good shinobi don't survive this long in the game without finding cuts everywhere. It reminds Sacchan that they've gotten this far with hard work and perseverance. Maybe two birds of a feather really flock together. How can a samurai like Gintoki be with a shinobi like her? He'd never understand her the same way that Zenzou does.
"Can your hemorrhoids, handle - um - " She's mortified that she's blushing.
"Yeah, as long as you're not into pegging." To her surprise he's out of breath too before she realizes that her shirt is see through, showing off her breasts. She's always had a great rack.
"I'm not," she says. She kisses him again, and rubs her hips against them, rocking them until she can hear his breath hitching, and breaks off. Their bodies are separated by only a little, and it doesn't take much time and effort until they're both naked, pressed chest-to-chest, and the stroke of his erection against her is hard and arousing. She's surprised that he's well-endowed (after all, she presumed there had to be a reason why he aimed for the fugly chicks. She's glad she's an exception.)
She doesn't know how bad she really has it for him until he teases her, ever so slightly, dragging the tip of his member against her slit.
He lowered his face to hers again, kissing her neck, his cock nudged against her entrance and she thought she'd die from how aroused she was.
"Please - " she begs, in a situation that's neither masochistic nor submissive.
Zenzou kissed her again and shoved forward, one smooth motion, entering her completely, stretching her, filling her.
"Oh, god," she cried, clutching him to her, drawing her own legs up around his waist, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. "Oh, god," she whimpered again as he withdrew and re-entered her.
She arched her body higher under his, closing her eyes, allowing herself to get past the basic need of him inside of her and begin to savor the sheer pleasure of his body naked against hers, entwined with hers, inside of hers. For so long she'd forgotten what it was really like to make love, to be able to see every detail of the person pleasuring her to excess.
As he slid in and out of her languidly, she became acutely aware of her efforts to keep her voice strangled. Her body tightened and throbbed for release, and yet she whimpered little, sharp small noises from the back of her throat.
"Ayame..."
It's his voice that does it for her. It's something possessive, something greedy that lets her know that she's always been the one for him.
And this time as he entered her, something turned loose inside her. Something let go. She started to cry. Not crying with tears but from deep in her chest, deep in herself. "It's only you," she sobbed. "It doesn't matter, I just want you."
Feeling her let go, feeling her muscles clench around his hardness, Zenzou changed his rhythm yet again, his thrusts becoming sharper, more urgent. He buried his face against her hair, groaning against her as his cock jerked inside her, calling out her name as he found his own release.
He lay atop her, their bodies warm and flushed while he whispered her name against her hair, kissing her eyes, kissing the tears away from them. She continued to sniffle and tremble beneath him until at last he asked, "Ayame, what's wrong?"
She loved that he was stroking her hair slowly. But her tears would not stop. She was afraid of the beauty of what she had stumbled across; seized by the fear that something terrible would happen because she was not vigilant enough. She cried at the fear of something so good that she would not be brave enough to bear it.
"I love you," she admitted.
"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?" he asked, kissing her shoulder.
"I don't know," Sacchan whispers. "But what if you die? Like Shigeshige - or Kagemaru?" She rested her head against his chest. "So many of our old classmates are gone already."
"Didn't I promise that I'll always have your back, and you can protect mine, too?" he asked, kissing her forehead. "Oh ye of little faith. That's how we managed to survive the last big crisis, don't you remember?"
She remembers. Maybe a little too well.
"Y'know, I've loved you ever since we were kids," Zenzou said softly. "And I know I'd rather cut a hole in my heart than to let you feel heartbroken anymore."
There's something magnificent and true in his confession that makes her cry even more. It's not that she blames herself for falling for the wrong man for so long. It's just that this person - someone who's been right in front of her all this time - has been waiting for her, even if she doesn't automatically catch onto it.
"I'm sorry for making you go through all that," she says.
"Don't be," he replies. "I'm just glad you're mine."
-x-
the end
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