Okay, okay…so here's this thing. I understand that is probably the most crack ships of all crack ships, but it's a thing. I'm part of this online RP, where, you can guess it, Yashamarau and the Road To Ninja version of Hinata are together. And they make a lovely fucking couple, just saying.
But it had to happen. The fanfiction of them had to happen. Because they are fucking majestic. And yeah, I hope you enjoy it.
The first time there were a lot of shaking hands and heavy breathing. What we lacked in foreplay we made for in kissing, our lips were like magnets through the whole night. I think that was what I found most attractive about the first time, the part that really reeled me in with the need for more. It was just something in the way he would kiss me so long, something in the way he would grab my face and turn it in the direction so that his tongue would find the easiest entry to my mouth. But he would sense me hold back just for a moment, sense my surprise at the fierce turning of my head and for a moment we would become clumsy, maybe our teeth hitting each other for a second or something. That's when I would make my move, grabbing a handful of his hair to force his mouth as close to mine as possible and bury myself in the overlapping wetness of our kissing. He would be aggressive at moments, pulling on my mouth fiercely, biting on my bottom lip before sliding his tongue and lips over my neck, and before I even had a chance to breathe, he was claiming my mouth for his own again.
He was gay; at least that's what he told me. But we still flirted; I still shamelessly gave into his coy invite for sex. It was exciting, in a way, because he had never had sex w/ a woman. And I thought back to my first time, about how I could go back and make it perfect. I didn't care for him that much, I just knew, though, that I wanted to make it perfect. I had asked him, for some inane reason, if he was nervous about being w/ a woman. He answered back "well yeah, I've never been w/ one before." It seemed innocent enough, but he said it in such a pretentious manner. I could hear the undertones in his voice, the phrase 'of fucking course' buried under the innuendo of 'well, yeah.' And it altogether made the situation feel delicate, like it was going to slip between my fingers, like he wouldn't enjoy the sex. That was certainly something my pride couldn't take, that someone would have the pleasure of sleeping w/ and not find it…well, pleasurable. Which isn't to say I wasn't a girl of my own needs, because I intended that every aspect of the night delightful for both parties.
And I can say this in good truth now, that is certainly was for me. I hope was just as much for him too. There was so much that he was nervous about, about how his hands fumbled w/ my bra strap, an object so foreign to him that even the basic mechanics of it seemed impossible. And when my breasts were free, he seemed confused; he just stared for a few moments. I had put his hands to them at first, squeeze his palm around them. But he seemed to catch on quite nicely, and when I titled my head back in a small moan I could almost hear the smile growing on his face. He played at them for a moment, like an instrument, my little moans and sharp intakes of breath a whole symphony at his fingertips. And god damn he was a good conductor.
It only took a little for me to need him. I had pushed him back, so that we fell into the soft nest of the bed while my hands pulled away at his clothes. I was on top for the entirety for the first time, only because of the obvious reasons. It's hard to describe the utter perfection of it all, of the way his face would change, or the small ragged breathes and loud, stuttering groans he let out. For a while I moved in a rhythm, in a set pace, my hips rocking back and forth over him, pawing at his chest that shone w/ sweat, but then his instinct took over, then he grabbed my hips, w/ nails digging into my skin, pulling me down on him harder and faster. I collapsed on his chest when I came, his own orgasm coming just a few seconds after mine, the words 'fuck' echoing off of both of our voices. We stayed there for several minutes afterwards; our hot breathes washing each other's skin. I ran my fingers through his hair, his perfectly soft cornflower hair.
"So, are you straight yet?" I asked him, it had been a joke, a little bit of sass, I thought, to go w/ his orgasm. But his answer surprised me.
"Can we just say bisexual?"
I had rolled off of him by then, and I was leaning over the bed to grab a cigarette when he said it. I pulled back up, looked at him, and took a long drag. Smoking wasn't something I normally did, it was a habit I had gotten into lately, something I picked up on after I found out Uzumaki was gay. I smoked when I was stressed or tired. And at that moment, I felt my body cooling down, but still sleek w/ sweat, the clamminess after sex that always bothered me. And I could still feel the act of the sex too, beating between my legs. It was like when you road on a boat, how hours later you could still feel the waves beating at you, I was still there then, riding them out.
"You know, we could make this a thing. No a relationship, but a friendship were we have a little extra friendship," I told him, and without thinking, offered the cigarette to him. For a moment, he looked at it, his utter refusal in his eyes. But then he took it, told me yes, and placed the dead end of it to those precious lips.
The second time was unexpected. A joke, somewhere along the lines, has passed between us. And then we were already having sex before I somehow became completely aware that the act itself was going on. It had been so much faster the second time; our kissing had been frantic, and our movements more hurried. We were out in public when it happened, when we both knew, that it was the time for our first experiment of friendship. If our lives were a cheesy tv show then some deep voiced woman would've sang to piano chords while we pulled each other along the back alleys of the village. We paused every few seconds, kissing and giggling. At one point he had bent down and picked me up and I wrapped my legs around him. My back was pressed against the wall, arching off of it as hit bit down into sensitive spots of my neck. I felt his growing erection against me and I pressed myself against, feeling lightening dance its way up my spine.
"God fucking damn it, Yashamaru," I had said, panting. "My fucking apartment is right there."
It was less than twenty feet away and I thought how desperately I wanted to be upstairs in it, how much more pleasant things would be w/ our clothes removed. But instead of moving any further he just smiled at me, this gleaming, beautiful smile that made my stomach turn upside down. And it wasn't in a bad way either; it was in the way that I could look at his smiling face for a lot longer and still be just as happy.
"What the hell is it?" I asked.
He laughed a small laugh, almost a scoff. "It's just I've never heard you say my name like that before, w/ the yearning built into every syllable."
My stomach had dropped than because I had never been turned on more by words than I had in that moment, and fuck, it felt good. I wanted to ask him to repeat but I knew nothing could capture the first surprise of it, half whispered w/ his voice husky from all the kissing and travel we had done in the short amount of time.
This time he was on top. It was request that went w/out questions, from the moment we he the soft sheets of my bed. We were mostly unclothed then, having taken the miniscule opportunities from the time my door was shut to the time we hit my bed to work our magic. One of the many perks of being a shinobi was speed, and this too, included the removal of clothing. When he pushed into me, not softly in the smallest bit, my nails dug into his back. There was certain moment of anticipation right before he was inside of me, a moment of anticipation in which I imagined one thousand different sensations that were to happen. The thing about sex, is no matter how good you are at imagining it, nothing could ever quite compare to the feeling of it.
He started moving automatically. It was different from the last time; his movements were deft, he groans and breathing louder. He had been holding back last time and I hadn't even realized, and maybe he was this time too. I felt the incessant need to his bring his true voice out, to hear the way he sounded when he was utterly unearthed, caught up in the sensation. At the same time w/ all these thoughts swirling around in my head, he kept going. And I felt myself building up to my orgasm, in building jagged hills of pleasure, the hit and the release. At one point he hit a particular spot, the one that made me shout profanities, and he giggled. Somehow I couldn't separate the sensation of his giggle from the sensation of him thrusting into to me, and in that moment those two things become irrevocably connected, to the point where even the slightest giggle from him, whether in a sexual situation or not, turns me on.
"I'm guessing that's button I want to hit," he said, pulling out and hitting me there again. I bit into my lip, suppressing the moan that was coming up. Somehow it was a matter of pride; I couldn't have him believing he was the only one in control. Even when I lay on my back I had to maintain myself in some way of self sufficiency, so I wouldn't' give him the pleasure of hearing me.
"Oh, going quite?" he asked, hitting me harder this time. It was fucking hard, I have to make you understand this, how fucking much I want to shout his name. But not yet, not now, he hadn't earned the pleasure. Was that so strange of me, to make him want to lost his control but maintain my own. It seemed erringly unfair and fun all at the same time fun, interesting, a game I wanted to play.
"Hinata….talk," he said w/ a groan. And I suddenly knew the effect that I had on him earlier, the way my voice had sounded to him. Because it sounded the same way to me, I wanted to taste it one him as he moaned it into my mouth.
I stopped him them, or at least tried. I had pressed my hands against his shoulders, trying to stop his rhythm. For a moment, he resisted, pushing against my hands, pushing into my harder. But when a dug my nails into his shoulders he stopped, throwing me an angry glare. I had never seen that face painted w/ annoyance, and it was certainly something I thought I would like to see again. God damn this fucking game, I'd like to play forever.
"Let's switch positions, come on," I said, wriggling from underneath him. I felt the loss as soon as he was out of me, and it was not a thing I wanted. But I needed to experiment, needed to see how things would be for him. I had thought about it this way. He was or had been gay or is bisexual, whatever he pleases. But I had to know, even w/out him telling me, that he was not the topping kind of guy. And I thought; why not give him the pleasure, because I liked seeing his surprised face and because it was my favorite position. A spectacle that worked out for both of us. I was swift about turning over, about getting on my knees w/ my ass facing toward him. I reached back and guided him back towards me, guided him back into me. He started out slow at first, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me back into him. I pushed myself back into him harder; let a groan escape my lips. He took the initiative then, and it was just like the last time-he was hottest, the sex was the best when he did w/out thinking, when he just let his body move for him.
"I can definitely see the pleasure in being a top," he said, half laughing to himself, he went faster then and I let the waves of pleasure beat over me. I saw myself the way h saw me, leaning over w/ ass in the air, sweat beading the curve of my spine, my body creamy and white, in his hands, his to take. And the very second I thought about how my breasts looked, bouncing back and forth, he leaned forward and took on in his hand, his thrusting still constant. It was like he read my mind, and wondered, briefly, if every sexual urge I had could force its way into his mind until he overwhelmed into doing it. For the last part he slammed against me w/ such force I was surprised at how long I held my ground. He held one hand half over my hip, half over my ass. The other was tangled in my hair, my head and chest against the mattress. When I came I dug my fingers into the blankets, looking for something to grasp unto during the rocking of my orgasm. It was probably the best one I had in a while, and maybe, I could even say, best one ever. He slapped my ass before pulling, a hot burning sensation paired along w/ the last thrust of his own orgasm. I burst into a fit of laughter, falling over to my side. He lay down on his back and I just looked at him.
As hard as it is to describe a person it's even harder to describe someone post coitus, because it's like the body they had during sex was completely different from the body they had during sex. Not just physically but mentally, someone's body, someone's face, became an entirely different entity during sex. But Yashamaru had one of those rare things where he seemed to be the same all around.
He was tanned, but not unbearably so, a solid perk of living in the desert but being sheltered indoors for most of the time. And his skin, I knew, was unbearably soft…like running your hands over silk. He was well muscled, but lean. His muscles weren't something that were there for show, they were something that you felt, grasping your hands around his arms or running your fingers over his stomach. I was obsessed w/ his collarbone, the way it dipped just below his neck in a tantalizing little curve. And his face, his face seemed flawless. He wasn't one of strong jaws, and tight cheekbones. His features were delicate, cheeks a little rounder, blonde hair framing it perfectly. He almost looked like a girl sometimes, if given the right angle. His eyes were perhaps the mostly lovely part about him, they were framed by thick lashes, and perhaps the most I had seen on any man.
He spoke up, suddenly, out of nowhere, "My boyfriend cheated on me."
This, I was confused by. The first time we had sex, he had said it had been okay. He had told me the boyfriend of his wouldn't care. I didn't think, however, that the situation only worked in one direction, because that seemed like a mightily unfair relationship. But he was obviously upset w/ it.
I leaned over and grabbed my blankets, pulling them over both of us. "You're sleeping here tonight."
I liked running my fingers through his hair. I liked it even more when we were in the bathtub the next day, my hands full of shampoo, wetting his strands, as he leaned back against me. The night before he had been obedient, he was fallen asleep a little after I pulled the blankets over us and I had spent most of the night, laying my head on his chest, lightly drawing pictures all over him w/ my fingertips. Feelings were such silly, miniscule things, and yet there were there and always present. The terrible truth about being a shinobi is that the rules called for no emotions, we were to be machines, following order after order without a single backwards glance. That's what Yashamaru had been, that's what he had almost been. But he had told me once, somewhere before the first time, sometime in our talking, that he didn't intend to be that way again. In reality, shinobis needed their emotions, needed them for strength and purpose. I knew very well, as I'm sure many other shinobi did too, that nothing powered me up more than to be angry. Nothing made me protect someone more than caring for them? The emotions were necessary parts of me, but I was highly conflicted about the ones I felt in that moment.
The next day he had rolled himself out of bed, pulling the covers back up on me, before disappearing into the bathroom. When I heard the bathwater running, I pulled myself out too, and stepped my way into the bathroom.
He was in the tub, filled to the point of bursting, and bubbles everywhere. He was leaning his head back, still letting the water run. I turned it off, letting my fingers skim over the bubbling, warm water.
"You have a big bath," he said w/out lifting his head. I didn't think much, I only just pulled off the big shirt I had pulled on during the night, and stepped into the warmth of my tub. The water greeted me like a pair of warm hands and I sunk down to my shoulders.
"The one at the Hyuga compound is better, though I don't stay there a lot, family issues," I said w/ a shrug of my shoulder. My Dad never had been fond of my attitude, of my back talking. But I imagined that even if I was submissive, even if I took his berating comments and abusive tendencies in silence, then nothing would be the same. And it wasn't like me to be silent, maybe like some other me, another version in another universe. But for me, for this Hyuga, I was loud. I was boisterous. I was everything my father never wanted.
He looked up at me then and I scooted toward him so that I was sitting on his lap. Everything felt different in the water, w/ our bodies touching. It all felt much more intimate than anything we had done before. And yet only our skin was touching.
"What's up?" I asked, running the sides of my dripping fingertips along his cheeks.
"Nothing, I'm just-"
I had cut him off, kissing him on the lips. But I kissed him softly, unlike the other times. I wasn't sure what I was trying to do w/ the kiss, or trying to express. It's just that I knew he was sad, and that comfort was not something I had learned well. I only knew that he was in my bathtub, and I could give him what I could manage give him, and that was human contact. Not the hungry, hot, kind off of human contact. But the soft kind of human contact, the one that was the real embrace. When I pulled back he had look on his face like he had that look of surprise again, and it was wonderful.
"What was that?" he asked. I rolled my eyes at him and turned around sloshing in the bathtub water so that I was sitting in his lap.
"It was a kiss," I said sarcastically, reaching down and pulling his arms around my waist. Without even having to ask him, he set his head on my shoulder.
"Of fucking course it was a kiss Hinata, but why was it a kiss like that?" he asked, with that defiance in his voice again. I liked when he got attitude, sass sounded good on him.
"Because it was, okay….so what do think about us?" I asked, because for most things I was straight forward. If I liked him, like I felt like I liked him, then I was definitely going to tell him. Life is too short to hold back feelings.
"What do you mean about us?"
"I mean, what do you think about us just having sex, or being something more. I'm saying I fucking like you Yashamaru, don't be so dense," I told him. Mostly because I liked people to infer things, and also because it just made me happy to be bitchy towards him, mostly because in ways, I knew he could handle it. And it was like a test too, I wanted to see just how much of my attitude he could handle. However that second could be handled in small steps.
"Oh," he said and then when more realization, "oh, but what about your free bird thing?"
I rolled my eyes at the notion of yet another earlier conversation we had had, I had claimed maliciously that I was a free bird; it came out of his teasing me for having feelings for him. Feelings which I had denied relentlessly, and fuck, look at me now. It was like he had planned it all. And knowing him, he had. He was turning to be a manipulative little shit, and I'm while he couldn't guess the exact countenance of my feelings, he had probably done more than his fair share to sway them in his direction without me even noticing.
"Oh shut up. Things change."
"Well then, if I'm shutting up, I guess I won't be able to tell you I like you as well."
I had never had sex in a bathtub until that morning. It was better than I imagined, you couldn't really see each other, amidst the warm water and bubbles, but you could really feel each other. The water sloshed along w/ us, adding a new layer of noise to cacophony of pleasure. We washed each other's hair afterwards, for not other reason other than finding pleasure in being pampered by someone else. And they we laid in the water for a while, just talking and cuddling, until the water was cold and we emerged, pruning and shivering, but still in each other's arms.
The next time we had sex, it wasn't really sex. But it was still something. He had pissed me off, had taken the teasing too far. In a way it all really experiment, let's see how much of my bitchiness I can handle, let's see how much my dominating side scares him. At the same time, though, it was also that he had genuinely pissed me off. I wanted to hurt him, but in a way that was much more than just spilling some blood.
He knew I was angry too, but he let me go along w/ it. We were very similar in that way, in that we both wanted to dominate just as much as we wanted to be dominated. And somehow we would end up between the constant flux of both of them, forever taking turns.
When I told him to strip and he willingly obliged I knew how easy it was going to be, and therefore, fun. When I pulled the ropes from my closest, and started to tie his ankles and wrists to my four opposing bed posts he just smiled, a teasing laugh echoing in the back of his throat.
He was completely naked and I was still fully clothed, straddling him by the hips.
"You're really cute when you try so hard," he said with a smirk. I was pissed for sure, and that comment only made me more so. I leaned down and grabbed his head, forcing him to look at me.
"Oh I'm sure I'm fucking cute, just like I'm going to have a lot of fucking fun w/ you," I told him. Somehow the smile of amusement wouldn't leave his face and I really had to resist the urge to smack it off, mostly because I wanted to know what it was all about. He was in my house, on my bed, tied up and underneath me, and yet he still acted as though he was the one in control of the situation.
"As if some little ropes could hold me down," he laughed. This time, it was my turn to smile, my turn to laugh at him. . For a second he tried to lift up, struggling against the ropes that I had tied perhaps a little too tightly. It was great to watch his face transform from conceited and amused to a terrified. It made everything, all the plans for what I was about to do to him, more exciting.
"Hinata what the fuck did you do?" he asked angrily, a line forming between his brows. He was so mad and it was so perfect. I couldn't help but find his face, his eyes dark and lips pouting, absolutely amazing. He struggled again, and I giggled at him. He ropes were sealed w/ a jutsu, which unless I unsealed them, they could hold anything down.
"Nothing you wouldn't do, now shush," I told him. I started off slow, simply. I tightened my position on him, grinded and rocked my body in a rhythm over him. He rolled his eyes at me, like is had no effect on him. But even w/ my clothes on I could feel his growing erection. I leaned over, keeping the movement w/ my hips and placed gentle kisses on his neck and down to his collarbone. I bit down over it, and heard him hiss at the pain. It turned faintly pink and then a small bit of blood dripped out, which I licked up. I reached my hand down, tracing lines over his pelvic muscle, the v leading down to his penis. He let out a small breaths, and wriggled a bit. Efforts I noticed were to life himself higher, so that my hands would be closer. I just continued to trace around his lower stomach, dipping my hands just for a moment, maybe brushing along his dick, but never really touching it. I pulled my hands back, though bringing them up to his face, pushing his bangs from his eyes. I laid my body against his and just stared at him for a moment w/ a smile.
"God dammit Hinata," he said *ahem* bucking himself against me the best that he could. I laughed at that, laughed at his fruitless attempts. I lifted up then, pulling my jacket and bra off in a swift movement, running my hands over my own breasts just to tempt him. No matter what, he wasn't going to touch me tonight, because the point of this was for him to realize he shouldn't piss me off, he shouldn't. I knew, probably, that I was going to have to pay for it. But for tonight, he could know.
It is hard to describe how Yashamaru had changed in just a short amount of time since we had gotten together. He was sensitive but witty when I first met him, a nervous guy who liked to play himself off as cool and his fruitless efforts were the most adorable things in the world. Whether it was my own changing viewpoint of him or that he really was changing, I don't know. I only know that he walked w/ a different air about him, he seemed manlier, brisker, and sterner than before. And it was always so attractive, I found myself imagining him slamming me against walls and bending me over desks on a daily basis. And then there were his moments, his moments where he thought no one was watching. He would hum to himself, little lullabies and rap songs and over dramatic emo music, it seemed his head was always full of music. And he had this fascination w/ my hair, running his hands through it constantly. I have never seen something as gently as he handled strands of my hair. And he had become this man, this whole package, wrapped in good and deceit, in invariable sweetness and terrible harshness. And god dammit, because I really think I loved him.
I started kissing down his chest, letting my lips running slowly over his soft skin. Over the pink buds of his nipples I stopped briefly for a moment, running my tongue over it and sucking on it. He let out a soft moan and I felt his arm try to move, trying to reach down to wear my bar breast pressed against his stomach, but he couldn't against the strain of the ropes, pulling against his skin. I laughed, trailing more kisses down his stomach. I could feel his breath catching, because he knew where I was going.
Like I had said, foreplay wasn't a thing that has existed in our sexual endeavors yet, and it made me sad that he hadn't experienced my mouth around him, wrapping around his cock. And I just wanted that, the sensation of having his most personal anatomy in me.
With the last kiss, just before it, I slipped my hands of the base of his shaft. I had always been fascinated by penises, how they could be hard and yet soft at the same time, how the skin was so smooth to them. I ran my hand up it softly, my thumb circling the head lightly. He let a soft moan and moved his hips. The show had begun, I thought.
Bending down I swirled my tongue around the tip of it, while my hand housed the base of it. He let another moan, this one a little louder. For a minute I just did that, running my tongue just over the tip, rotating to the side maybe in the smallest amounts. He was moaning more, panting almost and I was barely even moving.
"Please…fuck…please go," he asked, his voice soft, gasping. I smiled to myself because this was exactly as I wanted it. Nothing turned me on more than him begging for me, and god, the way he broke up, the way his voice caught and rose with his shallow breaths, it was so fucking hot.
"I do love when you beg," I said. I didn't give him a chance to response before I went fully down on him, taking all of his cock into my mouth. I pulled up again, pulling my hands along w/ my mouth, and turning my head went down again. I went fast, taking him in fully every time. There was a rhythm I kept to it, bobbing my head up and down, turning so that the angle of my tongue swirling around his head was different every time I came up. And then for a brief moment I just sucked on it, no moving or bobbing, just holding on tightly w/ my mouth. And just as quickly I started the pattern again, adjusting myself to his cues. He was panting hard, groaning my name and profanities. I pushed my arms into his hips, pushing them down, because he was *ahem* bucking so hard against my mouth. And then I stopped. I lifted up, and leaned forward, feeling his hardness press against my stomach as I did so. The look on his face, when he realized just what I was doing to him, was priceless. I leaned over and caught his pink, sweet lips in mine and gave him a soft kiss.
"I hope you enjoyed that," I said lifting off of him and pulling back on my clothes. To me the tease of it all, the idea of just leaving him hanging, was better than any punishment I could perceive. He would always have me, no matter what, and so denying him me, not matter how much I desperately wanted him, was the only punishment I could find justified. He started yelling at me as I walked out of the room and I just laughed at him.
When eventually I did let him go, I thought he would jump on me automatically. But he didn't, instead he denied me. I tried all I could to seduce him, but nothing has worked. He's still cuddle, he still stroke my hair, but the moment I bring up sex, he goes radio silent. And God, who knew he would be so damn good at this game. I think, now I wanted him more than I ever could. And it was all part of his plan from the start, I think, to make me want him this much, to make me love him this much. But I'm waiting for tonight, for the night I know he'll come back to me. He has some blank spaces to fill.
Soooooo yeah….the blank spaces our for the lovely Amber to fill. I'll let her decided how they reunite, and I really only wrote this for her and I really hope she enjoyed it.
Fin.