Title: Purging
Rating: M
A/N: I posted this on tumblr from a different blog. I'm just trying out posting stories as relative anon over there! I'm silly like that.
It was raining hard in Konoha. An unusual forecast during the summer made much more so in the middle of the afternoon. And yet here it was; strong wind, loud thunder — the whole deal.
What was a few minutes ago a sunny village street bustling with people was now transformed into closed windows and empty wet roads. It was a drastic transformation that begged waxing poetry. So Kakashi did ( as he was already staring out moodily from his apartment window anyway).
Rebirth. That would be what it usually was, wasn't it? Torrential pours of cleansing and renewal.
A loud knocking from outside interrupted his musings, barely heard amidst the rain. She was right on time as they had agreed—he reminded himself despite the unsettling feeling that now started at the pit of his stomach.
Kakashi opened his door to the sight of his visitor—the same person he'd been hoping the weather had warded off, drenched from head to toe. Wet strands of pink hair splayed against her forehead, framing around her face, while her clothes clung on her small frame like second skin…molding around her heaving chest.
It made his insides bulk as he tried to fight the conflicting waves of arousal and concern.
"You should've used an umbrella." He stated bitterly before motioning her to come inside.
"What I should use is my super-human ability to predict freak weather changes." Her voice didn't sound annoyed at all. More amused, as she stood inside his apartment, gathering a growing pool of water around her feet that got even wider as she carelessly wrung her hair.
Kakashi quickly handed her a dry towel, before gingerly turning away the moment she reached inside her shirt to pat herself dry.
"Let's get you out of those clothes. I have a few—" his voice trailed off, mentally cursing himself for his choice of words. He didn't need to turn around. The sound of her zipper was unmistakable. And so did the heavy wet plop of fabric that followed after.
She walked towards him, soft footsteps creaking on wooden floor.
"Look at me?"
It was an order that sounded like a question disguised as a request. Her voice in any case was soft, almost like she sounded shy. Kakashi felt her hand against his back then, prompting him to finally face her. Her civilian shirt lay discarded by the door while her black bra threatened to follow suit as she began to fiddle with the clasp on her back.
It had all been verbal agreement. Or more aptly for his part, an admittance of defeat, as he finally gave in to her suggestion to "ride off" whatever madenning tension this was between them.
"Tomorrow at noon. Your place." she had suggested so clinically-like it was some simple prescription. Like it would actually work. He had nodded in response. But it wasn't too late. No lines were crossed. Not all of the lines yet anyway.
"Sakura..I don't think we sh—"
"Then don't think." She reached for his hand just in time for when her bra finally hit the floor. Sakura molded his hand against her breast; small, supple and surprisingly warm against his fingers. It took a moment for Kakashi to realize that her hand wasn't guiding his anymore, and that the thumb that grazed her nipple was purely of his own accord. The appreciative gasp that left her was a sound he still found so foreign to be coming from such a familiar person. A far too familiar person.
What are you doing?
Roaring thunder, howling wind and water pouring. But Kakashi knew there was no cleansing under this roof. Only sins. Rain was a shroud—nature's way of purposefully conspiring with him and his accomplice out of some perverse amusement. Here you go, no one will know.
Kakashi was no longer sure if what he was hearing was still the sound of the rain and not the rush of blood in his ears.
It was too late. It had always been too late.
There were two hands now—both his own, probing, searching, kneading. And her unfamiliar gasps were joined with his own even more unfamiliar moan, as he felt her body press against his own.
Their height difference was something that pervaded his many fantasies, but reality proved to be a much different experience when he strained to bend and capture her breast with his mouth.
She was short but she was also light. Making the adjustment, Kakashi yanked his mask down with two fingers, before lifting her with his hands. His mouth and tongue alternated lapping and tasting between her soft mounds, effectively distracting her as he navigated the both of them towards his bed.
The sound of his futon frame creaking when he plopped her on his sheets wouldn't be the last creaking sound it would make for the next few hours as they rode each other in pleasure.
Sex. It was sex, there was no point calling it anything else. Months of theorizing, self-hate, romanticization, flirting all concluded towards this primal act; this wet slapping of flesh against flesh. The coil of her lithe frame coupled with the vice grip of her walls against his arousal, and the heat of their repeating friction all provided the ultimate conflict of not wanting to stop but needing to finish.
In the end, it was the storm raging outside, pouring torrents, rapping tirelessly against his windows that muffled both their moans and shouts as they reached their orgasm. Again and again. Purging none of their sins, but allowing renewal just the same.