Tenten found herself playing a game she hadn't even thought about since she was eleven years old and Neji had practically suffocated her behind the bike shed. That idea of a calm, sophisticated affair, where eligible shinobi stood drinking wine and nibbling on those weird pineapple things Sakura claimed were canapés were deteriorating faster than her last C-rank pay check.
Sophisticated shinobi drinking wine? Where on earth did she get that idea? Of course, when Sakura had invited her to this house-warming, match-making... thing... of hers she'd known that it wasn't going to be nearly as high-class as that Hyuuga soiree they'd attended; and not nearly as boring, either. But this... all this did was create nightmarish, preteen flashbacks.
As it was, Tenten felt ridiculous. Despite it being a free night for many of the shinobi there, Tenten had stuck to her usual ninja garb, as had many. Still, it was funny how you could place a bottle in the middle of a room and suddenly all the hardened, death-dealing shinobi morphed into a gang of unruly adolescents, hooting and howling and elbowing each other. Sakura's cheeks were pink as she giggled with Ino who was slyly (and don't think Tenten hadn't noticed) slipping towards Neji on her right; and there was Shikamaru half-leaning against Chouji with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth that Tenten just wanted to pluck and have for herself.
Some bint that had been in the year above them, Akane or something, spun the empty rum bottle and everyone roared when the narrow end settled on Kiba. Poor Kiba, thought Tenten, not at all sympathetically as the short, vicious kunoichi crawled, giggling towards the centre of the large circle. She went as red as her hair when Kiba met her in the middle and they briefly touched lips. There was an awkward moment when the woman tried to deepen the kiss and Kiba lurched backwards, but she managed to pull it off as just a drunken stumble.
God, this was pathetic. From the blushing twenty-something kunoichi to the silently jealous Hinata (jealous for Kiba? Jealous for Naruto? Was that girl going to make up her mind? Tenten was astonished at how well she remembered the old games they used to play when they were young; kiss chase (which was quite violent when there were ninja involved) and seven minutes in heaven of staring awkwardly at Shino Aburame. Even as a tomboy, she had been subject to such games.
There was another loud burst of laughter from someone who was in the bathroom that made Tenten think of Lee, although he wouldn't be allowed anything stronger than punch she suspected (hoped and prayed). She wondered what game they might play next: truth or dare? And usually she wasn't averse to playing such games, but wasn't she an adult now? Was everyone just ignoring their oncoming maturity? Or fighting it off, like Genma, who Sakura had spent weeks fretting to Tenten about asking to her party.
We're just like teenagers, Tenten thought, like some wild pack of adolescent angst. Was a glass bottle and some beers all it took from them to turn into 'normal' civilians? Tenten smiled wryly, feeling far removed from any sensible adult reality as she watched Kiba lurch back to the middle of the circle to spin the bottle.
A chorus of loud, lewd catcalls sang out when the bottle tripped and slowed and finally rested on Naruto. "Come here, brother!" she heard Kiba yell, drunkenly, arms outspread and the giggles at Naruto's expression. He crept towards him laughing and together they did the coquettish air kisses that some of the girls had been so fond of when young.
"Mwah, mwah!" she heard Kiba say through his laughter before catching Naruto on his forehead by surprise, a fat, sloppy kiss that left him bellowing in dismay as Kiba howled back to his seat, slinging one arm around a rather out-of-place Aburame on one side and the sedately smoking Shikamaru on the other.
The bottle spun on Sakura's hardwood floor. There were so many of them here, rookie nine, colleagues from the hospital, friends-of-friends-of-friends... Tenten ducked as if she could avoid the bottle as it stopped and it pointed just past her knee to the chubby hospital secretary (or something like that) on her left. Thank god. Naruto was crawling towards them with a perverted leer that could rival Jiraiya himself and there was Sakura in the background, just laughing; usually the one to slap Naruto right back in his place, she was laughing... at something Shikamaru had slurred to her, his lips curving around that cigarette in a smirk. Sakura was gone. She didn't even seem to notice the ash that Shikamaru was inadvertently tapping on her floor.
"Is this pointing to Tenten?" Naruto grinned as he drew nearer. "Look at the angle."
"Didn't you almost fail math, at the academy?" Tenten replied, keeping her voice low and hoping no one else would hear. She didn't really want to be at this party to be honest, and was there out of politeness. Rudolph would not be joining in any of the reindeer games, thank you very much. (Okay so it wasn't as bad as the Christmas parties that would come soon, but all the same.)
"Kiss her," she tossed her head at the chubby, blushing secretary next to her. "She needs it far more than I do."
Naruto raised his eyebrows and attempted a pouting-face. "Sakura, I'm serious, look! I swear this is pointing at Tenten. Hey, who's the referee here?"
"Naruto, it's pointing at Sei, not Tenten," Sakura called back, yelling over the ongoing conversations. "Let's keep the game going."
"It's not!" Naruto protested. "Come look!"
"Fuck this," Tenten muttered, struggling to stand under the oppressive influence of all that alcohol. Raising her voice she said, "Naruto, just kiss that thing there. I'm stepping out of this juvenile little game that I'd never imagined I'd be playing past fourteen. Okay?"
Tenten nudged him hard in the side with her shin as she passed, satisfied with the surprised grunt in reply. She turned back feeling cold, haughty and adult, and just the littlest bit guilty at the sight of that chubby girl standing, wobbly, and making her way in the opposite direction.
Sakura's kitchen was surprisingly pristine, despite the party having gone on a few hours. It was the bathroom and the living room she'd have to work on tidying up, Tenten suspected.
The light was off, and she left it that way, knowing her way around Sakura's flat so well, even in the dark. She was the only kunoichi that Tenten bothered herself with really, although Ino was enjoyable company on a mission where there were no cute men or hairspray products to gossip about. And there was Hinata (there were only so many stylized variations of "Um" and "Uh" that Tenten could take).
She plopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs, toeing her shoes off with a sigh. She was feeling drunk herself, but not in the high, buzzing way she was supposed to. This was definitely a low.
Tenten could hear Sakura busily trying to save the day. "Let's play some music!"
She sighed in relief when that awful, stunned silence turned back to party chatter. Tenten wished she smoked like Shikamaru—or had some habit to make her feel less nervous, and more in control. She wanted a strong, tough drink. Anything that could make her feel good—or just alive—even for a moment.
This was supposed to be celebrating (was it Kiba's?) 18th birthday. She felt like she should feel old. Like she shouldn't be drinking.
And she was tired of all the games and hookups and pretending. She had been to hundreds of parties like this one, and she always felt like some stupid, dark-haired Barbie doll that Sakura propped up in the corner for all the Kens to come by and gawk at. She could never be herself, even for a moment. She always felt too guarded to let herself really get to know people, let alone really feel anything for anyone.
Before it had been fine, when shinobi could just settle down for a night together and be off on their way in the morning. Tenten had enjoyed a fair amount of brief flings herself, all discrete, all ending happily. Now there was that big scary word in the middle. Maturity. Now, if you brought a girl home, did that mean she was one of your prospective girlfriends? Lots of shinobi got married, despite the ever looming promise of death above their heads. Like the whole Ino-Shika-Chou Konoha had going for itself. And some, like Jiraiya, remained single (but not alone) till the end of their days.
Ino had come and poked her head around the door, spilling light into the room. Tenten had covered her eyes which had only just adjusted to the darkness.
"Are you okay?" Ino slurred, "I think you upset Sakura a bit."
"Yeah, I just need space," Tenten murmured back. "I'm finding this a little stupid at the moment."
"I'm very drunk," tittered Ino, clutching the door. "I haven't drunk since... er... well since just after the..." Tenten paused stiffly. "Just after the war? Not properly."
Oh no, she didn't want those sorts of memories now. Not now, when she was feeling low enough already. And Tenten could see that Ino was slowly being dragged down with that thought, too.
"Tell Sakura I'm not going back out there, Ino," Tenten stared past her friend, wondering what was going on in the living room. "What are they going out there now?"
"...truth or dare," Ino replied quietly.
"Oh my god. That's it. Get out of this room and don't let anyone else in
here! You got me?"
"But, Tenten, you—"
"No! Not another word from you, okay?"
"Okay, fine I can do that." Ino waved her hand, and stepped back out into the living room. "I'm going to find a drink... Genma's here, did you know? I like that senbon of his..."
"Don't drink too much Ino..." was her token-friend advice, half-heartedly spilled. Tenten hoped someone would be getting lucky tonight, because she certainly wasn't in the mood to.
Tenten flopped back into the kitchen chair, tipped it back and put her bare feet up. She smirked in satisfaction, wondering if she was the first person to put their feet on Sakura's kitchen table and survive.
"Did no one ever tell you, you can crack your head open like that?"
Tenten yelped, her reflexes embarrassingly slow, and the chair toppled backwards onto the cold, hard tiles. She saw shaped and lights bursting in the darkness behind her eyes and began blinking rapidly to clear them.
"Fuck!" she swore loudly, rubbing her head and rolling off the chair onto the floor, clutching her scalp. "Some ninja, I am... fucking hell," she sucked in a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea the sudden pain had brought about.
"Who was that?" she demanded, "where are you?"
"I'm here. Are you okay?"
Tenten got a glimpse of a shadowy figure move out from underneath the kitchen table. Someone probably hiding from the party like her.
"I think it's bleeding," Tenten replied, trying to stand but plopping straight back on her bum again. She rubbed the swelling on the back of her head and wondered how bad it was. "Hey, turn on the light?"
There was a long, pregnant pause. "I'm not doing that," he replied, steadying her with a hand on her arm. "The light needs to stay off." It was a warm hand, large, long-fingered with a firm grip.
"Gee, thanks, star. I'll do it myself." Tenten snapped back and tried to stand up again. The man's hand on her arm kept her from moving, which alerted her to the fact that he was a shinobi. No civilian male, or medic for that matter, would have managed to stop her from standing with that little effort.
"Please don't," said the man, in a smooth and somewhat hesitating voice. "I'm..." he stopped and sighed. "I'm quite drunk... the light stays off. It's funner that way."
"Why? I think I'm really hurt."
"Here, let me see." His hands moved lightly, not too overwhelmingly through the back of her hair, moving over her scalp to find the small bump her fall had raised. Tenten's head tingled.
"You aren't bleeding," the voice assured her
"How can you tell? It's too dark in here. Let me turn on the light, and—"
"No."
Tenten jumped, feeling a little uneasy at the voice. "Okay, weirdo...who are you?" He moved away from her.
"Hello?" There was no response, but she could make out his shape back under the table. Tenten sighed and rubbed her head again. With her dizziness abating, she stood and headed for the light switch. "I don't know what your problem is, but I'm—"
"I'm asking you." There was a sudden seriousness about his voice.
Her hand hesitated on the switch.
"Please," he implored her. "Don't do that."
"Why?" she asked again. There was no response, just a deep, almost embarrassed silence from the darkness under the table.
"I'm very drunk," he replied at last and fell silent again.
In the quiet, she could hear the party continuing in the living room. She turned her eyes to the dim outline of the door and heard Ino snap, "No, no! Kitchen is off limits! Drinks are in the bathtub, anyway."
Tenten smiled gratefully. At least the door was being guarded for a while.
"Hey, are you still there?" she asked and then cringed, mentally slapping herself for asking such a stupid question.
"Yes."
Something in his voice drew her to him, something familiar about it, that she couldn't quite place. There was strength in it, a certainty that shouldn't be coming from underneath a kitchen table. She moved away from the door and back toward the voice, getting down on her knees to peer underneath. She thought she saw the shimmer of a pair of eyes, but she couldn't be sure. It was definitely a shinobi though from the way he sat there poised, tense and waiting, despite the heavy scent of alcohol that permeated the air around him.
"I heard Yamanaka talking about the war," the man cleared his throat. "Let's keep the light off."
"You know Ino?"
"I know lots of ninja." The voice replied teasingly.
"Are you a ninja?" Tenten asked.
"...are you a ninja?"
"Yes," she replied, a bit shortly, annoyed with his evasiveness. "Are you a shinobi?"
"...yes."
"Jounin?"
"maybe."
Did that mean? Oh god. Tenten winced as she asked her next question, "you're not a chunin are you?"
The man laughed ever so slightly, but it was awkward like he didn't laugh much.
"Ex-ANBU," he replied in a smooth, haughty tone that was almost smug. "I teach now."
"So you are a jounin."
"Special jounin," the voice corrected. "Certainly a difference."
"Shouldn't tell people when you're in ANBU," Tenten mumbled back, feeling a little bit envious.
"I was put on leave," the man replied in that calm, placid tone of his. "I'm hardly going back there."
"True..." Tenten sat back on her heels. She let out her breath, feeling unsure and a little ambivalent about her sudden desire to reach out to him, this strange, hesitant shinobi, thinking about the future, the war, sitting alone in Sakura's kitchen. Empathic by nature, she knew what it was like to want to get away from a party like this.
"Can I join you?" she asked.
The man didn't reply for a few seconds. A few crushing, embarrassing seconds for Tenten but she heard the tile floor being patted as he said. "Yes... sure. Come on."
She crawled under, leaning against the wall next to him. It wasn't a big table, pressed into a little "breakfast nook". It only sported two chairs since only Sakura lived there. All the same Tenten and the stranger both fit comfortably enough underneath.
"So... you just wanted a break from all of that?" She waved her hand toward the door and felt foolish when she realised he wouldn't see it.
"Something like that."
"Me too." Tenten sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. She had forgotten about the bump and winced when she made contact. She brought her hand up to rub the sore spot—at least it was something to feel.
"I noticed." He chuckled.
She flushed. "You didn't hear what I said out there, did you?" That thought made her cringe with embarrassment.
"Yeah." He sounded amused and she was thankful for the lack of judgment or a big guilt trip
.
"Whoops. I was hoping you didn't know what a bitch I can be," she admitted. "First impressions and all..."
"Maybe it's better if we all start out knowing who we really are," the man replied light-heartedly.
"First impressions are everything," Tenten snorted back, still feeling embarrassed.
"But you don't judge a book by it's cover." She heard a snap that sounded like a book being shut, after he said that. She laughed.
"Are you reading in the dark?"
"Nervous habit," the man replied, but he sounded faintly amused, too.
"I'm not really like that." Tenten continued after. "Only some of the time. I mean, sometimes, sure, aren't we all? "
"Sure?" He sounded interested, at least she hoped he did, but really Tenten didn't want to go there.
"Something like that." They sat in silence for a moment, but it was a comfortable one. "I know what it's like, not wanting people to judge you on appearances."
"Do you?"
Tenten paused. She liked the anonymity because perhaps, maybe... just maybe, she could say what she meant. "Sure, I mean my sensei still treats me like I'm a genin. And the rest of the world is of the belief that I'm a flat-chested tomboy," she threw it all out there and then snorted to herself. "Well, most of the world, anyway."
"Hence the darkness," he replied.
Tenten paused. "Oh yeah," she said, smiling at the darkness. "I should have realised that."
She couldn't see his face at all and instead glanced at the man's hands. They were large, strong and she could tell, even in the dark that they were coarse and roughened, like all shinobi hands were. His long legs were stretched out beyond the table's edge. Darkness was funny, the way your mind used shapes and lines to fill in the blanks. How you could see some things or others.
"We should all go out in the dark," she continued when the man remained silent. The silence made her somewhat nervous. "And no one would treat us differently, right?"
"Or you could wear a mask," came the amused reply. "Might be helpful."
"I don't know," Tenten thought of Hatake Kakashi. "That would generate so much mystery, people would start to judge even more."
"...hadn't thought of it like that."
"It's the gin," Tenten replied, deadpan. "It makes me a genius."
She felt his fingers brush hers in the darkness, a phantom touch.
"You have soft hands for a kunoichi."
She flushed at the compliment (was that a compliment?) but didn't respond, wondering if he had been looking at her hands with any sort of ulterior motive. Compliments often felt more like sharp barbs to her than anything else, but this particular arrow landed softly, with precision.
The silence grew uncomfortable, and Tenten tried to think of a way to say she was going to get up and leave. This was just too strange. Besides, she needed to lie down. Her head was beginning to ache. She surprised herself when she asked, "What's your name?"
"Why?" was the infuriating reply. "That's no fun."
"Tell me."
"What's your name?"
"Tenten."
This seemed to amuse the stranger and his laughter filled the darkness, somewhat muffled. "Tenten," she heard him mutter and then laugh again.
"Yes, Tenten," she snapped. "What's wrong with Tenten?"
"Mah. Nothing, nothing," he said. "Well, Tenten, since we're on superficial questions, what rank are you, yourself?"
"Jounin," she replied at once, hoping to encourage him to answer some of her own questions.
"Weapons mistress," he asked, his voice rising ever so slightly at the end of his sentence. Tenten froze. Well, shit.
"You know me, don't you..."
"Only in passing—"
"That first impression crap you pulled was bullshit-"
"Hey I don't know you..." the man replied, trying to placate her. "And you don't know me."
"Who are you?
"Me? Oh I confess," he said without hesitation. "Sakura and Yamanaka told me to wait in here for you."
"What?" Tenten gasped out loud, but it was probably the alcohol that made her react in such a way. "Oh, I knew it!" Sakura and Ino tried to set you up with me, didn't they. They've been doing that ever since Neji shacked up with that blond piece in interrogation."
"Hey, hey, it was a joke," the man said and this time she was sure she could hear the smile in his voice. "I should have realised someone on Gai's team would get so easily worked up."
She found herself genuinely wondering for the first time what he really did look like. "Do you know Gai-sensei?"
There was a long pause. "...we talk." He said, sounding vaguely ominous.
"Well it's not as if you could tell him anything embarrassing about me," Tenten shrugged him off, feeling more than a little threatened, now.
"Don't lie. How's your head?" In her (albeit drunk) playfulness, she had nudged herself quite close to him in the dark, and she was enjoying the warmth of his thigh, hip and arm touching hers.
"It hurts," she admitted. "I think I need a painkiller."
"I can help. Do you want me to rub it?"
"I'm not a dog!"
"Suit yourself."
"Wait..."
Tenten hesitated. That was a fairly intimate thing to be doing anywhere, let alone in a dark kitchen under a table. Still her head was tingling, and she was drunk, and he was drunk, and he might know Gai, but a head rub could be just as innocent as it could intimate, right?
"Sure." She suddenly didn't care if it was sending him the wrong message. Then again, maybe it wasn't the wrong message at all.
"Come here, then," he said. "Put your head in my lap."
Hesitantly, Tenten lay down on the tiles, resting her cheek against the rough material that covered his thigh. She was sure it was just standard issue ninja pants, and that would probably make that weird, rumpled shape over in the corner his jounin vest.
His fingers slid through her hair, slipping carefully around her buns to find and caress the raised bump on her head. The sensation seemed to lift and change as he touched her.
"This is cosy," she murmured, feeling almost sleepy.
"Mmm." His concentration seemed too focused for him to say much more. His hands worked over her like magic. She closed her eyes and sighed happily. Eventually the silence stretched too taut for her.
"You know, you should tell me who you are."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she replied. "So I can get more head rubs. But mainly because I don't have anything to go on with just "special jounin, friend of Gai."
"Gai doesn't have that many friends, does he?"
"Don't be mean about my sensei!" Tenten giggled (dear god she giggled!) like a girl. A girl. "And as a friend of Gai... you could be old."
The rubbing stopped. "I am not old." He admonished, but still sounded highly amused. "Well... maybe in terms of shinobi. Does that help?"
"Not really."
His fingers slipped lower, digging into the soft curve of her neck. She sighed, letting out a soft moan as he worked out the kinks. "Like that?"
"Yeah.
"Anyway, I thought you said appearances don't matter."
"Not in the dark, they don't." Tenten replied.
"Yeah, well what if you turn out to be fat? And I want to slip away with my identity intact, in case you turn out to be some-"
"hey..."
"Hideous kunoichi," his laughter was strangely muffled again. As if he wasn't used to it.
"Ouch."
His hands paused. "Am I hurting your head?"
"No…my heart." She sniffed back.
He continued to rub her head in the silence, and slowly she found that the pain in her head seemed to dissipate.
The next time it was he who broke the quiet. "So, do you get along with the other teams?"
"I get along with Sakura... Ino sometimes. My own team." Tenten sighed. "I feel like sometimes they're a bit immature. I spend a lot of time training with Genma."
The fingers paused again. "Genma? You think Genma is mature?"
"Oh, so you know Genma, too?" she asked. "Well that's a bit more to go on. Friend of Gai, friend of Genma... possibly old." Tenten laughed. "Ow, ow, too hard."
His touch became lighter, almost feather-light, and it made her shiver. "Besides all the girls want to do is gossip and all the boys want to do is..."
"What's that?" He sounded distracted as his hand stroked her shoulder.
"Um..."
"Oh, that. Right."
Again, she could hear his smile. She had never noticed how much one could tell about someone's expression even in the dark.
"And if I'm being honest, it's not even that. I'm not averse to sex," she
admitted.
"Good to know." It was a veritable grin now.
She smiled, too, letting that one slide. "If Gai comes up to me bellowing about my lost lotus bloom. I will hunt you down."
"How?"
"I just will."
"I won't say anything," he replied and stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "Who was the lucky guy, anyway?"
"No one you know," Tenten replied, airily, trying to sidestep the question.
"How do you know, I don't know them?"
"Fine, I'm not going to tell you, Gai's friend."
"Friend?" She could hear his smile again as he traced the shape of her jaw, "oh no, I wouldn't say that."
A fingertip trailed down her throat.
"Would you like me to do your shoulders?" the voice asked, clearing its throat quietly. "You're pretty tight."
"Oh wow, that has to be the oldest line in the book," she laughed loudly. Looking up at him she could just about see the outline of his face. Pale skin, strong jaw—but she still couldn't make out his features.
"Maybe." This time she saw the flash of his teeth.
"Well," Tenten threw caution to the wind, thinking (hoping?) maybe she'd have company tonight. "It's working."
"Then come here and sit between my legs." His voice was warm and inviting and she flushed like a school girl as she delicately felt her way over his thigh, sensing him adjust to her shape as she settled herself.
"I don't have to fear you telling Gai-sensei, now," she murmured. "I doubt he'd approve."
The sound of his short laugh was rich and deep and it thrilled her again. She wondered what he would sound like if he really laughed out loud and a part of her suddenly longed to hear that. His hands massaged her shoulder blades and she sighed, rolling her neck and inching back toward him. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she clutched his thighs.
"If you stop being a jounin," she murmured, "you could easily be a masseuse."
"Is that a compliment?" he teased. "I'd never stop being a shinobi."
"If I was a religious kinda girl, I'd say I'd died and gone to heaven," she breathed, feeling both of his hands spreading over the expanse of her back from spine to ribs. "Ahh...that...incredible..."
"How about this?" His breath tickled the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck before he kissed her there, his lips full and warm. Tenten shivered, her nails digging into his thighs in a way that made him jump. She had forgotten they were sitting under Sakura's kitchen table in the dark, with a party going on in the other room. She had forgotten she didn't know this man, that she had never seen his face. There was nothing but his hands, his mouth, and the soft velvet darkness all around them.
And then before she could think, before she could react, his lips found hers in the blackness, a slow journey from a mislaid kiss by her ear, over her cheek to her open, anticipating mouth. His hand reached up and cupped her face, she could feel his full lips smirking into the kiss and hesitated when her own hand curled back to touch his cheek; expecting to find thick scars or acne, or burns, a reason to stay in the dark. To her surprise his skin was smooth, unmarred, and there was a delicious hint of stubble. Reassured, Tenten slithered an arm around his neck, slanting her mouth across his and teasing his lips with her tongue.
His fingers moved straight for the hem of her shirt, (surprise, surprise, the cynical part of her remarked) but she let him, helped him, expose her skin to the cold kitchen air. Kitchens were always cold, she suspected it was the tiles, but regardless, her nipples responded immediately to the temperature change even as her mystery shinobi made short work of the wrappings she wore.
"There," he murmured against her white flesh. "Not a flat-chested tomboy at all."
Tenten swore she could hear voices coming closer to the door and she pulled away suddenly, listening intently. The conversation was muffled and almost unintelligible over his soft yet heavy breathing. Then, after a few moments she clearly heard somebody (Ino?) say, "she's in the kitchen."
She glanced at him, trying to regulate her own breath, too. "Maybe we should go somewhere?" she whispered, hardly able to believe herself and moved to her hands and knees to crawl out from the table. Her hands went to do her shirt back up again, fumbling with the Chinese collar. He grabbed her hips and she gasped, looking back at him as he held fast.
"Let's stay here," he insisted, and even though she'd kept her usual, long pants on it felt like he was sliding his hands up her bare thighs. "Might sober up if we leave this place."
"Are you sure?"
"You're a kunoichi," she could hear the smirk. "Live dangerously." His hands roamed over ass as yanked down her trousers.
"What colour are these?" He murmured against her ear as his fingers probed through the thin slip of material left.
"Just white," she blurted her breath catching as he pushed her panties aside. For some reason such a boring answer seemed to please him and she was still worried about being interrupted and trying to be quiet but his fingers were distracting.
She was rolled over, his hands raking down her breasts, settling on her hips and squeezing hard. When she felt his tongue slip under the elastic of her panties she stopped worrying and listening and let the sensations take over.
Yes, she was moaning quietly, muffling her responses against the back of her hand. Oh yes, arching and crying as he bit and sucked with fierce, earnest enthusiasm. She arched again, trying to untangle her legs from her pants, spreading her legs as wide as she could manage. He yanked her foot out of one trouser leg, lapping at her, making her moan and moan and moan.
"Shh," he warned, his hot breath tickling her wet flesh as she whimpered.
Tenten thought maybe the voices were receding, or maybe she just couldn't concentrate anymore with his tongue circling that one, special place, closer and closer, his tight, excited breaths sending chills all over her body.
As the (stranger) worked his mouth, tasting and teasing and savouring Tenten began to care less and less about someone walking into the kitchen. Even if Sakura, or Neji had burst in at that moment, Tenten didn't think she would have reacted to them, except maybe with her middle finger. He rolled he over on the tiles, sliding her back under the table and finally pulling off her pants completely with a flash of grin that went a long way in reassuring her. Tenten hissed, cradling her head in her hands. The bump there throbbed in protest after her short, but rough, journey over the kitchen tiles.
"Fuck, my head." But her brief complaint was forgotten almost immediately as he swung her legs up, up, over his shoulders; that warm breath rippling over her thighs.
"Oh," he was silent for a moment, his fingers lost in exploring her. "Come here," he murmured, softly. He helped her sit, hands cupping her breasts again as he kissed her once, gently, thumbing her nipples. Every sensation was heightened from the almost painful throb between her legs to the way her open shirt slid across the sides of her breasts. She gasped into his mouth, draping her arms around his neck and straddling his thigh, trying to pull him out from under the table; wanting the vicious cold bite of the tiles against her back.
"Up we go," his voice was a low whisper as he wrapped her legs around his waist, rolling out from the table before he stood, taking her with him. She laughed, exhilarated at the sensation of being carried. He turned around and put her bare bottom down on the table (she had no idea where anything but her shirt had gotten to), finding her mouth again. His hands, the same hands that had gently ran through her hair earlier, kneaded her ass roughly and forced her hard against his crotch. She reached down between them to feel the bulge there, cupping and rubbing him until he moaned against her lips.
"Who are you?" she asked him again, "Tell me." Her hand rubbed harder and he hissed, trying, needing, to get closer.
"Doesn't matter," he teased back and before she could protest or demand an answer he was slipping his tongue down her neck. He licked and sucked so hard she knew she was going to be covered with marks, but she didn't care. His tongue was exquisite, and she wanted more of it—everywhere.
Tenten leaned back on her elbows, trying to remember if Sakura kept anything on the table, like salt shakers or placemats and if it really mattered. She didn't feel any
resistance. She put the heels of her feet on the table and, with surprising balance, spread herself for him. It was a pretty decent position, she didn't mind telling heself and then half-laughed half-cringed when she realized with a bemused smile that he couldn't see her in the darkness.
"I'm here," she whispered. "Give me your hand."
He reached out for her, finding first one raised knee, then the other. She lifted one of his hands, bringing it to her mouth and kissed the palm, the wrist and the long, rough fingers.
He made a low noise, and she heard the rustling sound of his own pants being pushed down with his free hand. She pressed the hand she still held between her legs, making him cup her and. He caught her rhythm, letting her rock against his hand with a sharp, surprised breath.
"Wait," he told her, leaning in to suck and lick at her, no rhyme or reasons to his efforts, just sheer lust and abandon.
"Pervert," she replied, even with no real reason to complain. This seemed to amuse him as he told her between soft, slow kisses.
"You'd be surprised." His tongue went inside, deep, wet, and together they moaned; the vibrations of his voice sending funny tingled shooting down her legs. "Good thing you don't know me, right?"
"Stop talking," she commanded and found his hair in her hands, surprised at the softness of it and how messy it was and loving how it curled around her fingers. She paused a moment trying to figure out what colour it was in the darkness before he began focusing on that tiny bud of nerves in earnest. His mouth was tentative, he was tentative, exploring her response, finding the place that made her squirm and gasp the most. Tenten gave a loud moan when he found her sweet spot and his tongue focused there with a gentle flickering that began spreading warmth through her in tightening waves.
She tried to be quiet, still quite mindful that she was lying on her Sakura's kitchen table and someone could walk in at any moment. Her whispered responses seemed to evoke such sensational growls from him. They shivered up her spine and sent her spiraling closer and closer to her peak. She wanted to chant his name, but she didn't know it, and that was thrilling so she just kept chanting yes, yes yes! as quietly as she could manage. His tongue moved even faster as he eased two fingers inside, twisting and pushing and pressing at her. The sensation made her buck her hips, her feet coming off the table but his mouth didn't move from its position, and his fingers didn't deviate from their motion. He simply hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and continued, persistent, urging her to completion. She never wanted it to end, but she couldn't hold back any longer. His tongue flickered with an unrelenting and enthusiastic insistence. She shuddered against him, lifting her hips and pressing his mouth down hard. Her hands fisted in his hair, while her whole body rolled with her orgasm.
Tenten pressed his hand between her legs, covering her. He rubbed her gently, making her moan as little electric jolts ran through her body from every contact point—his hand still touching her, his tongue and lips moving to press against her thigh and the weight of him between her legs. She never wanted it to end.
"Don't stop…" she tried to tell him, trying to push herself over. "I'm not done... I..."
She felt him parting her with his fingers, gently, his tongue going back to find the tender, swollen bud. He moved his mouth back and forth over that sweet, sensitive spot, his other hand rubbing roughly over a hard nipple, sending pleasure waves down through her belly toward her hips. Everything was centered where his lips were. The soft, wet friction made her wiggle and pull at his hair, wanting more.
She tried to be quiet, but he was pulling her against his mouth, wild and unrestrained. His tongue was flicking faster and faster, and Tenten urged him on, her thighs tightening, her hips rocking as she used his tongue for her pleasure. This wasn't a sweet, slow spiral upward. She was flying, racing headlong toward exquisite release. . Tenten moaned and twisted beneath him. She felt it begin in her belly, like a small earthquake, rumbling through her pelvis and driving her hips as she bucked and arched. He made encouraging noises in his throat, seeming to recognize the sounds and feel of her at her pinnacle, licking faster than ever. She gasped and quivered under his mouth, her belly convulsing, undulating. The little bud of flesh under his tongue pulsed with her pleasure and still he didn't stop, teasing her with his tongue until she begged.
"I can't stand it!" She half-laughed, half-sobbed as he flicked his tongue over that sweet, sensitive spot.
He cupped her ass in his hands as she spiralled back down softly, feeling like she was going to melt off the counter and onto the floor into a pile of moaning, trembling mush. She let her hands fall down his sides, realising he was still clothed and, with some annoyance, that at sometime during their time together he had pulled his pants back up.
"Don't think you can take advantage of me," he teased. "You don't even know my name."
"Cheek... of it," she breathed back, trying to slip her hand down the front of his pants, feeling guilty that he received absolutely nothing from her.
"No," he whispered in her ear, pulling her hand up to touch the smooth-yet-stubbly texture of his face. Then, he bent down, ghosting his lips over the undersides of her breasts, stealing her breath when he did.
"Why not?" she growled, feeling a little embarrassed at the reaction.
"I'll tell you what," he replied, bending down to pick up her underwear and the discarded trousers she'd been wearing. He couldn't help but kiss the beginning of her thigh as he stood back up again and helped her slip into her clothes.
"What?" she grumbled back.
"Find out who I am," he murmured against her neck as he pulled her shirt closed and made short work of buttoning her collar again.
His hands caressed the sensitive, ticklish undersides of her feet as he slipped her shoes back on. "And then," he kissed her temple. "We might just carry on."
That scared her.
"That is, if you're not afraid to find me," he carried on smoothly, hitting the nail on the head.
"Who are you?" Tenten blurted out and hiding her face against his shoulder, even if he couldn't see her. "I can't believe we just did that."
"I can." He said, helping her stand up and find her footing in the darkness. "Do you regret it?"
"No," she answered and meant it. "Not right now, anyway."
He was still just a silhouette in the dark, a suggestion of a man. The intimacy of their act coupled with what might still be revealed settled in her stomach and left her feeling somewhat uneasy and troubled. "Hey, I can't go out like this.. where are my wrappings? Turn on the light?"
"You're not getting me that easily," he said back, sounding amused. "And I ripped them off."
"I have to see you."
"If it doesn't matter, why do you need to see me?"
"Because you know my sensei!" Tenten blurted out. They both froze. And then burst out laughing at the weirdness of what she'd just said.
"Well you don't have to worry about Gai finding out," he said. "Not now."
"Can I have any other clues than just 'old'?" she asked.
"I'm not old," he sniffed.
"Older than me, then."
"Mah, two clues then," he settled for, "but you might not like the answer to the riddle, you know. Clue one."
She felt the weight of something heavy in her hands—something like the sound of paper rusting, before it was gone again in an instant. Before she could wrap her drunk, pleasure-addled mind around whatever Clue one was, he was muttering "clue two" in her ear. He slipped away and picked up the jounin vest from underneath the table, slipping it round her shoulders.
"What, does it have a name-tag, or something?" she snorted.
"Nothing so obvious," was the reply. "Turn around."
Her body tingled in anticipation as she obeyed him, even though she knew he was probably going to leave now. He kissed the nape of her neck, the same way he had started all of this and whispered, "no peeking," in a low, amused voice.
There was a quick burst of light as the door was opened and he slipped out like a shadow.
And then nothing...
Tenten slipped the jounin vest on, drinking in the scent as she bent down to recover the remnants of her torn wrappings.
She was alone and yet half expecting him to jump out from the table again.
You know, it might never have happened.
Tenten smiled in the soft, secretive dark. But it did.