Disclaimer: don't own Naruto…
Author's Note: Most fic I write have been requested by a friend, and this one is no exception. However…this one is like nothing I've ever written before. It will be a challenge indeed, but more than anything, it's crack that could possibly pass off as cannon. That is why it must be written.
WARNING: Yuri, NOT yaoi. Yes, this is girlxgirl, not guyxguy. If you DO NOT LIKE, than DO NOT READ.
To Console the Broken
Damnit. How many times have they done this now? Twenty times? Thirty? Ah, who cares? It doesn't matter so long as she keeps doing it again and again. Taking her up against walls in dark corners and atop her desk with the windows wide open and her paperwork scattered over the floor; sporting that same curious savagery and sickening smile on her face as only he use to.
She had learned much from her former sensei it would seem.
Yes. For the better part of a year now, she, Tsunade, Hokage of the Hidden leaf Village, has allowed this woman, this viper with a crooked smile and twisted blood fetishes, to violate her repetitively. But the part that gets to her most about the whole ideal…is that she can't bring herself to stop it either.
It had started simple enough. A mission report had been turned in late, which quickly developed into an argument in which an unmentionable name was brought up in the heat of the moment. The awkward silence…the air of melancholy and resentment that accompanied it, though neither woman had given an inch.
They had loved him. Or believed they did. Either way, as a comrade or something more, they weren't sure what it had been that they actually felt towards him. Orochimaru had always had a way of keeping everyone unsure as to where they stood, even in matters to which he had no direct conflict with.
Fresh blood from abused lips drip down the front of Tsunade's rather magnificent breasts, gathering in a pool between them so enticingly; like a priceless ruby at the end of a necklace. Anko watches the red liquid with feral fascination, making the Hokage shiver when those ravenous eyes lock with hers. Anko licks her lips expectantly before pushing one of the thighs high into the air and shoving her fingers deep into Tsunade, watching with a predatory glee as the older woman grits her teeth and gasps silently.
They don't talk during these times because such words didn't exist. Aren't acknowledged by either of them outside this time of temporary escape and to speak would break the illusion. There is nothing to say.
Love?
It is not love that makes Tsunade groan when Anko laps the blood running down her chest, or makes Anko smirk when she none too gently nips at the swollen, tender nipples peaking through the cloth. They do not love each other, nor do they feel that they ever will. But neither has ever been very good with love. Their relationship is as eccentric and unsure as the ones they'd had with Orochimaru. Only this time…
They can touch. They can feel the other: their pain and their pleasure. And there's something comforting in that knowledge. Something that seems more real than what they had with Orochimaru. But like everything they'd ever had with the snake ninja.
Orochimaru had always liked to touch; a gentle hand on the cheek, or slender fingers running through hair. But emotionally, he had always been so indifferent and incomprehensible, merely assessing them like another experiment in he was so brilliantly conducting. The way he gazed upon everything his knowing golden eyes tragically graced.
At least with each other…they knew where the other stood. Besides, it had been too long since they'd had a lover so to speak: someone to take the edge off their ache, and who better than someone who knew just where that ache resided. Not just anyone would do.
Tsunade bit her bottom lip and let her head roll back against the wall, tangling her hands in Anko's hair as the younger ninja begins licking teasingly against the inside of her exposed thighs. She can feel those soft, wicked lips hiding the sharp canines just begging to tear mercilessly into her soft flesh. By God she wishes she would: anything to distract her from the turmoil building up within.
And she does, rather viciously at that.
Tsunade chokes back a pained gasp. Squeezing her eye shut tightly, enjoying the feel of Anko's tongue lapping the blood running like crimson ribbons down her legs. She shutters, when that ever-mischievous tongue starts to travel dangerously close to the part of her body that craves attention most. The attention makes it worst: the burning between her thighs, and she loves it; she needs it.
Nails start to rip at her hips when the wounds on her thigh heal, ceasing the blood flow. Apparently, Anko is displeased that her work has been for naught in leaving a permanent scare on the Kage. Her nails leave gapping gashes in Tsunade's sides as punishment.
Tsunade knows she can stop this, with the tip of a finger or a simple order; she knows that Anko could never overpower her. But she doesn't want to stop her. She can't bring herself to. And the damn brat knows that and takes full advantage of her weaknesses…as he would have.
Tsunade can feel the younger Kinochi silently chuckle, before strong, calloused hands force her legs up over her shoulders, spreading her wide open for that devious mouth and God blessedly talented tongue. She had learned from the best after all. And oh good heavens! The Hokage throws back her head and lets her mouth gap open slightly when she feels that sinful mouth clamp down over her tender flesh, teeth nipping playfully at her clitoris. Than, to Tsunade's secret delight, the sucking starts, and her muscles contract over the invasive tongue.
It feels so good.
She pushes up on Anko's mouth, feeling the she-snake's pointed nose push into her blond pubic hairs and a smirk spread wide on the younger's lips. Images of Don enter her mind and she keeps that image firmly in place as shivers of pleasure begin to settle in her lower abdomen. She feels the tongue swirl and flick deeper and deeper inside her. A trick she undoubtedly learned from Orochimaru as well. And then she scolds herself when memories of Orochimaru return to taunt her, pushing out the angelic smile of Don with that perverse smirk and those keen eyes.
Don had been her escape from the Snake ninja's grasp, her savior with the kind smile and sweet words. But now that he is gone, she had been able feel herself starting to come back again over the years. The ache. Not to be mistaken, she had loved Don with all that she was, but she had loved Orochimaru like she had loved no other. An almost obsessive love, one in which she shared with Anko…and Jiraya.
Jiraya: a loud-mouthed idiot with too much passion and not enough maturely to counteract such a powerful array of youthful foolishness. At least, that was how it used to be. He is still a loud-mouthed idiot with too much passion, but despite his apparent over enthusiasm, he has matured greatly since those younger days, both in body and mind. He is smarter and undoubtedly warier than in his youth. Anyone who knows Jiraya well enough could tell in a heartbeat that this so called 'idiot on the leaf village' is perhaps its greatest actor. The tears of a clown: the mask of an idiot: call it what they will. His tears come about in the form of creased eyes and a perverted grin. He too, wishes to drown out the ache.
Then there's Anko: innocence that had been twisted into what she is today by the tender, elegant hands of a true genius: a lost and broken child with a mocking laugh and taunting eyes, haunted in her dreams and memories by the thing she could not understand and was always reaching for. The retreating back of what she thought was love and acceptance, turned to ashes with the quirk of thin, wide lips and the bat of a sinister golden eye.
Now, so many years later, that abandoned child had found her, Tsunade, a woman who knew the same pain of abandonment as she. She had found perhaps the only other woman who could understand the bittersweet pain and longing Orochimaru implanted into the heart more firmly than any vile of serum or sample of DNA. In a way, Anko saw her as an outlet for that pain, and Tsunade her. It only seems natural they'd seek each other out eventually.
The sounds of foot faults rushing down the halls. Anko stops suddenly, stock-still. In a flash, they are separated, clean of blood and sweat, and staring very irritably at each other for the interruption; an understanding as to what must be done. Tsunade sits behind her desk, fingers interlaced, and Anko stands but a few feet before it, smirking that unnerving smirk, waiting.
The silence is breached. "I have a mission for you." And the illusion is broken just like that; before a head of sun kissed hair and skin comes bouncing into the room, childish grin on his face like the very essence of contentment.
They will never speak of it. They will never show it in the presence of another. It does not exist. Such words will never be acknowledged.
Author's Note:
A gift to all the yuri lovers out there. they need love too.