I do not own Naruto.
As Ryuishi grows, she cannot help but to acknowledge that hormones have reared their head once more. It's not unfamiliar, but it is annoying.
It's a well known nagging itch that burns through her blood and floods her veins. She finds herself staring a little too long at some of Orochimaru's subordinates, or her own. She lingers on the slender, fine hands of the planted spies, and the callused fingers of the weapons specialists. The messenger's sleek muscles covered in a thin sheen of sweat, glistening in the light like some sort of wonderful work of art, distract her so much that she gets punched right across the compound by Orochimaru. The soft skin, and well formed chest of a spy catches her eyes and holds them for an embarrassing amount of time.
The concept of a single sexuality, or romantic interest, has always kinda baffled Ryuishi. There wasn't a line for her, nothing was off limits. If she wanted to love somebody, or to sleep with somebody, it didn't really matter what they packed in their pants, skirt, or robes. Even if there was nothing at all behind the figurative piece of cloth, it didn't matter. She didn't give a shit about gender, or lack thereof, when it came to being attracted to someone.
She also was a firm believer that sex did not make a person horrible. Sex wasn't some great event, and it wasn't something to be ashamed of. Sex was like...well, ehhhh- It was natural, with a million variations, unique to each person. Most cultures seemed to consider it taboo, but some didn't. It ended happening to most people at some point or another, excluding a few.
That had remained the same in both worlds. The only thing that changed was that in this new world, there was more variety in the shits she did not give. After all, what the fuck was a Zetsu? She hadn't seen them yet, but they weren't exactly inherently one sex or another. Neither were the bijuu. Orochimaru was destined to switch bodies and genders countless times. Every one of them were sentient, intelligent beings (people) who didn't fit in the box.
This led to completely unexpected problems.
The problem, of course, being that as she was a chronically isolated criminal, on the run at all times. Add the fact that she was wary of sleeping with the wrong person and possibly messing up her carefully laid plans with complicated nonsense, and it made containing her libido an almost full time task.
No joke. It was like little things could set her off, raging faster than a wild fire. The ghost of breath against her skin, a arm wrapped around her as she woke up. Even things that weren't exactly vanilla had her anticipating a good romp. It should be obvious that a dangerous fight is not foreplay, but her body does what it does. She gets the weirdest boners.
She can only abuse the clone technique so much, too. Eventually, the irritation leads her to seek out relief.
She thinks of attempting to gather every gender under the rainbow to cash in her second life v-card with, but then she realized that organizing that would kind of be a hassle in her position. How does a notorious missing criminal collect the absolute plethora of people it would take to cover each possible base, and how does she know that they are, in fact, down to sleep with everybody else there while keeping it a secret from her enemies, her followers, and whatever Orochimaru is?
The answer is it's just not possible. She mourns for the idea, because it would have been a great way to get back on the horse, or in her case, between the sheets. She also ignores the fact that she probably wouldn't have done it anyway. She's just not that brave.
She decides that she'll wait for it to come naturally. There's no point in forcing it, and whoever happens to find her, will find her.
Which is exactly how she finds herself in an out of the way tavern room, realizing that she is suddenly uncomfortable with the vulnerability that coitus presents.
Ryuishi isn't classically pretty, and she's very aware of every perceived imperfection as her crop top is shoved off her chest. Her muscles are too defined to be properly feminine. They have saved her life, and it doesn't usually bother her, but as a hand runs over them, she suddenly cares for some reason. The same goes for her scars.
Lips ghost over the raised skin along her ribs, fingers trailing along the marred flesh, and she is grateful that her partner didn't mind the blindfold. Her tattoo is an identifying mark, and she doesn't want a one night fling to recognize it. It would be-
Teeth nip at her neck, and she is shocked away from her thoughts for the moment. Her libido reminds her to live in the moment. Mostly by blanking her thoughts completely and stirring an endless, bone deep hunger inside her. Her mind is taken over by the wet slide of tongue against tongue, and the soft skin under her own hand, just beginning to perspire. Ryuishi has years of memories like this, from a life lived long ago, and she sinks into the comforting habit with little persuasion.
The smell of sweat permeates the air, and she isn't satisfied for hours to come, but the feel of a body against her own is a balm to her stress filled soul, just for the moment. They go underneath her, on top of her, inside her and out, and she relishes in it.
She lavishes in the sensation of her hair being pulled, and the scratches along her skin, her partner's hands moving in a desperate search for relief. She rejoices in the imprints of her teeth on their chest and navel, and the long lines of red spanning their back and ribs.
The featherlight teasing, the murmured words, the grunts and quiet hisses. She missed this, she thinks deliriously at some point, especially the long, guttural moans.
When morning comes, she's already showered and on her way out. Her partner for the night if fast asleep, covered in the dappled light streaming through the window.
She doesn't really know them, and she probably never will. The night they shared is enough though, and she moves on like nothing has changed. Nothing really has, not really. She's still her, all jagged pieces and clever plans. Her muscles go back to being appreciated, and her scars remain melancholy reminders.
Ryuishi counts that as a start, and she does allow herself to continue the opportunistic hook-ups. Everytime she is careful to avoid being noticed for who she is, and the encounters never last more than a few days, if that.
She continues her life, and sex becomes a very small part of that. She moves around, and her time is consumed by work, but she keeps feeling like maybe she's missing something. She can't tell you what it is.
In those moments of brutal honesty in the serene dark of her home, sometimes she thinks that maybe it isn't a what at all, but a who.
AN: I wrote this, but I don't really like it? I enjoy the idea of it, and I think that it gets the point across, but it isn't really...idk. It's missing something. It's also not beta'd.
NO BETA. ALL MISTAKES ARE MY OWN.
Update: Take this as canon if you want or not. I wrote this specifically because I wanted to show that her loosing her virginity change literally nothing. Like, she is exactly who she is, but now she has sex sometimes. Her virginity wasn't magical or special or anything like that. She had already experienced sex in her past life, and it's NBD. I think too many times sex is hyped up, but it's really not a fantastic, mind blowing, larger than life thing.
That's why it isn't a canon character. Not only would it mess up any relationship beyond measure, because it would complicate it, but also because I didn't want people to make MORE out of it. She also, as stated, feels vulnerable and kind of uncomfortable for a little bit. No way is she giving a ninja that type of ammunition to shoot her down with.