Chapter Thirty-Two: Sex and Playtime
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Blood boiled in his body, and his neck grew hot and red under her lips. They brushed kisses against the curve of his throat, her hands sliding down to the expanse of his taut muscles. He could not control the flutter of his lashes, the deep shudder moving through him—quick and delicious.
His gaze fixed on her and stayed as he took her in from head to the point where their bodies connected in a wanton union. His hand went up, and her nipples peaked under his fingers. Heatedly, his eyes slid across her body and looked at the red hair spread haphazardly over the white skin, dotted with the most peculiar of freckles.
He slid his hand down and passed it over her skin, snaking his fingers around for he enjoyed the way she shivered. Down and down they went, stopped to curl around her narrow waist. He circled her navel with the tip of his fingers and went further down. Then, teasingly, they threaded into the coarse red hairs on her genitals, and he rolled her clit between his fingers and felt the damp wash of her arousal stick to the tips.
Her breaths came out quick, and she jerked her hips forward, causing him to fill her up some more. He never liked women to mount him, but he would be damned if he did not like the sight of her damp body, face contorted in passion, lithe thighs spread wildly just over his hips.
His black eyes, dilated and cloudy, looked at her, and, when she moved her hips, his back arched off the mattress as though he was riding a violent wave. A hiss escaped his clenched teeth, her tight heat sucking him in more and more. Roughly, his hands grasped at her legs, and she rocked her hips slowly. He had not experienced sex like this for months—fun . . . wild.
He was invited to stay in her room, and he had not left it for a whole day. It did not matter to him that she liked to play. No, he loved this playtime and all its wantonness; so he let her mount him, let her rock her hips over and over again with a kind of frenzy that his lusty body loved so much. Her sweaty thighs gripped his waist with strength and she clenched hard; and he felt himself spill a little in her wet, tight channel. The pleasure mounted, and he gasped through his raspy throat.
The little control . . . it was slipping further and further away. His need to take her hard and fast was affecting his mind as reason slipped back and primal drives took over. She bent down, and he welcomed the heat of her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers, an old ritual. When she backed away, a string of saliva hung between their mouths. He dragged his lips along her jaw and felt the quiver of her quick pulse there.
Playfully, she squeezed him again, with a powerful jerk of her hips, and something inside him snapped: he flipped her over, and then he drove into her ruthlessly. He rode her hard and he rode her rough, her walls dragging along his length exquisitely. Hot like fire-touched iron, his veins throbbed and rang with blood, and his teeth scraped along her throat; she panted and twined her legs about his waist and pulled him closer . . . and he drove in harder, her walls, hot and slick—tight, so tight.
He did not know what he was doing, his mind blank—it was just the violent jerk of his hips whilst he propelled her back on the bed. The grunts that tore from his throat were loud and wild, his breathing heavy, but he did not stop. The ruthlessness of it all spurred him on as he thrust into her with such force that she cried out.
That pleasure, like a hot-iron whiplash, right at the base of his tingling spine, spasms rocking his whole body. It was so delicious. Her heat, an iron-tight grip, and he loved every inch of it. He pumped in and out of her in frenzied movements. Her walls clamped down hard on him and sucked him in with the tightest force that excited his loins—even more. Damn, she was so tight.
It did not take long, and she clenched with a strength that he felt a hot release erupt out of her. Her walls quivered and fluttered in answer around him. He felt the tremors of her powerful orgasm, and he, too, erupted with a groan of completion and collapsed on top of her. Slowly, he pulled out, his lips shaking against the soft lobe of her ear.
It took long for him to cool down his lingering passions. His breathing still hissed in and out of his teeth. Her legs, wound tightly around his hips; but he felt her loosen her grip, and then she finally unwrapped them. His pants were wet from their sweat; they felt itchy on his skin now.
"You're rough, Sasuke-Kun," she said (almost playfully) against his shivering skin, her lips on his sweaty throat again . . . and damn it to Yomi's deepest pits, he was still as hard as an evil rock.
Her lilting voice sent tremors down his length, and he found himself working into her again, their bodies still slicked with sweat; then he felt her bucking upwards, and he began matching her pace. It did not take long for it to turn into a jerking, frenzied, clawing affair . . .
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Lying on his back, Sasuke stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. It was night. The moon hung high in the sky. Its white shafts barely made it in through the open window. Autumn breeze rustled the deep red and soft yellow foliage outside, and crickets chirped noisily—their sounds sharp and intermittent in the dead of the night.
Taking in a shaky breath, he filled up his lungs with fresh night-air. His fever was cooling—that delicious feeling ached dully in his veins now. The sweat on his breast quivered down the sides. He sat up, his eyes roving slightly in Mei's direction: she was sleeping peacefully under the rumpled sheets. His Sharingan could tell. He swung out of bed, stretched a little, and walked over to the door, picking up his discarded shirt along the way.
The house was quiet. The guards had left the area for another round about the village. He could never believe them to be so foolish. Why are they making this so easy? he thought, stepping outside; his eyes turned skyward, and the shadows changed to dark clouds overhead. They barely hid the moon behind them. A stream erupted from next to the well, bubbling up and sending cool sprays to make the grass soggy.
Sasuke bent down, made a scoop of his hands, splashed his face several times. The heat roused his body like a steam on a tempered blade, but he would manage. He slumped down by the well and leant his head back, his ears filling with the plashing patter of drizzle that dotted his face and soaked through his clothes.
"Yor loud, Sasuke—too loud!" a mischievous voice said from inside the well.
Sasuke did not turn his head and pushed his hair from the forehead. "I thought I told you not to come till the moon was not on the other side. You don't ever listen, do you, Suigetsu?" he said and wiped his wet face with the back of his hand.
"Don'tcha worry yor purdy head. We 'ave got enough water 'ere. No fucker'll be able ta detect me!" he replied and poked his watery head out of the well's mouth. That wide smile was plastered across his face, complete with the over-efficient display of pointy teeth. "Jūgo's keepin' an eye on Chōjūrō and that Byakugan-hoardin' blow-hole."
Sasuke put his face in his hands and wiped away the droplets again. "Good," he said and looked down at the ripples in the stream that burbled by his feet.
"Ya know she's a clever lil' slut, don'tcha? I can't believe ya keep fuckin' her like that," he remarked and propped his head up in both his hands. "She's a screamer, too! I heard her ruts all the way over there by the lake. I'd say that we should ambush her and cut her throat—the easy way, but ya just can't stop porkin' her."
Sasuke let out a soft laugh and bent his head, his body quivering. "In time, we'll do that, too," he said slowly and kept his eyes on the grey moon, swallowed up by the dark clouds, "but I like her."
"Bah, so what? Like hell ya will do it," Suigetsu shot back and pulled an annoyed look. "I think I has lost ya ta that deadly curse of Mist's pisser-eatin' pussy."
Sasuke cocked his head up, amused. "Is that a real thing?" he asked and twisted his head to look over his shoulder at him.
Suigetsu made a shocked face, his eyes bulging out. "Kami bless Sage's bollocks—ya didn't know?" he gasped and stretched his neck to look into Sasuke's eyes. "These sluts use extra chakra ta make it all good. Artificial bullshit! It goes through yor pee-hole all the way ta yor kidney and does funny stuff ta yor head. It's scary! A fucker bought the farm back in the day—his pud fell aff the face af the earth—turned ta fuckin' dust!
Ya better use Sharingan ta check yor big lil' Uchiha. It might be too far gone!"
"Kidney and then straight to the head . . . sounds elaborate," he said jokingly, smiling.
Clouds rumbled and thunder shook their bones. They both felt a sudden colder wind rush at them. "Fine, don't believe me, but ya will weep one day and say, 'good ol' Suigetsu was concerned fer me winkle'," he said, sucking on his teeth. "Ya know, ya should use it ta yor advantage. Keep her busy."
He leant his head back and felt the pleasant wind hit the droplets on his skin. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied and closed his eyes. "What did you find? I hope Jūgo's Sensing proved useful."
"It did!" Suigetsu said, the excitement rising in his voice. "We found a trap-door in the last hideout. The one yor brother couldn't see?"
Sasuke twisted his back and turned to put his elbow on the wet and hard mouth of the well. "And?" he asked, his face showing a look of scepticism.
"It had natural energy mixed into the threads. Don't think a regular Mangekyō would've seen anythin'. He acted on me message just in time after I saw that nasty crow. Yor bro's mean and scary. When he asked me af the scroll, poor ol' me almost pissed meself. Do ya think he knows?" he asked and raised his eyebrows high.
Sasuke looked away for a moment and innocent amusement touched his face. "He must have found out by now. I could only keep him busy for a day. Had that emissary died, things would've escalated and Nii-Sama would've been assigned to look into the matter. They didn't use enough poison. What a wasted opportunity—I bet they loved the free gold," he scoffed, disgruntled.
Suigetsu looked around and whispered, "where are Serizawa and Kai? Their bloody Sharingans will spot me blue arse."
"Sweetened their sake. They're out cold," he said and slanted his head against his closed fist.
"Heh, good!" Suigetsu jumped out of the well. He stretched and his joints popped. Then he looked down and said, "did ya see anythin' else in her head durin' that trainin'? Pinky-Chan's, I mean . . . ?"
"No—just the one about the Cloud emissary. I didn't want to dig in too deep. Last thing I want is her weeping before Tsunade that I'm digging inside the empty chambers of her mind. Tsunade would've sent her as a support medic, anyway," he stopped and pinched his eyes closed. "The thugs—did you do this right? I don't want anyone tracing this mess back to us."
" 'Course!" Suigetsu said and put his hands on his hips in a manner as if he was about to argue against a game's foul. "Jūgo knew 'em through some loafer in Rain. They was always against Kuma's bullshit. I wore that chakra mask, so all is well in the world. The bastards are dead—the ones who knew Jūgo—a clean slate fer ya!"
Sasuke did not say anything. He knew Itachi would be angry. His face was drawn and hard as he stared at the fluttering flowers by the stream. What kind of punishment awaited him this time? He did not want to think of it . . .
"It was a bold stunt, ya know. He would be so mad," Suigetsu said in a low voice, his face free of mischievousness. "Ya better tell me what ta do. The trap-door? It only gots a scroll 'bout Kisame's accomplice in Rain. Some faggit named Kisuke. He's all the way over there in a village close ta Cloud now. It's a lil' Trade Centre and no one's allowed in without a military permit. It's a day's journey, at least—and I don't got the permit ta enter. What do ya have in mind?"
Sasuke twisted his lips and found his breath. He had suspected that Kisame was hiding it out in villages. His decision was right—there was no going back now! He reached into his pocket, produced a scroll, and threw it at Suigetsu. He caught it and asked, "what's this?"
"It's a permit," he said and got to his feet.
"Fuckin' Sage in the arse! Did ya use his Anbu Seal again?" he asked, quite incredulously. "Sasuke, that's two times now. He's going ta be fuckin' ballistic. Why did ya do this? O' Sage—O' Sage! I'm goin' ta die!
"He didn't say anythin' last time 'cause ya was so damn mad, but he's not goin' ta let ya aff this time. Not with the emissary thin'. Do Ya know whatcha doin'?" He looked at him with questioning purple eyes, his mouth elongated the wrong way.
Sasuke's face went tense, and he spoke with a strained voice: "you don't want to find out about Mangetsu and your father?"
"I didn't say that. All I'm sayin'—"
"Then what's the issue?" he cut him off in a harsh voice that trembled with a fresh vulnerability. "I know I'll be in trouble. I don't have the authority to get into these Sage-forsaken Trade Villages. Nii-Sama does. I don't have his power—with just a little seal, he can do so much. Can't you understand that? That was the fastest way to get you an entry. I didn't have a choice.
"He'll be back in a day at most, and I can only keep Mei busy with the trials for a day more to keep her mind off that Kisame business. If you don't find anything by then, forget this whole thing—it's over." He jerked his head away, distress running across his face that was turned red by the chill. He loved his brother, but he terrified him.
Try as he might, his mind had so many blank spaces, unfilled gaps he could never understand. His illusions made his skin crawl with real fear and mortal agony. Whenever he woke up after the fevers, he felt as though he died many times over and was reborn again; and damn his mind, for he could never remember a thing—not a piece that was worth a damn!
Suigetsu made a tsking sound and twisted his mouth. "Ya will be in trouble. Big trouble. What do ya want me ta do? This ain't as easy as ya think. Yor clever—very clever. The smartest mate I know, and I've known a lotta mates, but damn," he paused and let out a loud sigh, "yor brother's a fuckin' daemon! I don't even know what he'll do ta ya. Sage fuck, he could kill me! Bloody hell—I'm goin' ta die!" Suigetsu's eyes grew as wide as his mouth—he truly was in a state of panic!
A clever smile returned to Sasuke's face that pushed away that anxiety momentarily. "He won't," he said softly, his eyes growing intense to catch up with red.
"Thanks fer the huge reassurance," he retorted with a frown. "He loves ya, so yor safe. Me? He'll grill me flat, wet arse with Amaterasu. Just ya watch!"
Sasuke laughed and put his hand on Suigetsu's shoulder. "What's the worse he can do? He can't throw you out. He knows it'll be easy to get around that way. He won't kill you, because he knows I value you. He won't ever do it," he said with a hard, sure look on his face—a curl of innocent amusement in his smile.
"That's so adorable, but what about ya? Ya really think he's goin' ta kiss yor forehead, scold ya a lil', and sing ya a lullaby when ya return ta that buggerin' loo? The tut-tuts won't do it fer yor brother this time. 'Am tellin' ya, he'll be mad as hell. If he punishes ya, what the fuck am I goin' ta do with whatever that Kisuke faggit tells me?" he asked, his eyes squinting with stress.
The fear came back to Sasuke's face, but his muscles fought bravely to keep it at bay. He managed a smile and spoke—a little slowly this time: "don't worry about me. Meet up with the guy. That permit will get you through without trouble. Use a mask to hide your face. Whatever you find, hide that. Don't tell me unless I ask about it. Don't tell Karin and Jūgo, either. Keep it between us. Nii-Sama can't read your head, but he can read mine. What he won't read, he won't know." He narrowed his eyes dangerously, determined to see this through to the end.
Lightning fought hard and a spark brightened up the place, a shroud of pure white light. It suddenly disappeared and heavy rain came pouring down. Sasuke felt as though he was doused in ice-cold water. Suigetsu raised his cloak above his head, and rain drummed on the thick water-repellent cloth. He looked a bit indecisive, staring into Sasuke's eyes that were wary under the shroud of doubt and fear and anger.
Suigetsu remembered his white face, struck by a cord of terror, way back in the past, empty eyes staring at him, telling him of an unsung tale of Autumn Moths going for Purple Lilies. He did not say anything and gave a slow nod. Then he stepped around Sasuke and looked back at him one last time before he jumped back down into the well . . .
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