Iga no Sanchou

by Catchandelier

The older the clan, the crazier the amount of bullshit you can do. There were ninjas before the Sage, after all. A drabble-fic in twenty-five chapter arcs, thirteen arcs total. Hold on to your burn cream, kiddies. (We're going straight to hell!)

66. Shame

-cold dirt on my back and leaves crunching. The smell of wool and the yellow poison she likes; the weight of her. She's heavy, hard all over, the feeling of her breath on my neck. Hot, wet. She smells like sharpness and the clean burn of alcohol.

Sudden sharp prickle of needles in my wrists and strange warm heat in my stomach. Tension all over her frame- did she feel that? Can't move my arms, can't- touch her- want to- her eyes-

White hair so long and soft, a river of silvered white wool-smelling hair pooled around my face, touching me like feathers. So soft. Smells like roses, faintly. Her ears are soft and curled and like tiny little shells; she shivers when I touch them. Kiss them.

Her sigh, so soft- sharp flare of heat in my stomach and needles in my shoulders, my chest, my ribs, my stomach, stabbing sharp and fine and hot hot hot HOT-

And then I wake up, sweaty and panting and guilty of something I can't quite explain. I don't think I pissed the bed- but why are my sheets wet?

Oh.

Oh!

Oh shit.