When he showed up at her home, nothing more than thirst and free sake pulling him there - or so he always told himself - she met him at the door, her usual loose tunic open over her pale breasts and her hair free and down around her shoulders. She made a disgruntled sound that might've been, "You again?" and led him into her dining room, where she was apparently halfway through a bottle already.

"Getting drunk without me? For shame, Tsunade," he teased. A frown wrinkling her forehead, she took out another shallow cup, filled it, and shoved it at him. Deftly, he took it from her before she dumped sake on his shirt, and sipping from it, he absently reached out to skim his thumb over her mouth. She easily caught his thumb between her first two fingers, and flicked his hand aside; he shrugged and went back to drinking. "Frowning will give you wrinkles."

"No, it really won't." Arms crossed and elbows planted on the table, she eyed him as he picked up the little sake bottle and carefully poured another cupful.

"That's cheating," he pointed out, and wondered what she'd look like without her illusions on.

She just shrugged.

He leaned back to rest on his elbows, lazily drank from his cup, and watched her under the soft, yellow light. The name Tsunade to him had once been synonymous with possibilities. She was the first - only? - woman he could've fallen in love with, if she'd given him a half-second of encouragement.

She hadn't, so he didn't. Oh, he had cared for her, like he cared about every other person who'd ever mattered, even - once - Orochimaru if in a grudging kind of way, and certainly he lusted over her. Who wouldn't? And instead of flowers and promises and sex (of course) and marriage and kids and monogamy, which probably would've been tolerable because it was Tsunade - hopefully would've been tolerable, because otherwise, he would've found himself smacked into something with the general consistency of rice pudding - his greatest plans for her involved spying on her in the bath and looking up her skirt.

Only when he knew she wouldn't catch him, of course. He really didn't appreciate getting tossed around like a rag doll by a woman. Sometimes his calculations were off and he had ended up staring at her long, bare legs - probably with a stupid leer on his face, because hey, Tsunade had some nice legs on her - realizing in slow motion that they were too close for safety, and then her hand would tighten into a fist and hoo boy, that wasn't any fun. But even that risk was well worth it, because he'd discovered she had a heck of a time keeping her towel secured above the pretty curve of her breasts when she was pummeling him.

It had been years since he'd last peeked at Tsunade. It had once been dangerous; now with that student of hers, Shizune, it would have been deadly. The what-might-have-been feeling her name had once provoked was now a vague half-memory. No one hung onto to every sentiment from their youth; if they did, they'd go nuts.

Now she was just another woman. That, and a good drinking buddy -

Oh, and she was his Hokage.

But beyond that...

Perhaps he liked her elegant collarbone, her long fingered hands, the subtle contrast of blond hair against fair skin, the generous curve of full breasts and full hips...okay, especially that. But that wasn't anything unique. For a fifty year old woman, she was damned attractive, but there were always other, younger pretty women, ones without that killer right hook.

They weren't Tsunade and never had been, ever, but that didn't matter. He liked to look at women and see if he saw traces of her in them - some had the right sort of breasts, heavy and pale and tipped with dusky rose, or a similar profile, arrogant and stubborn - but when all was said and done, he didn't pretend in the dark or brood over it. Nah, he whispered their names, pretty names that he still remembered, and loved their hair as much when it was red or brown or black as when it was blond, even if it was just that shade of blond; a beautiful women was intoxicating, Tsunade no more so than the rest, and that was that.

So it didn't really matter

But maybe he was slightly drunk - though certainly no more than she, and he'd been drunk around her before without doing anything more rash than usual - and definitely he was just a little stupider than usual, because he kissed her before he thought better of it.

-

Drink had definitely dulled her reflexes, because his mouth rested on hers for a good five seconds before she had hold of his wrist.

"Normally, I'd fling you over my shoulder with the hand you'd put on me," she said. "Should I use your mouth this time around?" Amused by the mental image of herself taking hold of his lips and swinging him around by them, she had to laugh; she choked on her mouthful of sake and ended up sputtering.

"For what?" he asked with a leer.

"To toss you over my shoulder, you pervert," Tsunade said good-naturedly. With a regretful sigh to tell him she'd rather not be doing this but had to, she twisted the wrist she'd captured, but not half as roughly as she might've.

"The better to - to haul me up to your bed with your freakish strength?" Jiraiya asked.

Hand still on his wrist, she lifted her cup with the other and took a sip of sake, jaw tilting in consideration. It actually wasn't a horrible prospect, except that she didn't sleep with Jiraiya. Just one of those unspoken rules. She couldn't remember why not, with her brain slightly sluggish. After all, it would just be sex, just hungry sex that would hopefully be hot, if the reality matched the reputation, and it had been a long time since she'd last filled up her bed with anyone. Potentially good sex...and then, more tempting than she liked, was the thought that when she woke up in the middle of the night, she could fling an arm out and cuddle up next to his solid chest, feeling cozy and comfortable, in a way she would deny in the morning - well, provided he stuck around until morning.

Not a bad tally on the other side of the scale, but still, those rules of hers had never served her badly before, with the exception of the gambling one that said ?when in doubt, double the stakes' - which she followed anyway, simply because it was her rule damn it. Which was why of course, she should just -

"Wha - Tsunade! What the - Tsunade, what are you doing?"

One problem. Her bed was sort of - far off. Well, she hadn't exactly planned to do this. She ought to drop him at her feet before she did anything stupid.

Stupider. Whatever.

She might still do that after she figured out where her bed was in relation to herself and hefted his bulk there. "You're fat," she informed him, even though it wasn't precisely true - he was just solid.

His only reply was to pat her bottom.

She supposed there were certain...risks when one had the pervert sennin slung over one's shoulder.

It would be hypocritical, she told herself, to smack him for groping her when she was planning on bedding him, so she just sighed and pinched his butt.

There was a grunt, but nothing more. Perhaps he didn't want to waste this opportunity. His hands ducked under her shirt and raked it up as they coasted over her belly. That was - oh. Really, she ought to put him down before she did anything she'd regret. It had been a long time since she'd done this, and it had always had a sour edge to it when she was through, because she couldn't help but remember the times it had meant something beyond a pretty man between her legs.

Oh, Dan. She shook her head. i>thi>that was where that rule had come from, though on further thought, she suspected it had existed before she loved and lost Dan; it had to do with a bet - that she'd lost obviously, as per usual - over whether or not that scruffy Jiraiya kid would ever lose his virginity. But the one she'd made it with had left them years ago, and she doubted collecting on an idle childhood bet was a big priority for Orochimaru right now.

"It would be easier, you know, to do this if all my blood wasn't collected in my head," he complained, his breath on the small of her back. A thrill traced her spine and raced down between her legs, but she let him back down and sat down heavily at the table, picking up the sake bottle.

"You weren't having any trouble," she said, remembering the press of his groin against her shoulder.

"Ah - but that's because I'm the great Jiraiya." He settled back down next to her. "I guess you aren't going to haul me over to your bed, then?"

"No. I was...was proving a point," she said, and tried to decide whether or not to get drunk off her ass.

"Too bad. I'm good at it, you know." His jaw lifted thoughtfully as he looked at her, with that unlly lly perceptive glint in his narrowed eyes that always creeped her out. She couldn't help but think of him as this dense kid with a preoccupation with breasts, and yet sometimes she could swear he could see into her and take her apart, break her down to the basics. She wondered what he saw and if he liked it, and then wondered why she cared.

"Probably," she agreed distractedly, wishing it was Dan who was looking at her like that. Okay, so get drunk off her ass it was. She poured sake into her cup and drained it.

He shrugged, reached out and snared the bottle from her hand.

She frowned. "Jiraiya, I'm trying to drinke." He pointed out, "You just said I was too impat - " The rest was unintelligible, as her mouth come crashing down on his, putting an end to the calculatingly seductive note she'd begun on. It was a fierce, hungry kiss, tongues and lips all mashed together; somehow, the distance separating the rest of them vanished in the process, so that her breasts were flattened against his shoulders, one of her legs flung over his lap.

This time he ended it, leaning his head back to rest on the back of the wooden chair. Hands taking a firm grip on her outer thighs, he pulled her hips toward his groin; already standing awkwardly on only one foot, she lost her balance. Instead of regaining it with her battle-honed reflexes, she tumbled forward agreeably onto his lap. Unthinkingly, she arched her back, thrusting her hips forward against his; he was hard against her and it cued an aching, echoed arousal in her.

He ducked his head so that his wild hair feathered around her throat. It tickled in an interesting, distracting way so that her skin prickled; then there was warmth and wet on her throat and she forgot about his hair. Her hips bucked again involuntarily as his mouth trailed down to her right breast, but then he stopped just short of her neckline. Instead, he glanced up at her, resting his chin on the breast he'd just deserted, and leered at her.

She tested out a leer of her own, as his hands curved at her waist, his fingers tapping at the small of her back in little tantalizing dribbles of contact. Inside, she was achy and anxious, and her breasts itched. She lifted her chest a little as a hint, but he didn't seem to figure it out, his tongue instead flicking out over her collarbone.

"Damn it," she said raggedly. "Put your mouth back there already."

"Huh?"

With an irritated sigh, she yanked her collar further open and, hand laced into his hair, guided his mouth down the slope of one breast.

"Oh," he said. Tugging one lacy bra cup - that maybe, just maybe, she had on on especially for the occasion; not that she needed pretty underthings to look good, hhhmmph - from her flesh, he touched his tongue to her taut nipple. Her skin felt shivery and flushed; feet arching, she clutched the chair's legs with flexed toes.

That rocked her hips back against his, hard, and this time she didn't bother to pull them back. Abruptly, his hands - the ones of the featherlight contact at the small of her back - tensed under her tunic, against her skin, pushing her against him again. Something inside of her twisted and ached. She laughed and, balls of her feet on the floor for balance, moved back and forth, now brushing groin to groin, now rocking back towards his knees, now sliding down again. He groaned and, hands spread on her back, tried to keep her pressed to him. Instead, she slung her leg back over his knee and crossed back to the sake, which she sipped slowly, ignoring the wet thrill between her legs. Deliberately, she let some spill down her chin so she had to lick her lips. Fair was fair, after all.

He tilted his head up and looked at the ceiling with a groan. "Man, come on, Tsunade! Get back here."

"It's traditional to do it in bed," she said, absently undoing her two ponytails and then threading her free hand into her hair so that it fell loose over her breasts. "Since I'm a nice, traditional kind of girl, you'll need to stand up sooner or later and get yourself into my bed."

Doing her best to maintain her casual manner, she sat on the table and then leaned back, pulling up her shirt to bare her waist. Sucking in her stomach, she carefully trickled a few drops into the hollow created. "This," she said, breathing shallowly to keep her belly concave, "is the first stop on the road to the bed. Hurry up."

"Heh. All right, then." He stood slowly and walked to her, one hand resting lightly where his erection raised the loose material of his trousers. Planting his hands on the wooden surface to either side of her hips, he bens hes head so that he could brush his mouth over her skin. They were faint, barely perceptible little kisses that seemed intended to avoid the sake itself. She hissed at the wet, twisting want building at the apex of her thighs, and could hardly concentrate enough keep her stomach pulled in. Finally, his tongue flickered out, lapping the liquid up; as he pushed himself up on his hands, he kissed the underside of her ribcage in a way that made her tremble.

Standing with a scooping motion that brought his groin against hers, he stumbled a few steps backwards. Body shivering and on glorious edge, Tsunade went to him, arm looping over his shoulder and other hand brushing over his erection. His hands fell on her outside thighs, grinding her against him. This time, she did not pull away, but instead let her hips move the way he wanted them too, feeling the tension inside her tightening; but when his fingers slipped under the waistband on her pants, she caught hold of his wrists. "This way," she said, and his hands still at her thighs, tugged him toward her bedroom.

"If you have to be this way, you should've moved a futon into the kitchen," he complained.

On the way, he took out his pretty, well-practiced compliments; she actually liked them and felt like a giddy teenager. "Sssh," she said, with a laugh; it felt like she was sneaking home with her boyfriend in tow for a secret assignation.

She laced her fingers with his, because that was a teenager thing to do and she liked feeling young; he rubbed his thumb over the lifeline on her palm. Shivering, she wondered how she'd failed to realize how sensitive hands were. "Do that again," she hissed at him; his attention had moved on to the nape of her neck and that was nice, too, but -

"Jiraiya. Do that again."

"What?" he asked, the word muffled against her throat.

"The thing with the hands."

"Oh, this?" She felt his free hand splay, open-palmed, on her leg, his fingers firm and strong on her inner thigh through her pants. "How's that?" he whispered against her ear, cool breath making her skin tingle.

That wasn't the right thing with the hands, but she decided not to point that out because she liked this one better. She rested hend lnd lightly over his.

His fingers trailed up her thigh, taking an agonizingly slow path towards the wet heat building between her legs. With an impatient huff of air, she caught his hand against her skin and tucked it there herself. "You're slow, Jiraiya. It's annoying."

"Hahaha, and you cannot resist the great Jiraiya," he said in a puffed up, exaggerated voice, his hand curving between her legs, thumb glancing over her sex. There were so many silly unnecessary clothes between them, she thought. He needed to stop distracting her.

"And that spoils the mood. I don't sleep with people who talk like cheesy door-to-door salesmen." No, not even when they licked the lobe of her ear like that. Really. She had her standards -

Oh. Well...maybe that was a lie. Just maybe, because he had exhaled a cool whisper into her ear, and perhaps she could forgive him anything if he'd just breathe like that again.

"First time for everything," he said, using the hand between her thighs to draw her to him. His erection pressed against her bottom; he rocked her back against him. Tsunade, suspecting that if he didn't stop they'd never make it to her room, pushed him back with one hand and then used the hand still holding his to yank him after her.

-

She stretched out on her bed, back arching and breasts rising - all deliberate, of course - and then rolled over onto her stomach. Propping her fist under her chin, she blew strands of blond out of her eyes and watched Jiraiya. "So," she said, and felt awkward.

"So," he said. He sat down on the bed alongside her, looking perfectly at ease, aside from the fact that he had a hard-on. "How long since you last did this?" he asked conversationally, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Maybe you seem a little rusty."

She snorted, because while she might've been, she was sure she didn't seem it. "A year or two," she said; it had been more like a decade. "You?" she asked and then shook her head at him. "Never mind, it's not important, just so long as you haven't picked up any nasty diseases."

"Want to examine me, doctor?"

"Your pick-up lines suck. C'mere." Tilting her head deliberately so that her hair fell over one eye, she crooked her finger at him. Damn straight she was better at seducing people than he was, even with her smaller amount of prior practice; of course, it helped that she had more natural resources than he did, since she was gorgeous after all.

He leaned over so that he had an arm slung over her shoulders and his chin rested on the top of her head. "Well, I'm not exactly picking you up; I think that's what you did back there with the sake and the kissing. So I can slack off."

"Hhmmph." She looked at his neck, which was just at eyelevel at the moment, and licked his adam's apple. "That's all you can slack off on, you know. I expect to enjoy this as much or more than you."

"Okay, now I'm hurt. I do have a reputation you know."

"I'm just warning you."

She reached out for his clothes and fumbled with his shirt, pulling it over his head. His hair got in the way and she had to laugh. He laughed too, and it felt nice. With her calloused fingers, she traced his stomach muscles and whistled appreciatively, though hard planed bellies weren't exactly rare in a ninja village. Nor was the solid bulk of his shoulders or the hard lines of his back; she pointed that out just to be contrary.

"So?" was his answer, as he slid her shirt down around her shoulders so that it framed her breasts.

"It's easier if you pull it over my head. Really, Jiraiya, it isn't that difficult."

He tugged her bra straps off the shoulder, too, and then grinned at her. "You should wear it like this everyday."

She rolled her eyes and took off her shirt herself, since he was taking his time about it. As he curved his hands over her breasts, she admired the contrast of his broad, dark hands against her fairer skin. Hands trailing around to her back, he deftly undid the clasp. Obviously, he knew his way around bras.

It reminded her of how Dan so clearly hadn't, how he'd blushed and fumbled at the back and then finally, staring at his feet, asked her if she could turn around so he could see what he was doing.

Jiraiya set a finger on her mouth. "You're frowning. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I was thinking about the paperwork I should be doing." She smiled. "You'll have to help me."

"Procrastinating? You used to do that back in the academy. And then you tried to cheat off of me on the tests."

"What?" There was a nice bit of revisionist history, all right.

He shrugged and brushed his thumbs over her nipples; they were calloused and rough and made the lust, subsided somewhat, flare again between her legs. Covering his hands with hers, she guided his fingers, getting them to move just so on her skin.

His mouth hot on her throat, she slid her hands down his powerful abdomen and grabbed his waistband, hauling it down to mid-thigh and then to his knees. His hips bucked, pressing his bare groin against her belly; she cupped one hand over him and kissed his ear, using her free hand to push him back against the sheets.

He pulled her down with him so that she straddled him, just her trousers and underwear - which were black, and silk - between them. The thin fabric was somehow more arousing than nothing at all as she moved over him, falling into a quick, sure rhythm, clenching the muscles inside herself with each rocking motion of her hips to increase the pressure. His lips and tongue were on her mouth, his hands gripping her outer thighs. Back-and-forth, back-and-forth, and then he groaned, "Tsunade, why are your pants still on?"

She tossed her hair. "I took off yours, so that was your oversight," she said, and then gasped at his fingers slipping between her pants and panties. When he stroked her through the thin silk, she couldn't keep up the thrust of hips; instead, with a breathy little sound, she leaned back on her palms, sitting on his upper thighs.

"Just how many layers do you have on?" he griped, brushing at her again and propping himself up on his elbow.

"The usual two." She raised her hips and widened her legs pointedly, letting her knees fall to the sides.

After what felt like forever, he slid his first two fingers, bare skin on bare skin, down the curve between her thighs; with the other hand, he worked her pants down to bare her hipbones. She lifted her pelvis so he could tug the waistband to her knees, then settled back on his lap and helped him divest her of them completely. With the other hand, he spread the folds between her legs and rested the tip of his middle finger over the opening. One quick stroke from clit to the bottom of her slit, then another - She hissed as he eased the finger inside her to the knuckle and withdrew it quickly, transferring his fingertips to the small of her back and leaving her feeling achy and distinctly empty.

His cock, just to the front of her sex, was high against his belly, and she covered it with her hands. His lips pulled back from his teeth, and when she tightened her grip, his back arched and he grunted. Bending her neck, she kissed the tip, and then flicked her tongue out, kissing the length of him. "Ready?" she said, looking at him.

He snorted. "No kidding."

She shifted position, so that she was on her hands and knees over him. Struck by an impulse, she licked the marking on his right cheek, then the one on the left, and wondered if he'd be there in the morning. He grinned at her, and traced the line of her jaw with his thumb, before reaching for her hips, hands spread over her thighs. They slid down to her groin; with his thumbs, he spread the folds of her sex for her as she came down over him. There was a moment of awkwardness as she missed the tip, it instead pressing against her hipbones as she slid downward. The second time, everything lined up and his cock pressed at her entrance; she relaxed her muscles and took a deep breath, bringing herself down on him. There was a moment of discomfort as she widened inside to fit him that passed swiftly when her inner muscles flexed around him. Smirking at him, she twitched her hips to make him groan.

As her hands wove into his hair, he kissed her hard, thrusting up into her and panting into her mouth; she moved in response. For a few seconds, she was a few beats off from him, but then she found the rhythm, matching his thrusts. Hungrily, she met his kiss, deepening it from her side. It was hot and wet and fierce, lacking most of her earlier finesse, but he didn't seem to care. Her tongue slid in and out of his mouth, grazing over his teeth each time, almost in sync with her hips. Bracing his palms at her back, he bucked and held his hips up above the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He jackknifed his body to the side; since she was curious, she let her body roll with the motion, so that he flipped her over. With a grunt, he pulled out almost to his tip and then drove back inside her. She groaned and lightly bit his collarbone.

"Do that again," he said. When she did, she felt a spasm run through his body. Again, he withdrew from her and then drove in deep, and again. The inner pressure intensified each time and she could feel herself spiraling toward orgasm - and then, abruptly, his fingers digging into her thighs, he came, the muscles in his face clenching in ecstasy, his body shuddering and then falling heavily on top of hers.

She drummed her fingers on his back as he breathed against her collarbone. "You still need to finish me off," she pointed out, feeling the tightly coiled lust beginning to unwind, though he was still inside her. To keep it from fading, she flexed her inner muscles tightly around him.

"Just a minute," he said. "It takes a little bit, even for me."

She just laughed at that, and admired the powerful muscles connecting neck and shoulder. Planting her hands on his chest, she pushed him off, hooking a leg around his firm buttocks so that she could maneuver him over onto his back. Once a, sh, she straddled him as he lay back against the bed. Pulling his cock out from inside her, she scooted up along his chest. He laughed then, cupping her bottom with his hands. Knees to either side of his face, she held her hips over his mouth and gripped the headboard with sweaty fingers.

Using his hands to draw him towards her, he raised his lips to her. One, two, three, four little featherlight kisses, and damn it, he needs to move faster. She trembled and clenched her thigh muscles in the effort to hold still; it was sort of counterproductive to buck her hips at his mouth. Her hands clutched at the headboard when his tongue slipped out, tracing between the folds of her sex, and then -

Her back arched, everything tightened into a wonderful hot implosion exhilaration as his tongue slid inside her and he took a hand away from her backside to thumb her clit, stroking with his hand and flickering his tongue in her. She came in a blaze, clinging to the headboard and shouting out something wordless and ragged. Afterwards, she dropped down next to him, draping a sweaty arm over his chest and giving him the smirk of a woman who has just gotten laid.

"Well," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Get dinner with me tomorrow," she said, looking at the ceiling. "Maybe we'll do this again," she added, casually.

"Sounds good."

She thought it might just be a hell of a start to...something...and that was good enough for her.

-

He was still there in the morning.

Back to Chuunin and Jounin
Back to the main page