|His Type Of Flowers
Author: YamiPaladinofChaos PM
[Tayuya x Kimimaro] Tayuya is a sore loser, and that's why Kimimaro loves sparing with her. Among other things, of course.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Humor - Kimimaro & Tayuya - Words: 567 - Reviews: 26 - Favs: 32 - Follows: 6 - Published: 05-12-06 - Status: Complete - id: 2935540
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer- Naruto doesn't belong to me.
No one quite understood why- even he didn't know for sure. She wasn't nearly as deadly as Ukon and Sakon, her distance genjutsu was outmatched by Kidomaru's giant arrows, and Jirobou's strength far surpassed her own.
She was crude, rude, and was likely to throw a tantrum and sulk for days after he inevitably defeated her.
Still, sparring with her was something not quite like a hobby.
Orochimaru-sama never questioned him about his taste, and Kabuto didn't think it worth the time.
So in the end, it was merely accepted.
She ducked and wove, his bones slicing over her apple red hair, missing barely. Unfazed, she continued to play her siren's song unhindered, the tune threatening to overwhelm his psyche if played longer.
Her zombie warriors appear before him in a flash.
They both know he'll cut them apart in moments.
He proceeded to do so, slashing and hacking and generally dismembering the zombies with cold, calculating brutality.
He's like that.
She, on the other hand, was angry, always, at any time. The only time she wasn't was in the presence of Orochimaru-sama- but then again, most people couldn't be angry at all in front of Him.
She growled low and furious, a sound that stirred his blood, accelerated his heartbeat. "Stop toying with me, motherfucker!"
He smirked, simply because he knew it would make her angry.
She was delectably lovely when angry.
He ducked low to slash again, slicing ever so close to her shirt. He tore off a bit of it, exposing the flesh beneath.
"Goddamn pervert," she snarled, lashing out with her foot- even though they both knew it would do nothing.
Even though he could easily have hardened himself to stop her, he didn't.
Instead, he sidestepped her, and then swept forward, his face coming into inches from her own.
For a moment, she hesitated, her lips open and utterly naked.
He pressed his bone-blade to her throat. "Yield." His voice, despite himself, was smug.
She scowled. "Asshole." She stared at him for a moment, before speaking again. "This whole fucking 'nearly killing me during training' deal is your version of flowers and chocolates, isn't it, you sick fuck?"
He said nothing, merely holding the blade against her lovely neck. He couldn't decide whether to draw a bit of blood from it, or to kiss it.
If it was possible, she scowled deeper.
He inched the blade closer.
"Do it or don't, damnit." She snarled.
He smiled tightly, and let the blade fall to the floor. "As you wish." He was on her then, pushing, demanding, controlling. She struggled; biting at his tongue, hissing, scratching, kicking, and he let her- the fight, after all, was what made her so interesting.
After another moment of enjoying his victory, he pulled back. The smirk on his lips seemed to mock the swelling on hers.
"Asshole." She muttered again, brushing past him with an angry stride. He turned to watch her leave, the dancing smirk never leaving his face.
She'd be back- that was the best part about it.
She was such a sore loser, he thought.
But she had a nice ass all the same.