She watched and counted as each man fell, defeated by the brutal punches thrown and driven into their stomachs with intensity so strong and focused it was almost desperate. She stood; silently assessing, fascinated by the way the air escapes in a choking gasp distorted by a grunt of pain as it's forced violently out of collapsing lungs.
She rose quickly to her feet, about to intervene, she took a step and stopped, torn between the suddenly burning desire to discover who this was, but another second passed and she said nothing, did nothing and then suddenly she was almost paralyzed with surprise and a pride – where did it come from she did not know but unexpectedly felt a strange bond form, a connection, with this small and frightening fighter.
She felt a strange tug of yearning and a fiery flame of anger lick her reason, threatening to fray the ropes that kept her so stoic, silent and unmoving. She should not interfere. She continued to watch as the other hulking males, teamed on the slender figure.
"Standing out even though you're a woman!"
And with explosive power she twisted, delivered a kick so strong Yoruichi could have sworn she heard the man's bone crack as he fell to his knees, wheezing from a blow in his side. The girl landed in an unsteady crouch, chest heaving as she breathed deeply, trying to master the trembling that racked her lithe frame, to ignore the protests of her screaming muscles, Yoruichi could see, from where she was, standing at the door of the courtyard – the sweat trickling down a fine brow, into the black fabric that covered what Yoruichi could only imagine as soft and red lips, and cheeks flushed with exertion.
Four other men rose, beastly and ugly with indignation at their fallen male comrades, feeling no doubt a reason consuming anger at the betrayal – to lose so badly against a female in combat, half their size – was unforgivable.
Yoruichi finally moved, impulsively, flying into the fray before the girl could move – and with gleeful satisfaction, loving the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the heat and thrill of battle – a devilish grin exposed on her face, so happy it was not entirely sane and vicious to behold – such joy amidst such chaos.
A snap – a neck whipped back by her kick and another – cries of pain punctuating the monotonous thud of blows. The whisper of fabric on fabric as she danced in the air – flew – came down again and spun quickly on her heel for that black blur she caught in the corner of her eye but then froze in shock as she felt a slight pain jolt through her ankle and she looks – finding her kick blocked by two small, gloved hands. She stared, for a second, half amused to see worry and fear register almost immediately in those dark eyes.
– the lyrical voice, slightly overwhelmed with panic, reached her ears, and sent shivers rippling down her back – and to disguise her own moment of weakness, her mistake, she threw the girl effortlessly away like a rag doll and landed nimbly on two feet, knees bent to absorb shock. She inhaled sharply, the girl was only a little smaller than she was, she discovered, from that fleeting moment of contact.
"What's your name?" she asked tonelessly, her eyes feasting upon the girl knelt before her. She looked down at the girl through a mask, disguising a half realized hunger – not unlike the one that had previously covered the girl's face like a shadow, now strewn carelessly aside like layers of clothing at night. The soft strands of straight dark hair fell to her chin, and her bangs obscured her beautiful eyes as her head was bowed low in submission – she could see more beads of sweat trickle down those soft, unblemished cheek where it disappeared into the high collared shirt and she imagined it traveling down her bare neck, at a tantalizing pace, crawling over her collarbone, at her throat, her pale skin glistening with perspiration – down…
"I—I'm Soifon," said the girl, stumbling slightly over her words.
Yoruichi wondered if she saw a gleam of wonder, of avarice in her bright, eager gaze, but she did not want to betray her own curiosity, she had done enough already. She always had to be aware and careful, of what others saw – so she walked away without saying anything more because she was supposed to be detached, supposed to be their commander, above and beyond what anyone could ever reach and touch.
The door slid open softly, hushed sound as it moved so slowly and hesitantly, pausing halfway and the moonlight shone through the white, illuminating a silhouette – and the girl peered in, blinking at the one lone candle dripping wax, the flame flickered as Yoruichi moved, her uniform rustling ever so softly as she pulled the girl in – and she was pleased to see the girl did not resist.
And there was no sound, not even a quiet gasp as Yoruichi's lips found hers, mouth pressed tightly, hungrily on those delicately smooth lips – Yoruichi wondered for a moment if she had picked wrong, summoned the wrong girl – she was urgently searching, between chaste kisses, for that explosive power she had witnessed today, that fire that had brought everyone to their knees in defeat – and suddenly she had it – her mouth opened and the sound that escaped from her own mouth – a low moan, full of yearning, almost like a purr – shocked her, there was no way it could've – but there was no time to think, only action and reaction, caught in a hypnotizing dance, a test of instincts, always moving, hearts pounding blood rushing, skin covered with sweat, slick upon contact, like they were locked in combat.
The girl bit her lower lip again, and drew away to feel Yoruichi's breath graze her own numb and bruised lips – and their fingers, frenzied and fast, tore the matte black shirts eagerly away, breaking the deep kisses only momentarily. Yoruichi felt a hand, tracing small intricate patterns, like Chinese characters into her skin as those fingertips traveled down, slipping in her waistband, then as rough as it was gentle, tugged and pulled down and Yoruichi stepped out of her pants obligingly – and suddenly found her back pressed against the wall and felt those fingers teasing her through fabric, she pulled the girl tightly against her, impatient – and without having to say anything – she thought she saw a smile light up that melancholic face, gorgeous, like a dream, but she couldn't be sure because then the fingers were inside her, stroking and curling almost into the fist that broke so many male egos – and she pressed her face into the girl's supporting shoulder, her lips pressed tight against her collarbone where she could feel the muscles flexing and she swallowed a whimper – and her hands, tangled in the girl's silken hair, slowly tensed as she fell into the rhythmic, constant motion – her breath coming in small gasps and it was so hard to breathe all of a sudden – inhale, exhale, inhale –
– she grit her teeth, grinning, and there was a second where everything seemed to stop, and then she gripped the girl, who held her, and anchored safely she felt her legs buckle, her back arching, her breasts pressed tightly against the other girl's bra and she inhaled deeply, gathering her senses, her hand, untangling itself and trailing softly down the girl's arm where it gripped her wrist and pulled gently – her fingers slid out, coated and wet – Yoruichi quickly, with her other hand, undid the clasp and pinned the girl against the wall, planting kisses down the line of her chin, on her neck, throat and collarbone, biting gently when she felt like it, and was pleased to hear the girl's breath hitching – she felt the girl trembling with exhaustion, and nails digging into her skin as she held onto her shoulders in a death grip – and Yoruichi knew that the girl was completely spent, tired to the bone, but then she smelt it, that unmistakable tang of salt, and she could feel the wetness on her lips, taste it on her tongue as it dripped down that pearly white skin, just like she imagined…
I had this sudden burst of inspiration the other day while I was training in Taekwondo. This is my first honest attempt at a ... story with citrus-y content.
[just a little AN: skip if you wish] There's a minimal amount of dialogue -- the only dialogue present is taken straight from the anime (my favourite episodes). Asides from that, I felt that the lack of open, clear communication between Yoruichi and Soifon seems to be characteristic of their relationship. If you discount the fact that later, Yoruichi gets to be quite friendly with Soifon, after taking her under her wing, their other encounters are strictly that of commander/subordinate -- and I try to echo that in the story -- Soifon speaking only when spoken to, and Yoruichi playing the cold, calculating commander (it makes sense that she would be so attracted to power, being who she is, imho). I chose to write it through Yoruichi's perspective because she's so mischievous and mysterious, being supreme commander of the secret corps -- no one knows what she's thinking, what her actions mean. I wanted to play up on the fact that despite this position of power, it fuels the gap between her and her soldiers -- and that she may be well off, successful, powerful, but she is lonely.
... please review? :D