Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto
Paint
0 ReviewsThe heat makes her lazy as she sharpens her claws. (sandcest, Temari/Kankurou)
Written because the image of Temari smearing Kankurou's facepaint while kissing him is amazingly hot; lacking the artistic ability to draw it, I write a faux-artistic ficlet instead.
*
The desert sun burns hot enough to thicken the air with heat distortion and bleach the color from already pale grains of sand. Temari lounges outside in the shade with a whetstone and a bandolier of kunai. The heat makes her lazy, as she sits, contented and cat-like, sharpening her claws.
She dozes to the rhythm of her blade against the whetstone, letting her thoughts and her eyes wander. They skirt away from the too-bright sunsoaked sand and rest on her hands, callused and confident. There is a smear of purple caught under her nail; the sight of it stills her for a moment.
A slow smile curls its way across her face as she loses herself in the momentary rush of remembered sensation-
(/paint is thick and oily beneath her fingers as she pulls his face to hers and he kisses her back hard enough to draw blood, warm and sharp beside the thick, cool taste of paint on her tongue and she obliterates the lines on his face in careless haste, ignoring the scratches her nails leave in favor of the heat between them, the clash and the sweetness of blood shared in their mouths/)
-and then she flicks the paint away with the tip of the blade and lets her thoughts wander elsewhere.
Later, when she sees her brother, she fingers the warm metal of her newly sharpened kunai, and smiles. He meets her gaze with a smirk, and touches his face where half-healed scratches are hidden by lines of paint.
*
*
The desert sun burns hot enough to thicken the air with heat distortion and bleach the color from already pale grains of sand. Temari lounges outside in the shade with a whetstone and a bandolier of kunai. The heat makes her lazy, as she sits, contented and cat-like, sharpening her claws.
She dozes to the rhythm of her blade against the whetstone, letting her thoughts and her eyes wander. They skirt away from the too-bright sunsoaked sand and rest on her hands, callused and confident. There is a smear of purple caught under her nail; the sight of it stills her for a moment.
A slow smile curls its way across her face as she loses herself in the momentary rush of remembered sensation-
(/paint is thick and oily beneath her fingers as she pulls his face to hers and he kisses her back hard enough to draw blood, warm and sharp beside the thick, cool taste of paint on her tongue and she obliterates the lines on his face in careless haste, ignoring the scratches her nails leave in favor of the heat between them, the clash and the sweetness of blood shared in their mouths/)
-and then she flicks the paint away with the tip of the blade and lets her thoughts wander elsewhere.
Later, when she sees her brother, she fingers the warm metal of her newly sharpened kunai, and smiles. He meets her gaze with a smirk, and touches his face where half-healed scratches are hidden by lines of paint.
*
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