Short Stories

Pairing: Temari/Shikamaru

Prompt: Breathplay without D/s

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Breathplay

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Fire.

Shadows are covering her mouth and nose while she writhes on top of him.

He lies there and lets her ride him. Only the fire in his eyes and his hardness inside her show that he is as aroused as she is.

Troublesome man. Letting her do all the work.

Then again, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The burning inside her grows stronger. It has been thirty seconds since she last took a breath. She feels like her eyes are glowing as she stares down at him and gyrates her hips. She knows she can stop it any time. She only needs to give him the signal.

But she won’t. Won’t, won’t, won’t. Because she has chosen this and she wants it. Wants to fly.

Wants the fire that slowly ignites in her lungs and joins the one in her loins until she thinks she is burning.

She seeks friction with a desperate single-mindedness. She can’t gasp, can’t moan, can’t whine. It is eerily silent, the only sound in the room their wet coupling and his shuddering breaths.

His hands slide up her flexing thighs, caressing her skin. Her breath can’t hitch as it normally does when his smoldering eyes gleam in that light. But his slow smile says he knows what effect he has on her anyway. She grinds herself against him soundlessly, kneads his shoulders with a strength that is going to leave bruises.

The fire burns stronger, igniting her blood. She knows how to deal with the desperation, feeling but not fearing it. Actually, she revels in it when it pushes her higher and higher. She is a wind mistress. She doesn’t fear heights.

His hands have wandered up to her waist. He grabs her and anchors her, even as he lifts her up and up and up and only gravity makes her slide down in between.

She bares her teeth behind the shadowy binding. Reflexively, she tries to exhale. Inhale.

Nothing. Only the pressure in her lungs varies as they try to contract and expand.

Her eyes burn as she stares into his. They are the only steady thing in a world that is rapidly spiraling out of control, spiraling towards the brink. She grips harder because she can feel the end nearing. How long has it been already?

Doesn’t matter. It is enough to know that she won’t last long anymore. She is using too much energy to go for longer than ninety seconds, two minutes at the most without breathing.

His fingers tighten around her until they reach the same violence hers do. If her nails were just a millimeter longer, she would leave bloody gouges in his skin.

Her needs threaten to overwhelm her. She is still riding them, but she can’t distinguish anymore what they are. Air? Friction? Pleasure? Everything is clawing and burning and pounding until she is writhing like a stranded fish in the sun. But she doesn’t want to be a fish. She wants to fly.

More, more, more, she greedily chants to herself.

She is nearing the brink. Her vision narrows. The only things she sees are his eyes. Dark. Lidded. Burning. Her hearing dims. The only thing she perceives over the rush of blood in her ears is his breaths. Ragged. A slight grunt every time he thrusts up into her.

Then she feels it. The way something inside her tightens. She is clawing for purchase, all the while stoking the need. She can’t let it be extinguished by the burn in the rest of her body.

But it perseveres. Grows tighter. Hotter. Up and down and up and down and gritted teeth and dizziness.

The brink is within grasping distance. It is all she can focus on.

She strains. She will fly.

The knot reaches critical mass. A small push, a tiny push, that is all she needs.

“Temari,” he groans into her rushing ears. He kisses her through the shadows choking her until there is nothing but his mouth on her lips and his tongue down her throat.

It is enough. The knot ignites and she freezes. With a magnificent display of magnesium fireworks, she is finally thrown over.

She flies.