Until The World Is Gone
folder
Naruto › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,310
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Naruto › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,310
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
If I owned Naruto, these two would be sexing each other in every panel. But I don't, which means I also don't make any money from doing this. I have nothing.
Until The World Is Gone
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello! Thank you for even clicking on the fic. This is just a place to put all of the Pein/Konan fics that don't have a home currently. It will mostly be smut (because, let's be honest, it'd be a crime NOT to put these two in bed) but there might be a couple pieces that are generic. Regardless of theme, I hope you all enjoy.
____________________________________________________________________________
Title: Kneeling At the Alter of God
Pairing: Pein/Konan
Prompt: “My TV and You” by VAST
Lyrics: It’s all I need/It’s all I ever needed/Until the world is gone/Take me how I am ‘cause you know I’ll never change/I was born to stare/At who stares back at me
____________________________________________________________________________
A god was nothing without his disciples. Without anyone to worship at his alter, the god simply did not exist. It was through the blind faith of his followers that a god was validated and made real. And just as god was validated through the life and devotion of his followers, so too were the followers protected by their god.
It was by this principle that they had survived. It was how they had grown and thrived together, by validating the existence of the other through the devotion of a god and his servant. But it was the servant who never strayed, never questioned god, who received the highest of blessings. She was forever by his side, forever serving and seeing that his will was carried out. And so it was that, through her devotion to god, she became his one and only angel.
Theirs was a bond that required no words; a simple look, a touch… that was all the communication needed for the other to understand. It was the sort of spiritual connection to god any acolyte would envy, and it was hers alone. There was no angel for him but her, and there never would be.
He watched her from across the tower that was their sanctuary, the filth and squalor they had risen from left far below and nearly forgotten. Her hands, pale and perfect, folded another crease in the pure white paper, the chakra locked in that fold nearly invisible even to his eyes. Soft snatches of an old song intermingled with the rustle of paper, a lullaby he remembered from long ago. Slowly, the paper began to take life, a delicate shape emerging through the beauty of her hands.
Watching her had become his meditation. Fold, press the crease, infuse it with pale chakra and repeat. Her fingers moved slowly, perfecting each bend and line. Turn down a corner, fold it back on itself, pull a small tab to expand the body. The actions always looked the same, but the product always varied. Each creation was unique to itself, more beautiful than the next. Their tower room was littered with paper animals and plants, all of them alive at one point but now lifeless and empty. He refused to remove a single one.
Let Deidara carry on about the grotesque beauty in his art. Nothing he created could ever compare to her masterpiece. His angel, and all that she did in his name, was flawless.
There were times over the years where he almost regretted his godlike status. But then his angel would look at him with such unconditional love and reverence in her eyes that any doubts about his chosen path were dismissed. Her confirmation of him was what kept him steady. She was his savior, as he was hers.
He stood and immediately the dragon she had been making was forgotten, her attention on him and him alone. The chakra she had been threading through her creation faded slowly and the dragon was now no more than folded paper. Without a word, she rose as well and waited for him to issue her a command, tell her what he needed from her. There was no doubt in his mind that whatever he asked of her, she would do.
God looked at his angel… and she knew.
Those pale, smooth hands rose to the clasp of her black and red cloak, working it open and sliding it off her shoulders. The silk slithered softly as it pooled around her bare feet so that it momentarily looked as if she were emerging from a puddle of ink. Her fingers were methodical and precise as she continued removing her clothing while approaching him. At last there was nothing but her smooth, pale body and her reverent eyes.
He didn’t move, simply watched as she sank to her knees in front of him, the very picture of devout worshipper. Slowly, her eyes never wavering from his face, she flipped the edges of his cloak back. Her fingers, lovely in their art and even more so now that they were loosening his pants, worked swiftly, eager to please her god.
Cool air bit into his still soft flesh as his pants opened and slipped down just enough to free him completely. The cold was there for only a second before her lips parts and the heat of her mouth seared his flaccid length. She took him deeply and completely, the task made easier by the fact that his member was just now beginning to respond to her. Her eyes closed and he could feel the shudder from her faultless body where her mouth encased him. She adored these moments, when he allowed her to awaken his desires. It was as much a gift from god to his devotee as it was a means of worshiping god.
She was pulling back slowly as he began to harden in her mouth, her lips moist and clinging along his entire length until only the tip remained. Her eyes met his… and the she slid down completely, taking him to the hilt again. The feeling of her throat relaxing to accept him made his back jerk, his fingers sweeping through her dark hair to encourage her, let her know that her god loved when she did that. There was no pressure to the hand that cradled her head, but it was hardly needed. She, like any true believer, worshipped by choice not by force.
Her rhythm was exquisite. She took her time, adoring him as she always had. His head tipped back and his teeth grit to keep from letting out a base moan, his body jerking once again when he felt the press of her studded tongue along the underside of his length. The drag of metal on his sensitized flesh was such a sharp, delicious contrast to the gentleness of her lips that his fingers curled more tightly in her hair and his hips pushed toward her.
At moments like these, he could almost swear that true heaven lay in the mouth of his angel.
She moved faster, and it wasn’t just because of the sweat coating his skin or the breathless sounds he was making. His angel was moaning as well, softly, the barest of vibrations shivering along his member. Faster still as deep, broken pants issued from his throat, his hips unable to remain still any longer at the continuous slide of his hard flesh down her throat. He managed to crack his eyes open as she moved, enjoying the glistening of sweat on her pale skin and the way her hair clung to her cheek, her neck. Her hands were on his thighs, one serving to balance her as she strove to take him impossibly deeper into her mouth while the other smoothed upward to cup his sacs.
That was his undoing, as it always was; her beautiful, perfect hands. He once again struggled to hold back anything louder than a soft gasp, his back arching as the rush of sensation she invoked began to flood toward her mouth. She knew he was about to spend himself and began to withdraw. But his fingers tightened in her hair and held her still… and the look in her eyes was one of such wonder and gratitude that he was allowing her to do this for him that it finally did make him moan out loud.
It was nothing short of piercing, to fill her mouth with his essence. It was lightning personified, sharp and so swift that to blink was to miss it and yet so searing in its intensity that he knew he would remember this moment forever. Her mouth moved slower now, working the very last drop of her god into her mouth. When she was certain she hadn’t missed a single bit of him, she released him from her divine mouth and carefully returned his clothing to its proper state.
She stood, preparing to dress herself, and his hand flicked out to curl around her wrist with enough force to stop her but not to hurt. Never to hurt. Not his angel. He refused to see her skin marked. To do so would ruin perfection. His angel turned, waited for him to issue another command.
He kissed her and tasted god on her lips.
He had never kissed her before and now he wondered why that was. Her lips were just as soft here as they were below. She yielded to him, stepped closer and touched his chest with a hesitant hand. He could feel her uncertainty in the way she touched him and he allayed that by bringing her closer to god, his hand tracing over the soft skin of her backside and further up her back. The hand on his chest moved more surely to curl around his neck, accepting him.
Accepting god’s unconditional love for her.
It would never be spoken of, but it was there; the love of a deity for his most faithful acolyte. It was far deeper than the love most people spoke and prayed for. This love was eternal, soul binding. The actions of the world and the unknown future would not change this fact.
He was god. And she was his angel.
____________________________________________________________________________
Title: Kneeling At the Alter of God
Pairing: Pein/Konan
Prompt: “My TV and You” by VAST
Lyrics: It’s all I need/It’s all I ever needed/Until the world is gone/Take me how I am ‘cause you know I’ll never change/I was born to stare/At who stares back at me
____________________________________________________________________________
A god was nothing without his disciples. Without anyone to worship at his alter, the god simply did not exist. It was through the blind faith of his followers that a god was validated and made real. And just as god was validated through the life and devotion of his followers, so too were the followers protected by their god.
It was by this principle that they had survived. It was how they had grown and thrived together, by validating the existence of the other through the devotion of a god and his servant. But it was the servant who never strayed, never questioned god, who received the highest of blessings. She was forever by his side, forever serving and seeing that his will was carried out. And so it was that, through her devotion to god, she became his one and only angel.
Theirs was a bond that required no words; a simple look, a touch… that was all the communication needed for the other to understand. It was the sort of spiritual connection to god any acolyte would envy, and it was hers alone. There was no angel for him but her, and there never would be.
He watched her from across the tower that was their sanctuary, the filth and squalor they had risen from left far below and nearly forgotten. Her hands, pale and perfect, folded another crease in the pure white paper, the chakra locked in that fold nearly invisible even to his eyes. Soft snatches of an old song intermingled with the rustle of paper, a lullaby he remembered from long ago. Slowly, the paper began to take life, a delicate shape emerging through the beauty of her hands.
Watching her had become his meditation. Fold, press the crease, infuse it with pale chakra and repeat. Her fingers moved slowly, perfecting each bend and line. Turn down a corner, fold it back on itself, pull a small tab to expand the body. The actions always looked the same, but the product always varied. Each creation was unique to itself, more beautiful than the next. Their tower room was littered with paper animals and plants, all of them alive at one point but now lifeless and empty. He refused to remove a single one.
Let Deidara carry on about the grotesque beauty in his art. Nothing he created could ever compare to her masterpiece. His angel, and all that she did in his name, was flawless.
There were times over the years where he almost regretted his godlike status. But then his angel would look at him with such unconditional love and reverence in her eyes that any doubts about his chosen path were dismissed. Her confirmation of him was what kept him steady. She was his savior, as he was hers.
He stood and immediately the dragon she had been making was forgotten, her attention on him and him alone. The chakra she had been threading through her creation faded slowly and the dragon was now no more than folded paper. Without a word, she rose as well and waited for him to issue her a command, tell her what he needed from her. There was no doubt in his mind that whatever he asked of her, she would do.
God looked at his angel… and she knew.
Those pale, smooth hands rose to the clasp of her black and red cloak, working it open and sliding it off her shoulders. The silk slithered softly as it pooled around her bare feet so that it momentarily looked as if she were emerging from a puddle of ink. Her fingers were methodical and precise as she continued removing her clothing while approaching him. At last there was nothing but her smooth, pale body and her reverent eyes.
He didn’t move, simply watched as she sank to her knees in front of him, the very picture of devout worshipper. Slowly, her eyes never wavering from his face, she flipped the edges of his cloak back. Her fingers, lovely in their art and even more so now that they were loosening his pants, worked swiftly, eager to please her god.
Cool air bit into his still soft flesh as his pants opened and slipped down just enough to free him completely. The cold was there for only a second before her lips parts and the heat of her mouth seared his flaccid length. She took him deeply and completely, the task made easier by the fact that his member was just now beginning to respond to her. Her eyes closed and he could feel the shudder from her faultless body where her mouth encased him. She adored these moments, when he allowed her to awaken his desires. It was as much a gift from god to his devotee as it was a means of worshiping god.
She was pulling back slowly as he began to harden in her mouth, her lips moist and clinging along his entire length until only the tip remained. Her eyes met his… and the she slid down completely, taking him to the hilt again. The feeling of her throat relaxing to accept him made his back jerk, his fingers sweeping through her dark hair to encourage her, let her know that her god loved when she did that. There was no pressure to the hand that cradled her head, but it was hardly needed. She, like any true believer, worshipped by choice not by force.
Her rhythm was exquisite. She took her time, adoring him as she always had. His head tipped back and his teeth grit to keep from letting out a base moan, his body jerking once again when he felt the press of her studded tongue along the underside of his length. The drag of metal on his sensitized flesh was such a sharp, delicious contrast to the gentleness of her lips that his fingers curled more tightly in her hair and his hips pushed toward her.
At moments like these, he could almost swear that true heaven lay in the mouth of his angel.
She moved faster, and it wasn’t just because of the sweat coating his skin or the breathless sounds he was making. His angel was moaning as well, softly, the barest of vibrations shivering along his member. Faster still as deep, broken pants issued from his throat, his hips unable to remain still any longer at the continuous slide of his hard flesh down her throat. He managed to crack his eyes open as she moved, enjoying the glistening of sweat on her pale skin and the way her hair clung to her cheek, her neck. Her hands were on his thighs, one serving to balance her as she strove to take him impossibly deeper into her mouth while the other smoothed upward to cup his sacs.
That was his undoing, as it always was; her beautiful, perfect hands. He once again struggled to hold back anything louder than a soft gasp, his back arching as the rush of sensation she invoked began to flood toward her mouth. She knew he was about to spend himself and began to withdraw. But his fingers tightened in her hair and held her still… and the look in her eyes was one of such wonder and gratitude that he was allowing her to do this for him that it finally did make him moan out loud.
It was nothing short of piercing, to fill her mouth with his essence. It was lightning personified, sharp and so swift that to blink was to miss it and yet so searing in its intensity that he knew he would remember this moment forever. Her mouth moved slower now, working the very last drop of her god into her mouth. When she was certain she hadn’t missed a single bit of him, she released him from her divine mouth and carefully returned his clothing to its proper state.
She stood, preparing to dress herself, and his hand flicked out to curl around her wrist with enough force to stop her but not to hurt. Never to hurt. Not his angel. He refused to see her skin marked. To do so would ruin perfection. His angel turned, waited for him to issue another command.
He kissed her and tasted god on her lips.
He had never kissed her before and now he wondered why that was. Her lips were just as soft here as they were below. She yielded to him, stepped closer and touched his chest with a hesitant hand. He could feel her uncertainty in the way she touched him and he allayed that by bringing her closer to god, his hand tracing over the soft skin of her backside and further up her back. The hand on his chest moved more surely to curl around his neck, accepting him.
Accepting god’s unconditional love for her.
It would never be spoken of, but it was there; the love of a deity for his most faithful acolyte. It was far deeper than the love most people spoke and prayed for. This love was eternal, soul binding. The actions of the world and the unknown future would not change this fact.
He was god. And she was his angel.