Sometimes She Wishes

Sometimes She Wishes

Author: ladygizarme
A/N: This was written for the Anon Naruto Kink Meme 4.0 on lj: http://finnimbrun.livejournal.com/4744.html
It’s been quite awhile since then, and I’m not sure if the requester ever even saw my response, or if it was at least close to what they were looking for, but here it is anyway. Also, I had briefly considered putting this in the Yuri category instead, but decided it still belonged in the Itachi/Sasuke SubCat, despite not being Yaoi.
Prompt: fem!Itachi/fem!Deidara OR fem!Itachi/fem!Sasuke OR fem!Sasuke/fem!Naruto.
And the kink is genderswap, really, but I'd love some delicious vagina worship. ~ I chose Uchihacest.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, H/C, incest, Fem!Itachi/Fem!Sasuke, Alternate Reality (in which Itachi and Sasuke were born as girls)


Sometimes She Wishes

Sometimes, Uchiha Sasuke wished she was a boy. If she were a boy, things would be different. Things would be better. If she were a boy, her father would train her every day, watching her progress and praising her for it. Instead, she was the second daughter of a father that still wished for a son.

If she were a boy, her sister Itachi might not have so much responsibility forced on her. Itachi might be allowed to follow her own heart, instead of being bred to someday head the clan—but from the shadows. If Sasuke were a boy, her older sister wouldn’t be forced to acquiesce to the clan’s latest demand. The responsibility would fall to Sasuke’s shoulders, if she were a boy, and a boy Sasuke wouldn’t be forced to marry the daimyo’s son in order to gain more control in Konoha politics—as Itachi would soon be.

Yes, sometimes Uchiha Sasuke wished she was a boy. It would be better, definitely. But now was not one of those times.

Now, as Itachi’s long fingers parted the lips of her pussy, and Itachi’s soft, wet tongue lapped slowly and teasingly at Sasuke’s moist folds, wishing to be a boy was the farthest thing from Sasuke’s mind.

“N-nee-san,” she pled softly, voice quivering slightly with the effort to stay quiet. Their parents were sleeping just rooms away from them, unaware that Sasuke had left her bed in favor of her older sister’s.

Sasuke’s slim fingers clenched and unclenched in the bedding beneath her as her hips desperately tried to bring her sister’s tongue closer. Still Itachi kept teasing her.

“Please. Nee-san, please…”

Finally, Itachi obliged her younger sister’s request, applying firm pressure with her tongue as she dragged it up and circled Sasuke’s clit that she’d revealed with her fingers. A high, breathy moan accompanied the jerk of Sasuke’s hips, and Itachi answered with a moan of her own as she held her sister’s hips down and pulled the little bud between her teeth, sucking at it a moment before flicking the tip of her tongue against it.

Itachi loved playing with her little sister’s clit because, no matter how many times she’d done it, the sensation always managed to surprise Sasuke. This time was no different, and Itachi flicked her tongue faster several times when Sasuke gasped sharply, hands giving up their death grip of the bedsheets in favor of digging into her sister’s long hair, obviously hoping to encourage more. Itachi closed her lips around Sasuke’s clit and hummed her approval, a delightful tingle shooting through her own body as her sister’s fingers tightened in her hair, Sasuke’s nails scraping against Itachi’s scalp, struggling to move beneath her.

After another moment of enjoying her sister’s struggle, Itachi slipped her tongue back down, again lapping at her sister’s slick folds. She could feel Sasuke’s little shudder vibrate through her body, and moaned as she felt her nipples tightening with arousal, rubbing lightly against the stiff cotton of her yukata as she pressed her tongue more firmly to Sasuke’s pussy with each lick. She used her first two fingers to fully expose Sasuke’s sweet, little entrance, and swirled the tip of her tongue around and around the opening teasingly. Sasuke’s moans were now short, stuttered cries of equal parts disappointment, approval, and impatience each time Itachi pushed just a little more with her tongue, only to pull away before she actually breached her sister’s womanhood.

“I-Ita-Itachi-nee! Please, please….” Sasuke pleaded again, fingers now clenched painfully in Itachi’s long, silky, black hair, but only serving to arouse both of them even more.

“What is it you’re asking, imouto?” Itachi questioned her little sister huskily, her breath hot against Sasuke’s equally-hot sex.

Sasuke shivered—Itachi’s voice, the look in Itachi’s eyes as they practically glittered up at her from between her legs, and the feel of her sister’s breath right there almost too much to bear—and shivered again when the cold air of the room took the place of Itachi’s warm breath. Her body was screaming to be touched more. She looked up through thick, dark lashes at her older sister, who was now hovering over her, staring down through the fringe of hair not clutched between Sasuke’s fingers. Sasuke tugged suddenly, pulling Itachi down to her and reaching for Itachi’s lips almost desperately with hers.

Over and over Sasuke kissed her sister Itachi, neck craning and fingers aching at the force of her grip as Itachi continued to brace herself just out of Sasuke’s preferred reach, despite returning the kisses just as fervently. Then Itachi’s hand was on Sasuke’s, her fingers caressing Sasuke’s wrist and then her arm as they slid down, and Itachi’s lips were slowing down, making their kiss more firm and less desperate. She cupped Sasuke’s face, thumb under her chin as she tenderly sucked at Sasuke’s lower lip, only releasing it when Sasuke moaned in that submissive way she had, giving herself over to her older sister’s pace. That’s when Itachi slid her tongue into Sasuke’s mouth.

As Sasuke met her sister’s tongue with her own, their kiss slow and deep and passionate, her fingers slowly released their deathgrip on Itachi’s hair. When they were finally free, Sasuke combed her fingers through the silky but tangled strands, over and over even while she drowned happily in Itachi’s kisses.

How Sasuke loved her sister’s hair. Not only the look of it—all long and shiny and beautiful as it cascaded over Itachi’s shoulders and almost all the way down her back—but the feel of it, especially. She loved to run her fingers through it, feeling the silky texture and how even the knots seemed to easily give way under Sasuke’s gentle ministrations. As silky as it was, though, it wasn’t thin and wispy like the hair Sasuke had as a child (and, at fourteen, still sort of had). There was a certain weight to it that made it so gratifying to touch; to hold; to feel lying across her hand or her shoulder or her breast…

It was at that moment that Sasuke realized her sister’s mouth had moved away from hers, and was again making its way down her body—currently toying with one of Sasuke’s pert nipples. Itachi’s yukata lightly chafed Sasuke’s body wherever it touched, because Sasuke was unconsciously undulating under her sister’s attentions, instinctively seeking more contact. She could still feel the lingering tingle Itachi’s lips had left in their wake as they’d traveled down her neck and chest, and it compounded the thrill going through her from the point where Itachi’s lips were currently occupied.

“Ah!” she cried breathily as Itachi abandoned her task of kissing around Sasuke’s areola in favor of licking and sucking her aroused nipple, her thumb and forefinger lightly tugging at the other one.

Itachi switched sides, fingers of her opposite hand taking the place of her mouth on that side, and another cry of pleasure left Sasuke’s throat as her fingers continued combing through her sister’s hair—the action both comforting and encouraging; intimate. Itachi obliged for several moments, occasionally humming a moan around Sasuke’s sensitized skin when Sasuke’s soft sounds or the way Sasuke’s body moved under hers—sometimes rubbing just right without even meaning to—heightened her own arousal too much to bear staying silent. Despite Itachi’s excellent control in normal circumstances, the effect her sister had on her had always had its own set of rules and reactions. Itachi didn’t mind it so much anymore, and found a strange sort of relief in succumbing to Sasuke’s natural seduction.

“Itachi-i-i…” Sasuke said in a shuddery breath that attempted to hide her laugh. The way her stomach twitched as the tip of Itachi’s tongue drew a line down it and circled her navel gave enough away, though, even without the breathy staccato lilting through Sasuke’s lighter moan.

Itachi nipped at her sister’s quivering muscles, and the soft skin just under her belly, but soon was moving on to territory that had Sasuke’s breath hitching in a different way. She spread Sasuke’s legs wider, as they had drawn closer together around Itachi’s body. Then she was tilting her sister’s hips, opening Sasuke up to her, and drinking in the sight and the intoxicating scent of her younger sister’s glistening, wet pussy.

Teasing her other senses became too much quickly enough, despite Itachi’s patience generally being better than Sasuke’s, and then Itachi’s tongue was darting out to lap up the juices that had been steadily leaking from her sister’s sex as Itachi aroused her more and more. She licked slowly at first, using just the tip of her tongue, and making Sasuke grow wetter and her thighs tremble with the sheer anticipation. Itachi held her down, one arm propped over Sasuke’s thigh so that she could stroke her fingers over the spread lips of Sasuke’s pussy as she teased her with her tongue. Then Itachi’s licks became firmer, broader strokes that had Sasuke trying to swivel her hips to meet her. Itachi allowed it a little bit, moving her tongue steadily inward until it was right over her sister’s entrance, quivering with want and making Sasuke mewl in expectation and impatience again, trying to move her hips harder now in order to force her sister’s tongue inside.

Itachi teased around the little opening just as she had before, and Sasuke’s sounds grew more and more impatient until, finally, Itachi could feel her little sister’s petulant glare on her. Itachi peered up at her sister through the long fringe of her hair, confirming her suspicion, and her lips twitched a little with the ghost of a smirk, though her dutiful tongue stayed on its task.

Sasuke knew what Itachi was waiting for, but why was it always so important for her to say it? Even if she enjoyed it, and even enjoyed doing it, it was… embarrassing to say it. But there was no getting around it unless she wanted to feel guilty and unsatisfied later because of getting what she wanted without giving Itachi what she wanted in return—and, she’d come to find, what Itachi wanted most was to hear Sasuke ask.

“Nee-san, please…” Sasuke finally begged softly. “Please put… put your tongue inside…”

Itachi swiped her tongue right over the little hole which fluttered under her ministrations, trying to invite her in.

Sasuke knew Itachi wanted her to beg more. She felt a buzz of indignation sweep through her—something increasingly less uncommon as she’d grown older and became more of her own person and less the little girl that idolized her big sister. But the silent protest didn’t last long, as a different thrill also swept through her body, starting from the point where her sister’s tongue was, and took all thought of stubbornness from her.

“…inside me,” Sasuke finally continued needily. “Please, Itachi… I want your tongue in..in my pussy.” Immediately after saying it, she bit her lip hard—not only because it felt so dirty and yet so right to say that, but because Itachi had answered her request.

Hearing Sasuke so needy and wanton was almost too much, and Itachi immediately plunged her tongue inside, feeling her own juices drip from her pussy as she tasted her little sister. She was so sweet, a little tangy, and completely fresh—untouched by any man; untouched by anyone other than Itachi. That in itself was intoxicating, but the actual taste of Sasuke made it addicting. Itachi thought she could never get enough of Sasuke’s taste; the feel of Sasuke’s most sensitive place quivering and clenching around her; the way Sasuke called out to her with so much yearning.

Itachi swirled her tongue inside Sasuke, and then began little thrusts that steadily became deeper and deeper until Sasuke was panting hard and clutching her hair again, muscles tensing with the effort to move more, get more, feel more. Itachi could hardly ever begrudge her little sister anything she wanted, especially not now. She let go of her controlling grip on Sasuke’s thighs, feeling them instantly close in around her, trying to pull her in closer as Sasuke’s hips moved into a faster rhythm, encouraging Itachi’s tongue to do the same.

As she practically fucked her sister with her tongue, Itachi reached for Sasuke’s clit with her fingers. Sasuke’s hips jerked when Itachi immediately found it and started rubbing in time to her tongue’s movements. Sasuke’s taste sprung anew as the younger girl cried out, the muscles beginning to tighten more, and Itachi knew it was only a matter of time. She found it at once thrilling and disappointing that Sasuke would climax soon.

“Nee-san! Itachi! Please, please, please…”

Sasuke was practically sobbing her moans now, so much was her current state of mindless, intoxicating arousal as she rode Itachi’s tongue. She felt like she would go out of her mind if she didn’t reach her pinnacle soon, yet at the same time she wished it would never have to end. Not only because the feeling was so intensely amazing that it made her gluttonous, but because she never wanted Itachi to stop—stop being with her. She always wanted to be as close to her sister as she was now. She always wanted Itachi to be hers. Itachi was hers.

No sooner had she thought that than she felt it. That tight, hot little coil inside her that had been winding ever tighter finally reached its limit and sprang. Sasuke’s orgasm crashed through her, sending a shockwave through every muscle and nerve-ending in her body—even ones she wasn’t usually aware of. It lasted several, excruciatingly intense moments as Itachi lapped at her like a kitten after cream, sucking a little to get every last drop from Sasuke and drag out her exquisite agony. Then another wave enveloped Sasuke—this time bringing with it a warm, blissful feeling that left her body tingling and her mind fuzzy.

“Itachi…” she whispered like an oath once she was able to form a coherent word again.

Then Itachi’s lips were on hers, wet and tasting sinfully of Sasuke’s own juices, and she didn’t need to speak anymore.

Itachi raised her head to look properly at Sasuke again, wanting to see as much of her as possible, to burn into memory the look of Sasuke flush with the afterglow and utterly satisfied. Sasuke’s body began to blush—even in the dim moonlight streaming through the window, Itachi could see it as clear as day. Itachi smirked softly, finding it endearing that, despite both of them having fully explored each other’s bodies and bringing each other to the height of pleasure numerous times, Sasuke still had a tendency to become self-conscious when she knew all of her sister’s attention was on her, without the distraction of intoxicating arousal making Sasuke less inhibited. Somehow, despite the supposed depravity of participating in a sexual relationship with her older sister, Sasuke had managed to retain most—if not all—of her innocence. It was a paradox that Itachi treasured.

Sasuke had yet to meet her eyes, though Itachi noted with delight that her little sister hadn’t attempted to cover herself from Itachi’s view, or even close her legs. Sasuke’s eyes flitted back and forth around the room, cheeks growing ever redder before, finally, landing on Itachi again. Slowly, dark eyes traveled from Itachi’s clothed shoulder to her face. When their eyes met, Sasuke sucked in a breath, body lurching forward, forgetting her self-consciousness, or the lethargy of post-coital bliss.

“Nee-san, no!” she exclaimed in a whisper, covering Itachi’s eyes with her hand. “Please don’t look at me with those eyes.”

Itachi could feel Sasuke quivering as she held her hand tightly over Itachi’s Sharingan eyes, and this time knew it was something more akin to fear than arousal that caused it. Grasping Sasuke’s wrist firmly but gently, Itachi pulled Sasuke’s hand away as she told her, “I want to look at you with these eyes, so that I always remember this.”

Itachi just glimpsed the Sharingan flashing momentarily in Sasuke’s watery, black eyes before her sister lurched forward again, this time wrapping her arms tightly around her.

“Don’t say that. Please. Not now,” she whispered, desperately clutching at her older sister’s yukata, some of Itachi’s long hair also caught in her grip.

It stung a little, but Itachi barely noticed. What stung more was the topic she’d brought up, and the despair she heard so clearly in Sasuke’s voice as she pled.

Wrapping her arms around her younger sister’s slightly smaller form, Itachi soothed, “Shh, shh, it’s okay. Don’t cry, Sasuke, my dear imouto.” Indeed, she could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric of her yukata just below her shoulder as Sasuke’s head bowed against her.

“I’m not… I’m not,” Sasuke insisted with a small shake of her head, though her unsteady voice belied her statement.

Itachi stroked her fingers through her sister’s hair—much shorter than hers, as Sasuke had always preferred to keep it short. Itachi suspected part of Sasuke’s reasoning for this was because she thought their father would like her more if she were a boy. Itachi had never called her on it, though. She liked Sasuke’s hair like this, anyway. It was cute. The thought made her smile as she leaned her cheek against the top of Sasuke’s head, still playing with the slightly-curled ends of the hair at Sasuke’s nape.

“No matter what happens, I’ll always be your nee-san,” Itachi vowed.

Sasuke pulled back to look up at her then, glad to find her sister’s eyes were once again their deep, black color rather than the red that made Sasuke think of blood and battle and fights and disappointment and a multitude of other things she didn’t want to associate with this time right now, alone in Itachi’s room, being held in her sister’s arms.

Sasuke leaned forward and kissed Itachi—softly, yet so full of tumultuous emotions that it almost hurt. They could both feel it. And when Sasuke’s lips stopped their press, but didn’t pull away as she spoke, Itachi felt tears prick the backs of her eyelids. She refused to let them fall. Not in front of Sasuke, when such a thing might make the suddenly-fragile girl shatter.

“You haven’t had your turn yet,” Sasuke informed her, the statement entirely incongruous with the way things had turned and the tremulous tone with which it was uttered.

“You don’t need to. I’m happy just to hold you,” Itachi told her little sister.

Sasuke did pull back then, and beneath the sadness, Itachi could plainly see the fire in her eyes. “I want to. Don’t make me regret our last—” Sasuke bit her lip, eyes flitting away at her near-slip, before looking sincerely into Itachi’s eyes again and finishing, “I want to. Please, Itachi.”

Itachi cupped her little sister’s face, fingers stroking her cheeks and the hair framing her face, and brought their lips together again. Her tongue swiped at her sister’s lips, but pulled back to instead allow entrance to her own mouth when Sasuke ventured there, moaning as Sasuke’s tongue found hers and stroked against it.

It was enough of an acquiescence for the younger girl, and soon Itachi found herself laying on her back—Sasuke’s body atop hers, Sasuke’s hands opening her yukata and pushing it away. Then Sasuke’s hands were on her skin, caressing her from face to neck to breast to stomach to thigh and back again. Each time she let her fingers wander just a little lower, until Itachi was unconsciously arching to her touch, soft sounds escaping her, breasts heaving with slightly panting breaths as Sasuke’s mouth hovered nearby, legs opening to Sasuke’s touches as her slim fingers stroked Itachi’s slick folds.

Sasuke took one of Itachi’s nipples into her mouth just as she pushed two fingers into her older sister and began massaging her sister’s inner walls with her fingertips. She could feel Itachi’s muscles moving around her fingers as the older girl arched her hips, and Sasuke moaned at the feel of it, knowing her sister liked what she was doing. When Sasuke moaned, Itachi’s breast was still in her mouth, and Itachi threaded fingers into Sasuke’s short, soft hair, encouraging her.

Sasuke moved to the other breast, and then kissed around both of them again. She attempted to leave a small mark just between them, but was soon distracted by her sister’s low moan and sudden jerk of her hips as Sasuke’s thumb inadvertently pressed and rubbed against her clit. Circling her thumb purposefully around it then, Sasuke’s attention became focused on that task, instead.

As Sasuke’s head moved down to lick at the little bud her thumb had been teasing, Itachi suddenly realized she didn’t need the Sharingan at all to memorize this.

Once Sasuke started flicking her tongue against that little bundle of nerves—her fingers thrusting inside faster, trying to keep pace with Itachi’s movements—it didn’t take long before Itachi’s fingers threaded in her hair again, holding her head—and, therefore, tongue—right there as she rode out her sudden climax on Sasuke’s fingers. Sasuke felt Itachi spasm around her, juices gushing from inside and soaking Sasuke’s fingers right down to the palm of her hand. When Itachi was finally quiet and still, her fingers loosened from Sasuke’s hair, Sasuke pulled her hand away and licked at the delicious taste of Itachi all over it. As she did so, Itachi swept the hair from Sasuke’s face, again looking at her intensely.

When Sasuke finally deemed her hand clean, an almost impish look was directed at Itachi. Itachi returned the look with her smirk of approval—the one she gave only to Sasuke, with soft eyes and arrogance that spoke more of her pride in Sasuke than in herself. With an arm that slid around Sasuke’s slim waist and up her back, Itachi pulled her little sister down to her, kissing her as their bodies came into contact again and fit to lie against each other in the bed.

After long, languid kisses that lulled Sasuke’s previously frantic mind, Itachi placed a kiss on Sasuke’s forehead, and then another on her temple before tucking her sister’s head against her shoulder.

“Sleep now,” she ordered gently. “I’ll move you back to your room before your alarm goes off.”

There was something about this statement Sasuke wanted to protest, but she was too sleepy—on the verge of incoherent—to properly grasp it. Instead, she gave in to her sister’s words, arm wrapping securely around her sister’s waist as Itachi pulled a sheet over them and stroked her hair.

Before she finally drifted off, Sasuke whispered rather deliriously, “I wish I were a boy, nee-san. I would marry nee-san.”

Itachi watched her for a long time, her long fingers—callused as any ninja’s—threading over and over through the chin-length hair that framed her sister’s face. When she finally realized she should put off her own sleep no longer, she slowly moved out of her little sister’s embrace, putting her yukata back on and quietly opening her bedroom door and then Sasuke’s before returning to her own bed where Sasuke still lay sleeping. Picking her sister up, still wrapped in the sheet, Itachi carried Sasuke back to her own bed, beside which her alarm sat, waiting to wake her in just a few hours’ time to meet with her team.

Itachi would be up long before that. It took a long time to get into a proper furisode, and the meeting between her clan’s council and the daimyo’s was set for eight in the morning in one of the daimyo’s hidden meeting places. Time for travel would also have to be factored in, since the time and space displacement jutsu normally used to travel long distances in short periods of time might have an ill effect on her ceremonial kimono. Her mother and great-aunt were going to help her put it on at her great-aunt’s home, as Itachi had never before had any reason to learn to wear the elaborate dress. Most kunoichi did not bother with the Coming of Age ceremony, after all, and Itachi wasn’t quite twenty yet, anyway.

Though she’d never had the desire for it, and indeed still found the thought quite stifling, Itachi suddenly found it sad that such a lovely furisode—custom made just for her—would only be worn once. After the final arrangements were made between their families today, and she partook in a tea ceremony with her husband-to-be, it might only be a matter of days before she was married and the beautiful furisode became a pointless token of a former life she had never lived.

As she lay in bed, concentrating on relaxing enough to drift off to sleep, Itachi wondered idly about Sasuke’s sleepily-whispered wish. She wondered if it really would have been as simple as that. She didn’t let herself ponder it for long, though. She had never had the freedom for such frills as wishing, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~
Owari