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Pick-up Lines	By : Lykomancer Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1161 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. My fanwriting is for entertainment purposes only, never for profit.

Chapter List
- 1-Pick-up Lines
- 1
Tsunade had staggered home an hour past, her pale-haired
lover’s arm wrapped around her waist to help hold her upright as she stumbled
groggily out of the bar while leaning heavily on him. She flapped her hand at
her teammates as she wobbled out, admonishing them to behave themselves for
once— not that she expected it; even drunk she knew better than that— before
pressing close against Dan with a happily loopy glance.

She could have stayed longer, but from the way she was looking at her
boyfriend, she had other plans for the evening which were more pleasant than
listening to her comrades bicker at one another.

Jiraiya watched her and her lovely pert ass go with a mournful expression, his
own gaze a little unfocused from the sake, then sighed and sucked down another
dish of the clear liquid, shrugging it off. He’d had gone home with someone by
now too if he could have, so he couldn’t blame her. All his efforts for
companionship had gotten him was a faded pink mark on his cheek and the
hostess’s refusal to speak to him— she’d only listen to Orochimaru now, dammit—
and his teammate’s look of amused contempt.

He blinked again slowly, attempting to concentrate on the only company left to
him to see if Orochimaru was still staring at him like that, but the other nin
appeared to be settled into his own thoughts, calm and quiet.

He’ s really too pretty to be such an utter bastard, Jiraiya thought,
not for the first time, his drunken gaze sliding down the feather-soft fall of
his long hair, admiring the way that the shorter strands curved against his
high-boned cheeks and framed his face; he knew women who’d kill to have hair
that silky and glossy. It would feel cool and sleek between his fingers, softer
than his skin but not by much, and it’d be lovely fanned out across white
sheets like spilled ink.

The sake flushed his face, giving the too-pale skin a pink tinge and ruddying
his parted lips; his eyes were shadowed deep green under heavy lids and thick
lashes, contrasted by the smudge of purple rimming them and dripping down the
outside bridge of his nose, and when he wasn’t being a complete prick…

After a moment, Orochimaru lifted his head, attention coming back into the
moment, and he raised a single thin brow questioningly. “Problem?” he asked,
toying with his own saucer of sake; his finger traced the lip of the china cup
in endless, mesmerizing loops.

Jiraiya couldn’t pull his eyes away from the way that the pale digit dragged
around and around, so graceful that ripples didn’t even form on the surface,
and his head felt heavy and dense; he caught himself sinking down toward the
table in order to be on level with the fascinating display. “Hm? ‘Uzzat?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes. I’m wondering if there’s a
problem.”

“Hn. Yeah.” Jiraiya managed to jerk his eyes higher as he sat up, trying to
seem more sober than he was really feeling. Unfortunately, he was immediately
arrested by the small patch of smooth, creamy skin between Orochimaru’s collar
bones, the curve of the lines of his throat, shadows of hair trickling down
over his shoulders, and fuck it, he’s got nothing to lose, right? “I
think I've had a little too much to drink tonight because you're starting to
look pretty good.”

The look that Orochimaru shot him over his cup could have melted granite, and
Jiraiya suspected that he’d covered a choke of surprise skillfully against the
back of his hand. “In that case, I suggest that you stop drinking, you idiot
lech. Save your skirt-chasing for actual skirts…oh, but wait; you can’t
actually get a woman to look at you twice, now can you? Must be all that
charm…” Sarcasm oozed venomously from his tone; he’d gotten over his surprise
quickly. “Or your rugged good looks?”

“Hey, I may not be the best looking guy here, but I'm the only one talking to
you,” Jiraiya countered, the corner of his lip twisting in a smug sneer. Such a
pissy little bitch; Jiraiya bet that he was just jealous— he’d noted the way
that Orochimaru’s attention lingered on other men, the tight focus of his
strange serpentine eyes when his interest had been caught by some other
talented male shinobi…of course the bastard was irritated; he couldn’t spark
the interest of his own admittedly attractive and skilled teammate.

…this line of thinking didn’t lead anywhere good, now did it?

Orochimaru lifted his brow again, and it was difficult to tell how insulted he
was feeling and how likely retaliation was in the next few seconds.

Jiraiya didn’t want to be hit and then turned down for the second time this
evening.

Quick! Recover! Chances of sex slipping! his booze- and hormone-pickled
brain screamed at him.

“Besides, you can’t let me go home alone in this state.” Jiraiya creatively
improvised as he stared in wide-eyed earnesty across the table, feeling faintly
proud of himself.

An appeal to the bastard’s sense of superiority would surely win him over. He
couldn’t not be moved by that…

“What state would that be? Drunk? Or horny?”

Jiraiya snorted softly and slammed down the rest of his sake, then he slithered
off his seat, managing to keep his feet under him despite the fact that he
couldn’t feel his legs and the floor kept moving. “H’oh… shit,” he
breathed, and flailed for a grip on the edge of the table. “Yeah. Oh, yeah.
Both, actually. Mostly drunk…”

“Really drunk.” Orochimaru deftly swept up the sake bottles before they
rolled off the table and shattered.

“…S… still… Hell. Still pretty horny, too.”

“You’re probably too much of the former to do anything about the latter.”

Jiraiya leaned on the table and squinted across it. “What’s that s’pposed to…? Ehhhhh!
You think I drank too much to get it up!? Is that what you’re sayin’!? You…
You bitch…!” He pushed off of the table and stumbled back a few feet,
pawing at the ties on his hakama. “Show you, y’bitch…”

Next thing Jiraiya knew, he was unceremoniously shoved out of the warm,
well-lit bar hard enough to send him reeling. He thudded into the middle of the
street, hands still down his pants and breathless from the impact.

Well, that got his attention.

The crunch of gravel under sandals was all the warning he got before Orochimaru
grabbed the back of his kataginu and pulled.

“Get. Up,” he hissed.

“Gurk!” The collar of his mesh shirt cut into Jiraiya’s Adam’s apple.
Instinctively, he lashed out with both feet, twisting awkwardly against the
strong grip, and felt vindicated when he was suddenly able to breathe again for
a moment…before he was yanked off-balance again, this time forward.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully at rather close range, and Orochimaru winced from the
sake-laden breath in his face, writhing between the street and Jiraiya’s sodden
heaviness.

“Get. U—ulp!”

Jiraiya didn’t really care to let Orochimaru finish, so he took advantage of
proximity…

All’s fair in love and war, right?

…and his teammate’s bitchiness…

Then isn’t everything doubly fair in something that is both?

…to shove his tongue into his open mouth.

Orochimaru’s squirming increased violently and Jiraiya grinned against his
bared teeth as when sharp canines cut and bruised his lips— too drunk to get it
up, huh? Yeah, right! Even one hundred percent plastered, with stones
digging into his knees and Orochimaru wielding his teeth indiscriminately, and
oh shit…even with Orochimaru… even with him, then…

“C’mon,” he panted when he broke away to wipe blood from his mouth, still
grinning crazily. “Come on; I’m gonna have sex with you tonight one way or
another, so you might as well be there.”

“Will saying ‘yes’ to this idiocy get you off of me?” Orochimaru snarled.

Jiraiya hesitated briefly, trying to quickly judge how pissed off Orochimaru
actually was. He sounded pretty ticked, but he wasn’t acting any
worse than usual…considering the unusual circumstances. Jiraiya decided he
probably still had some more rope to run with before he ended up hanging
himself.

“Actually, I think it’ll get us both off.”

Ten feet of muscular tongue slashed out and plowed directly into his face,
tumbling him back into a shop wall.

“Izzat a ‘yes’?” Jiraiya slurred, fumbling his way back to his feet. Strange,
he was beginning to sober up a bit, but this whole thing still seemed not
entirely unreasonable. Well, he’d come up with far worse ideas than bedding a
snake before.

Orochimaru had rolled up onto a predatory crouch, automatically preparing
himself in case his irrational-seeming teammate pounced again, and he stared at
him consideringly. “You assume I’m as desperate as you.”

Jiraiya shook his head and laughed sharply. “No. I know…” he leered at
Orochimaru over that word and stepped closer. “…you like interesting things.
Think of it as an experiment.”

Orochimaru’s brows shot up and the corner of his mouth quirked in a surprised
smile that blossomed into low laughter. “Oh…? Heh! Heh-heh-heh…” He fell silent
a moment, head bowed and shoulders shaking as he tried to wrangle in his
strange good humor. When he glanced up again and slowly stood, his eyes caught
the lamplight and glittered. The distance between them seemed small and
suddenly heated. “That’s brave of you, Jiraiya. Very brave.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“I can’t let you go home alone in this state, now can I?

Jiraiya nodded vigorously and cocked his head down the street. “Let’s go,
then.”

“Yeah. Let’s go back to your place and do everything everyone’s going to assume
we did anyway.”

“W— WHAT?!” Jiraiya stopped in his tracks and looked around wildly. “Why would
they assume that? What the hell!”

“You did make a bit of a scene in the bar,” Orochimaru reminded him, and shoved
him into moving again. “Everyone was watching.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

“Even the cute waitress?”

“Especially the cute waitress.”

“Shit.”

“I have no sympathy for you.”

“The only sympathy I want from you right now— or ever, actually— is the sweaty,
horizontal kind.”

“I think I can be accommodating.” Orochimaru flashed his teeth in a
particularly disturbing grin that made the hair on the back of Jiraiya’s neck
prickle.

In a good way.

Or at least a way he could get used to.

“Think that’s the first time you’ve said that.”

Jiraiya reached for his keys as they started up the stairs to his apartment.

“First time for everything. You’re proving that tonight yourself.” Orochimaru
snickered raspily and cut in closer, looking up at his teammate while pushing
him back against the stairway railing. His fingers trailed down the open edge
of his kataginu, slowly…slowly…and Jiraiya caught his breath as they dipped
lower against his stomach and into his loosened hakama.

“Shit,” he said again, closing his eyes against the wave of dizziness washing
over him. “Oh, shit, yeah…”

His knees buckled and the railing creaked as Jiraiya leaned back harder against
it, oblivious to everything but the golden warmth radiating through his body.
The exquisiteness— fingershandskinnails— slid down, pulled gently upward
again, then lingered, and Jiraiya was surprised to hear himself calmly say,
“Didn’t expect you to be a genius at this, too. Bastard.”

Wet heat tickled against his ear, breathy laughter and the tip of a highly
agile tongue, and the breath fluttered from the cave of his mouth.

The apartment keys dropped from lax fingers and rattled down the stairs
unheeded.

Orochimaru shifted, lips smacking softly as he drew a pinch of skin between his
teeth, and Jiraiya blindly pawed for a grip in hair or clothing, something for
leverage as he rocked his hips up into hand stroking him.

Orochimaru swept the kataginu back, down and over Jiraiya’s shoulders; he raked
his nails downward over his chest and his mouth followed after, all teeth and
tongue. There was no hesitation, no lingering, no hurrying, and Jiraiya groaned
helplessly, shaking his head.

“S- Stop… stop…ah! Fuck, just…s-s-stop a minute…”

Instead, the hands shoved down his pants gripped his hips and whirled him
suddenly, forcing him to move his feet or fall. “Experiment…” Orochimaru purred
before the slick length of his tongue coiled around Jiraiya’s throat,
predator-keen teeth clamped down on the back of his neck, and momentum slammed
him face-first into his own front door.

Jiraiya laughed silently and ducked his head quickly against his shoulder to
prevent the blood from the impact-cut running in his eyes, then jabbed his
elbow back hard, knocking Orochimaru back enough that he was able to breathe
and twist against pressure pinning him against the door.

A game, then. A little sex-play, what the hell. They were both still hard, the
friction between them delicious and frustrating.

“C’mon, then,” Jiraiya said, yanking a handful of silky black hair and pushing
his knee up between Orochimaru’s thighs. “You wanna play rough? Huh? C’mon
then!”

“You’re the one who threw yourself at me,” and ah, there it was, the hitch in
that scathing voice, the tiny huff at the end. Finally. “I assumed you wanted
me to fuck you.”

“How ‘bout I fuck you instead?” The doorknob dug into Jiraiya’s side and he
wriggled away while still grinding his dick against Orochimaru’s leg.

“Mm… no.”

“You could, ah, blow me.”

Orochimaru growled into the arch of Jiraiya’s shoulder, and he thought better
of that suggestion with the reminder that Orochimaru liked to bite. The
muscles down his back tightened in rhythmic spasms and the last restraint
snapped off; pleasure was pleasure no matter what the cause and he was so
close, so close…

“You could…ah! Don’t stop! Don’t stop… Just don’t stop doing…hah..wha—what
you’re doing right now… Gods…”

And again he felt Orochimaru’s tongue caress his throat and he rolled his head
back, gasping as it curled tighter—throttling him, collaring him. Black static
stars flickered fuzzily across the night sky, swirling into flashing checkered
patterns like go stones laid out on a board…

…then everything exploded in white-hot liquid fireworks, searingly,
eye-wateringly bright.

Jiraiya slumped back against the bottom of his door, struggling to catch his
breath and half-heartedly trying to wipe the blood-, sweat-, and saliva-soaked
hair from his face. “God…” he muttered, or tried to. He coughed, feeling a burn
in his too-tight throat, and tried again. “God damn.”

“Mm…”

“Ah, shit, that was… Man, that was really… You didn’t even…I mean, you didn’t,
did you? Oh, shit.”

“Mm."

“Oh fuck, were the neighbors watching?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Jiraiya slowly brought his head up to squint at Orochimaru, confused by the
repetition of ambiguous non-answers.

The streetlights backlit the figure of his teammate as he stood over him.

Orochimaru twirled the apartment keys around a finger and sneered. “Was that all?
Was that all you had in you—really, nothing at all? Fighting or fucking,
you’re still a waste of time.”

“Oh no, you did not just say that,” Jiraiya said, completely unsurprised. He
shifted against the door, braced his geta, and shoved himself up and into
Orochimaru’s face. The railing groaned again as their combined weight crashed
into it once more.

“Ha!” Orochimaru caught his breath. “Unless…?”

“Unless I’m gonna prove you wrong? That’s some pretty obvious bait, especially
for you.”

“Subtlety doesn’t work on you.”

“So are we going inside to finish this?”

The keys jingled as they were dangled before Jiraiya’s nose tauntingly.

“After you.” Orochimaru said, then smirked. “…again.”
- 1
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Pick-up Lines