mischief's cracktastic shorts | By : mischiefmaker Category: Naruto > General Views: 1059 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Title: My Turn
A/N: Asuka challenged me to write a ‘Kyuubi
and Inner Sakura fight for Sasuke topping rights’ fic. It falls short of my expectations, but I share anyway cuz I’m a h0r like that. XD
Warnings: poly,
bi threesomeness (do I really need to include these
types of warnings on my stuff anymore?), Sasuke is
not an uber-seme here OMG!,
ninja with multiple personalities :P
Disclaimer:
[insert witty explanation that I don’t own it here]
---
Sasuke sits quietly in a mixture
of indignation and bizarre fascination as he watches his two quarrelling teammates-turned-lovers
and wonders two very important things: how the hell did he end up in this
situation in the first place, and is it worth it?
“I am!”
“No, I am!”
How he’d gotten there was not an easy question to answer.
Happenings within team seven had never been simple or easy, and this is such an
absurd turn of events that even he,
the genius that he is, can’t really make sense of it.
“But it’s my
turn!”
Sasuke snorts and rolls his eyes.
It’s not as if they’d drawn up a chart or anything. Best not
to mention that to them, he decides.
“Power decides it all, girl. I don’t take turns.”
And now she’s pulling on her gloves. Great.
Add one more repair bill to the never ending pile.
“You do remember the last time I beat you to a bloody pulp,
don’t you?”
“Just because I was
bored and let you get a few shots in on the boy, doesn’t mean shit.”
Rumbling laughter. A vein pops out
on her forehead. Sasuke sighs and goes back to
wondering how the hell they ever got the idea in their heads in the first
place. Just because it’s usually one of them to initiate it,
and he is almost always easily convinced… Well, okay, he concedes. Maybe
it is understandable they think he’s…
like that. Clearly he needs to fix
that misinterpretation. And soon.
Eyes narrow and postures shift before him, and Sasuke thinks he might find it amusing if the circumstances
were different.
“You need to butt out! You’re not even supposed to be a part
of this.”
“I come with the package, sweetheart.”
Sasuke idly wonders why the demon’s
wasting time with all the talk, but the look of amusement on the blond’s face as Sakura growls and clenches her fists solves
that mystery. Figures.
“I should just hold you
down and let Sasuke-kun do as he pleases, but you’d probably
just go back if I did.”
Sasuke unconsciously perks up at
that suggestion. Until, of course, he realizes he’s done so. And the fact that
Sakura just implied he couldn’t do it without her help.
He quickly stands with every intention of telling them they
can have playtime without him, but he doesn’t even get the chance to open his
mouth before they both yell at him in unison.
“Sit down!” Their eyes never even leave each other.
The fuck?
Okay, this is no longer mildly amusing in that Naruto’s-wearing-an-orange-thong-again-and-it-hurts-but-I-can’t-quite-stop-looking
way. Surely they don’t think he’s just going to sit there while they decide
who’s in charge.
With a look of pure disgust, Sasuke
turns to leave.
He only makes it three steps before he’s tackled by both of
them.
It’s bad enough when either Kyuubi
or Inner Sakura come out alone. But when the two of them are out at the same
time and decide to team up against him, well, if you were to ask Sasuke,
he’d say they were more trouble than they were worth.
But as he finds himself more than a little sore and tingling
in the aftershocks of an orgasm so powerful it feels as though he’s been torn
apart and not entirely reassembled, Sasuke realizes
deep down, in that place he refuses to acknowledge, that perhaps those two
idiots’ assumptions weren’t that far off.
Of course, this little insight is immediately buried right
next to the Naruto’s-jokes-really-are-funny
realization and the Sakura’s-affection-actually-makes-me-warm-and-fuzzy
epiphany as Sasuke frowns and pretends to be as
coolly detached as always.
He doesn’t bother to shove them off of him, though.
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