I Sing the Body Electric

This erotic story excerpt by JustAnotherBlonde from I Sing the Body Electric was originally published by Archive of Our Own and is a Runner Up in the Good Sex Awards Best Sex in Fan Fiction Category in the Good Sex Awards Category.

I Sing the Body Electric

Electricity tingled across Konan’s scalp and down the back of her neck. A storm was brewing in Sunagakure, but it had yet to break. The supercharged atmosphere was suffocating, but she couldn’t stop now—she was on the run, and her pursuers were gaining on her.

Three of them, hired muscle from the Sunan robotics company she’d just broken into. As a hacker for the high profile cyber-criminal organization Akatsuki, she’d learned that sometimes the only way to steal data was to physically infiltrate the premises with an old-fashioned flash-drive. She’d completed her mission, but unfortunately been spotted.

Adding to that misfortune, at least one of those thugs had actually known how to use his gun.

Her high-heeled boots scuffed an uneven rhythm along the sandy pavement as she ran. The wind picked up, forcing her to adjust her mask and activate her eye-shield against the flurry of abrasive particles. She hissed in pain as gritty sand pricked at her wound: the graze along her ribs was not deep, but it would need tending to. The tails of her jacket whipped wildly around her knees. Every street, every alleyway she sped through was empty, the armored-doors of every shopfront activated—Sunagakure knew a storm was coming. Konan was a fool to still be out here.

She turned a corner—

—and a blinding arc of static electricity jumped between her and the man waiting there.

Jolted backwards, Konan crouched in defense—

Wait. Slightly shorter than herself, bright red hair—it was Sasori, looking just as dazed as she felt at the powerful shock they’d just experienced.

“Sasori?”

Konan knew her fellow Akatsuki member had a base in Sunagakure, but this was unexpected. Why was he here, of all places? Had he been waiting for her? Never mind—he was here, and an undeniably welcome sight. She glanced behind—the people chasing her had just appeared at the mouth of the alley she’d emerged from, looking left, looking right…

“Konan,” Sasori greeted. His shaggy red hair was wild with static electricity.

“Hide me,” she breathed, pushing forward. “I’m being pursued.”

She thrust Sasori back around the corner, back against the wall of the building, pressing her body close. Strands of her purple hair clung to Sasori’s cheeks, attracted by the static electricity he bore.

“I know,” he replied, grinning and gazing at her mouth, the shape of it beneath her mask. Konan in Sunagakure—always a treat. When he’d heard she was in town, he had jumped at the opportunity to ‘run into’ her. “Come.”

He slipped free and set off at a run.

High above, a huge trace of lightning illuminated the heavy blue-black clouds.

“We’d better hurry,” Konan called.

Sasori’s response was to increase his speed, shooting up a metal ladder that had Konan thanking her lucky stars that she wore gloves and rubber-soled boots—a zap of lightning from a storm this powerful would be difficult to shake off.

It was not a high building—perhaps six, seven stories. She chased Sasori across the roof to a trapdoor that fit seamlessly into the black, mirror-like glass of a skylight. Inside, a thin metal staircase spiraled down into a studio space scattered with cybernetic parts, half-built robots and dozens of computer screens.

“Get in,” Sasori urged.

Konan limped down the stairs, and Sasori followed, sealing the door shut behind them.

The space was dim, but with the subtle beeps and flashing lights, it felt alive. Deactivating her eye-shield and tugging off her mask, Konan sought somewhere to sit, somewhere to rest so she could inspect her wound…

“Here,” Sasori said, pushing past her, stepping over crates and wires with practiced ease. “This is my workshop,” he explained. Konan had been to his hideout only once before, and that time they’d used the front door. “The rest of the apartment is through here. Follow me.”

“Sasori,” Konan called as she gingerly picked her way across the space. “I’m injured. Do you have—”

“In here, come.”

It was a surprisingly large hideout, labyrinthine, with narrow corridors and small, cluttered rooms. Sasori led her into a bathroom.

“Sit,” he commanded, indicating the toilet. As Konan stripped off her jacket, Sasori pulled out a first-aid kit and placed it on the counter. “Where?”

“Here,” she replied, lifting her shirt to expose the six-centimeter graze along her left side. Her skin was tender and pale, and it took quite a bit of Sasori’s self-control not to reach out and brush his fingers along the curve of her waist. His eyes strayed higher—in her haste, Konan had lifted the shirt too high and exposed the base of her breast.

“Mm,” Sasori murmured, and Konan looked up sharply. When she realized what he was looking at, she shook her head with laughter in her eyes.

“Focus!” she chastised. Sasori turned his attention to the first aid kit and sifted through it, searching for the right treatment. Konan continued: “It’s superficial but—OW!”

The antibacterial mend-all stung, but the pain was quickly replaced by expanding coolness as the polymer sealed her wound shut, adhering to her flesh like a second skin.

“Ah…” she sighed, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Tension slipped from her shoulders. She ran her tongue over the inner stud of her lip piercing—silly habit—inhaled, and straightened.

—Only to discover Sasori had been staring at her the entire time, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and a smirk on his lips.

“It’s been a while,” he drawled, batting his irresistibly luxurious lashes at her.

The corner of Konan’s mouth twitched up in a smirk. It had been a while.

“I can’t leave until the storm passes,” she replied, planting her hands on her knees and standing purposefully. She made as if to slip past Sasori through the door, but stopped and pressed her hips into his as he turned to brace his back against the frame. She placed a hand high on the doorframe as he wrapped his hands around her waist, teasing at the waistband of her leather leggings. She had not pulled her shirt back down. Honey-orange eyes met dancing amber-brown. Lips millimeters from his, she whispered: “What shall we do to… pass… the time?”

He answered with a feather-light kiss. Konan’s lips were always warm and soft, and today they tasted like strawberry sponge-cake. He grinned at the thought of her grabbing one as a snack before her mission, then awarded her another, firmer, much more decisive kiss.

“It’s settled then,” Konan smiled. Heat flushed her body from the pit of her stomach to the roses blooming on her cheeks. She pressed her hips harder into Sasori’s and smiled to feel him harden beneath her.

“I do enjoy your little visits,” Sasori murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting a little kiss behind her ear. He loved the fuzzy softness of her buzzed undercut… But more than that, he loved…

Using both hands, Sasori pulled Konan’s top over her head and dropped it to the floor. As his fingertips traced up her sides, she shivered in anticipation. No one used their hands like Sasori did. She leaned her torso back as he cupped her breasts, one in each hand, and lightly swept his thumbs across both nipples. Delicately at first, then with increasing pressure, he massaged and teased, until finally he lowered his head and kissed her hardened nipple, flicked his tongue over it, gently, so gently.

Konan sighed as he took more of her breast into his mouth, still teasing her nipple with his tongue. She held his hips for stability, highly aware of the wet heat between her legs.

He placed a hand on her back, pulled her closer. With every pass of his tongue he felt her soften beneath him, felt himself harden. His erection was making his pants uncomfortably tight.

Rising from Konan’s breast to her lips, Sasori kissed her hungrily, slipping his tongue inside her mouth; she kissed him back with double the passion.

They broke apart. In a daze, mind buzzing, Konan tugged at the hem of Sasori’s shirt, liberating it from his pants and pulling it over his head. He, in turn, slipped the gloves from her hands, one at a time, locking eyes with her before kissing the bare palm of her right hand. She giggled, then bit her lip—he was perhaps the only person who knew she was ticklish there.

She pulled him by the hand into the corridor towards the bedroom—she remembered where it was—only to be tugged back into Sasori’s embrace. His lightly muscled chest was cool against her flesh. Konan traced her fingers along his cheekbones, slim neck, collarbones, sculpted shoulders and biceps, smooth chest and hard, flat abs. A faint trail of red hair led from his belly button to the zipper of his pants—Konan’s destination. As she undid the fastener, he pressed his lips to her chin, her throat.

“Take your boots off yourself,” he murmured into her ear. “They look complicated.”

With a quiet laugh, she turned around and braced a hand on the wall, bending over in a mockingly suggestive manner—which Sasori could not resist. He slid a hand along the curve of her ass and then swooped forward to kiss the back of her neck.

The boots were not as complicated as they looked: the buckles were only decorative. Konan swiftly slid down the simple, concealed zip that ran along the boot’s inner seam, kicked them off, and started down the hall again, slipping her leggings down inch by inch as she walked. She peered over her shoulder at Sasori, who was still pulling off his own boots, and winked.

“Race you,” she teased.

Sasori blinked at her, mouth partly open. When she slipped out of sight into the room, ass-naked with her leggings hooked on her finger, he was still hopping on one foot trying to shake off his pants.

The room was rather cluttered, but Konan did not have time to look around—Sasori appeared in the doorway at the same moment an enormous branch of lightning illuminated the skylight above their heads. The pyramid-shaped window was made of the same dark glass as the one they had entered earlier, and took up nearly fifty-percent of the small room’s ceiling.

BOOM. Thunder rattled trinkets and tools on mismatched shelves.

Their bodies met with a similar intensity, flesh against flesh. Konan murmured in pleasure as Sasori’s cock pressed up against her thigh.

“I should take more missions in Suna,” she whispered. “Nowhere else do I receive such a warm welcome.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Sasori murmured back.

He drew her onto the bed, unceremoniously pushing the scattering of tools and parts he’d been working on earlier to the floor. The sheets were silky smooth, and clean—Sasori was glad he’d remembered to change them.

“Oh, I wish I had a bed like this,” Konan sighed as she spread herself out. The mattress was wide, wide enough for two, perhaps even three… She smiled at the thought. “Get over here,” she grinned. “What are you waiting for?”

Once again, she’d caught him staring at her in the dim light. Could she blame him? She looked like an angel with her hair framing her face, fine purple strands spread like a halo. He wanted to etch the sight in his mind forever: that high, proud nose, warm honey eyes, plump lips curved in a playful smile, long, graceful neck, collarbones, shoulders… Her breasts, soft peaks, light pink areolas, firm nipples; her narrow waist widening to round goddess hips, and dark pubic hair yielding into that smooth, dark place between wonderful thighs…

He crawled forward. She spread her legs at the touch of his hands, arching her back in anticipation.

First he used his fingers: exploring, assessing. He rubbed her clit in tiny, deliberate circles, felt it pulse, listened for her murmur of approval. Then he travelled lower, deeper, two fingers slipping into her wet warmth. He moved inwards and outwards, built a gentle rhythm… Then finally, finally, he lowered his mouth to her and set to work.

Konan moaned quietly; the waves of pleasure were small at first. She drew a deep breath and let them wash over her, settling in to Sasori’s rhythm and the sensations he was delivering. Pleasure tingled up her spine like the lightning which danced above them.

Sasori pumped his fingers faster, then, not meaning to time it so perfectly, inserted a third finger just as thunder rumbled down from the heavens. The noise reverberated through his chest. Pleased and amused, he hummed as he slipped his tongue over Konan’s clit.

Teasing and toying, he increased his pressure until she cried out, muscles clenching around his fingers. Her hips rocked, undulating with uncontrollable pleasure. A flood of heat between her legs; the shuddering climax traveled up her spine, shook her bones.

“Come,” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath, “come up here, hah.”

Sweat built on her lower back, on her brow; the air was heavy with electrical charge.

Sasori extracted his fingers and licked his lips, then slid himself upwards along Konan’s body, tracing wet fingers up her thigh, across her belly, over her ribs, skipping lightly over the injury. He pressed his erection into her hip, and their lips met just as his hand landed on her breast once more.

This kiss was sloppier, more desperate and ravenous. Konan craved Sasori’s mouth—how had she not realized it before? She’d taken it for granted, these lips, that tongue, his attention to detail and careful control. She fell headlong into kiss after kiss, tasting him, dancing with his tongue as he matched her every move.

“What do you want?” she murmured, eyes half-closed.

“This,” he immediately replied. A light blush had risen on his cheeks. “This is enough.”

“I want you inside me,” Konan whispered, rolling out from beneath his body. “Do you want that?”

He nodded, and dove towards the drawer of his bedside table for a condom. He sat with his back against the headboard as he rolled it over his hardened cock.

Once he was ready, Konan straddled his lap, and lowered herself onto him, timing her kiss, her tongue to coincide with the moment she took him all the way in.

Sasori moaned into her mouth as she began to grind her hips in slow circles.

She felt him grow harder within her and inhaled through her nose, reminding herself to be patient, take her time. Her movements stretched longer: farther up, farther down, to the tip and back again, slipping faster and faster, up and down his length.

“Oh…” Sasori breathed, closing his eyes and shifting his hips to accommodate her rhythm. The metal headboard behind his back was bitingly cool. He pressed his fingertips into the flesh of her hips, her ass, wanting to manipulate them but knowing he did not need to: Konan had him completely in her thrall.

His hips twitched upwards; he’d match her, if nothing else. Surrounded by her heat, he pressed deep, seeking the spot that would unravel her completely. In response, she pressed down hard, pinning his hips to the mattress and it was him who was nearly undone. Weakened, he turned his attention to her breasts once more, sucking, nipping, grazing his teeth across her nipples, taking both into his mouth together as he kneaded them in circles.

“Mm…” Konan sighed, tipping her head back. Her pace slackened and Sasori found his opening—

He rolled her onto her back and slowly re-entered her, moving as if the moment would last forever. She gazed up at him, back-lit by lightning and swirling clouds of sand, and relaxed her body entirely, surrendering everything.

That spot of hers… was not as deep as he thought. As he slipped inwards and outwards, using his entire length, he could tell when he’d found it from the way she arched and writhed beneath him.

“Oh!” There. Just there. Konan’s mind sparked with white lightning each time he struck. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, yes…”

Sasori closed his eyes, feeling her, feeling his own heat, his entire body tingling with electric charge—

—The sky above them erupted in a sheet of white light, and both cried out as they came, white-knuckled and trembling. A tremendous roll of thunder came with the light, and was immediately followed by the deafening roar of rain.

Exhale. Collapse.

Sasori winced at their separation, then cuddled into Konan’s waiting embrace. She kissed his hair and pulled him close, slipping an arm beneath his neck as he curled into her curves and wove their legs together.

They lay there in silence, breathing softly, listening to the pounding rain while watching tessellating patterns of raindrops flow down the slanted panes of the skylight.

 

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The first story JustAnotherBlonde ever told (at the tender age of 3) was a fanfiction of her doll, Peppermint Rose. It took nearly three decades and many a writers’ workshop for her to finally begin posting her work on AO3, but she’s been loving every minute of it.

Find out more: Author website