[Fic] "I Need You, Just This Way"
Title: I Need You, Just This Way
Author: a_lifestyle
Fandom: Naruto (Ino/Asuma)
Rating: PG13 (A little dark, a little sexual, nothing overt.)
Words: 1,358
Summary:
A/N: I've been planning on writing this for awhile, and had to get it out of my system. It comes from a prompt on the citrus_taste lime chart "Jezebel," which then lead me to the song of the same name by Depeche Mode that heavily influenced the rest of this fic to be written. Enjoy. :D
If you prefer, it is also available for you to read on ff.net!
EDIT: Would like to also point out that Ino is underaged here. I'm thinking about sixteen or so. If that squicks you, you can leave now with a warning.
-----
They call you Jezebel
Whenever we walk in
You're going straight to hell
For wanton acts of sin, they say
And that I'll have to pay
But I need you
Just this way
They call you Jezebel
For what you like to wear
You're morally unwell
They say you'll never care for me
But what they fail to see
Is that your games are the key
On a mission in Grass, Ino asked him for advice about boys.
"Don't know if I can help," Asuma said in jest, but with caution. This was new territory, and dangerous territory, ever since her hips began to lead her stride and her chest bindings took her longer than ever before to finish. "I don't bark up that tree," he said with a finality she didn't pick up on.
She scoffed, and it echoed in the empty air. She stepped out of the shadows and quickly sat down beside him, laying out her bedroll. Shikamaru and Chouji were fast asleep; the former because his turn for watch was up next, and the latter because sleep was a rarity when Ino was your teammate and had opinions about..everything.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said matter-of-factly. She scooted her bedroll closer. The reflection of the moon against the river water below them made the side of her face appear cool and distant, only her features were round and warm. Young. Eyes were big.
He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and resting his elbows on his knees. "You're going to regret staying up during someone else's watch."
She rolled her eyes, and removed her legs from her bedroll. His eyes lingered momentarily on the curve of her thigh.
"I don't need a speech, I just need an opinion on a couple things," she insisted. Her hair fell over her shoulder, a kink in her otherwise perfectly straight mane from the ponytail holder she usually wore. "You never really sleep unless it's Shikamaru's watch, anyway."
Asuma sighed; her observations were keener than ever and guilt crept into his conscience like a fire consuming air. Ino was a manipulator of many things, and he had found himself painted in a corner on more than one occasion. Her tongue had been quick since the day their team formed. "Summarize. You need your rest for tomorrow."
Satisfied, she cocked her head to the side and lowered her voice to a whisper, low, but clear as the stars in the cloudless sky above them. "How long have you known Kurenai-sensei?"
Memories of a small girl with unruly brown hair and a quiet intensity flipped quickly through his mind like a pack of cards, and he chuckled softly. "Longer than you've been alive, girl."
"Do you love her?" Ino asked, hardly skipping a beat; he assumed she had memorized all the notes long ago.
"I think that's something between she and I," he said. He knew the route of this line of questioning, and a part of him hoped it would end right then and there. The more sensible--and cynical--part of him knew that Ino was far too clever to abandon a game she knew she could win.
"She's really beautiful. Kurenai-sensei." Ino's gaze dropped to the water below. "I guess you must think so, obviously."
Before he can answer, she barreled ahead, going in a straight line. She was fussy about certain things, but, as he had learned over the years, she could get to the point when it was in her interests. It was becoming clear to him that he was, in fact, one of these interests, and his mind found excuses to let her speak her mind, maybe just this once.
"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked, and the weight of her stare was upon him, pressing down on his shoulders.
He swallowed. "I think you'll make a boy your age happy."
She laughed softly, like she was wise beyond her years, which she might have been, now that he really thought about it, and her, and what they had all been through together. Her gaze settled on a collection of rocks by the river's edge, but he felt her eyes on him, behind him. All around him.
"Asuma-sensei, I'm sure you've heard that I'm fully capable of making boys...happy."
Her words were tinted with innocence, but coated in dark colors. Asuma shook his head. "Maybe you shouldn't concern yourself with what people are saying about you."
For a moment, he thought he saw a speck of something else in her eyes, a look that was simultaneously full of relief and pain. Like when she was twelve, and understood her potential. But, that speck quickly retreated from view, replaced by a product of her diligence and training. She tossed her bangs out of her face. "And people call me the gossip," she joked.
Asuma shook his head before he knew what he was doing. "I don't think you are," he said, and his eyes fell on one strand of hair that didn't quite make it behind her ear.
"I know," she said. She nodded towards her sleeping team members. "They know. You know. People love to talk about other people."
He resisted all urges to push that one piece of hair behind her ear. "You just like to talk about yourself," he said, a crooked smile around his cigarette.
She returned the smile and slapped him on the arm playfully. Her hand lingered before dropping to the ground. "I hear that people talk about me often," she said, absent of narcissism. Her gaze flickered back to his, catching him off guard--not for the first time that night. "What do they say?"
The playful mood was dipped in darkness, and he chose his words with care. "People start stories because their lives aren't interesting enough for them to tend to."
She nodded. "So, do you think it could be jealousy?"
He pressed his lips together, blood pumping through his veins at abnormal rates. "Could be," he said with as little inflection as he could muster under the pressure of her scrutiny.
"Well," she said, using her finger to subtly draw circles on the exposed skin of her thigh. "I suppose people want what they can't have." The games were coming to a close and her fingers wrapped slowly around his wrist. Her touch was surprisingly tender, and he immediately felt goosebumps rise on both his forearms.
He could pull away. He could.
Instead, a small curse surfaced from the back of his throat, in protest. His pants were a little too tight, and he felt a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face. They had both flirted with death before, and maybe that was why she was so damn comfortable asking these questions, posing these hypotheticals, making him think and feel and itch that scratch.
Her body was above his now, tangled on top but barely touching him save for her lips on the shell of his ear, speaking to him. "In battle, some people abandon everything they love and flee. They're selfish. They only think about themselves."
He stopped breathing altogether as she removed the cigarette butt from his mouth, flicking it to the side. The smell of tobacco and the smell of her was intoxicating.
"I'm not asking for you to leave everything you know. But, I'm offering something to you. As my team member. My ally."
He can feel her smile against his neck. "You've taught me so much, Asuma-sensei."
Tension hung in the air like a bow and arrow poised to strike. He could stop this. He most certainly could.
"Ino," he choked, fumbling over speech. He breathed in shakily. "Please. Please."
He didn't know if he was asking for more, or begging for her to stop. She decided for him, as she leaned in, her lips parting.
He didn't stop her. He hardly tried.
They call you Jezebel
Whenever men walk by
They say that they can tell
The longing in your eyes is real
And how you really feel
But they can't see your appeal
-end-
Author: a_lifestyle
Fandom: Naruto (Ino/Asuma)
Rating: PG13 (A little dark, a little sexual, nothing overt.)
Words: 1,358
Summary:
A/N: I've been planning on writing this for awhile, and had to get it out of my system. It comes from a prompt on the citrus_taste lime chart "Jezebel," which then lead me to the song of the same name by Depeche Mode that heavily influenced the rest of this fic to be written. Enjoy. :D
If you prefer, it is also available for you to read on ff.net!
EDIT: Would like to also point out that Ino is underaged here. I'm thinking about sixteen or so. If that squicks you, you can leave now with a warning.
-----
They call you Jezebel
Whenever we walk in
You're going straight to hell
For wanton acts of sin, they say
And that I'll have to pay
But I need you
Just this way
They call you Jezebel
For what you like to wear
You're morally unwell
They say you'll never care for me
But what they fail to see
Is that your games are the key
On a mission in Grass, Ino asked him for advice about boys.
"Don't know if I can help," Asuma said in jest, but with caution. This was new territory, and dangerous territory, ever since her hips began to lead her stride and her chest bindings took her longer than ever before to finish. "I don't bark up that tree," he said with a finality she didn't pick up on.
She scoffed, and it echoed in the empty air. She stepped out of the shadows and quickly sat down beside him, laying out her bedroll. Shikamaru and Chouji were fast asleep; the former because his turn for watch was up next, and the latter because sleep was a rarity when Ino was your teammate and had opinions about..everything.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said matter-of-factly. She scooted her bedroll closer. The reflection of the moon against the river water below them made the side of her face appear cool and distant, only her features were round and warm. Young. Eyes were big.
He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and resting his elbows on his knees. "You're going to regret staying up during someone else's watch."
She rolled her eyes, and removed her legs from her bedroll. His eyes lingered momentarily on the curve of her thigh.
"I don't need a speech, I just need an opinion on a couple things," she insisted. Her hair fell over her shoulder, a kink in her otherwise perfectly straight mane from the ponytail holder she usually wore. "You never really sleep unless it's Shikamaru's watch, anyway."
Asuma sighed; her observations were keener than ever and guilt crept into his conscience like a fire consuming air. Ino was a manipulator of many things, and he had found himself painted in a corner on more than one occasion. Her tongue had been quick since the day their team formed. "Summarize. You need your rest for tomorrow."
Satisfied, she cocked her head to the side and lowered her voice to a whisper, low, but clear as the stars in the cloudless sky above them. "How long have you known Kurenai-sensei?"
Memories of a small girl with unruly brown hair and a quiet intensity flipped quickly through his mind like a pack of cards, and he chuckled softly. "Longer than you've been alive, girl."
"Do you love her?" Ino asked, hardly skipping a beat; he assumed she had memorized all the notes long ago.
"I think that's something between she and I," he said. He knew the route of this line of questioning, and a part of him hoped it would end right then and there. The more sensible--and cynical--part of him knew that Ino was far too clever to abandon a game she knew she could win.
"She's really beautiful. Kurenai-sensei." Ino's gaze dropped to the water below. "I guess you must think so, obviously."
Before he can answer, she barreled ahead, going in a straight line. She was fussy about certain things, but, as he had learned over the years, she could get to the point when it was in her interests. It was becoming clear to him that he was, in fact, one of these interests, and his mind found excuses to let her speak her mind, maybe just this once.
"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked, and the weight of her stare was upon him, pressing down on his shoulders.
He swallowed. "I think you'll make a boy your age happy."
She laughed softly, like she was wise beyond her years, which she might have been, now that he really thought about it, and her, and what they had all been through together. Her gaze settled on a collection of rocks by the river's edge, but he felt her eyes on him, behind him. All around him.
"Asuma-sensei, I'm sure you've heard that I'm fully capable of making boys...happy."
Her words were tinted with innocence, but coated in dark colors. Asuma shook his head. "Maybe you shouldn't concern yourself with what people are saying about you."
For a moment, he thought he saw a speck of something else in her eyes, a look that was simultaneously full of relief and pain. Like when she was twelve, and understood her potential. But, that speck quickly retreated from view, replaced by a product of her diligence and training. She tossed her bangs out of her face. "And people call me the gossip," she joked.
Asuma shook his head before he knew what he was doing. "I don't think you are," he said, and his eyes fell on one strand of hair that didn't quite make it behind her ear.
"I know," she said. She nodded towards her sleeping team members. "They know. You know. People love to talk about other people."
He resisted all urges to push that one piece of hair behind her ear. "You just like to talk about yourself," he said, a crooked smile around his cigarette.
She returned the smile and slapped him on the arm playfully. Her hand lingered before dropping to the ground. "I hear that people talk about me often," she said, absent of narcissism. Her gaze flickered back to his, catching him off guard--not for the first time that night. "What do they say?"
The playful mood was dipped in darkness, and he chose his words with care. "People start stories because their lives aren't interesting enough for them to tend to."
She nodded. "So, do you think it could be jealousy?"
He pressed his lips together, blood pumping through his veins at abnormal rates. "Could be," he said with as little inflection as he could muster under the pressure of her scrutiny.
"Well," she said, using her finger to subtly draw circles on the exposed skin of her thigh. "I suppose people want what they can't have." The games were coming to a close and her fingers wrapped slowly around his wrist. Her touch was surprisingly tender, and he immediately felt goosebumps rise on both his forearms.
He could pull away. He could.
Instead, a small curse surfaced from the back of his throat, in protest. His pants were a little too tight, and he felt a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face. They had both flirted with death before, and maybe that was why she was so damn comfortable asking these questions, posing these hypotheticals, making him think and feel and itch that scratch.
Her body was above his now, tangled on top but barely touching him save for her lips on the shell of his ear, speaking to him. "In battle, some people abandon everything they love and flee. They're selfish. They only think about themselves."
He stopped breathing altogether as she removed the cigarette butt from his mouth, flicking it to the side. The smell of tobacco and the smell of her was intoxicating.
"I'm not asking for you to leave everything you know. But, I'm offering something to you. As my team member. My ally."
He can feel her smile against his neck. "You've taught me so much, Asuma-sensei."
Tension hung in the air like a bow and arrow poised to strike. He could stop this. He most certainly could.
"Ino," he choked, fumbling over speech. He breathed in shakily. "Please. Please."
He didn't know if he was asking for more, or begging for her to stop. She decided for him, as she leaned in, her lips parting.
He didn't stop her. He hardly tried.
They call you Jezebel
Whenever men walk by
They say that they can tell
The longing in your eyes is real
And how you really feel
But they can't see your appeal
-end-