Between Friends | By : mischiefmaker Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 1149 -:- 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. |
A/N: I blame this
almost entirely on the song Friend Is a Four Letter Word by Cake and indirectly
the person who pointed me in its direction. :P
Pairings: InoShika
Warnings: mild
smut
Disclaimer: If I
owned it, they wouldn’t even be able to air it on Adult Swim. :3
Between Friends
Ino giggles as they stumble into
his dark apartment with her arms around him and her feet gracelessly tangled
with his. He sighs in irritation and doesn’t bother with the lights – it’s not
like they need them anyway – only loops an arm around her waist and half-supports/half-drags
her with him to the kitchen. Shikamaru thinks it’s
all an act, that she secretly – no, not even secretly – enjoys burdening him;
he’s seen her drink a lot more than that and still have enough motor function
to throw a kunai with deadly accuracy. His suspicion is confirmed a moment
later when she immediately rights herself and starts kissing him, and as usual,
any annoyance he might’ve been feeling toward her quickly dissipates the moment
she moans into his mouth. He’s barely dropped his keys on the counter before
she tugs down the zipper of his vest and starts dragging him toward the
bedroom.
For as long as he can remember, they’ve always spent their
birthdays together. Their families have always been ridiculously close, and as
luck would have it, he was only a day older than Ino.
Birthday parties were always a joint event for the both of them which included
lots friends and lots of food – the Akimichi’s were
part of this strange extended family after all.
“Nara Shikamaru, get your lazy ass
over here!” Her voice is as loud and condescending as ever, but that’s just Ino. Her outward bitchiness has become part of the scenery
by now; he rarely notices. Besides, she’s on her knees in the middle of his bed
wearing nothing but her underwear and a smile, and he finds himself not
resisting at all. He never does.
It had started with a kiss on their seventeenth birthday,
this strange arrangement they had. She’d raided her father’s liquor cabinet,
and he’d been dragged along for the ride since that was how Ino
worked. Nothing forbidden was worth doing without an accomplice. They’d gotten
so completely shit-faced that night that he’d lost the scowl, and whatever
scant inhibitions she possessed had been tossed to the wind. When she’d kissed
him, it was awkward for all of two seconds before he’d mentally shrugged and
initiated a kiss of his own. Ironically enough, the
next day Inoshi had simply laughed about the missing
bottle and even said he’d keep it from Shikamaru’s
mother. He’d outwardly thanked his father’s friend and inwardly thanked
whatever deity was looking out for him that Ino’s
father hadn’t figured out the whole
story.
He’s on his knees before her as he’s been a thousand times
before, it seems. She pulls his shirt off, and as soon as it hits the floor, he’s
leaning in to kiss her. He’s not entirely sober himself, and when he leans a
bit too much, he ends up pushing her onto her back. She only laughs and rolls
them over. This has always been the one place where her controlling nature and
his laziness seem to mesh well.
After that first night together, they’d woken up so hungover she hadn’t felt like talking about it. He didn’t
know what to say anyway, and worrying was so very troublesome. In the end,
nothing really changed. Ino was still Ino, and he was himself. She bitched, while he sighed and
stared at the clouds. She chased men, while he and Chouji
ate barbeque. He couldn’t exactly hold that against her since he wasn’t the
type to put much effort into things as tedious as relationships. Things were
normal until their next birthday.
She quickly rids him of his pants, and somehow her panties
end up in his face, but he’s too preoccupied to complain because she’s lowering
herself onto his cock. He sighs, but this time it’s not in exasperation as his
hands splay over her rump when she moves.
On their eighteenth birthday, she had, after a quick moment
of mental deliberation, told him in very graphic detail what she wanted his tongue
to do to her. He’d sighed and given her one of his ‘you can’t be serious’ looks
which she’d quickly gotten rid of when she dropped to her knees and gave him
his present first.
He takes her nipple in his mouth and sucks on it lightly
just the way she likes. He knows just about everything she likes, and that
thought echoes in his mind just as clearly as her moan in his ear.
It became a sort of ritual between them after that. No
matter what happened in their personal lives, no matter what happened on
missions, they were never alone on their birthdays.
Her breath is erratic, her pace quickened, and he knows
she’s close. He swallows, knowing he is, too. When he feels her spasms start,
he kisses her, swallowing her cries, breathing her breath, clinging to her as
her orgasm triggers his.
Somewhere in there, birthdays became other holidays, then bad
days, and eventually just because, but even then, little had changed between
them. They were friends, granted friends with a secret, but still just friends.
She curls up against his side with a leg draped over his.
He’s sweaty, and it causes her impossibly long hair to stick to him in places.
She flicks his nose and pokes him in the side before draping her arm over his
stomach.
Shikamaru knows Ino doesn’t think in tomorrows – she never has – but he’s
always been one to have each possibility mentally worked out several steps in
advance. Eventually, this strange existence will end. He knows it, doesn’t know
what he thinks about that, doesn’t want to think about it. Troublesome, he
tells himself.
He combs her bangs back to get them out of his neck and unconsciously
plants a kiss on her forehead. “Happy Birthday, Ino.”
It sounds like a sigh, and this time he thinks maybe it actually is.
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