01 May 2013

Mr. Bona Fide
:theSincerities

des yeux — Eyes
Shikamaru/Ino.

(bona fide): 1. made, done, presented in good faith; without deception or fraud / 2. authentic, genuine; true

.

.

.

To kiss him meant to endure being watched by him. It meant open-eyed passion—slow, powerful passion. For Ino, she promised she could count the gasps of air she took in between, simply because they were so sparse; there wasn't much "to" count. On the contrary, if she couldn't count, it meant she'd already been entranced.

His specialty was shadowing around her—but first it meant catching those pretty ice-blue eyes and melting them into his own as he closed in. Ino normally ruled over eye contact, but, if given the chance, Shikamaru could easily out-smart her coyness if the feeling struck.

"They aren't much," she'd once murmured to Sakura over lunch. "He's normally half-lidded anyway, and it's not the good kind either—it's the, 'Ugh, I'm such a lazy bum,' kind. Ew, right?"—and she'd just laughed and followed with a gentle, just kidding, don't worry.

Given the lapse in time between the then and now, and Ino would instead (she hates to and will not admit it) sharpen and lower her eyes, pretend her cheeks weren't dusting in a pale blush, and desperately attempt to wave away the mentioning (and the enticing recollections throwing themselves at her in shameful bounties).

She knew very well (now, at least) that his half-lidded eyes held more power to them than she'd originally dared to consider. They were her end and his beginning. She'd accused him of being a lousy, good-for-nothing piece of cheating scum when she first believed he was attempting a "cheap" genjutsu on her, but he'd only chuckled and reassured her that there was no need for genjutsu.

Ino was ultimately repulsed.

"Why would I need genjutsu? Honestly, I barely do anything—it's you who does the decomposing and the suddenly-stuck-in-place-ing."

But could he blame her? Oh, it was jaw-dropping to even think he was doing "nothing." He must have been manipulating her somehow! Ino knew it must be it, or he'd either figured her out, or he'd created a key to figure her out!

It was all in the way he conveyed words through the darkness in his eyes. He needn't widen them—they were as perfectly in place and half-lidded as they would be on an accursed early morning; the difference was the warmth in them—the ease of enveloping tenderness that he used to pull her eyes (if she weren't already subconsciously looking) to him. The moment their pupils simultaneously met, she knew by the sudden clench in her abdomen that she'd been caught—she always knew.

Before she could recollect her breaths, her thoughts, her reasoning—he'd already done the rest. He did so much in the bare millisecond it took to capture her in a gently hardening stare. The silhouette of his palm hovered over her sloping curves before greeting them in an admiring trace; his hips pressed themselves against her own (oh . . . no); and his free hand statured her angling head close toward his own . . . and all together, as she reduced to helpless anticipation, their eyes watched one-another (hers now lidded, too).

He liked to smile . . . and for Shikamaru, a smile meant only the faint quirk of his lips or a crooked pull of their corners as he rested his forehead to hers.

It. Drove. Her. Wild.

Those sinful eyes of his only closed when he swooped in for the catch. It was swifter than the tides of the Whirlpool country, the way both his broad and teasing hands lingered skin-to-skin up her neck, fingers spreading and cradling her head. Then she, with her arms bending against her chest as her grip on his shoulders tightened the closer he leaned, quickly fluttered her eyes shut the moment she felt her breath powder from her lungs with suspense.

Oh, how he loved to waver only a meek little distance from her lips, smirking crookedly in the darkness—and sometimes even chuckling dearly.

Her eyes would open again as she breathed in shallowly—why was he laughing? Then, like nothing, he'd do it again—he'd stare, their faces now only a fraction from one-another. He'd stop chuckling, stop smirking, and just stare. To Ino, each moment his chest rose with his silent, pondering inhalations felt like he breathed in more than the scent of her flowery perfume; instead, it was as though he allowed every trace of her thoughts and soul to diffuse into him while his eyes spoke to hers:

I love you.

It was a blur for her by the time she would be able to decipher the words concretely—because his lips would already have embraced her own, and, once again, she'd be scattering euphorically to recapture her senses.

She knew he loved to finger each lock of her pale, streaming hair, and that he loved to kiss her again and again until she was leaning against him whispering silently for more. He would, but this time slower, eyes open, watching her own haze in glittering satisfaction.

. . . Shikamaru was undoubtedly an overwhelming tease, and for Ino, it was more than enough—always more than enough.

note: Writer's block gets the best of you at the worst of times; it eats away at your soul - BUT, when the moment to resurrect arrives, this happens.

While this isn't much to my usual works (not in my eyes, at least), it is definitely relieving for me to have finally been able to reconnect with my inner-self and finally be able to write. So, thus I present you with a taste of Shika/Ino, and with the latest emotion I feel is easiest to relate to lately: Passion. It comes in many forms and colors, but is always sincere. I very much hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing! :)

note2: I'll leave this "unfinished" because, who knows? I may come up with more ideas on Shika/Ino in the future, and can instead just add onto this as a collection of vignettes. We'll see ;) Ideas are always welcome!

note3: Normally I don't ask, but for you all to drop a thoughtful little review would warm up my heart so much. I've missed seeing all your kind words in my inbox! I do apologize for my absence, but my love for writing is still here. I promise.

Until next time!

Yvette.

Disclaimer: Credit for Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.