It was all because of a pair of boots. At least, that's what he would claim to himself years later as he looked back on the event. He had a weakness for boots, especially the black, shiny, thigh high type. The fact that she had completed the look with a mini-skirt and halter top didn't hurt either. He was quite sure that any other woman would have looked completely sluttish in that particular outfit, and he probably wouldn't have had a huge problem with that either, but there was something about the innocence she radiated even when dressed in the most provocative clothing imaginable that seemed to cancel out this effect.
She was standing on a street corner when he first noticed her, contacts covering her normally opalescent eyes, and his first thought was to stay away because she must be on a mission of some sort. And he did stay away, at first. But that didn't mean that he didn't watch. He could see the way other men drank her in, but none approached. This didn't surprise him. In the shinobi world an innocent looking woman in provocative clothing usually meant she was up to something and might kill you before the night was over, in the civilian world an innocent looking woman in provocative clothing also meant she was probably up to something but it was much more likely that it would be her father or husband doing the killing before the night was done.
He could tell she was getting more and more frustrated as the night wore on, and the angry edge almost overshadowed her innocence for a moment, but it never truly stayed hidden for long. He couldn't help but wonder what her mission objective was and who on earth had assigned this to her. Clearly one of the other girls would have been a better choice. Ino was naturally confident and flirtatious. And if it was dark hair they were after then Tenten could have easily taken her place. He tried not to think about Sakura.
He must have stayed there watching her for close to an hour, never once feeling the need to pull out his book; the small twitches and facial expressions she made as she attempted to stay composed were more than enough to keep him entertained. When she finally left her corner and headed back towards her room, he followed. He tried to tell himself he was looking out for her well being, as well as that of the village if her mission was in danger; unfortunately for him, all of his noble justifications were cancelled out by the way his gaze lingered on her boot clad legs.
As she entered the hotel he took his place in a tree outside it, waiting for her to reappear in one of the rooms. When she finally did he quickly let himself in through a window while her back was turned. She was obviously startled when she found him there, and he couldn't help but to get a little thrill from the way she brought her hand to her chest as she gasped his name. He quickly made some excuse about noticing her and checking if she was ok. He was glad that she quickly believed the lie that he couldn't quite sell to himself and that she lacked the fiery temper of some of her contemporaries who would have been angered he felt the need to help.
Much to his relief she offered him a seat and asked if he would like to know more about her mission. It wasn't even close to what he really wanted, but he tried to forget that as he sat across from her and listened to her explain her objectives. She asks if he had seen her on the street and, upon receiving his affirmative answer, wants to know what she's doing wrong. He tells her she looks too innocent and she responds that she doesn't know how to change that. It is an invitation if he has ever heard one.
That night he continues to try and justify what he is doing, even as she gasps and writhes beneath him. He tells himself its what she needs to become stronger, that her mission depends on it. But as he watches her find completion in his arms, as he looks at her face contorted in an expression of pure bliss, as she screams his name at that climatic moment, he knows that he is lying to himself. He wanted her from the moment he saw her standing there and, if he is honest, for quite a long time before that. And he realizes as he reaches his own release, teeth sunk into her shoulder and tearing a delicious cry from that elegant throat, that he still wants her. He will have to find a way to make her see that when all of this is done.
And eventually he does. It takes him six months of unexpected visits, quite walks, and soft touches before she realizes, but he makes her see. And years later, as he lies with her wrapped in his arms, the moonlight playing across her delicate skin and her head tucked beneath his chin, he reflects on how very well spent those six months were. Never once has he regretted taking this beautiful woman into his life. And it was all because of a pair of boots.
AN: I wanted to paly and make myself write a whole story without using dialogue. I have to say I rather like the result. It's also the naughtiest thing I've written so far. I'm gearing up for The Hardest Lesson. My muse and ego both feed off of reviews!