Sorry for the late update. I was busy...well, actually, i was just lazy, and put it off for far too long. I am a terrible person.

"Let's play a game." He said to her, drunk with sunlight.

Not just sunlight; flower-smells, and warmth, and a host of other things, all variegated, and chiaroscuro, and intoxicating.

Ino felt just as tipsy as he did. She was a summer person, in personality and in seasonal preference. Just like her beautiful flowers, the sun was as essential to her as breath, or sight.

Or love.

"More…alphabet?" she asked, imbued with a summery mischief. "I've never been one for exhibitionism, but I suppose we could give it a try."

"Would you stop thinking about sex for a minute, love?"

"That's impossible to do with you." Her bare feet tussled with Naruto's, underneath the open sun. Soft turf, rich brown earth spilling through her toes…

Their toes. Because they did everything together now. They laughed, they cried…

But she'd had her fill of crying. Now was sun-time. Laughter-time. Time to revel in the way Naruto stroked her hair, to weave flower-chains, and affix them to his head in a series of primitive crowns.

Her fingers still remembered how to make them, just like she had in her middle-school days. Back then, of course she'd been making them for Sasuke, completely unaware of the amazing lover who had been staring her in the face.

To be fair, he's been chubbier back then. And a brat. Wasn't everyone?

"Naming clouds. How about that?"

"Alright." She responded wickedly. "That one up there looks like a fantastic lover I happen to know…"

"Does it now?"

Yes…one who's popping open my blouse button by button, until there's nothing left but…well, me. Oh…and now he's moving in, tracing his tongue along my nipples…"

"You need a cold shower. And then another one, just for good measure."

"Joking, lover. Men take things so seriously." Ino laughed. "Auugh. Since when am I a pervert?"

"It's contagious. And really, you ought to stop." He kissed the sensitive crook of her neck, and sniffed sharply. "You're giving me ideas."

This caused Ino to shift her focus entirely. Not outside, certainly! Not even the prince of playboys could…



But of course he could. That was his appeal. In the end, there was nothing that he couldn't, or wouldn't do.

"Alright!" she acquiesced, throwing up her hands. "You win. No more blatant sex talk."

He leaned back, though his hands lingered. "Hmph. I'll let you off easy, then."

"…what do you mean by 'easy'?"

"Just tell me a story." A feline stretch on his part sent furrows through the ground. "You've heard plenty of mine."

"A story?" The more Ino thought, the more depressed she became. "I don't have any."

"A lie. And a bad one. You've got one big, tangled web inside you. A story, I think. All you need is an audience."

"Why not?" the knot in her throat was trying to resurface, but the sunshine kept it at bay. "For some reason…I'm feeling really good right now."

"That would be me." He bragged. "I'm told that my upbeat mood is absolutely contagious." He kissed her, and her head was filled with scents of flowers and dry grass.

"I'll start…can I start slow?"

"It's your story. Tell it like you want to tell it, love."

"Alright. Once, a long time ago…." She gulped. "There was a girl who dreamed of princes."

"The, uh, shiny kind? With armor, and horses, and whatnot?"

"Exactly so. But she had a problem. See, every time she thought she'd found one…she'd be wrong. She was stupid that way."

"Not stupid. Just…waiting."

"…maybe. Her first knight was a strong man, prone to smoking, which she hated, but still…" she tilted her head. "A knight. In every sense of the word."

"A goofy, scruffy knight."

"That was part of his knightly-ness, of course. He was in love with another, which was fine. The girl was content to…to watch. Sometimes watching was enough."

"Not for long, I'd expect."

A vacuous smile fleeted across Ino's face; emptiness so deep that it seemed to have its own presence. "no. Not for long. Watching love blossom in front of her very eyes was like…like a blind man, hearing 

two sighted people converse about color. She couldn't tell what was going on, nor why. All she could see was that it was…beautiful. And she wanted to feel it too." She wrapped her arms around her knees. "Badly. She wanted to feel it so badly."

Naruto read her body language perfectly, snuggling closer against her curled body. "And? Has she found it?"

"A hundred times over." Ino laughed. "But it took her years to do. And before that, she had to…well, things...happened."

His eyes were a thousand words; sad, attentive, compassionate. They invited her to say whatever she needed to say.

"Her First Time…" continued Ino, "was a friend. They usually are. She was desperate. When you're falling into a pit, you don't really care who you grab onto so long as they can hold you fast. And he seemed all right. He was smart; a bit obtuse when it came to romance, but he knew what to say, and when to say it."

"So, a typical first love."

"Yep." She tossed back her hair, golden strands flying in a thousand shimmering filaments. "It's funny. A first love seems so unique, and eternal, until it's over. Then, you look back, and realize it was average, and normal, just like everyone else's."

"How did it end?"

"Words." She said sadly. "That's all he knew, words. Love words, happy words, sad words. Promises of love eternal, promises of brighter futures. They never came through." Her arms shook. "And then, he decided that he'd had enough fun, and that it was time to move on to someone else. I suppose he's slathering her with words as well."

"Slathering?"

"Like a man seasoning a particularly ripe chunk of meat." Shuddered Ino. "He had these…hungry eyes."

"hmph. Well, I am at times inclined to think of you as a…delicious morsel…"

"Oh shut up, you. I know that you don't mean a word of your chauvinist rubbish." Her emerald eyes rolled sarcastically, shimmering brightly in the sun. "You don't scare me."

"I don't?"

"You never will. You're the kind of man who'd die before he hurt a woman. Like…" she took a deep breath. "Like…"

"Like him."



"Like him."

"When did you figure out that the big lug was in love with you?"

"We met at a mixer. Well, we'd known each other before that, but we both happened to bump into each other at the same gathering."

"Coincidence?"

"No. He told me as much. He got himself colossally drunk, so drunk that his tiny embers of courage roared up into this great big…bonfire, I guess."

"He confessed while drunk?!" Naruto spluttered. "Oh, that is an outrage."

"Actually, I thought it was kind of cute. Really, really gross, but cute. It took him six bottles of sake to wrangle out a confession."

"…bad, was it?"

"Oh, it was terrible." Coughed Ino, helpless with mirth. "Oh, if I remember it correctly, he said something like; 'hey baby. How's about you and me, eh?'"

"He should have told me. I'd have tutored him."

"Oh? You'd have helped a rival for my affections?"

"Your affections are your own. If I can't win, and keep them-- fairly that is-- then what right do I have to be your lover?"

"A refreshing philosophy." Ino lauded. "And an effective one." A butterfly, flittering across the meadow landed on her shoulder, sapphire wings clashing together in a swirl of color. "Ah! This one matches your eyes."

"Does it?" he lifted the insect gently from her arm. "Ah…" two fingers spread apart, he held it to his face. "…well?"

"er…"

His face was a canvass of blue on blue, a single-shade kaleidoscope saturated with brilliant light. There was pink, as well. Curved, slightly-puckered pink lips, moving closer, as he drew his face closer to hers.

Their ensuing kiss was slow, and luxurious, a tasting game; a slow dance of tongues. The butterfly went away somewhere--Ino couldn't see. Her eyes were closed, her lips pursed, her mind elsewhere.

Kisses. How many had he given to get this good?

"I can't tell this story if you keep on interrupting me!" she cried.



"These aren't interruptions." His lips lingered in her hair. "They're intermissions. Popcorn breaks, sans popcorn." Warm breath heated her forehead. "So. What happened then?"

"Then?"

"After Chouji confessed to you."

"I punched him."

"Of course."

"Then I hauled him up, and told him that I'd meet him for lunch the next day, that he'd be paying, and that if he were late, I'd rip him to shreds."

"What was his reaction?"

"He passed out. He showed up the day afterthough, so I suppose he heard."

"…how was your time together?"

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

"No." Naruto said, a shade too quickly. "Maybe. Arrgh." He growled. "Yes. You're an amazing woman: the target of every man in the city. I'm allowed to be jealous, you know."

"How jealous?" Asked Ino, her eyes alight with mischief.

"Any more jealousy, and I'll turn green, love."

"Well." Ino patted his shoulder with playful camaraderie. "You do a good job of keeping it tamped down. Chouji--he really did turn green with jealousy a few times."

"He was always the type to wear his heart on his sleeve."

"So were you."

"So was I."

"Sometimes he could be so oblivious that it was funny. He'd buy me pink tulips, all the time. Huge bouquets of them. I hated them, but he looked so hopeful, staring at me with those puppy-brown eyes. I pretended to like them."

Naruto fiddled with a nearby flower chain, weaving it into her hair. "Could he cook?"

"There's that jealousy again. No, he couldn't cook. Not as well as you. His pancakes were alright, but that was as far as it went. When he made anything else, I'd smile, and make him think it was delicious."

Gently, Naruto asked, "Were you happy?"

"…" For a moment, she couldn't speak.

"Were you?"

"Let me think." Ino said. And she thought.

(Long nights in her apartment, staring at the moon, wondering why she kept up the façade. Why she lied to him, every day. Lied in action, lied in words, lied in every possible sense of the term. Long days, trying to surmount the guilt. Twilit moments spent sulking in her bedroom, pondering whether or not she truly loved him.

Was it happiness?

Had she been happy?)

"Every day was pretend." She finally muttered.

"Say again?"

"Every day was pretend. Pretend to laugh, pretend to smile." She hummed a tuneless song. "I was dying inside."

"Did he know?"

"I didn't think so. I was an idiot. He must have seen the dullness. The loneliness. He realized what he'd done, and he…" swallowing mightily, she clenched her eyes, and willed them dry. "He set me free. He set me free. I couldn't see it. I thought it was just another straw on my back, just another bar of the cage that he was putting about me."

"A cage?"

"Every night, we ate together. Every day we worked next to each other—it was driving me mad! Not a day passed when he didn't hint at something 'big'; he'd take my ring-finger measurements, and wink at me, without fail. And everyone moved so fast, and it all seemed so inevitable, that I couldn't voice my thoughts on the matter. I couldn't say no."

"He proposed then." Naruto's brow knitted. "oh, love…he didn't…hurt you?"

"I'm the guilty party here." Ino snapped, suddenly. "Two years ago, this very month, Chouji approached me on bended knee, ring in hand, and I…"

"you did what you had to do."

"No, I killed him." This was her hard voice, her tough as nails, and edged-with-flint voice. The famed Iron walls of her heart were risen once again.

Naruto cut through them with ease. "Calm down. No one's judging you. There's no need to judge yourself."

"Aagh." Ino winced. "This was a bad idea. Yeah. Just listen to me! I sound like Tsunade back when she had periods."

"The age of madness? Thank god that's over. If it came to a choice between a pissy Tsunade and an enraged Bijuu, I'd choose the bijuu any day."

"And now I'm turning into her."

"No, you're turning into something else entirely." When Naruto chuckled he did so from his chest, almost a purr. Ino could feel it all the way to her knees. "You've got me to blunt your antisocial sharp edges."

"I'm a murderer, lover. No one can help me."

"All you did was turn him down." His hands, with their graceful fingers danced around her shoulders. "He did everything else to himself."

"But--" Ino hung her head. "You weren't there. His eyes--they--they cut me. They seemed to say; 'ah, I knew this would happen. I knew you never loved me. Who could love someone like me? Ohh, Ino you must feel so good about yourself now, after giving me half a year of pity-love. How proud you must be.'"

"And then he died."

"I found him in my kitchen." Ino said distantly. "He'd imported a gun from overseas. The bullets were so tiny, but the holes were so big! He bled all oer the tiles. I had to replace them. And after that…well, things went downhill. It seems Chouji…couldn't take my decision."

"Then he's all the more despicable for trying to play the guilt card on you. Listen, love. An engagement is a one-shot deal. Second chances are rare. If you fail the first time, you can't go back. You can't force your lover to reconsider he position. You need to take it in stride, and move on."

"What are you, an expert?"

"I've only done it once before."

"You've proposed to another woman?"

"Another woman?" Naruto raised an eyebrow. "Why, my dear, don't you remember? I proposed to you!"

"I…don't remember that."

"No, you wouldn't." He turned his body, shifting her position as well, so that they were both sitting up. "Since you've told your dark secret, I suppose my own should suffice."

"What secret is this?"

Dappled sunlight flashed across his face, and refracted forever in his glacial eyes--

"How I fell in love with you." He laughed. "Once upon a time…."

Wow….this one took awhile. I didn't want Ino to seem overly weepy, so I took pains to ensure that her tears are kept to a minimum in this chapter. She is allowed only three crying scenes every five chapters! And I do keep track of this!

Well, no. I don't. It's fun to pretend that I do, though.

Chouji's death seem a little too simple? Heh.

What was that snicker for? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all… ;)

To timewave zero: (and this will be a long one)

This is simply my own judgement. Have you, personally, ever seen a good male POV lemon? We men don't tend to lend sex the same emotional value that it is given by women. They, at the very least, need to like they guy they're sleeping with. Or they need to be massively drunk, and drugged. But that would make you a date rapist, so please ignore that aspect.

For comparison, here are two small vignettes, of the first-orgasm of a gender. One is garnered from my own worldly experience, while the other was dictated to me by a reputable female source, with whom I may or may not be sleeping with.

GIRL (here for quick verification, and for those who can't read gender cues.)

Oh. Now I'm naked. Well, this is kind of embarrassing. No, wait, I've done this before. I should be fine. Well, I think I should be fine. Why am I so nervous about this? He seems nice enough.

Ahhh! What the hell was that? His tongue? He's using his tongue? Is that allowed? Isn't that against the rules? Wait, are there rules for sex? Oh god, I'm overthinking this--ahhh! He's doing it again. Arrghlebargle. Arrrrrrhhhhhhh……!!--!!

I love him, I love him, I love him I love him I love him I love him--

(Note. This is often followed by the slightly less-romantic line; "Ohmygod, did I pee? Oh, god, I'msosorry, I didn't mean to pee--". Hilarious, but not exactly romantic. It took her then-boyfriend ten full minutes to convince her that; no, she was fine, she hadn't done anything filthy, that it was normal, and they were both going to shower anyways, so what was a little pee between friends?)

He is a laugh. I will admit that. I'm still loads better than him, though. Or at least I tell myself that at night.

BOY. (Har-de-har-har.)

Hm. Now she's naked. Cool. Cool. Right, keep calm, breathe. Breathe. 'Kay, now stick the thingy into the--hey! It slipped! Alright, try again--yes!



Huh. Is this it? It feels nice enough. Not great. I'd rather be playing on my Playstation, truth be told. Reprocuctive process, heh? Wow. Really overrated.

(I…wasn't like that. Really.

Fine, I was. Then, friendships with various feisty collegiate girls, and romances with them, set me straight. I hope.)

To Harlequin de Rustre: What I like most about your story is the mutability of your strange mentor. The harlequin is an odd stick, yet, since your story is still fresh, you can still mold him into all sorts of mental shapes. And since he seems slightly more than half-mad, no one gets bored of him.

YumeTakato: Thank you.

BackYard: love isn't all roses and posies, and chocolates, and meeting for drinks at the local clubs. It can also be kind of sad. Sadness makes for more interesting stories, after all.

SHADOW DRAGON TWISTER: Thank you as well. (I am never quite sure how to respond to compliments...)

o.Arcangel.o: I was on a mixture of peyote and paint thinner. Eventually, the veils of the mortal realm parted, revealing the truths of life and love, in their eternal, and ever-burning glories.

No, really? I was just pissed at all the trashy incoherent fics out there. I suppose I was high on…hmm, anger? I dunno.

snickerz71: Right! You're right. Er…damn…right. Damn right! I am a manly man! Rarrgh! Sweat! Testosterone! Yes…I can feel it working…

Your welcome, :P