Yamanaka Ino was not searching for him specifically.
Someone, she remembers the thought blossom in her mind, blade-thin shoulders slouched before the gold-dusted mirror, eyes level with the crimson gaze of a pale blonde wraith. Someone, she thinks when currents of voices and hushed confessions of premature deaths, condolences, and flowery graves raise to drown her, their vicious wisps feather-light against her ears yet bearing down on her frame with the weight of a thousand iron caskets. Someone, a cry nearly tears its way out of her leaden throat as patrons flock to her with solemn murmurs of I'm deeply sorry dears and Oh, if only they had saved hims. (She might've screeched in their faces like a wounded bird; Ino does not remember a thing beyond the feel of her fingers clenched around the roots of her hair, well-manicured nails drawing blood from fading, crescent-shaped marks. I should've been able to save him. The pallor on his weary features. I should've saved him. Poppy-red blood gushing out of countless wounds; eerie warmth pooling around her knees. I should've been stronger. A smile – and she dares to chant that it must be wine. I should be stronger. With utter brightness, in her mind she pores over the lines of sorrow minutely etched into Shikamaru's beautiful face; the yarn of her thoughts untangles, spiraling away from her. Someone, she clings to the thought.)
Someone, she mouths as she stands in the pouring rain, frozen at his doorstep. Men pass her by, leering at the way mourning clothes hugged her lush figure, families looking on in silent concern – no one dares to speak, to cross the threshold of her pain. Ino is not sure how much time passed before her shivers throw her weight at his door; she is nothing but a heavy thud, a hopeless pat of a delicate hand against the looming chestnut construction. He might've contemplated leaving her to lay there, Ino knows. He would have, she is bold in her surety, had she not been his best friend's student.
Somewhere in the distance lightning strikes the soil – Ino yelps like a child before she is swept into a pair of warm, welcoming arms. Instantly, her lids widen as she registers the appallingly familiar scent of tobacco oozing off of him, a stark contrast to the freshness of rain; and Ino is overwhelmed by a shuddering sensation, a rag doll free-falling off a precipice.
"Asuma!"She wails, nails desperately raking across the smoothness of his shinobi jacket, probing for a crevice that could ground her. "Asuma!"
His palm glides over her damp silken hair. He watches rivers of passersby saunter by them – old ladies peering at her weakness, daughters glancing their way with pity, sons' faces alight with dawning envy – and vows to shelter her shame.
Hatake Kakashi slips his fingers underneath Yamanaka Ino's legs and carries her inside the house, shutting the prying eyes of the world away with a single kick of a leg against the chestnut door. He senses the bumps on her skin dwindle, welcoming the change in temperature. Kakashi attempts to pry her from him, hands gentle against the curve of her shoulders, but she clings to him as if a hair's breadth of space between them would cause her to crumple into puzzle pieces. Thus, he sits them down on a dilapidated gray couch opposite the fickle embers of the morning's fire.
(Why me? He ponders in silence to her stuttering breaths caressing his ear. She had Shikamaru who would've been more than willing to share her burden. She had Akimichi Chouji who would've extinguished the fires of stars if it meant he would see her smile again. She had Inuzuka – Asuma had told him once of their dates. There was Sakura, even Naruto, who could surely provide something more meaningful than him. Was it the fact that he had already experienced this kind of loss before? Was it precisely this generational gap between them? Or was it grief that urged her to indulge in tasting a forbidden fruit?)
Ino grips him tighter once before releasing but makes no attempt at leaving the cradling warmth of his lap. She looks at him through long, clumped lashes with unspoken resolve – and Kakashi cannot contain the thought of how strikingly beautiful she looked even swollen from crying, blond hair tear-glued to the apples of her cheeks. She does not waste a second; her lips find their way to the exposed skin of his neck where the mask was inadvertently lifted, fingers ghosting towards the upper hem of the cloth with clear intent to strip him of it and claim his mouth.
"Ino,"he mutters, pulling slightly away – but she is as swift as a magnet, her lips on him again. "Ino." Kakashi stills her shoulders. Her blue eyes meet him, the sight drawing a gasp from his lungs.
"Are you sure you want this?" His voice is but a cautious whisper as if fearing the judgement the ears of the world would pass on them were they to hear. "You're grieving. You might want to-"
"Reconsider?" She laughs, drily, eyes skimming across the room. "I'm a mind-walker, sensei." She shifts to straddle him. "But mind techniques are not almighty. Nothing can be removed without a price, no matter how permanently or temporarily. I can't bear to pay any more prices."
She pecks the arch above his eye, fingertips settling anew just above the inviting edge of the soft fabric laid across his face. "Will you help me forget?"
Hatake Kakashi's hand seizes the curve of her waist in a conceding gesture of acceptance. The motion is so sudden Ino's eyes instinctively flit towards it; Kakashi pulls at the fabric on his face and, before she could take a good look at him, crashes his lips against her plump ones. Her initial surprise melts away once he bites at her bottom lip, eliciting a buck of her hips in response. One of his hands moves to trace the outline of her breasts, stopping only to pinch and pull at a protruding nipple; Ino pants into the kiss.
He pushes her to stand, not once allowing space to invade them. His hands begin to roam her, devoid of any previous reservation. They sneak underneath her shirt, trailing across soft skin, disappearing below the hem of her skirt, inside her underwear. Her legs part in invitation. Soon, Kakashi fondles the delicate bud with his forefinger before adopting a more circular motion. Any lingering doubt with regards to her presence was disrobed by a wanton moan. Ino tugs at strands of his hair – More. Kakashi leads them towards the commode where the picture of her father figure stood to witness their indecency; Ino's hand collides with it as she is pushed towards the wall. (The picture shatters into myriad pieces, forgotten for a day.) Kakashi spreads her long, lithe legs before pulling aside the thin fabric to expose her fluttering core, clenching around nothing in excruciating anticipation. His thumb moves to part her pinkish lips, tracing small, circular motions around her entrance. Ino whines like a scorned child, much to his amusement. He bends to taste her, a kitten's lick against her swollen clit, and she springs forward, feverish with need.
Sensei, she breathes. Sensei and his torturous finger thrusts its way in. (Something in him consistently equated her pussy with a flower – he had only seen such a pretty blush on proteas and he reckoned that a lick of its stigma would've brought about a clash of tastes similar to this. Her wetness did not help to ward off the thought – dew on a flower ripe for plucking. Good, he mused.)
The chants of his title kindled a warm sensation inside him; he could feel his cock harden, twitching for a feel of her dripping cunt. His second finger finds its way in; she was so eager to have him, rutting against the long digits. Kakashi's eyes are riveted on her exposed breasts as she discards her soaked bra; her mewls warn him that the steady flow of his pistoning grew erratic. He slows the pace, much to her displeasure – and proceeds to knead her breast in answer, pinching the hardened nipple between his fingers. Ino barely reacts before his breath against her core has her propped on her tiptoes, spread open in alert expectation.
Kakashi kisses her pussy lips, parting them with his tongue. Sensei, she screams. Sensei as he flicks her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, painstakingly focused. Sensei as her walls clench because of the leisurely rhythm of his thick fingers. Sensei, as he devours her like a famished man. Sensei dissipates into the air as his thrusts turn more vicious with every graze of tongue against her pretty cunt. She squirms around him, fucking herself against inert digits, sinking so low she is sure she could swallow his fist whole if he simply instigated it. Sensei, she shrieks once his tongue finds her entrance to drink from her well, juices already gushing.
Ino lays spent on the commode as he kisses his way up to her lips. Her fingers tug at his jacket, the rough material of his shirt – and Kakashi disrobes himself in a couple of frenzied motions. His tongue finds one of her perky nipples whilst his arms work to align her core with his shaft. In understanding, Ino locks her ankles behind his hips; Kakashi lifts her off the commode and makes himself her throne. She takes him slowly, clamps around the throbbing tip, eliciting a wolfish rasp out of him.
"Fuck, you're so tight." He gives her little time to adjust to his length, his thickness stretching her thin as he sheathes himself further inside her. The knot of pain in her lower abdomen comes undone halfway in, giving way to blazing sensation of pleasure and relief. The slightest motion of his member makes her jerk and shiver, leads her arms to mold around him – the enthralling bounce of her breasts against his heaving chest inviting him to ravish her. Kakashi digs his fingers into the supple skin of her round ass and begins prompting her to move with him. Her response is delayed as she relishes the feeling of being filled to the brim – then she arches her elegant back once he hits the sweet spot deep inside her, balls slapping against the globe of her ass. With a faint 'shit', Kakashi pivots them onto the floor.
He pushes her knees upwards, impossibly far, to allow himself easier access to her wetness. Ino tears up as he spears her – swifter, brasher, bolder, more rapacious with every pretty cry that falls from her glistening lips. One leg propped atop his powerful shoulder, Kakashi's fingers ghost across the narrow plain between her breasts only to latch themselves around the stem of her bobbing neck.
"Open up,"he coaxes, prodding the wet corners of her mouth while pounding her cunt. She complies, dazed, yet responsive enough to ardently suck on the inserted digit. Kakashi growls, bottoming out, tip twitching against her cervix.
"Fuck!" He plucks his fingers from her leg, now driving the heel of his palm against her clit. Ino jerks beneath him, the long finger falling away from her lips. She gropes her tits, squeezing and slapping the soft flesh, teasing her nipples. She was suddenly acutely aware of every bulging vein of his cock, every intricate curve, and indent; her walls grow taut around him, drawing out the breath that was hitched. Kakashi plows inside her with a gasp.
"Sensei,"she grunts and whimpers, bucking her hips towards him to maximize the friction in ardent pursuit of her high. "Sensei." He anchors himself to the spot where his hand connected with her throat, ridding her of the ability to speak. Ino writhes – what from pleasure, what from warring with the weight on her trachea for an intake of breath. The sight of her weeping, of faint pallor on her cheeks, sends Kakashi over the edge – he ruts inside her mutinously, every motion a whip against her cervix. His fingertips stroke her clit in rapid, sloppy circles. Ino claws at the hand wrapped securely around her throat, convulsing, begging for breath.
"No,"he growls, spitting on her cunt, feeling her wriggle. He slaps her pulsing clitoris – once, twice, thrice - sinking ever-deeper as she comes undone, creaming all over his cock. Kakashi rides out the crest of his own pleasure. "No,"he pants, hips stuttering as he paints her walls white with his release. His hold on her grows weaker – Ino heaves, gulping the air, wheezing like a dog. Kakashi pulls out, eyes boring into her leaking entrance. He coats his fingers in it and offers it to her as a reward. She cleans them greedily, licking them like her favorite lollypop, her small hand resting against his wrist.
"Sensei,"she heaves, legs weakly hitting the back of his thighs. "More…"
"You want more?" Ino nods, overzealous, tongue gliding across his knuckles before her cheeks hollow to suck them in.
"I want it all."
And Kakashi's mouth laps at her folds once again.
It is midnight when he breeds her for the second time, watching the corners of her lips rise upward in an exhausted but content smile. Ino presses herself flush against his chest once he takes his place beside her on the floor of his apartment. He notes the gleam in her eyes as they trace the contours of his exposed face.
"You're staring,"he feigns chiding her. Her laugh dwindles into a sheepish smile.
"You're handsome. Different than I imagined, but handsome."
"Do they measure up? Other boys."
She gives a slight 'hmm', pensive for an instant. "Some do." He does not inquire further.
They laid entwined until the wee hours of the morning, holding one another tight in a pretense of love. No words were spoken, every thought, every wish or desire was expressed with deeds.
Ino leaves in the break of dawn, kissing him for the last time. (He would know her touch blind. Petal-soft and breeze-light. She would know the quality of thoughts prowling his mind with every waking breath; the compassion in his anger, the tinge of rage in his sadness.) Yamanaka Ino leaves his apartment with levity, unburdened by regret, by the weight of what ifs and what nows. Kakashi watches her go, her hair the colour of golden morning swaying in the wind. (He prays Asuma forgives him for breaking the promise he made not long ago.)
Beneath the Judas tree, Nara Shikamaru watches Hatake Kakashi watching Yamanaka Ino leave.