Graduation

by CherryBerry12

"I know that look on your face, Ino," Asuma says, before he takes a measured sip of his drink. "You're thinking about causing problems." AsuIno, post-canon.

After several hours of drawling, heel-tapping surveillance, Ino finally spots her target from across the bar.

As a general rule, Ino isn't the type to be kept waiting at bars, especially a dive like this one. Nor is she one to show up early to one, either—that's for desperate people, who have nowhere else to be, or for people who don't have the stamina to keep going into the night.

Or for Sakura, who is chronically, incurably early to everything.

In her experience, no bar is worth anything until at least past midnight, once the alcohol has collectively started to kick in. And as confident as Ino is in her own ability to stir a lukewarm crowd - which is very, very confident - she's usually preoccupied with other, better work.

Like tonight.

With her target in sight, Ino smooths out her tightly fitted skirt then fluffs the plunging neckline of her shirt to give her chest a little more volume.

Not once in her life has she ever needed it, but it never hurts to put in the extra bit of effort.

When the seat next to her target opens up, Ino flips her hair over her shoulder and saunters over towards the bar. The rumble of music makes her heartbeat feel twice as fast, bringing a healthy glow to her cheeks as her heels click against the battered floorboards.

The bar is already a little crowded, but the bodies part in front of her with surgical precision, clearing a direct path for her with the slightest mental nudge of MOVE.

By the time she reaches the bar, a noticeable bubble of space has formed around her target, who pointedly looks down at his drink and pointedly ignores her approach. She hooks one heel into the bottom rung of the stool next to him and leans on the side of the bar, resting her breasts on top of her folded arms as she leans down to whisper into his ear. "So what's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?"

Her former sensei gives her a dry look. "I'm having a beer, Ino." He sighs. "At least, I'm trying to."

"That's hot," she says without hesitation. "That's so hot."

"I know that look on your face, Ino," Asuma says, before he takes a measured sip of his drink. "You're thinking about causing problems."

"Who, me? I never cause problems, sensei." To punctuate this, she flutters her eyelashes at him.

When he grimaces, she huffs and snatches his beer straight from his grasp.

"Don't be rude, sensei," she chides as she lifts the bottle to sip.

Asuma might play at being a disinterested hardass, but he's a man just like any other. His dark eyes flicker over to her hands, her careful fingers, up to her cherry-red lips as they wrap around the rim of the bottle.

Then down, locking onto her throat as she tips her head back and takes a long, satisfying sip. It's a dark, nasty beer, the kind only an older guy like Asuma would drink, but the heavy weight of his eyes on her makes it go down easy.

"I thought I was pretty clear with you last time, Ino. I don't want anything to do with this." Asuma shakes his head as he turns away, setting one hand against his cheek as if physically trying to block out his view of her. "Normally I'd say you have to buy me another, but I think that would only encourage you."

Ino preens. "It absolutely would, sensei. You know, you are talking to a newly minted jonin. I can buy as many as you want tonight."

"I know you can," he responds, his voice flat. "I don't need any more to drink if that's how you're going to act, and neither do you."

Ino rolls her eyes. "You're wasting your time trying to be a hardass right now. It's super embarrassing watching you act like you aren't interested, you know…" She finally slips down onto the stool, dragging it closer to his with her heel as she does. She reaches under the bar and finds his knee, rubbing the outside of it with her thumb. "And honestly, why would you even want to?"

She gives his thigh a gentle squeeze to emphasize her point, but Asuma only sighs.

"So tell me why that sounds like a threat?"

Ino hums and leans forward on the bar, resting her chin in her hand. "It isn't one. It's a guarantee." Her other hand is still resting on his thigh, after all, and he hasn't tried to brush it away just yet. She slides her hand inward, upward, drifting dangerously close to his groin. "You have to keep putting up this token protest just because you were my sensei for like, two years, but eventually, you're gonna get tired of acting like you aren't interested."

"You're awfully confident that's how it's gonna go, kid, but I like my track record over yours. Try not to get so cocky."

"Let's say I've got enough experience to justify it." Her hand creeps a little higher. "The way your pants keep getting tighter tells me you're gonna be coming home with me tonight."

Asuma snorts. "You must not think very much of me if you think I'm dumb enough to do something like that."

Her patience snaps. If it wouldn't be entirely counterproductive, she'd be giving him a nice, firm squeeze right between his legs. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

He gives her a bored look, like she's dumb for not getting the point. That only pisses her off more.

Asuma knocks her hand away from his leg with a jab of his elbow and goes digging in his hip pouch for a pack of cigarettes. The bartender gives him a sharp look out of the corner of her eye, but Asuma just shakes the box in his hands without opening it.

"I've been around you long enough to know how all of this works, Ino," he starts. "I keep my eye on these kinds of things."

Her temper flares again, and she's so pissed that she doesn't pause for even a second to consider what I keep my eye on these kinds of things could possibly mean. "You think so, huh? Then why don't you go ahead and tell me, if you know me so well."

"I'm getting to it." He gives her a stern look that makes her heart flutter as he leans over to rest his arm on the bar, closer to her. "You find something you want. You're not used to being told no, so if you don't immediately get it, it pisses you off. Your pride is hurt, so it becomes a challenge to you, and you won't give up until you get what you want. Eventually, you forget why you even want it in the first place."

Asuma backs away. "And that's the problem, because once you get what you want, you lose interest. Fight's over." He shakes a cigarette out of the box and pops it into his mouth, unlit. "I'm not trying to pick on you, Ino, I'm just telling you how it is."

It stings, but instead of snapping back at him, she clenches her fists under the table and nods at his cigarette. "That for show or are you gonna actually smoke it?"

"No smoking in the bar." Asuma jerks his thumb back to a sign on the wall. "So that's my cue to leave."

"Yeah? Just as we're getting started?" When he doesn't take that bait, she pounds her fist on the counter, rattling nearby bottles and shot glasses. The chakra signatures behind her still, as if readying themselves for a fight. "How like you! Just walk out when things get a little too real."

"Well. Gotta keep the peace somehow." He lifts one hand to give her a perfunctory wave goodbye, then pats her on the head like she's a damn dog. "You have a good night, kid."

Ino glares at his retreating back until he's swallowed up by the crowd. When he's gone, she glares at his stupid half-empty bottle of beer instead, and imagines having the guts to send it hurtling at his head.

After a group of chunin with fake IDs start to swarm around his empty seat, she snatches the bottle off the counter and downs the rest of it, grimacing with every nasty mouthful.

.

.

.

"And he basically called me spoiled! I'm not trying to pick on you," she mimes. "I'm just telling you how it is. Like he has any idea!"

Shikamaru's eyes drift lazily toward Choji. "Are you gonna tell her, or should I?"

Choji holds his hands up. "I'm not gonna get hit. You tell her."

She levels them both with a glare. "Men have been bragging about their conquests over women for centuries, but now that women actually want to have sex with them, it's suddenly a problem." She bares her teeth, yanking blades of grass out of the ground with harsh tugs. "I'm sure Asuma has picked up tons of girls in bars before, but when he's on the other end of it, he's not so crazy about it, huh?"

"Well." Choji scrunches his nose. "I don't think that's what Asuma's problem is." He looks to Shikamaru. "You'd know best."

"Me?" Shikamaru lets out a low groan and covers his face with his hand, as if trying to block out the situation altogether. His body is splayed out in the grass, so loose limbed that if she didn't know him better, she would have assumed he'd fallen from one of the tall trees around him and never moved. "The problem is that it isn't just one thing, I guess," he eventually offers.

"What? What the hell does that mean?"

Shikamaru lowers his hand to stare up at her, his eyes tired. "If Asuma is anything like us, the fact that you're barely twenty and trying to get into our forty-year-old sensei's pants weeks after being promoted to jonin is enough of a red flag… You being so damn obnoxious about it isn't helping, either."

Ino smarts. "First of all, he hasn't been our sensei in years. Actual years, Shikamaru, so I don't buy the sensei excuse." She sniffs. "Second, I can promise you that it has nothing to do with me being promoted, except for the fact that he has no reason now not to take me seriously, because I'm just as good of a shinobi as he is!"

"Still seems kinda weird to me," Choji mumbles.

"Well, it's not."

He lets out a long ehhhh. "Still seems like you have something to prove."

"Well, I don't."

Shikamaru gives her a look that tells her it'd be too much effort for him to call out all of her bullshit.

Choji wrinkles his nose. "If this is about the clan head st—"

She grits her teeth. "Why can't he just listen when I tell him that it's fine? That it's something that I want?"

"No man wants to feel like he's being led around by a damn woman," Shikamaru grumbles. "So for starters, bullying him into it isn't going to work."

Choji snickers. "I'd like to hear you say that to Temari."

Shikamaru grimaces, and his cheeks flame red. He turns away and rubs at his face like he's trying to wipe away his blush. "Most men don't want that. If you treat him like he's just another lay, you're gonna hurt his pride. He's gonna say no just to spite you."

"He already did that," she argues. "Several times. And with all that effort I put into getting ready last night, I definitely wasn't treating him like an easy lay!"

Shikamaru scrunches his nose, the way he does when he hears an argument he wants to pick apart, but is too lazy to go through all the motions of actually doing it. "Maybe not in your mind, but Asuma's got higher standards than the men you're used to picking up, and he's been dealing with your shitty attitude since you were a genin. Maybe give him some time to adjust."

"But according to you, he's gonna say no regardless of what I do just so his stupid man-pride isn't hurt, so I might as well not even bother."

"Well, maybe not." Shikamaru looks up at the sky, resting back on his hands. "Maybe you just need to try harder to meet him where he's at."

.

.

.

Of course, while she has no intention of proving Shikamaru right, she does give herself some time to consider what he'd said, if only to give herself a new angle of looking at the situation where Asuma is a little less unobtainable.

She lets it marinate, while she puts together a new plan of attack.

Two weeks later, Ino senses Asuma's chakra several miles out from the front gate and carefully power-walks her ass to the Tower as he slouches back to the village. Missions have been in such short supply lately that it's become a joke among the new jonin, but Asuma has conveniently found a way to be consistently assigned to back to back missions, so he's never in the village for more than a day at a time.

It is, she admits, a little too convenient. So convenient that she has a mind of her own to pit her newly-bestowed clout as Yamanaka clan head up against Asuma's fading status as second son to the Third Hokage, just to see how they stack up against each other.

She doesn't do that, though, because she's capable of playing this game too, without escalating it to a political affair. She can play any of these games, just as good as he can.

(She'll keep in the back of her mind, though, because at some point, he fully deserves to have sociopolitical hell and brimstone rained down over him, just to give him a taste of who he's dealing with.)

After reaching the Tower, she flashes her ID to the chunin at the front desk and makes her way down to the jonin locker rooms. She strips quickly and stuffs her clothes into a locker, then stands in the mirror for several minutes adjusting her towel so that it hangs loosely around her chest.

She isn't exactly planning to flash any unsuspecting jonin who happens to pass by, but she makes sure that it rides just low enough to give Asuma a good view of what she's got.

Or rather, what he's been missing.

Her pride is still smarting from the incident at the bar, even though she's had time to regroup and vent several times over to Shikamaru and Choji. He's already turned her down more than once, if she counts all of the exploratory remarks he's too smart to have missed. Chasing after a man who doesn't want her, crawling back like some desperate idiot—that's just unimaginable. Like two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, or animal prints.

Some things are just not for Ino Yamanaka, but Asuma Sarutobi definitely is.

Ino fluffs her hair one more time in the mirror, then heads down the hallway in her flip-flops to where the men's showers are.

One of the benefits of being an extraordinarily well-trained sensor is the ability to know - with absolute precision - just what everyone else in the village is up to at any given moment. She holds her breath as the rest of Asuma's team—Anko, Genma, and Aoba—separate at the front of the building and head off in the direction of the Western Gate, where the bars are.

Asuma, who has been avoiding every bar and club in the village like the plague, predictably departs from his team and heads back to the Tower for his usual post-mission shower and shave.

Stupid, sexy, routine-bound man.

She waits for him there, positioning herself against the lockers as his chakra signature is replaced by the soft sound of footsteps, the sound of the door creaking, the warm, blunt scent of tobacco—

"Well, well, well, look who finally showed." She leans all the way into the side of the locker, letting the straight wall emphasize her half-covered curves.

The flak jacket in his hands nearly gets shredded in two. Asuma grinds his jaw for a second before he grimaces and rubs his eyes with the heel of one hand. "Ino, how in the hell did you get in here?"

"You shouldn't even need to ask that, you know!" she snaps. Any advice that had come from Shikamaru is quickly tossed out of the window in favor of righteous indignation. "I'm just as much of a jonin as you are now!"

"Unfortunately, it seems like you really are."

"You could at least try to act appreciative about that." She sets her hands on her hips, trusting towel physics to keep her seduction on the right side of tasteful. "This wasn't that easy to organize. Do you even know how many guys would kill to be in his position right now? And not just metaphorically, either! There are men who would literally end lives to be looking at me naked!"

Asuma rubs the back of his neck with a long-suffering sigh. "Yeah, well, I'm not one of them."

Now she is grinding her jaw. "No one would ever have to know if you did! I know how to keep my mouth shut when I want to, so if all you're worried about is what people are gonna say, you can trust me not to say anything!"

"Yeah? And then what, Ino?" Asuma's chakra finally spikes, crackling like a fire reaching its peak. He throws down his jacket and takes one step towards her, then another, until her back is pressed up against the locker room wall.

The painted stone is cold and clammy, and her skin sticks to it in a way that has her cringing internally, though outwardly…

Outwardly, there's really nowhere else in the world where she'd rather be than pinned up against a wall by her former sensei.

He places one hand against the wall behind her, so close that she can feel the heat from his skin and smell his rich, earthy scent. It sends shivers through her, though her entire body grows warm from his proximity alone.

"Let's say I do it, Ino. I tear that towel right off of you right now, toss you onto that bench behind me, and fuck you like the bitch in heat that you are."

It comes so suddenly, with such intensity that she physically feels her jaw drop. She presses her knees together, suddenly aware of the growing pressure there. "Yeah?"

Asuma leans in further, until his short-trimmed beard is scraping along her shoulders, his lips just barely ghosting her bare neck. It sends shivers down her spine, her body twitching in a way she knows he's aware of.

"And let's say you're right. We don't get caught, and we both get to go home at the end like nothing happened."

Her towel inches slowly down her chest, her nipples aching with every bit of friction, every point of contact between them. There's nothing she's ever wanted as bad as she wants to throw her arms around Asuma's neck and jump him then and there.

"Well?" His warm breath is liquid heat, turning her burning core molten. "What then, Ino? What's next?"

"That's it," she breathes. Every other thought in her head is utterly derailed, her thoughts scrambled in a rush of horny stupefaction. "That's all it has to be. I can do that."

Finally, Asuma pulls back, a look of disappointment written on his face. "Maybe that's the way I come off to you, but that's just not the way that I am. When I want a person, I commit to them." He turns away from her and picks his flak jacket up off the floor, reaching up one hand to rub the back of his neck again. "I don't sleep with someone just to do it."

Ino swallows a lump in her throat, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Then what the hell do you do?"

"When I commit, I commit," he says. "Maybe think about that."

.

.

.

She does think about it, as she scurries away in defeat once again, flushed from her cheeks to her chest. She can't stop thinking about it, as much as she tries to shove down her frustration. It's beyond humiliating, that she's been hung up on the same guy for so long with nothing to show for it.

That he wants her too, but yet she still has nothing to show for it.

The week after the locker room incident, Sakura announces that she's taking off on a diplomatic mission to Suna.

"You could try looking less pained about it," Sakura tells her, rolling her eyes, as she makes her way down her pages' long to-do list. "It's barely any time at all."

"Right." Ino hasn't stopped gritting her teeth since the locker room incident, partly due to the sheer indignity of it, and partly due to sheer, horny repression, but so far she's kept Sakura none the wiser and has no plans to change that.

Ordinarily secrets between her and Sakura are few and far between, but she's painfully aware of Asuma's preference for discretion, barring what's shared between Ino-Shika-Cho. And Sakura is enough of a goody-two-shoes that she'd need to be sedated three times over before Ino could even begin to explain the amount of time she's put into trying to fuck her former sensei.

The fact remains, though, that Sakura is leaving for two weeks, and in that time someone will need to be shouldering the enormous administrative load Sakura has amassed over the last few years like a greedy, secretarial dragon.

And it just turns out that Ino is the best - and only - person Sakura is willing to entrust with her hoard.

"It's a compliment," Sakura insists, taking another color-coded folder off of her desk and piling it into her arms. "I'm choosing you because I trust you, more than I would trust anyone else around here to keep people alive."

"You trust me," Ino counters, as the folders continue to pile up, "because you're too neurotic to trust anyone else."

"But I trust you," Sakura repeats, "so just take the stupid compliment!" She pushes the remaining files and papers around her desk, squinting as she reads through their neat labels. "And this too," she says, adding another folder to her growing stack. "They probably won't bother you about the authorizations, but if they do, just let them know I'll be back in a few weeks to take care of them."

"You act like I'm incompetent," Ino mutters, her voice dulled, and view blocked, by the mass of paperwork she's holding.

After meticulously thumbing through the stack of folders and binders she's already offloaded onto Ino, Sakura takes a step back to admire her work. "Well. Enjoy your time in charge." It only takes a few seconds for her confidence to waver, and she glances anxiously behind at her color-coded desk calendar. "Don't make me regret leaving this all in your hands."

With her arms full nearly up to her chin, Ino's sticks out her tongue at Sakura's retreating back, instead of giving her the middle finger she so desperately deserves. "I hope they get invaded!" she cries after Sakura. "I hope they get invaded, and I hope there's no air conditioning or plumbing for the entire time you're there!"

Sakura and her team head out that same day, leaving Ino with her mountain of folders and a herd of hollow-eyed, greasy medical interns who congregate in front of her closed office door at all hours to whine for more work.

Ino uses that time to think hard about what Asuma said, if only because she knows he isn't expecting her to, even if he's hoping she will.

As she works her way through Sakura's million folders, picking out scraps to toss to Sakura's scavenging trainees, she realizes that's part of the problem.

.

.

.

After marinating in her own self-pity for the rest of the week, Ino manages to organize her overlapping schedules to give herself an entire day free of obligations. Asuma's in between missions, and she's bought herself a few days of relief from Sakura's interns by tossing them a genin who passes out from exhaustion every time she attempts to use her nature release.

(Her sensei misread the results of her chakra paper test, but she'll wait for the interns to figure that out on their own, after they've sufficiently distracted themselves with ten or so more labs.)

In the meantime, she's got a date with destiny, though you wouldn't know it from looking at her.

Early that afternoon, she picks out a casual sweater that slips off the side of one of her shoulders, revealing just a hint of a black bra strap and emphasizing her sharp collarbones. She goes simple with her makeup—no eyeliner, nude eyeshadow, a light coating of mascara. It's less than what she would even wear to breakfast, let alone a date, but simplicity is her goal here.

Modesty, or some bullshit like that.

Even so, she still paints her lips with a healthy, light pink gloss, and she stops on the way to grab a bottle of wine—red, good quality but nothing obscenely expensive. If he's in a good mood, they can open it up and not feel too guilty about drinking the whole thing together.

And if not, she can take it back to her apartment with her and finish it off on her own.

The back of neck prickles at invisible, likely non-existent eyes as she approaches his apartment, brown paper bag carefully tucked under one arm. There's nothing inherently weird about a former student going to visit their former jonin sensei, except when she's going alone, armed with poorly-disguised, non-gift-wrapped alcohol.

It's the first time she's ever been to his apartment at all, including all of the years she spent as one of his students. The building itself doesn't look like much from the outside, and if the neighborhood is anything to go by, it likely doesn't look like much from the inside either.

That's just like him, though, she thinks—clan heir and son of a Hokage, albeit a dead one, and he still lives like a bachelor just barely scraping by.

Ino knocks once with no response, but she waits a moment before trying again. Asuma isn't as much of a sensor as she is, but the distance between them is small enough that even he should be able to recognize her with minimal effort.

More importantly, he ought to know that she can feel his chakra on the other side of the door - in his living room, she thinks - standing, uncertain, as she knocks again.

But Ino is a trained sensor and a gardener; patience is in her blood, even if it isn't always the first thing that rises to the surface.

A few moments later, she hears a sigh and the sound of footsteps towards the door. Her heart leaps, just as the doorknob turns and the door cracks open just enough for her to see Asuma's face.

He looks tired, his under eyes slightly bruised. "Ino."

"Sensei."

He immediately frowns, which she answers with a soft, close-lipped smile—teasing.

"I had the sense that if I agreed to behave long enough, you'd wanna talk with me."

"Yeah?"

"So let's talk, and I promise to behave," she says. In a show of goodwill, she lifts up the paper bag with the wine in it. "With a little help, of course."

Asuma eyes the bag skeptically. "If this is another plot of yours…" he starts, without finishing.

"Really. I just wanna talk," she promises. "And you know what my mom would say if I showed up at someone else's house empty-handed."

"I do know." He smiles at first, but it quickly fades to a grimace, because the only reason he knows her mom at all is through his work as her sensei.

"So…" she prompts.

Shaking his head, Asuma relents, holding open the door for her to enter. "Come on in, then."

Despite her initial apprehension, the apartment is fairly nice on the inside—at least, it's decently furnished, for a bachelor.

He also keeps it clean, which is a step up from most of the apartments she's seen from men her age. The living room smells like drugstore candles and artificial cinnamon, though she counts no fewer than three ashtrays in the time it takes her to pass through his living room and into the kitchen.

Tentatively, and with the realization that her attraction to men is a borderline chronic disease, she accepts that this is also, somehow, a step up from other apartments she's been in.

"I hope red is okay," she starts, as she looks around his tiny kitchen. With her bottle of wine tucked under her arm, she quickly sizes up his bare stovetop and the half-decent set of grilling equipment hanging along the wall. Nothing overly impressive, but nothing worth fussing over.

It's functional, like Asuma himself.

Without his directing, she sets her wine down on the counter and begins rummaging through his kitchen drawers. "Don't tell me you're so much of a bachelor that you don't even have your own bottle opener!" she admonishes, opening one drawer that seems to be solely for lighters, tape, and assorted screws. "I know you guys tend to be minimalists, but there are limits!"

Asuma sighs behind her, in a long-suffering way that reminds her just a little too much of Shikamaru. "Here." He reaches around her, his chest pressing against her back as he opens one of the farther drawers, full of more messy, miscellaneous equipment.

His arm lightly grazes her side as he pulls away, and she's too flustered from it to chastise him for the mess of garbage she found.

With a glance out of the corner of her eye, she snatches a bottle opener out of the drawer then turns to look for something to pour the wine into. Without a word, Asuma throws open an overhead cupboard with several shelves of mismatched glasses and mugs.

He gives her a warning look, as if daring her to say something about them, and Ino quickly picks out the two most similar glasses and sets them down next to her bottle of wine.

Asuma waves off the second glass before she even manages to get the cork out. "You can drink that. I've got my own," he says, gesturing towards the fridge.

"Sure."

In theory she's there to make rational, adult decisions, but that doesn't stop her from staring at Asuma's ass as he opens the fridge and bends down to grab a beer off a low shelf.

It would take a lot, she thinks, to get her to look away from that.

She turns away just as he straightens up and busies herself with uncorking the wine and pouring herself a nice, full glass.

Asuma gives her a knowing look, sighs, and takes the top off his beer with a quick, practiced swipe against the counter. "Well?" he asks, angling his head towards the living room.

Ino tries her best to plaster a professional looking expression on her face. "After you," she says.

She follows him into the living room where he, much to her dismay, sits at the one lone recliner and leaves the couch to her. If it had been any other time, she would have found it a perfect invitation to situate herself right in his lap, but she has the distinct sense that she'll need to wait for his invitation before making an attempt.

"So you think you're ready to talk this out like an adult," he starts. "That's a surprise."

This time, she knows better than to rise to the bait. "Yeah. I am." She makes herself comfortable on the couch, tucking one leg under her as she moves her glass to her other hand, then tucking her loose bangs behind her ear, giving him every impression that she's a mature, rational adult. "I think if there's going to be anything between us, that's how I have to approach it. Seriously, and with a conversation about it beforehand."

He snorts. "Someone must've given you a hell of a talking to."

"Asuma." She keeps her voice level, but firm. Business-like, as if she were in a clan meeting and not trying to negotiate getting dicked down. "I want to fuck you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. I'm here to do whatever it is you need me to do first before we can get to that point. I'm not gonna be scared away just because you're going to make it hard. The only thing that's gonna get me to walk away right now is if you can tell me with complete honesty that you don't want this."

Asuma lets out a slow breath. His chakra relaxes, which helps her to relax too—if he's letting his guard down, she must finally be saying what he wants to hear.

"So that's what I want to have," she finishes. "A conversation."

"A conversation, huh." He leans back and nods slowly, like he's been preparing himself for this, but still isn't ready. "Then I guess I'll do you the courtesy of going first." He turns his head towards the wall, pointedly avoiding her eyes. "I'm not gonna lie to you and say I've never had a one night stand, and I won't lie and say that I haven't thought about having one with you before either."

She raises one fine eyebrow. "No?"

He gives her a tired look over his beer. "You've made that enough of a challenge." He frowns, slight wrinkles forming at the corners of his mouth. "And part of me hates myself for even considering it. You were a kid, and I was responsible for you."

"For a couple years, if that," she argues, "and they're in the past now. I'm a different person now and can make my own choices." She delivers it as diplomatically as she can, but part of her is still ruffled at the implication. "Are you saying you just aren't interested at all because of that? Even after all this time?"

"No. I'm not saying that, as much as I wish I was. Just something to think about." He tilts the bottle in his hands, tapping the bottom of it with a fingernail. "Call me old-fashioned, but I think relationships should mean something, and I don't particularly like the thought of changing what's already a pretty good relationship without having some confidence in how it'll go."

"That could happen regardless," she points out. "Not everyone remains close with their senseis after their teams split up."

"Well, we have. Ino-Shika-Cho isn't like other teams, and it never has been." He scratches the back of his neck, and his shoulders slump, like he's conceding something to her. "Still, at least then I'd be able to walk away and say I did something about it, and that I did right by you. I wouldn't have to feel like I used you."

"So what are you trying to tell me?"

"That that's what I want to do. It's not how I want it to look, even if you and I are the only ones who are gonna be aware of it." He rests his elbows on his thighs, leaning further in towards her. "I don't want something that's gonna burn out quick, and I don't want to have you picking up any of my slack."

"I don't hate the thought of you being in charge." In spite of their very serious conversation, she can't help but smile at him. "You should be warned, though, I'm a pretty giving person."

"Yeah? Are you now?"

"I just can't help it."

The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smile. "Seems like there's a lot you can't help."

"Maybe I'm just a helpless girl in need of saving." She bats her lashes carefully at him. "By someone strong and handsome."

This time, instead of chastising her for it, Asuma snorts.

"Even you're not that good a liar." He sets his beer down on the floor next to him and rests his arms on the recliner, his legs spread and lap open. "Well, if you're so helpless, why don't you come over here, and I'll see what I can do for you."

"Only if you promise to finish what you started." Ino takes one last confident gulp of wine before she sets her glass down and walks over. She sets one knee down on the chair next to him, watching his reaction carefully as she sinks down onto the cushion. "Can I trust you to do that?"

"I try to make it a policy not to let down pretty women, especially when they sit in my lap."

"Not gonna chicken out?" she asks. She rests her hips in his lap, settling down with a slow, forceful roll of her hips. "I'm getting awfully tired of putting myself to bed every night."

Asuma lets out a long breath. "Keep doing that, and I won't be letting you leave."

"I'd be okay with that," she murmurs. She sets her hands on the side of his face, trailing her thumbs over his beard. The short hairs are soft, though trimmed low enough that they prickle as she runs her hands down the side of his face.

His hand slips up her side, under the hem of her knitted sweater, running over her bare skin until falling back down to her sides, then to her thighs. It settles on her hips, his thumbs rolling over her hip bones, pointed inward to the space between her thighs.

She sucks in a breath, heat coiling in the pit of her stomach.

Asuma tilts his head, his smile gone cocky. "You've been patient today, Ino. It's not like you."

She pouts. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm impressed." His hands tighten around her thighs. "Maybe it means you deserve a reward."

That finally sounds like something she'd like to hear. She licks her lips. "What kind of reward are you talking about?"

"One I think you're gonna like." With that, Asuma hefts her up and stands, tucking her legs around his waist. "Hold on, kid."

She does, eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body up against his as he navigates them both down the hallway. She isn't sure if he's even able to see with her chest proudly shoved into his face, but he manages not to ram her into any furniture as he carries her off.

"I've always wanted to be ravished," she murmurs, shamelessly burying his face deeper into her cleavage. "Like some kind of animal."

"You are some kind of animal," Asuma grumbles as he maneuvers her weight to the side, freeing one of his hands. "A barnacle."

Her back bumps against the closed door, and her hand meets his as they both grope for the knob. His grip on her thighs tightens, and he all but kicks in the door, forcing it open with a shove that has it banging against the wall.

It sends a rush through her, to finally see some of his damn composure slipping.

"I've never been so relieved to see a man think with his dick," she whispers into his ear.

Asuma grunts a laugh and tosses her down on the bed, immediately crawling over top of her, his hands roaming over her body. He pushes up the front of her sweater again, just to her ribs, and lets his fingers run down each bump before coming to rest on her hips.

She arches under his touch, rolling her hips to guide him down further, where she's aching to be touched by him. His hands slide all the way up again, over her ribs, chest, shoulders, before he pushes her hands up with his own until they're stretched above her head.

Asuma grins. The blinds in his room are pulled, but the midday light is brought enough that his white teeth flashing in the bare light. "Can I trust you to keep your hands there, or do I need to tie them down?"

"Uh…" A million possibilities run through her mind, caught between her desire to start whatever this thing is off on a right, semi-normal foot, and her desire to have Asuma do every filthy thing to her that she can imagine.

She finally settles on, "Either is fine," though her voice comes out embarrassingly choked. Her heart skips a beat as she shifts under him, rubbing her thighs together.

Asuma grimaces, then flicks her lightly on the nose. "Try sounding a little more sure about it, kid. Be open with me, okay? Just tell me straightforward if there's something you do or don't like. I'm creative enough to figure something else out."

"I'm not a kid!" she growls. He moves like he's going to back away, but she tugs him down by the front of his shirt and wraps her legs around his waist. "You're not gonna be the first guy I've ever fucked, and you certainly wouldn't be the first guy who's ever tied me up to do it."

Asuma's grip tightens around her thighs, tugging her close to him. His hardness presses against her thin leggings, rubbing against her with painfully slow rolls of his hips.

"I used to hate that before, seeing the way you went after guys," he murmurs, nosing the collar of her sweater. "Felt sometimes like you needed someone to keep you in one place."

"And you wanted to be that guy, didn't you?" she asks. She runs her nails down his back, relishing in each tremor the wracks through his body. "Gonna keep me tied down now, sensei?"

"It's not the worst thing I could do to you." He mouths her clavicle, his tongue and teeth tracing the curve of bone, his touch burning hot. "I'm not the kind of guy who's overly fond of sharing."

"I don't mind," she tells him. "But you know you'll have to make it worth my while, if you don't want me going anywhere else."

"I don't mind a little challenge." His hands trail up from her thighs to her waist, over the waistband of her leggings. They hesitate for a second there, his thumbs tracing the dimples around her hips.

"It's okay," she murmurs. "As long as you don't rip them off, it still wouldn't be the worst I've ever had."

Asuma shakes his head. "Assume I'm shooting for something a little better than not the worst."

Without considering it further, he rolls her leggings down and tosses them mindlessly onto the floor, the way only a bachelor could.

His brow furrows as he turns back to her, like he's confused. "Hm." His hand skims her waist, over the plain, sensible panties she wore that day. "Well."

Ino rises up on her elbows and watches him. "Not what you were expecting?" she asks, raising her eyebrow as if daring him to complain.

"You could say that."

"If you wanted something sexy, you should've fucked me at the bar like I wanted." She lifts her chin, daring him to argue back with her. "This is what you get when you ask for mature and straightforward."

"Could be worse." This time, he only smiles and shakes his head. "Next time, okay? I'll fuck you in every dirty dive bar in the village if that's what you want."

"Pervert." She socks him in the shoulder then tugs him closer, pulling him in by the front of his shirt as she kisses him wantonly, her bare leg running up along his hips. He tastes like beer and smoke, both from cigarettes and the lingering taste of ash from his jutsu.

She hooks her leg around him, then tugs the hem of his shirt out from where it's loosely tucked into his pants. "You're way too dressed for this right now."

"Yeah, yeah." Asuma bats away her hand. "Let me enjoy undressing you first. We got time."

He tugs her shirt up over her head and pulls down the front of her bra, freeing both of her breasts. His eyes are locked on her as his hands skim along her ribs and back, searching for the clasp.

"I bet you've been wanting to do that for years, haven't you?" she breathes, hissing softly as he finally finds the clasp and releases it.

"Thought about it. Hated myself for thinking about it." He leans in as he works both straps off of her shoulders, his breath warming the space between her breasts.

"You'll hate yourself more if you finally get the chance and don't take it."

He snorts. "Then I guess I have no choice."

She fists her hand into his hair when he buries his face in between her breasts, tugging lightly on it as he kisses and licks his way around the underside of one breast, before wrapping his lips around her nipples and tugging lightly at it with his teeth.

His knee slips up between her legs, close enough for her to feel it, but low enough to make it difficult for her to reach all the way. The light pressure forces a low, burning moan out of her, as she digs her heels into the mattress to force more friction out of him.

Asuma gradually makes his way downward and nips her playfully on the stomach, just above her belly button.

The angle - and his damned pace - give her a spark of divine inspiration. She gets a solid grip on his forearms and hooks her legs around his waist. Using that momentum, she gently rolls him onto his back and settles herself on top of his hips.

"Are you gonna mind if I do this?" She punctuates this with a quick snap of her hips down onto his as she orients herself, setting one firm hand on his shoulder. "If you're so worried about taking advantage of me, it makes more sense if you just sit back and let me do whatever I want."

Asuma arches one charcoal eyebrow. "I could live with that."

"You men," she says with an exaggerated huff. "All that talk about responsibility and maturity, just for you to lie back and let me do whatever I want."

"I can still make myself useful." And by useful, he means ravenous. He hitches her hips up closer, pulling her almost up to his stomach, then latches onto one of her breasts. He sucks at the underside first, slowly teasing his way up to where her nipple is, while one hand softly teases the other, circling it slowly until it's hard and stiff.

His other hand sinks lower, first cupping her ass, then skimming along the underside to stroke lightly at the inside of her thigh. Ino pants, caught between his hot mouth on her breast and his teasing fingers between her legs, drifting closer to where she really needs him.

"Hold on kid," he murmurs into her chest before he uses his grip on her hips to flip her onto her back, her hair hanging off the front of the bed.

Ino growls. "I said that I was—"

"Relax, kid." He spreads her legs with his own, guiding her lazily with his knee. "Just lay back for a minute and enjoy it," he tells her. "I'm more than happy to hand the reins back over when I'm done, but I gotta take care of my conscience first."

"I'm gonna keep you to that," she warns, already rising up on her elbows.

Asuma snorts. "I'm expecting you to."

He hitches her legs loosely around his hips, her knees dangling on the bedspread, before running his hands up her legs, up to her panties. "Don't need these anymore." His eyes are dark and focused as he slowly inches them down and tosses them on the floor with the rest of her clothes.

"Be careful!" Ino gasps, as his mouth presses against her stomach, before drifting closer and closer to her core. It feels like an incredibly stupid thing to say, except him throwing her clothes around his room is making her think intently about it. "I didn't bring a change of clothes," she mutters, feeling her face grow warm.

Asuma glances up at her from between her legs. He doesn't say anything, but the infuriating look on his face is enough.

"I feel like you wouldn't have let me in if I brought an overnight bag," she explains, feeling her cheeks burn even hotter.

"Yeah? Maybe I wouldn't have." Asuma gives her a cocky grin. "But you're more than welcome to leave in my clothes if you want. Couldn't hurt for you to be seen in them."

She barks a laugh, not because he's the first guy to ever try that kind of line on her before, but because of how shameless Asuma suddenly is acting now that he's cut the bullshit.

"Well, if you're okay with me taking your clothes, let me start with this," she says, leaning forward and grabbing onto the back of his shirt. "You're way too dressed right now."

"Am I?" he asks, as he ducks his head under and slides his shirt off. He stretches his neck and crosses one arm over his shoulder as he does, flexing his biceps. It wouldn't be the first time she's seen him shirtless, but it's the first time she's in a position to stare at him unabashedly without having to worry about Shikamaru or Choji catching her. "Hope that's better."

"Hm." Ino leans up, running her hands up the dark hair on his chest, over the tiny hairline scars criss-crossing his shoulders. "It's getting there." She kisses him again, a quick peck on the lips, then his cheek, his neck—

Asuma tugs her hair back and claims her lips, running his tongue lightly across the seam of her mouth. "Lie back down," he murmurs into her mouth. "Still not done with you."

He guides her back onto the bed, spreading her thighs himself. He swears sharply. "Ino. Just look at you."

His hands move back up her thighs and around her hips. He shakes his head softly and slides his thumb down her slit appreciatively, before pressing lightly at her entrance. Apparently taking care of his conscience means driving her crazy while she waits, empty and throbbing, for him to get on with it.

"You're a fucking tease," she accuses, her face and chest burning. "All of that talk about taking things slow and acting properly, just for you to be a dirty tease!"

"All that talk about how bad you want me, but now that it's happening, you can't just be patient and let it happen." Asuma shakes his head. "Can't say that I'm the biggest fan of being bossed around by little girls."

Her face burns. "I'm not a little girl," she hisses, pushing on his shoulder. "But I will absolutely boss you around if you don't hurry it up."

Asuma hums noncommittally as he bends down farther, close enough for her to feel his warm breath on the inside of her thighs, though not enough to actually get to the point.

"This is where you want me, huh?" he asks cockily, teasing her with his thumb. "Right here, princess?"

Ino grits her teeth, holding back a moan as he rubs her clit, far too slow and far too light for it to actually do anything for her, but tortuous all the same. She sets her hand on top of his, stubbornly trying to push him down further, where she really needs him.

"Try not to be too impatient," he says, as he pushes her hand away. He places a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist, before he places her hand back down over her stomach. "Just let me work, okay?"

Ino throws her head back against the mattress, trying to calm her breathing. "Get on with it and maybe I'll let you."

"Gladly," he murmurs, as he dips his head low again and presses his lips against the inside of her thighs. The words reverberate through her skin, making her instinctively bring her knees together at the thrill that shoots through her.

This time, there's no hesitation—Asuma places quick kisses to the inside of both thighs, his dark eyes flicking up to watch her as he does, crinkled at the edges, in a way that tells her he'd be smiling if she could see his face. "Try not to move around too much," he tells her, before leaning in and kissing her slit.

Her next moan is so shamelessly strangled that she almost has the presence of mind to feel actual shame. Asuma is insatiable, licking all the way from her sensitive clit down to her entrance. He's persistent from there, agonizingly so, teasing her clit with hard flicks of his tongue while his thumb presses up against her entrance again.

When he finally pushes one finger inside of her, she's wound so tightly that even that small intrusion has her gasping. Asuma stops eating her out and curses sharply, crooking his finger into her softly, and she moans again under him, bucking her hips up against him.

"Ino…" he croaks. "Dammit." He buries his face into her stomach, placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses against her burning skin as he works his way back down between her legs.

A second finger follows, but with the combined stretch from that, the feeling of him pushing so deep into her, and his incessant tongue—

"Okay," she grits out. "Okay, I need you to stop now," she gasps, squirming beneath him.

"Yeah?" He leans back and wipes his face with the back of his hand, though the smug look stays there. "What, were you only planning to come once today?"

It's the most romantic thing that a man has ever said to her, but Ino shakes her head. "Not right before sex," she tells him. "I don't want to make it too easy on you."

What she doesn't tell him - what he doesn't need to know - is that she's breaking out a dry spell that is entirely his fault, and that she hasn't fucked a single guy since the first night she propositioned him. The fact that it's his fault is enough for her to withhold the satisfaction from him.

Instead, she pushes him over onto his side, then again until he's lying flat on the bed. "And I don't want to be jelly-legged while I've got work to do." She climbs back over top of him, straddling his hips with her own.

Asuma laughs good naturedly as he sets his hands on her waist. "In that case, don't let me get in your way."

He rubs light circles on her thighs as she situates her knees on either side of him, then grabs him in her palm and positions him at her entrance. Ordinarily, she'd spend at least a little time working him up to it—blow him, jerk him, let him thrust against her breasts if he's especially well-behaved, but he's stiff enough against her that he doesn't seem to need it.

"You're like a teenage boy," she remarks, giving him a little squeeze. "I hope you don't last like one."

Asuma wheezes. "Don't bet on it."

The foreplay was good, but there's still a slight sting as she eases down onto him. Her hips come flush with his, but she holds back from moving too much as she adjusts to the stretch.

"Easy there, kid, no need to rush," Asuma says. His hands hold her hips steady as she comes down further, until her thighs sink into the mattress. "There you go."

"I was doing fine myself," she complains, but she nonetheless lets out a grateful breath as she settles on top of him. Asuma lets out a long, agonized breath as she bottoms out, unable to take him any further.

He's throbbing inside of her, hard and aching as she tightens around him, digging her fingers into his shoulders as the feeling builds, pushing her closer.

She starts with a few careful thrusts to help herself to adjust, sliding down on him with such excruciating slowness that it makes her feel a little crazy. After a few attempts, though, she feels comfortable enough that she starts building up to a faster rhythm that quickly hits break-neck speed.

On her next thrust, Asuma pulls her back down flush against him and keeps her there, his fingers tightening to a bruising grip to hold her still. "We're in no hurry here, unless you've got somewhere else to be. Just take it slow." With that, he cracks open one sleepy eye to give her what passes for a chastising look. "Appreciate it," he adds pointedly.

"Yeah," she breathes. "I am, trust me."

"Appreciate it a little slower." He adjusts himself under her, hands grabbing more securely onto her ass. "Let me help you out a bit," he says, as he guides her hips down, fucking her with measured, forceful thrusts.

Ino grips onto the bedframe to give herself some leverage as he fucks up into her, his hips snapping up to fill her. Each thrust makes her entire body tremble, her breasts bouncing obscenely in his face as he slides in and out of her. When the rhythm begins to build, he loosens his grip on her, and his hands begin to roam her body again, feeling her hips and stomach before resting on her back.

She digs her nails into the bedframe, trying to orient herself around the feeling building in her stomach, the hot, twisting pressure that continues to build with each thrust.

Asuma's breathing becomes strained, like his lungs are working overtime. His hands drop down to the small of her back, holding her closer. "Come on, girl."

And, with that little bit of encouragement, she does. She grits her teeth, her entire body wracked with shudders. It rushes over her body like a sheet of hot rain; she throws her head back, crying out, as her inner walls begin to contract around him, pulling her through wave after wave of pure, mindless bliss.

"Just let me—" He doesn't even have time to finish his sentence. It only takes a few more thrusts before he's coming too, finishing with a sharp snap of his hips and a loud groan, his head tilting backward and eyes fluttering shut.

He comes inside of her, decidedly not gentleman-like, but she doesn't begrudge him that.

She'd begrudge him less, she thinks, if he could just stand to be a little less gentlemanly in general.

Ino pulls off of him slowly, when she's still tight enough from coming that the stretch is almost unbearable. She hisses, before lowering herself onto the bed next to him, trying to work out the creeping soreness in her legs as she does. Her chest and shoulders are spotted with tiny beads of sweat, and errant strands of blonde hair stick to her.

Asuma seeks her out first, wrapping one arm loosely around her waist as he turns over towards her. He kisses her neck, lazily molding his body up against hers, his stubble dragging along her neck, just hard enough not to tickle.

She's still hot from the sex, but he tugs a sheet up from the foot of his bed and covers them both with it, just up to her forearms.

It's oddly considerate of him, in a way that has her finally relenting and indulging in his pampering.

"Just so you know," Asuma starts, his voice a low rumble, "these kinds of nights are only ever allowed to end one way."

"Yeah?" She's only half-listening, drifting off in the patchy haze that usually follows a good lay. "How's that?"

"You spend the night, breakfast in the morning." He nuzzles the space between her shoulder and neck, placing a light kiss there as his hands travel downwards again, trailing the contours of her stomach. "And when you're ready to get out of bed, another round in the shower."