Alright. So Keryn and I have entered a friendly 'drabble war', which pretty much has the two of us writing to whatever prompt the other one gives (ShikaIno for now, though there's no telling how this war will end up. XD), and earlier today I was given the themeword of 'toxic'.
So here you have it. One sitting, just like Sweat, but a little… weirder.
She likes to call it their 'almost first time'.
It had been some few months after they were both promoted to jounin, and he'd gotten through his eleventh (and final, dammit, he didn't care what the Godaime said!) chuunin exam. That night, he'd just gotten through a mountain's worth of paperwork, signing this, looking over that, and he left the Palace tired, barely awake, thinking of nothing but a nice, soft mattress (or floor, whichever's closer) to lay on.
He found her along the roads, apparently walking back into Konoha from another mission, one he hesitated assigning her on. (Not that he'd ever let her know— he liked his limbs where they are, thanks very much.)
Even now, he still can't fathom what possessed him to move.
He likes to think it was the endless amount of work he had to do that day, that his body was tired, and his mind had reached its peak. He couldn't have possible been thinking right, in any case, because a genius like him really should have known better.
Though, likely, it was the way the moonlight was hitting her hair, giving her already-bright blonde an almost ethereal look and that, coupled with the flawless perfection of her porcelain skin, which were showing in excess amounts thanks to the strategically placed geisha kimono she wore, did more than make his gut do a few summersaults.
Whatever it was, it compelled his legs to move and soon enough he was standing no more than two feet away from her, and the way she'd started upon seeing him, actually being the one to make the first move this time, caused the already dipping neckline of her kimono to slide off one slender but muscled shoulder, exposing even more skin that seemed to catch the moonlight just right too.
And maybe that was the reason for his next move.
But, likely, it was probably just his own stupid hormones kicking in.
Whatever it was, something (not him, certainly not him) made his arms dart out to grasp hers, firm but gentle, commanding yet yielding. Her eyes had widened and her ruby-painted lips formed an 'O', but she did nothing more, as if she were afraid to ruin the dream.
And Shikamaru, never being one for too many words (especially around her, she'd always manage to twist them to her advantage), remained just as silent, instead utilized the other function of the mouth, much to the surprise of the parties involved.
But if there was one thing being a ninja taught them, it was that life was short and there was likely no way in hell this kind of thing would ever happen again.
And so they stood there, in broad moonlight, for all the world to see as they fumbled with their selves and insecurities, as they struggled to hold back and let it all out at the same time.
Her lips actually burned against his own, like poison from a senbon, and it was hot and cold and scary all at the same time but he liked it, dear gods did he like it, even when his mind (fully alert now, thanks) was screaming at him not to, even when every sense of logic and intellect in his body warned him this could only mean bad.
He thought he could die from her kisses, drown in the passion they were pouring out to each other. His lips and jaw and neck were white-hot from where she marked them, scarlet smudges blending with the flush he'd acquired. At the moment, he didn't really care that they were in the middle of the street for Konoha's sake, or that this was his old teammate, his childhood friend. All that mattered was that it was him, and it was her, and it was now.
He hoped it was love, hoped with all the heart he had left that what he was feeling, what she was showing, was all of love and all for love. The dampness on her cheeks told him she was hoping the same thing too.
So maybe it was right, what happened next. Maybe they both still had so much more to learn, and maybe a dipping neckline wasn't the right reason for whatever may have happened, had it happened.
…Or maybe it was all just his damn luck.
Whatever it was, Ino had stopped, pulled away and widened her eyes to an almost alarming extent, a crimson 'O' clashing horribly with the pinks on her cheeks.
"Shikamaru," she whispered, worried and breathless and Shikamaru thought, Oh gods, here it is, here's where she rejects me and kicks my ass and calls me a pervert.
She reached out and gently touched the traces of red along his lips and jaw, and it took him a moment, but eventually, thankfully, his brilliant mind pieced it all together: mission, geisha costume, lipstick…
And suddenly he realized just why it burned so much.
"…Eheh— I'm sure Godaime-sama has an antidote somewhere…"
Yeah, see, I have no idea either. ; I didn't mean for the drabble to turn out so serious in the middle, but it did (at least to me) so the ending may be a little... well. Weird. But at least it's something, right? x.x