Genre: romance, humour, smut
Rating: Soft R for language and sexual situations.
Summary: Kankurou gets an escort mission and a test in self-control.
He'd already offered her the cloak twice, and she'd refused to put it on, declaring it "ugly, shapeless, and far too hot" for her tastes, which just proved that she was a stupid bitch and deserved whatever hideous sunburn she got while he led her through the desert. Kankurou wasn't fond of playing escort in the first place. He was the brother of the Kazekage, for fuck's sake! He should be doing important A-class missions or helping Temari run the guard for Suna or advising Gaara, but instead he was out here in the goddamned sun-scorched sand trying to keep a loud, blonde airhead from killing herself by stepping on a scorpion or taking a tumble down the wrong side of a dune. It was insulting for a man of his talents. Gaara owed him big time for putting up with this kind of shitty C-class job.
Especially since the Yamanaka wench was starting up a litany of complaints again. It was too hot (like he could do anything about that), there was nothing to see (it was a freaking desert), the trip was taking too long (hey, he wasn't the one who decided to build Konoha so fucking far away from Suna), and so on. Kankurou tried tuning her out and then he tried amusing himself by imagining strangling her with strings from his puppets. When even that thought wasn't working anymore, he suggested that they rest for a bit in the shade of one of the larger rocky outcroppings poking up from the sand.
"It's about time," Ino snorted as she stalked past him onto the shadowed sand and knelt by the rock, not even checking for snakes or scorpions before she sat down. Kankurou had to count to ten slowly before he could unclench his fists and follow her.
He uncorked a canister of water and took a long drink before handing the rest to her. She wasted most of it by pouring it out into her hand and trickling the water over her face and neck. 'Stupid woman,' Kankurou thought with disdain, but he kept quiet. He didn't need to hear more of her screeching, and if she was going to waste the only jug of water he was going to give her that was her problem. He was an escort, not a babysitter.
He noticed her hiss of pain when she leaned back against the rock and smirked. That sunscreen she'd bought before they'd left had done a pretty good job at protecting her ridiculously pale skin from burning, even though she wasn't properly covered by suitable clothing. But she'd only put cream where she could reach, and that stupid top of hers only came down to right below her breasts, so there was a patch of red burnt skin colouring her back where her hands hadn't quite been able to reach. It was small, but probably painful.
'Should have taken the cloak I offered you, bitch,' he thought. His amusement with her discomfort only lasted a few minutes though, as it became clear from her constant shifting and wincing and sighing that he wasn't going to get a moment's peace unless he dealt with her stupid sunburn. After the fourth whiney gasp, Kankurou'd had enough.
"If I put some fucking cream on your back, will you shut the hell up, woman?" he asked, fishing a small rounded jar of burn salve out of his pack.
She glared at him. "You had that all along and didn't offer to give me some until now? You're such a jerk!"
He scowled and crouched down beside her, pushing at her shoulder until she was sitting with her back was to him. "Hey, I offered you a goddamn cloak, but you wouldn't take it. It's your own fault you got fried."
"That cloak was the ugliest piece of clothing in existence besides Naruto's godawful orange sweat suit," she said, pert little nose rising into the air like she was the goddamn queen of Fire Country. "I can't believe you expected me to wear something like that."
He unscrewed the top on the jar and scooped out a dollop of salve, the smell of menthol and aloe stinging in his nostrils. He smeared the cream along Ino's spine and scowled when she jerked and twisted under his hand.
"It would have served you a lot better than your current hooker outfit," he muttered, rubbing the cream along the ridges of her spine. "And stop moving."
"ExCUSE me?! My outfit is not anything resembling a hooker's, you ass. Just because Suna women are a bunch of prudes doesn't mean Leaf kunoichi should wear shapeless potato sacks too." She shivered but held still as he began to rub harder, even though he was sure it must have stung. "I can't help it," she said. "Your hands are cold."
"My hands ain't cold; your skin's just hot." And it was. Her back was radiating heat and he softened his touch a little as he massaged the reddened skin. No need to hurt her more, or she'd probably bitch his ear off for the rest of the walk to Konoha, not that she wasn't doing that already.
He pressed with the heel of his palm and moved his fingers in slow circles. He expected maybe a sigh or a hiss or a grunt of pain for his efforts. He did not, however, expect the fucking pornographic moan passing from her lips. Or the sounds she made when he moved up her spine, spreading his hands out to rub cream just underneath the line of her top.
He was suddenly very aware of how close they were sitting, and the way her hands held her long, white-blonde hair up out of the way for him. There was sweat beading the back of her neck and making the short wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail stick to her skin. Under the pungent smell of the salve he caught the scent of flowers and had to swallow around a suddenly dry mouth.
He felt his face heating up in a blush that probably looked weird underneath his paint, and gave a few more passes with his hands before withdrawing them from her back, shifting against the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. He couldn't help it, dammit! He was a normal teenaged male and he wasn't a fucking saint. The wench might be annoying, but even he could see that she was gorgeous and those noises would have pulled a stiffy from a gay man.
"We should get going," he said, his voice gruff and strained. He wiped off his greasy hands with sand, feeling its harsh grittiness much more strongly now that he'd touched the soft skin of a woman's back.
She released her hold on her hair, letting the pony-tail tumble down around her shoulders, and shrugged, not bothering to thank him for his help, then she rocked onto her feet in an unsteady movement. The sand must have thrown her of balance, because the next thing he knew, she was toppling backwards, her ass landing hard in his lap, the back of her head painfully clipping his nose as she went down.
"Fuck OW," he yelped, the pain in his nose and his balls—because she was crushing them with her goddamn ass—making his hard-on wilt a bit. Not enough though, because when she shifted to get off him she rubbed against a spot that made them both gasp and freeze in place.
He waited, in silence, for her to punch him and call him a pervert at the top of her lungs. Which was why he nearly choked on his own saliva when she deliberately rocked against him with a slow undulation of her hips, once…and then again.
'Fucking tease!' his mind screamed, and his hands moved almost without thought towards her neck and chin so he could tilt her pretty smirking mouth towards him enough to devour it with his own and push his tongue inside.
She opened to him easily and he gloated and felt like calling her a slut, except he knew that would ruin the kiss and he didn't want it to end so quickly. The hand not holding her face to his pressed to her back and the sting of pressure against her sunburn made her gasp and whimper into his mouth.
He'd never felt so hot in his life. It was like he was suffocating and he was gonna die but he didn't care, and she was fisting her hands into his shirt and rocking against him and giving as good as she got with lips and teeth and tongue. Better, because she startled a groan from him when she bit his lower lip and tugged, twisting her hips just a little.
And then she was gone, twitching adeptly out of his grasp and wiping streaks of his paint from her chin and cheeks, looking cool and prim and very satisfied with herself. Kankurou, feeling rather like he'd been socked in the jaw, still sat in the sand, eyes wide, dick chafing in his pants and protesting the loss of a squirming woman in his lap.
"Wha…what the fuck—" he stammered, still shaking the dazed expression from his face.
Ino smiled and fluttered her eyelashes in mock innocence, taking up her pack. "You're right Kankurou-kun," she said, sweetly. "We should get moving. I want to get to Konoha before nightfall."
He stared at her blankly for a few seconds, not really knowing how the react. She'd just let him kiss her, right? He hadn't imagined that in some weird heat-stroke related delusion, right?
"Guh?" he said when he finally got his vocal chords to work. It wasn't the most coherent thing he'd ever said, but about ninety percent of his blood was still pumping to his groin so he figured that wasn't really his fault.
She laughed and it was silvery and mean and bitchy and entrancing all at the same time. He watched her shake out her hair and wondered if she'd let him tie her up with chakra strings and put his mouth between her thighs.
"Geez, you Suna prudes," she teased. "You'd think you'd never been kissed before. Now hurry up, I want to be able to shower again. The stupid sun is making me stink."
He stared at the white flash of her legs under that short skirt as she walked away from him, and was suddenly very glad that she'd decided to be a brat and not wear the cloak. Covering up an ass like that was a shame.
Kankurou got to his feet slowly and brushed the sand from his pants. He rubbed a hand over his chin and his fingers came away smudged with purple paint. What a mess. It had looked so much better smeared across her face.
"I'll show you who's a prude," he growled under his breath as he followed her out into the desert again, his eyes focusing appreciatively on her ass.
Hopefully, the sway of her hips as she walked meant that she wouldn't be against sharing the shower once they got to Konoha.