Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Rating: M, definitely, for smut and language.
A/N: This was actually an idea from a conversation I had with PSITeleport, and it sort of...took off from there. It's a humorous piece (or attempt at one) and there is a reward for getting through the longish beginning. This is far from being perfect, in my opinion, but it's a fun thing and good enough for now. Please, enjoy!
Ino loved clean clothes. She loved the way freshly laundered clothing smelled after being pulled from the washer, the way the clothes were warm after being dried. She loved folding and sorting and ironing clothes for the same reasons she loved organizing, sharpening, and maintaining her gear. A sense of accomplishment inevitably poured through her when she stood back to see the drawers filled with clean clothes.
One shadow darkened Ino's happiness to do laundry.
The apartment she lived in had no washer and dryer hook-ups, and no designated public laundry room. The nearest washers and dryers were down a block and across the street.
So. In order to do laundry, Ino had to load up her basket, tucking away all panties and unmentionables under blood-stained uniforms and sweat-soaked training clothes, loop over her shoulder the sturdy bag containing her detergent, washing soda, and dryer sheets, and make sure the rolls of quarters were secure in her pocket.
If it hadn't been for the cheap rent, she would have moved out of the apartment ages ago. As it was, the laundry was just a slight inconvenience to be tolerated for the time being. Traveling there and back was her biggest hassle; otherwise, actually doing laundry wasn't difficult.
Generally Ino chose to do laundry late at night, while everyone normal was snoozing in bed. She found twenty-four-hour Lin's Laundromat to be stress-free when there wasn't competition over equipment, and annoyed personnel looking in her direction when she fussed over someone stealing her detergent.
Time to read was a luxury she wasn't often afforded, but the two-or-so-hours it took to complete a few loads of laundry gave her the peace and place to enjoy a few chapters in her favorite novel; however, reading time and clean clothes were about the only benefits of the Laundromat.
What wasn't a benefit? Oh, only the lack of air conditioning. Sitting in a stifling room, where heat blasted from the vents of the dryers, was often a practice in self-torture. The cheap plastic chairs stuck to the back of Ino's legs, and since she hated the feel of peeling away from a seat, she was forced to stand, dripping with sweat, as she waited for the cycles to complete.
Sometimes night was cooler, but on this particular laundry night, in the middle of a sweltering August, when the humidity was approximately ninety percent, Ino felt as though she was trudging through a wet blanket.
Sweat stung her eyes, forcing her to blink furiously. Her hands had a precarious purchase on the handles of her laundry basket. Her hands kept slipping, so every five seconds, Ino would have to adjust her grip. The hot weather had put her in a bad mood; the basket digging into her hip made it worse.
At long last, Ino pushed backwards into Lin's- -the door chimed, but no one was at the counter for after-hours. Immediately, she hit a veritable wall of heat, like opening the oven door after preheating it to 475 degrees.
"I'm going to die in here," she told the waiting machines. They ignored her matter-of-fact statement.
She really should wait another day for the heat to break, but she was low on clean underwear and on her last set of 'professional' clothes. The rest of her wardrobe stunk to high heaven since she'd been on a mission for a few days, unable to get to the already rank clothing moldering in the back of her closet.
With a huff, Ino slid her basket on top of a free washer and began sorting, dropping her clothing into two washers. When she filled the two washers with clothes, she unloaded the rest of her basket into a third washer. Already she had sweat through her thin t-shirt.
Tentatively she looked around, a wicked idea forming in her head that solidified when she saw no one outside or inside. No, she really shouldn't…but there wasn't anyone to see, and no one would come to Lin's this late. Smirking with her naughtiness, Ino wiggled off her current pair of panties (thankfully she had the presence of mind to wear a skirt) and unhooked and maneuvered out of her bra. Into the washer her soggy underwear went.
A couple minutes later, her washers were filling with water and Ino had settled on having a staring competition with a directions poster for those who were laundry-challenged.
When the door chimed, she cast an annoyed glance over her shoulder that turned into a long glare. At least, Ino hoped it was a glare, because who she saw at the front was Inuzuka Kiba.
And, oh, God, he was shirtless. Ino's breath hitched. His muscles rippled and skin glistened in the luminescent lights. The pleasurable twist in her stomach didn't stop her eyes from scanning his chiseled chest and abs- -his black pants hung dangerously low on his hips. He turned, and Ino got a glorious view of the ANBU tattoo on his shoulder and a wicked-looking katana-through-skull-in-thorns-type tattoo on his back.
Ino felt her eyes bulge when a second Inuzuka came through the door, but when this one deposited the laundry basket on a folding board, he popped, turning into Akamaru.
A relieved sigh escaped from her. For a minute there, she thought she'd been dreaming. She faced the poster again, hoping Inuzuka hadn't noticed her because she was in no state whatsoever to hold a conversation with anyone, much less a shirtless Kiba.
She continued gazing at the directions poster, trying to rein in her imagination as she pictured Inuzuka coming through the door and turning again and again. When the hell had he gotten so sexy? And tall? Her thoughts broke when she realized he was speaking.
"Hey! Hey, blondie! I'm talkin' to you!"
Damn, he'd noticed her. Ino turned, putting ice in her voice. "Who are you calling 'blondie'?"
His eyebrows jumped. "Yamanaka."
"Yeah. That's right. What're you doing here?" Ino felt defensive with her territory encroached like this. "And don't be a damn smart-ass."
He smirked, one side of his mouth curling up to reveal a white fang. "I live around here."
Ino's stomach dropped. "Where exactly?"
"Why the sudden interrogation?" he asked, turning back to start loading a washer with his clothes. "You interested in something?"
Her irritation perked. Of all the people to walk into her Laundromat, on her laundry night, it had to be this stupid Inuzuka. She was whipping up a scathing remark when he continued.
"I live in the apartments across the street and down a block." He gestured in the general direction. "It's the only place I could find that allowed Akamaru in for free."
Unbelievable! He was talking about her apartment complex!
"How long have you lived there?"
"A few months."
Ino swore she had never seen Kiba around her place…although, he was probably working long missions, as was she. It would make sense that they would never cross paths.
She gazed at his back, following the intricate design of his delicious tattoo with her eyes. How tempted she was to run her fingers along the lines, lower, lower down his spine to his- -
"Hey," he said, looking over his shoulder at her, "can I borrow some detergent?"
"Hunh?" Ino didn't hear his question. "Deodorant?"
He gave her an odd look. "De-ter-gent."
"Oh." She came out of her daze. "Oh, yeah."
Ino realized she'd agreed without thinking and silently cursed while she reached for the detergent.
Something scurried across the top of her washer. Ino froze. Nothing else moved, so she thought maybe it was her imagination- -it had been overactive since Inuzuka showed up.
She hefted the detergent bottle…
…uncovering a dark rat, long tail curled around its feet. The rat blinked at her with beady eyes. Her heart stopped dead in her chest.
"AAAAAAAUGH!" Ino screeched, simultaneously dropping the detergent and jumping over a row of machines. "AAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"
The rat twitched, apparently enjoying Ino's freak-out. Obeying her first instinct to find protection and to avoid looking at the vermin, Ino scrambled to Kiba, elbows and knees banging off metal.
She dove into him. "DO SOMETHING! OMIGOD! IT'S ON THE WASHER!"
Kiba wrestled with Ino for a moment, but she clung to him like wet swimwear. There was no way she was letting go…it might come near her, or run over her feet...
Oh, shit! It would run over her feet! The idea took root, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and flung her arms around his neck. No way that rat was crawling over her feet. Kiba flailed, off balance from supporting her suddenly, but Ino didn't care and clung all the harder.
"Akamaru!" Kiba sounded strangled. "Get the damn rat already!"
Akamaru's bark boomed and Ino watched as the nin-dog bounded over the rows of washers and dryers. The rat shot off, Ino shrieked again, certain it was coming this way, and buried her face in Kiba's sweaty neck.
"Oh, God," she groaned, stomach roiling. "Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-oh-God…"
"Ino…" Kiba patted her back. "Hey."
Ino stopped hyperventilating to look up. "What?"
He smiled, and Ino forgot to be scared of the rat as he loosened her grip around his neck and waist.
Off to the side, Akamaru sat at attention. In his mouth was the dead rat. Ino felt sick, seriously sick. Kiba stepped closer and reached down to pat Akamaru's head.
"Good boy." To her utter horror, Kiba pinched the rat's tail and lifted it to dangle at her. "Wow, a big 'un."
"Ew, gross…GET IT AWAY!" Ino screamed when it swung a little her way. She cringed, covering her face with her arms. "GET IT AWAY!"
Kiba chuckled, and obviously enjoyed the sadistic hold he had over her.
"What's wrong, Yamanaka? Scared of a little rat?" But he must have realized just how shaken-up she was because he gave it back to Akamaru, and opened the door to let the dog out. "There. Better?"
"How…could you…touch…that!" Ino planted a shaky hand on the nearest machine and shivered.
"Goddamn- -it was just a rat," he answered and walked over to swipe her detergent from the floor. He walked back. "It's not like you're a shinobi or anything."
"Still…gross!" She shuddered for added effect. "I wouldn't touch that thing with a ten-foot pole."
Kiba paused to set down the detergent. He gave her an indecently sexy look that she felt shoot straight down her spine to her toes, and she couldn't help the sharp intake of breath when he leaned in to plant a hand on the machine behind her.
"I'll touch you with a ten-foot pole," he whispered, all low and gruff, right in her ear.
All the forgotten arousal flared up, creating a deep ache under her belly. She remembered she'd taken off her underwear…now agitating with the other clothes in the washer. Her mouth had gone dry, and she counted four drips of sweat down her back. Was he serious? Or was he toying with her?
That drop-dead smirk told her all she needed to know.
"In your dreams, Inuzuka," she retorted, pushing away from him to return to her post in front of her machine.
His innuendo was clear, but really…come on. He barely knew her; she barely knew him. He couldn't be suggesting what she thought he was suggesting. Selfish sex didn't suit her.
Too bad, she thought, sneering at the stupid instructions for the hundredth time. He took her by surprise when he boxed her against the shaking machine.
"I think in your dreams," he murmured, causing her nerves to spark violently. "Just admit it…you're switched on."
One hand burrowed under her shirt and cupped a breast, while another reached around and slipped under her skirt. Ino gasped at the shockwave of arousal- -one of his fingers had already found her heated cleft.
Her body reacted; she bent forward, legs unsteady, and gripped the edge of the washer. Kiba ground against her, and her wetness increased with the thrilling sensation of his erection poking the small of her back.
Things moved so quickly. Ino had to kiss him, not that she needed to be any hotter, but it was a fixation she had on his fangs and mouth since childhood. When she brushed off his hands, Ino felt Kiba hesitate, and when she twisted and devoured his mouth, she knew she'd taken him by surprise.
She ran her tongue over his lips, over the sharp points of his canines. He had the hem of her shirt and in a quick break of the kiss, she raised her arms so he could whip it off her. His mouth crushed to hers again, tongue gliding along hers as she worked the fastenings of his pants.
Ino wanted him, all of him, and moaned with satisfaction when the weight of balls and hard-on landed in her palm. He bumped into her, her ass hitting the vibrating machine, erection probing her belly, and all her attention zeroed in on the need to be fucked. There was nothing civilized in the hungry way Kiba shoved up her skirt; nothing gentle about the way he drove into her.
Her brain had to catch up to her body, what was happening so smoothly, rapidly, that several more panting moments occurred before she found her voice.
"Uhn…oh, oh, oh…" No words formed to describe how he was...what was this?
He stopped- -why was he stopping!- -and ruining the mother of all climaxes she was nearing- -
"Shut up and turn around!"
He, too, panted, sounded hoarse and desperate as he flipped her so that she sprawled on the top of the machine, stomach and breasts mashed against a humming machine.
She squirmed to look over her shoulder, but Kiba had a look of fierce concentration.
"What're you-OH, AH!"
He rammed into her, pounding her and all her molecules nearer and nearer complete oblivion. Ino gripped the machine for dear life, listening to Kiba growl, the machine bang against the wall, to her loud groans.
"YEAH, UHN, YEAH!"
Her scream or his? She didn't know…oh, so, so close…
Still he fucked her harder until she was unsure if it was possible for one person to contain so much euphoria without bursting. Her brain couldn't comprehend the burning, the lust being sated between her legs.
The agitating machine only increased the sensation.
Then Kiba shifted, and found a golden spot in her that made her close her eyes and scream. Her back arched so sharply she was sure she'd broken it. Everything went haywire- -an orgasm so hard, tears sprung from her eyes, and all her heart went into the second scream.
"AH, INO, YES!"
She vaguely felt Kiba jerk, as her own climax lasted, the crest of a pleasure wave for a few more hard thrusts, before Ino came down, down, down to earth.
Ino collected herself. Damn, she felt better. Sweat poured out of her in rivulets- -not a bad thing. But…an annoying buzz irritated her…she couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
Kiba, leaning on her, panting for his life, hit the dial on the washer. The buzz cut off. They didn't speak, and Ino knew she didn't know what she would say. But when Kiba smacked her ass, she elbowed him.
"Get off me so I can get my stuff into the dryer."
He backed away, and she ignored him as she dressed, the soaked material proving more difficult to get on than off, and transferred her items to a dryer. When she'd finished setting the timer and sliding in the quarters, she found Kiba grinning at her.
"What?" she asked. "Did I put my shirt on backwards?"
She looked down to check, but her shirt and skirt were on correctly.
He ran his fingers through his hair. "Nothing. Just that…you weren't wearing any underwear."
Ino rolled her eyes. "Neither were you, Inuzuka."
"Heh," he stepped closer and shot her that dazzling smile again. "You know, the rinse cycle is better than the spin cycle."
"Rusty with the pick-up lines?"
He chuckled. "We're headed the same way. And we both could use a rinsing. I'm just saying."
Kiba shrugged his shoulders and moved to take care of his wash, which had just buzzed.
Just offering, Ino mused, examining Kiba from head to toe as he leaned to reach into his washer. A smart-ass that exuded sex…yeah, she could deal with the whole package and then some.
"Hm. I suppose an extra rinsing is needed, especially with this hot weather."
A glance over his shoulder. "Yer what's fucking hot."
Ino couldn't argue with that.
Edited 07/26/11: Hyphens fixed, some terminology revised, and minor revisions.