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You round the house with sure steps, gravel crunching beneath your shoes as you peek around the engawa. It's your fourth date with Shikamaru, and it still feels as though the pair of you are more acquaintances than anything else. Polite small talk over the one dinner you'd shared, the bar you'd gone to surrounded by friends and colleagues - not at all private, not really feeling like a date. He'd grudgingly accepted the kisses you'd placed on his cheek, each time you parted after an outing. He still barely notices you, let alone speaks to you at work at the Hokage Tower. He'd never even held your hand - always slipping it away from yours the few times you'd tried.
In all fairness, you hadn't defined your relationship in the slightest, but still you thought it might go somewhere. He's dedicated and intelligent, even with his lazy streak. A good aide to the Rokudaime, a good friend to those around him. Smiling at you in the halls had led to you sporting a small crush, and it was with nervous stuttering that you'd asked him for a drink, just over a month ago.
You thought something was growing. Or, well - had the potential to grow.
Turns out you're wrong.
You finally spot someone as you step into the garden behind the house, finding Shikaku lounging back on the engawa, hands in his pockets. He greets you with a warm and inviting smile, as he always does, and you find yourself returning it immediately. You cant claim to be close to the Jōnin Commander, your job as glorified secretary to the Hokage meaning that you usually deliver him messages or some other trivialities, but he always had a smirk to offer you, always made time to at least say hello when you crossed paths at work. And then once you'd started hanging out with Shikamaru, you saw each other at his home, which was in and of itself something curious. You'd always known he was kind, and seeing him at ease and without the serious and solemn demeanor was jarring the first time. He'd welcomed you heartily into his home, always ensuring you were comfortable and never straying too far from you and Shikamaru as the pair of you shared a drink and the odd cigarette.
He's a good man, you'd concluded. One that you could sit and chat with, and not be intimidated by his status as an unparalleled shinobi. He's relaxed and indolent like his son, but with a wicked humor and the uncanny ability to make you laugh. Handsome in spades, and you almost had more fun just chatting with him than you do with Shikamaru. But you tried not to focus too hard on that.
"It's always a pleasure when a pretty girl comes to see me," Shikaku says by way of greeting, interrupting your thoughts with a smirk. You run a nervous hand through your hair, worried he'd somehow knew the direction your thoughts had taken, and flush deeply at his words. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"
The endearment makes something warm unfurl beneath your breast, smiling wide in response. "You might be outta luck. I'm here for Shikamaru."
Shikaku puts a palm to his chest, feigning hurt as he shakes his head, making you roll your eyes and snort a laugh. "And again you wound me," he says with a wink, before he's taking a deep breath and his expression smooths to an apologetic frown, his brows furrowed. "But, he's not here. Left a little while ago, for dinner with his squad."
Embarrassment and shame rush through your veins at his words, your earlier humor gone in a flash as something cold weighs down your belly. He'd forgotten, or purposely blew you off. Either way, you think with a scoff, you're done with this. He obviously isn't interested anymore -if he ever was- and you can take a hint. He just didn't have to be such a coward about it, you think with a frown, tugging nervously at your hair. You can almost hear his voice - confrontation is a drag.
You blow out a calming breath, eyes fluttering closed as you bow your head to Shikaku. A murmured apology for interrupting his evening slips from your mouth before you're turning away with embarrassed tears threatening to spill. You feel like an utter idiot, realizing belatedly just how clear it was that Shikamaru just wasn't interested in anything with you. It's mortifying, especially in front of his father of all people, and you decide to get out of there as quickly as possible.
But then you're gently being held back, Shikaku stepping off the engawa and putting a hand on your shoulder. His touch elicits a sudden calm, your shoulders slumping forward as you allow him to turn you around, and when you look up to catch his gaze there's something almost angry in his kind brown eyes.
"That isn't right, him blowing you off like this. On behalf of my idiot son, I'm sorry," he says with a severity that makes your breath catch, your lips parting softly as you realize it isn't just a platitude. You pulse jumps, just a little, at the warmth in your breast.
"It's fine, really," you answer with a shake of your head, laughing gently and without much humor, "I'm just - more embarrassed than hurt. I'll leave you to your evening -"
His hand moves to tilt your chin up, his fingers rough yet his touch gentle, as he locks his eyes on yours. "My evening would be a lot better if you were in it." Your breath catches, at both his touch and his words, you eyes going wide as a flush blooms on your cheeks. Shikaku's eyes trace over your face, corner of his mouth lifting as he surely spots your blush. "You were gonna go to dinner, right? C'mon, let me take you out instead."
You pause, lips parting to answer but no words come out. Is this - a pity thing? From all the times you'd spoken, you don't think he'd be the type to do something like this based on misplaced guilt on his son's behalf. And with the way he's looking at you - something confident, yet unguarded in his eyes. You remember all the times you'd been at ease in his presence, sharing tea and playing shogi, sitting together with Shikamaru but Shikaku the one to fill the silence, to make you laugh. Banter that could be read as flirtation, if this were any other scenario. Because, surely, it's impossible that the father of the man you were almost-dating was into you ... right?
Shikaku is kind, genuinely interested in speaking to you. Has made no secret of the way he enjoyed your presence, had never once made you feel like you were unwelcome. You nearly choke on your breath as you realize, all at once - the most joy you'd had with Shikamaru wasn't when you were out in a bar surrounded by friends, or even the couple times you were alone together. It was when you were here, in his home, with Shikaku.
The realization is dizzying, and you glance up at Shikaku with something almost guilty in your eyes. But why should you feel guilt? Shikamaru hadn't been honest with you about not feeling it, and Shikaku had been far kinder than him.
You find your bravery, swallowing thickly as you pinpoint the warmth beneath your breast to be something welcoming, and happy, and good. Shikaku's hand is still on your face, tilting up your chin with his thumb slowly running along the line of your jaw. Your heart begins to pound as you suddenly look back on all your interactions with a new awareness - you had liked Shikamaru; you really liked the way Shikaku made you feel, the way he smirked at you.
"You wanna take me out?" You finally manage to ask, words breathless as you try not to drown beneath the weight of holy shit I think I've been crushing on his dad this whole time.
Shikaku smirks in response, making something clench within your core at the sight, and shrugs his shoulders. "That I do."
Something giddy plucks at your heart, stomach clenching as you find your smile. Fuck it.
"Think you can keep up, old man?" You tilt your head to the side, arching a brow as your smile turns wry, tone turning suggestive.
He barks a laugh, squeezing your chin once before dropping his hand. You miss his touch immediately, though manage to hold on to your pout. "A gentleman doesn't rush," he says in response, eyes dragging down your body slowly in a way that makes your flush deepen, a laugh spilling from between your lips.
Shikaku offers you his hand, and you take it with a smile.
It was, quite possibly, the best date of your life.
True to form, Shikaku had been the perfect gentleman. Opening the door of the restaurant for you, taking your jacket -his palms running down your bare arms had sent a jolt through your veins, the way Shikaku had watched you the entire time he slipped the fabric slowly off sparking the awareness that he felt it, too- and insisting on paying for dinner. He'd made you laugh, and you could barely eat for the smile that refused to leave your mouth. Nothing felt forced, there was no awkward lull. It was fun, and you were keenly aware of how closely Shikaku had watched you.
He poured your drinks for you, and when you'd felt enough bravery you even leaned across the table to feed him a bite of your gyoza, Shikaku winking as he bit at your chopsticks. You felt unburdened, free, and happy, the evening passing in a rush before he was slipping your jacket back on, his hands lingering on your shoulders just a moment longer than necessary.
You step out of the restaurant ahead of Shikaku, smoothing a hand over your hair as you try and think of a way to extend the evening, biting down on your lower lip. You could invite him back to yours for tea, but that seems a little presumptuous. Also you cant remember if you'd done the pile of dishes in the sink yet or not -
An arm is slung over your shoulders, interrupting your stumbling thoughts. You glance up to see Shikaku at your side, and the smile that curves your mouth in response is immediate and natural. He's a strong and solid weight against you, smelling of pine and earth and something clean and fresh and natural, and you find yourself unable to stop before you're tilting your head to bury your nose in his neck. A swift exhalation is Shikaku's response, your grin widening at the thought that you can rattle him in kind.
"I had fun tonight," you murmur, hiding your smile against his skin. "We should do it again sometime."
You can feel more than hear his answering laugh, Shikaku's hand tightening on your arm as he pulls you closer to his side. "Night's still young. Could head back to the house for a drink, if you'd like." He presses his mouth to the top of your head, kissing your hair and making your pulse thunder.
Oh, you'd like. You'd very, very like.
With a deep breath you muster your bravery, turning your body towards him. Shikaku watches you with lidded eyes, that ever-present smirk still curving his mouth. You move to place your palms on his chest, nails dragging over the soft fabric of his shirt as you tilt your head up. Shikaku leans down to meet you, something heated in his gaze as he curves a hand on your hip, easing you slowly against him. Your answer is given with a smile, murmured right against his mouth, a tease and a promise of what's to come.
"Let's go."
You barely make it through the door.
Maybe it was the high mood of the evening. Maybe it was the realization that you really, really liked Shikaku, far more than you could have imagined; the subsequent fallout of feelings realized sparking an urgency to explore all the things left unsaid. Maybe it was the weight of the eyes that followed the pair of you, Shikaku's arm around you and your palm on his chest, pressed close enough to border the line of indecent as he led you through the streets back to his home.
Or maybe, it's all come to this exactly as it started, with your pulse fluttering in response to the way this man makes you feel wanted.
"I thought you said that a gentleman doesn't rush," you tease him with a breathless laugh, fingers buried in his hair -free from its tie, falling thick and loose around his shoulders- as he presses you against the wall.
Shikaku's answering chuckle goes straight to your core, stomach clenching and warmth surging through your veins. He lifts your leg higher, your core pressed tight against his groin, your knee hitched over his hip. "Never said I was a gentleman," he murmurs against the heated skin of your throat, kissing you with teeth and tongue in a way that turns your laugh into a sigh.
He shifts his hips, fingers tightening on your flank as he grinds against you, smirking wryly as you groan out his name. Your pulse thunders in your ears, a familiar heat and longing in your core making itself known as you fist a hand in his hair, urging him back up. Shikaku groans into your mouth, lips parting and tongue darting out to taste you. His kiss makes you dizzy, hips jerking forward to chase the friction you crave.
"Please," you whisper against his mouth, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. Shikaku shudders against you, grinding his still-clothed cock right into your heat. It makes you gasp, Shikaku not wasting the opportunity and diving in to taste your mouth once more.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asks after a time, pulling back enough to catch your eye. His hand moves to cup your jaw, tip of his thumb tracing over your damp and swollen bottom lip. You're nodding before he can even finish speaking, opening your mouth at his touch and nipping at his thumb playfully, the scorching look he sends you in response enough to have your cunt pulse with desire.
"I think I've wanted you to fuck me since the moment we first met," you admit with a slow-building smile, gazing up at him unashamedly through your lashes.
Your only warning is the darkening of his eyes, his smirk turning wicked before his hands are gripped tight to your waist. With no effort at all he lifts you, until you're thrown over his shoulder, your gasp turning swiftly to laughter as he swats your ass.
"Naughty girl," he rasps with a shake of his head, meandering down the shadowed hall to where you hope is his bedroom.
"Gonna teach me a lesson, daddy?" You ask breathlessly, smiling as your eyes trace the curve of his ass with every step he takes.
Shikaku nearly pitches forward, hands coming up to make sure you're still steady on his shoulder as you laugh, turning your head to press a kiss to his neck. He growls, low in his throat, and then his steps are taken faster.
"You're gonna regret that," he mutters lowly, though you can practically hear the smirk behind his words. You cunt clenches in anticipation, wiggling your hips impatiently. Shikaku gives your ass another slap in warning, your answering laughter loud and free.