Naruto has been traveling with Jiraiya for years so he should really know better than to trust the old pervert about anything at this point. “You said one of your old contacts was in need of protection.”
“He is,” Jiraiya says, doing a good job of keep his serious face on despite their surroundings, “we have good intelligence that someone’s going to try and assassinate him tonight.”
“Uh huh,” he says dryly, “I’m out of here.”
He’s been in more brothels with Jiraiya than he can count and he has no interest in another one. There’s a field a mile back that’s good enough to get some training done in and, should he get bored of that, a bar a little further on that he’s sure has perfectly serviceable company.
“Not so fast.” Jiraiya grabs onto his arm, yanking him back when he heads toward the door.
Naruto twists out of his grip, irritated, because this crap is the literal worst part of traveling with him, but then he glances at the stage and freezes.
A half dozen girls are up there, swaying their bodies to a beat being plucked out on a shamisen. He’s long grown immune to the appeal of brothel workers, but there’s one that catches his attention immediately. Jiraiya follows his gaze, of course, and sucks in a breath between his teeth. “Naruto…”
“See you tomorrow,” he says absently, “good luck with your assassin.”
“You’re supposed to be helping me!” he hisses, and then when Naruto doesn’t react, he adds, “This isn’t healthy.”
Yeah, because Jiraiya is the paragon of healthy choices. He just waves a hand in either acknowledgement or dismissal, he’s not really sure, and continues towards the stage, eyes focused on the only one of them worth looking at. He sees the moment she notices him. She doesn’t pause, doesn’t stumble, doesn’t even really look at him. But he feels it, a shift in the air like something right before a fight. This isn’t the right setting for it, however. Too much potential property damage.
He reaches the edge of the stage, moving people out of his way with ease that leaves them pissed and sputtering, but also conveys that any fight they’d start, they’d lose. These morons are all civilians. The other five girls on the stage are cute enough, of course, but mostly they’re just in his way.
A dark blue kimono loose around the shoulders. Pale skin. Dark hair pulled up in a style held together by silver ornaments. Equally dark eyes that still won’t meet his.
The madam senses blood in the water and steps to his side, warm and inviting. “Something catch your eye, sir?”
“I’m taking that one,” he says, going so far as to point if only because it makes those dark eyes flash with indignation.
The madam almost doesn’t flinch. “Ah, I’m afraid she’s not available for purchase. Perhaps–”
“This is a brothel. Everyone’s for sale,” he says, reaching for his wallet. The madam is still trying to offer him some girl he doesn’t want when he takes out more cash than five girls could be worth at a place like this and shoves it into her hand. She stops talking. “I’m taking the top room.”
He jumps onto the stage and girls scatter, letting out delicately shocked gasps and positioning their bodies at the perfect angle to be grabbed. All except one.
Naruto ignores her, bending down to wrap his arm around her legs and tossing her over his shoulder. Picking her up bridal style would be more romantic, but this way it’s significantly harder for her to scratch his eyes out. He flash steps away upstairs, kicking the door closed behind him and then biting his thumb to smear a locking seal in place. He drops her onto the bed, grinning when she gives a little bounce. The kimono really is in danger of sliding off her upper body entirely.
She’s glaring, but she also hasn’t stabbed him yet, so. “Are you out of your mind?”
“What do you think happens in brothels?” he returns, kicking off his shoes before crawling over her, a leg between hers and both his hands on either side of her head. “This is what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
He should probably be concerned about other familiar faces making an appearance, but she wouldn’t be here, like this, if that were the case.
“What do you think happens in brothels?” she sneers. “Like you have any idea–”
Her lips are smooth and slick with something that tastes waxy, but her mouth is warm and wet and it’s not hard to nudge her into an angle that won’t hurt his neck, to lead her lips and tongue into responding. When he pulls back, her lipstick is smudged, probably now more on his mouth than hers, and there’s a flush to her pale skin that wasn’t there before.
“You’ve done that before,” she says, a clear accusation.
He shrugs. “Yeah.” Her eyes narrow and he tries not to let his lips twitch up because he knows she’ll hate it, but he can’t help it. “You’re the first time I’ve paid for it, though.”
“Who’d let you kiss them for free?” she mutters.
“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he says.
She’s glaring again. “You’re hardly a gentleman, grabbing girls and throwing them around.”
“Do I have to be a gentleman?” he returns. “You’re bought and paid for.”
“Thought you’d be the type that wants your partner to enjoy the experience,” she shoots back.
He grins, shifting to hold himself up with one hand so he can grab her chin and make sure she’s looking right at him, her eyes focused directly onto his. “I am. I imagine if you had any real objection to what was happening, your eyes would look a bit different right now.”
She flushes, trying to look away from him, but he’s too close for that. “Arrogant.”
“Confident,” he corrects, swiping his thumb over her bottom lip. “If you don’t like your current circumstances, I could take you home with me.”
All he wants is to take her home with him.
“Going to buy out my contract?” she asks, voice warming in amusement. “I don’t think you can afford it. I think the money you threw down for me is all you had to your name and you’ll be eating cup ramen for the next month.”
“Not the first time,” he shrugs, because, yeah. Not quite everything, but close.
She’s so beautiful. She’s always been beautiful. She’s even more so when her face softens, just a little. “The price is too high. You couldn’t afford it.”
“Try me,” he challenges, like he’s not already paying it, like he hasn’t been paying it from the moment he left the village with Jiraiya. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything. She should have figured that out by now.
She sighs, “I should kill you.”
“Think of the property damage,” he suggests and then he’s kissing her again.
Her hands go to his hair and he lets his weight settle a little more on top of her, pressing her down into the bed. This time when he pulls away, he kisses her jaw, then her neck. It’s all pale smooth skin, no hint of anything else, but he knows exactly where the mark he can’t see is. He bites down, barely keeping himself from breaking skin.
She gasps and grips his hair hard enough to hurt but doesn’t pull him away. “Are you seriously doing this?”
“Better than fighting,” he mumbles, licking over her neck, feeling the indent left by his teeth under his tongue. That’s what he should be doing, that’s what they always do, but they’re too evenly matched for it to go anywhere without risking the other’s death, and neither of them are willing to go that far. Yet. If they’re not going to fight, they might as well do this.
She’s trembling under him. He’s done this before. He’s pretty sure she hasn’t. “How did you even–”
“You think I can’t recognize my own jutsu?” he laughs. “Give me some credit.”
“Don’t see why I should start now,” she says and he laughs again, smoothing a hand down her hip then reaching up under the kimono, rubbing the back of his knuckles against the smooth skin of her outer thigh. She shivers under his hand. “You’re teasing me.”
It’s just one more thing they have in common, really.
