Something you should know about Ibiki...

Author's notes: ...I don't know how many times I have had to edit this by now, but I'm ready to kills things. So! Here's hoping it works this time. Anyway, on to the goods.

This started out as a random idea in the middle of the night (which is when most of my more brilliant ideas occur), and I had this urge to write a wonderfully twisted crack pairing. That, and I wanted to write something for the Sadist. So here’s hoping I didn’t butcher the sexy Ibiki too badly, since this is the first time I’ve ever written him, and I’m sick and got a headache. Go me!

For Helena. Happy Valentines day to my lovely wife! *glitter kisses*

Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it.
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Morino Ibiki, by popular belief, had no social life. Most shinobi figured he got his kicks in the torture chambers of T & I, and others figured he was too busy to even be bothered. The general assumption was that he was completely asexual, because honestly, the guy was too cold to have any sexual drive, it was like a rock with hormones. It couldn’t possibly happen.

Which is why she thought it was so funny. Ibiki did have emotions, and a sexual persuasion, he was simply a master of controlling himself. There was also another choice piece of information that would give most of the residents of Konoha a heart attack.

Morino Ibiki was married. The only people who knew this, of course, were the Hokage, Ibiki, and a certain kunoichi. Their relationship had almost happened by accident, as it had been instigated with a dare, but she was happy where she was. In fact, the secret was half the thrill of it; it made life exciting. Ibiki was the other reason. He always had that aura of danger about him, like a predator, the way he moved with the shadows like some great cat, exuding suppressed power gave her such a rush it made her dizzy. Like a panther moving in the night, he could be standing right next to her and she’d never notice until he let her know or she turned around.

Sneaky bastard.

But she loved every minute of it, and he knew it. Like how she loved it when he got so cold and vicious, like tempered steel, when he was analyzing someone. Or how he could get her heart pounding just with a look and that faint quirk of his mouth. Or how if she would ever flirt with him when they weren’t at home, and his eyes would get that dangerous glint in them. She knew she was in trouble when he’d get that imperceptible growl in his voice that would send a shiver down her spine, and she’d look over at him and smile. Oh, she was going to get it later, she could see it in his eyes. Waiting until they got home would always be absolute torture, but she could wait, she’d learned to be patient. The sound of his voice was like dark silk or velvet over gravel, and it made her squirm and ache, and she’d hate him for it, but he’d just chuckle and leave her frustrated until they got home. Then she’d wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, standing on her tiptoes and beg and plead for him to take her, hurt her, do something, anything, she was his to break. He would smile, smug bastard that he was, and tell her no, and he wouldn’t budge on that even when he was stripping out of his uniform.

But when he’d sit to take off his boots, she would sneak up behind him, running her fingernails down his back, her lips brushing against his ear as she begged. It would end up with her leaning against him, her breasts pressing against his back as she dragged her nails down his sides. She would nip at his ear, rasping her sharp eyeteeth across his earlobe as her hands moved around to his front, leaving angry red lines across his abdomen as she whispered dark temptations in his ear. He would capture her hands before she could wrap them around his belt and kiss her palms. Before she could even move away, he would have caught her up in his arms and they’d be halfway to the bedroom.

But even there, it was all about the mind games. He’d pin her hands above her head, looming over her as she looked up at him with that wicked smile that she saved for when they were together. In size he dwarfed her easily, and most wouldn’t even consider trying to put up a fight with him. But she always did, it was her little game, his voice would go so quiet as he leaned down, berating her, interrogating her, and she’d writhe beneath him, squirming in his grip. She would arch and rub against him, her skin going taut over the muscle and bones of her torso and arms. Using one hand to pin her wrists, his other would hold her hip down as he smirked. Not letting something like that deter her from her goal, she would force her shoulders off the mattress to capture his lips, effectively silencing him for a moment as she had caught his lip between her teeth. Her victory was often short-lived, but either way, the end result would always be worth the effort.

Sometimes, it would start out sweet, slow and languid as she doted on him, showering him with kisses as she pressed her lips to his scars and traced them with her tongue. It would go on until the air fairly sparked with tension and she would give in. Those were the nights when she woke up relatively unscathed in the morning. Then there were the nights when he had her folded in half, her knees level with her ears, when he would fuck her until she was screaming his name between the gasps for air and cries for more. No matter what he did, she always wanted more. During sex, when her vocabulary usually consisted of three words, she was always begging him to fuck her harder, whimpering and pleading and biting her lip so coyly just for him. But trying to break his resolve was impossible, not that she would ever stop trying.

Every day, she’d wake up when he did even though it was hours before the sun would rise, making coffee for him while he was getting his shower and handing him his mug as soon as he’d step into the kitchen. She’d given up trying to talk him into eating something, he seemed to run on coffee alone. But she would steal another kiss before he left, wishing him a good day and a safe trip. It was the only time in their lives when they were mostly normal, as she stood in the doorway to watch him leave. After a while, she would close the door, and go back to bed, curling up under the blankets and hugging his pillow as she buried her face in it with a contented sigh. She still had hours before she had to be at work, so she enjoyed her extra sleep, the smell of Ibiki left on her cocoon of blankets and the pillow would keep her sleeping peacefully. But when she woke up with bruises and was so sore she could barely walk, she would grin like a smug cat and bury herself happily in the blankets next to him, draping an arm around his chest. Her nuzzling would be rewarded when he would reach over and tousle her hair, and she’d smile up at him through the mess of pink.

“Good morning, sexy.” Her voice would be so soft, here where they weren’t worried about everything lurking just outside their front door. A corner of his mouth would lift, and she’d get butterflies.

“Good morning, Sakura.” And he’d shake his head at her purring and tell her to go back to sleep.

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*dons her flak jacket and fire proof suit* Go ahead and do your worst, I have no fear! Muah-hah-hah-hah-haaaa~!