You don't know the hell I went through trying to get to accept the formatting on that first poem. For Porti, from whom the poem came from.
Poetry by Red
"When your body flushes
The specks of crimson
Across pale cream
Are the constellations
Of my night
that drapes me in breathlessness."
Neji looked up from the scroll in askance at the figure behind him.
"You write poetry?"
The figure pulled shirt over it's head and stepped up behind him to pull it out of his hands.
"Doesn't everyone?"
The closeness of their bodies made the Hyuuga heart flutter for a moment, and then it was gone.
Kankuro always took longer to get dressed than Neji did, taking care with the multiple layers of wrapping that protected him from the harsh winds, coarse sands and burning sun of his desert homeland. And then it took even longer for him to apply the makeup that marked him as Prince, Puppetmaster.
He was presently in front of the mirror, smoothing the brush over his eyelids, a royal purple highlighting his emerald green eyes.
For someone who lived in the stark beige-brown of the desert, Neji couldn't help but find Kankuro's bright coloring alluring.
He moved with grace behind his bent body, watching in the mirror the precise movements.
"Do you write poetry about me?"
Startled, the brush slipped and Kankuro cursed under his breath, licking his thumb and smudging the false line away.
There was a long silence as the final line was laid down the chin and Kankuro straightened to look at him. He was a few inches taller at most, to go with the few years in age he had on Neji. The white eyes felt it every time they stood together like this. Felt the strong weight of those extra inches and what they implied.
"That one was about you."
Neji's eyes darted away when he couldn't stand the serious contemplation he was being put under. It was too... complimentary. He much preferred harsh critism to this.
"I was taught caligraphy as a noble's son, but beyond the basics, I never had a feel for the emotions," he muttered.
Kankuro's calloused hand brushed his cheek and lifted his chin to face him again. Forest-green eyes were soft and light on his face, out of character with his usual rough, abrasive attitude.
"You may not be good at declairing your emotions, but that doesn't mean that they don't exist," he said gently.
Neji slid his hands behind Kankuro's neck as their lips met, and slid his fingers into the blond hair, more often covered by the black drapery. When Kankuro's welcome tounge slid into his mouth, Neji shuddered, overcome. Even if they had just spent the past night in sex, it never ceased to amaze him how beautiful this could feel.
He knew he was flushed when they pulled away and Kankuro made a leering grin.
"Don't mess up the makeup!"
Neji rolled his eyes and brushed some stray hair back and tucked it into his ponytail, feigning nonchalance.
"But seriously," Kankuro continued, his voice anything but as he turned to pull on the horned hat and grab the wrapped puppet in the corner. "You would look good with a little blood on that skin of yours."
The grin on Kankuro's face was decidedly devious and Neji rolled his eyes and gave him a good shove in the shoulder.
"There's something wrong with your head."
"You didn't have a problem with it last night."
"...Shut up."
The servants who worked in the Kazekage's house were well used by now to hearing Kankuro's rising laughter and seeing the stately Hyuuga's faint smile and warm eyes come out of the head puppeteer's rooms in the mornings, and when someone would tell them of the hard, cold noble house of Konoha and the fearsome, deadly and insane Kazekage family, they would shake their heads and remember the poetic sound of love.
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