Title: Destiny: A Fic inTwo Parts

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: Hiashi/Neji

Rating: R / M

Summary: HiaNeji. PWP. Neji gets caught in the act, and Hiashi can't help but think of a new duty for his branch-family servant.

Warnings: M/M, INCEST, SHOTA

Neji sat at his uncle's bedside, on a very thin pallet. This was where he, as Lord Hiashi's personal servant, slept, and if the head of the main household needed anything, it would be his task to take care of it. Experience had taught Neji at which points of the night Hiashi slept the soundest. How a light would wake him at eleven, but not at midnight. A cough would only wake him near dawn or right after he fell asleep. For a growing boy with hardly any time to himself at all, this had been useful knowledge. It was nearing two in the morning, and at that time, rustling, and even soft cries had never woken Hiashi.

Neji turned onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling as he undid a few buttons to free his erection from the folds of his clothing. Falling into a steady rhythm, he let his thoughts wander, entirely independent of his body or the work being done on it. He felt himself grow warmer; a flush crept into his cheeks. His eyes closed. He imagined that his hand wasn't his, but an abstract "someone else's," then imagined the arm, the shoulder, the chest. Well-defined. Then the torso, down to the hips. Thighs which would push his own up and apart (and he did this for himself), and between them...

Neji sucked briefly on the first two fingers of his left hand, and then worked them in, imagining the other man. He let a low sigh escape his lips as his fingers found their target, his left thigh drawn up almost to his chest to allow him to reach it, the other merely bent to the side, out of the way of his other hand.

The pace had slowly grown frantic, and he could no longer hush his breathing as it hissed out harshly, sometimes finding its way through his vocal chords, striking brief, airy notes. When his eyes fluttered open, he relished the cool air and the way his blankets felt against his partially-exposed flesh, and when they squeezed tightly shut, he savored his fantasy – the other man's body hot against his own, large, imposing, nearly too much. His chest felt hollow, everything constricting and expanding all at once.

Spasming along with each deep contraction of his body, his thighs shook.

He cried out, more than a gasp, but not quite yet a moan.

God, he was close. Just a few more seconds...

"Neji."

The fantasy shattered, and reality wasn't much kinder. Hiashi's commanding voice flying suddenly out of the darkness had softened his nephew instantly.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, hoping, praying that he hadn't heard, that he only wanted a glass of water.

"I'm thirsty."

For the first time in several very long seconds, Neji breathed. Readjusting himself discreetly, he stood up, hoping that his nightshirt completely covered the still-open button-fly of his pajama pants. He would never, he decided, do that in his uncle's bedroom again – from now on, a clandestine visit to the bathroom would have to do.

"And, Neji?"

He paused at the door. "Yes, sir?"

"I'll ask if I ever want a show like the one you just put on."

The boy flushed deeply and hurried from the room, tears creeping from the corners of his eyes before he could even think of a reason to cry. How could he be so stupid? His guts twisted just thinking about going back to that room with Hiashi, the ridicule he would certainly have to endure. Would his uncle tell anyone? Among the main branch, and sometimes even moreso among Hiashi's close friends, sharing stories about one's servants was commonplace. After all, the serving class were subhuman in their eyes, with no more right to privacy, no more dignity than animals.

Neji forced himself not to think about it as he pulled a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with ice-water from the pitcher.

When he returned, he avoided his master's eyes, though he knew it would only confirm for Hiashi that Neji was too humiliated, too embarrassed to look at him. He didn't have the gall to do anything else.

But, in spite of Neji's firm belief that Hiashi would torment him, he was surprisingly polite, accepting the glass with both hands and a "thank you". Nonetheless, it did nothing for Neji's strained nerves.

He laid down, knowing that he would never get to sleep, that he would lie awake reliving those few moments over and over again, every moment becoming more and more upset by them.

"Neji, come here."

The order startled him, but he stood and lowered his eyes at Hiashi's bedside.

"Here, Neji. Lie down."

Shrugging at the odd request, he slid underneath his master's blankets, noting how much warmer they were than his own, how much softer the bed was than his mat. Perhaps Hiashi meant to keep him close so that he wouldn't be able to finish what he had been doing. As if he'd be able to anyway!

Coiling an arm around his nephew's shoulders, Hiashi pulled the boy close to his chest, cradling him. It had been a very long time since anyone had held Neji, and his immediate instinctual reaction was to sink against the warm body beside him. This sort of affection was a rare luxury, something he had only been afforded twice since his father's death.

"I'm not angry," the older man said softly.

Unable to come up with a response, Neji remained silent.

"In fact," Hiashi continued, "I shouldn't have stopped you. It's not good for a boy of your age to be interrupted, physically or otherwise."

Hiashi turned on his side, facing Neji, idly stroking the boy's hair. Even in the dark, their sharp eyes could read the other's face. The boy was confused and comforted all at once. The man was firm, but gentle. When he pressed their bodies together again, Neji understood what he wanted, and gasped.

"Lord Hiashi, I–"

"You'll say nothing of this, do you understand? Neither now, nor after."

Neji nodded bitterly. So this was part of his duty to the main household.

He remained limp, merely accepting the soft, slow caresses. Something wasn't right. This was too tender for his master. Everything Lord Hiashi had ever done in his presence had been harsh, curt, and calculated, if not cruel.

No.

Not everything.

When he had spoken with him after the Chunin exams, when he had bowed to Neji, then he had been different.

Did that mean he felt remorseful? That he regretted embarrassing him? If so, this was a strange form of repayment. Perhaps he was simply regretting what he was about to do. In any case, his words were at odds with his body language. It was confusing.

He slid a hand up and down Neji's back. A slow rhythm, and a kiss sweetly nuzzled into the boy's hair. If they had been close, this might have been just normal, platonic affection. It made Neji's chest ache in spite of himself. To be held, to be kissed; these were all things he had sorely missed.

Without thought, he pressed a palm to Hiashi's chest, vaguely aware of the chakra-point just below the flesh. Just the right pressure and chakra flow at that pinprick of space, and Neji could send him into instant cardiac arrest. It might activate his curse-seal, but probably only for a moment before Hiashi died. And once he was dead, there would be no trace of the attack other than a tiny bruise. No medic-nin would know to look for that. It would be chalked up to heart failure.

A year ago, he might have done it.

But now, his feelings toward the main branch were different. He resented them, but not as much.

His feelings toward this particular man were more complex. He could no longer hate him as he had before, but he would never consider him family. There was also something else – an uncomfortable fascination, a devotion that he felt like he should fight, but couldn't.

A more intense ache in his own chest as he felt Hiashi's under his hand, a heart beating slowly, but harder than normal. He pressed his cheek there, too, the gauzy fabric of Hiashi's nemaki a soft contrast to the body underneath. A laugh flew from Neji's mouth.

"What is it?" Hiashi purred, cupping his nephew's face and tilting it up towards him.

"You're so old-fashioned," he answered. "I would give you a pair of normal pajamas, but you would never look right in them."

The older man tried to keep a stern face as he said, "You should show me more respect," but his smile gave away how ridiculous he himself had found the image.

Still smiling, he continued to stroke Neji's spine, hooking his finger under the boy's shirt to pull it up, and then running his hand along his exposed back.

Neji shivered as Hiashi's fingertips ran up and down. Slowly. Then a palm pressing at the small of his back, pushing their bodies perfectly flush against one another. Neji inhaled sharply, suddenly lightheaded and feeling very small in Hiashi's arms.

As they lay together, their bodies began to respond to one another, slowly, only evident at first in a subtle change in breathing, shallower, more deliberate. Neji rested a hand on Hiashi's hip and pulled him closer still, both of them already erect and shifting together, separated by a few layers of thin cotton. Neji gasped again, but not with shock.

At his nephew's tormented sound, Hiashi flipped the boy onto his back.

"Undress," he said sharply, the way he squeezed Neji's hand belying his businesslike tone.

The boy looked up at him, uncertain. What they had done so far was one thing, but undressing meant that things would certainly go further.

"Now."

Nodding, Neji stripped down.

While he had been occupied removing his own clothing, he hadn't noticed Hiashi do the same. He swallowed hard.

Hiashi, though he hadn't gone on a mission in Neji's lifetime, had kept up a rigorous training program and still managed to train both of the girls, and now Neji, as well. His body was perfectly honed – the streamlined, powerful muscle gained, not as a goal, but as a mere consequence of a lifestyle. His genes dictated the rest: golden-brown skin, a small frame, and very soft, sparse body hair. Those genes were reflected in Neji, but with an even slighter frame, less muscle-mass, and only a small patch of hair between his legs – a body shaped by training, but far fewer years of it.

"You're beautiful," Hiashi whispered, sliding a finger down the crease of his nephew's hip. Neji shuddered, still unsure of whether or not he wanted this. It was strange, but next to all that his clan allowed – arranged marriage, slavery, torture, murder – it didn't seem so out of place.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART TWO!

Which I will write soon, if I'm not feeling too lazy.

I split it up because this would be a very long one-shot otherwise, and one of my communities has a word limit.