Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto
A/N: I realized I haven't published a ShikaTema fanfic at all, although I adore this pairing as much as I adore SasuSaku. Shame on me. Anyway, it's the usual. I wished it to be a cute one-shot, then it transformed into smuff. Sorry not sorry. It just happened that those two couldn't get out of my head for days and there aren't many fics for them at all, not as much as they deserve.
Enjoy.
- Bad At Fixing -
She was particularly tired that day.
Laundry, food, cleaning the house, looking after Shikadai's every step as he walked around the house on all fours, uncharacteristically hyperactive, and chewed on things he isn't supposed to, touched things he isn't supposed to and wanted to reach places he isn't supposed to reach. Juggling between preparing dinner and watching over him at the end of the day was already getting on her nerves.
Any other day Shikadai would sleep or… sleep. Did he have to choose this day to explore the world? A dull headache was obstructing her flow of thoughts and she couldn't gather them together for hours now. And so, it contributed to her overall foul mood.
She was washing the dishes after the dinner meal when Shikamaru finally got home and greeted her.
"You'll have to eat alone," Temari furrowed, maybe rubbing a dish a bit more forcefully than she should.
"I'm fine with it," She heard Shikamaru sigh somewhere behind her before he approached and the warmth of his body gave away his closeness. He was absent-minded, but not completely lacking intent as he breathed in her skin, lips almost touching her ear. "As long as you join me after that."
"Well, I'm not joining you." It was something of an impulse, when she snapped at him and couldn't stop the words out of her mouth. "I have to take care of Shikadai."
Shikamaru fazed at her sudden hostility and stepped away. The silence prolonged and she knew that he was still there, behind her, with his hands in his pockets, but hasn't moved an inch. His eyes almost burned a hole in her back.
"Shikadai." Was the only thing he said before shifting away, and he endeavored to make his voice perfectly flat, but somehow it transfixed her mercilessly.
Temari froze for a moment, staring down at the lathered dish in her hands and her teeth slowly dug into her lower lip, guilt slowly crawling underneath her skin. He's never had that undertone before. He's never bothered to be jealous or tangle himself in dramatic arguments or such. He's never wanted to argue with her, he told her himself that he considers arguing with women utterly pointless because they never admit they're wrong anyway.
But just now, there was something antagonistic in his voice. More on the bitter side than the usual indifference.
What did she just do?
"Take a clean dish from here." She hurried to announce, turning around, but he was already walking away from the kitchen with a wave of his hand.
"I'm not hungry, I'll go take a shower and doze off. Gotta get up early tomorrow for the Union's gathering."
Temari watched him leave the kitchen with helplessness on her features and then she sharply turned to stop the flow of water in the sink. It wasn't just him that had a rough day, why did she feel guilty? It was his fault for not taking in consideration that she might not be in the mood and that her chores had drained her completely. She loosened the water again and scowled as she slowly finished the washing.
Why was she feeling guilty?
Because every time she was in the mood, he complied. The rare occasions when he was in the mood, she usually brushed him off with an excuse. Most excuses were justified. But sometimes she brushed him off for no reason. Like she did a few minutes ago. She was just angry and frustrated and… it was totally unfair to him because he's never asked for much.
Temari puffed her cheeks and dried her hands in the nearest towel. Sometimes, she was even fed up with herself.
She found Shikadai in his crib, playing actively with his toys and proceeded to take him in her arms. That he was a perfect copy of his father didn't help her much. Still, after a while, he hushed and she put him back in the crib, humming to him until he lulled back to sleep under his thick blanket. Her tired eyes remained on his tiny form for a while, the black silk of his hair, the familiar contour of his lips and nose… and the bad gut feeling inside her only grew stronger.
She really hurt him, didn't she? The chronic neglect she exercised upon him was unintentional and she's always thought he doesn't care for it, being one to look at those things on the perfunctory side, but now it finally backfired, wounding both of them. It was worse than before, when she made up excuses to not be with him, casting them out there in the open and laughing or scoffing about it afterward as if his suggestions were ridiculous, but since Shikadai got between them a year and a half ago she was strictly set on him only, and used him as a primal excuse. She put Shikamaru behind.
She repeated to herself it was just instinct, it was something all women do when they become mothers and… it eased her then. Not anymore.
It was dark in the bedroom when she stepped in, removing her slippers at the threshold. The curtains were pulled so that only a few moonlight beams lit up the far side of the bed, where Shikamaru laid seemingly asleep. But she knew when he slept, she knew how his breathing sounded when he was asleep so well that she could tell that he wasn't now, even though he was with his back to her.
She removed all her clothes and put her nighty on, trying her best to escape the autumn chill that crept over her already prickled skin. The softness of the bedsheets was like a blessing to her, after that long, long day. She let out a quiet sigh of content when her head leaned back on the pillow, for a second of pure reverence, before she turned to look at the man next to her. More precisely, his back.
Her fingers sifted through her hair and removed the hair bands, loosening the ache of her head a tad. Her eyes wandered over the window, then up to the ceiling, brows together in a furrow. She was so bad at fixing and was scared that she had no idea what to do and how to do it, or what to say. That's why she left that problem to create such a wide chasm between them. Temari couldn't even remember when was the last time they talked to each other privately for more than five minutes.
"I know you're not sleeping."
A few long seconds passed before she shifted a bit closer.
"It's not like I'm not trying to." He uttered in a low voice.
Then silence fell over again and Temari felt her heart spasm with something unpleasant; she reached for his shoulder and touched it, but he let out an exasperated grunt.
"Let me sleep, woman."
They were always rough. Violent even. Biting, tearing, clenching against walls and tables. Elated, excited, harsh. But never like this.
He only had one mood and eventually, he'd fit into another, just to indulge her. For all the years of their acquaintance and then the four years of their marriage, she learned that he didn't seem to care about trivialities; he just replied, pleased when Temari was. She didn't know why, but she never raised the question - they both preferred harsher ways. Maybe that was their way of releasing tension. Maybe there wasn't any particular reason.
All of this reverberated in her mind with some strange melancholy. He never asked anything of her but her attention. From time to time. And she even stopped giving him that lately. He must've thought her cruel.
"Shikamaru," She called in his ear, softly, but her desperation slightly transformed her call into a plea.
Let me apologize.
They were never tender, they almost didn't know how to be, but she sensed that it was up to her. He took up her mood, not the other way around, and she had never tried to be… different. More on the side she had long lost. The harsh conditions didn't allow her to drivel like the rest of the girls, perhaps it was that she only had brothers, growing up, or it was just her belligerent character - she was never interested in a sentiment of the sort. She would always find it repellent, but now… what if sentiment was what he needed of her?
Temari heaved up a bit, sliding her hand under his and brushing his black hair so that she could kiss his temple.
"Temari, leave me alone. I'm tired." He tried to push her away, but she didn't give up.
She shifted to his other side and pressed herself to him, putting his hands on her body as she breathed against his lips, "Forgive me, dear. I forget how much you mean to me sometimes."
"I am not even m-" Shikamaru was a bit surprised by her sudden intrusive motions, but then he complied, kissing her back; then he waited, for her to start the next wild tag like she usually did, but she did not move.
"Yes, you are," Temari whispered through her heavy breathing and proceeded to remove her nighty, remaining naked. He loomed over her slowly, unsure why she was leaving him to decide. She parted her legs the next time he leaned in to kiss her and could almost see him raise a brow in the dark.
They stood still and Temari was certain there was a heavy mentation going on inside his head during those determinant seconds, but she had an advantage already, of her bare skin against him. She could never tell for sure when he was angry for he never raised his voice at her… or anyone for that matter, but the suspense in his silence was eloquent enough. She also knew that he hated wasting time in useless, degrading things like sulking.
"Always making things more complicated than they are." He puffed, removing his clothes in the most reluctant manner. As if she was making him do it by force.
Temari barely held a snort. Shikamaru has always been so straightforward and unrelenting in every sphere of his life and that's why she felt safe to lean on him, and that's why she adored him so much. He never changed, for anything. Even if she offered him something every other man would've been ultimately excited about.
It has always been a wonder to her. He was happier with broadening his intellect than having to put up with sexual activities. Likely, because the latter required purely physical efforts (which he'd avoid at all costs if he could), rather than intellectual prowess (that he's never had a problem with).
"So you're not mad at me?"
"I said I'm not." His sharpened breaths tingled the sensitive spot under her ear and she could trace them down to her bare neck.
Temari exhaled slowly, her eyes shutting at the inflaming caress. He was angry with her, but he'd never admit it. In any case, there was no need for a further quarreling since she whole-heartedly gave herself to him and that's what he asked for in the first place.
"You sure you don't want to be…"
On top? Temari finished, in her head. Not today.
"Yeah."
Their tongues mingled together with an unhurried softness that's been previously missing. That she's been missing, likely he's been too. That effortless ply of their mouths together, the feeling of restfulness as she laid back on the pillow with the full knowledge that she was perfectly safe, then and there. His close presence always calmed her down.
It's been so long since they've been together in such a leisured way. Shikamaru was still confounded by her choice but tried to figure something out as he goes. Temari was firmly set on not giving him any hints or directions and found it all to be simultaneously charming and a turn-on she had never expected. Because not giving him hints meant that he had to focus on his own experience.
There was a scalding pulse between her legs when he traced the particular arc that he was seemingly fascinated by, at all times, from the side of her chest down to her waist where it dipped and then further down to her hip, where her skin was lushest and susceptible to his calloused fingers.
A sigh of impatience escaped her lips when the burning started to become unbearable; she wished to heave up and adhere herself to him, but something cold gripped her hands for a brief second and pushed them back on the sheets to stop her. Temari gasped before realizing it was his Shadow Clutch, doing the job instead of him while he was busy lifting her up a bit, to bend his knees under the back of her thighs instead and attaching her to his waist, all while still kissing her. The technique disappeared soon and let her hands move freely again, allowing her to slide her hands up his back and rest them on his shoulder blades; reminding herself to resist scarring him.
She couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her lips as he slowly pressed himself against her, feeling him shudder with pleasure above her smaller form, the air he puffed out breaking their kiss for a moment. It was exactly what she wanted, for once, everything to circle around him. Amidst the fervent panting and kissing that followed, her hand slid down to his lower back and beckoned him to move.
Usually, this position ended up in her favor again, he would lift her up to a sitting position and let her move as she pleases, but she ardently preferred his dominance now, she preferred the subtle way in which he wondered how far he was allowed to go. It was confusing the… unruly tradition they set up, more or less destroying it, and that (as she suspected) posed a challenge for his prone-to-simplifying mind.
At the time he thrust into her again, her torso had curved against his and she could feel how wired with tension he was himself, all of his oblique and core muscles delightfully strained under her exploring touch, but it wasn't until she bucked her hips open against his when she took him by surprise and carved a moan from him, one that he interweaved with a curious string of curses. She hasn't heard him curse like that in a while and it amused her greatly. He restrained himself a lot lately, for Shikadai's sake (he promised he would, at least not until Shikadai says his first words), but now he just seemed to recall the most intriguing parts from his collection of profanities, to smother whatever it was that overpowered his control.
He ground against her in a measured rhythm they rarely had and she couldn't say whether she loved hearing him curse more or the fact that his whole body tautened at every pull and quaked with delight at every push. And he only shivered like that when he really needed her, Temari pondered. He would only kill the space between them completely, embracing her like that, instead of using it to caress the spots of her body he liked most when he was particularly lonely.
Temari was lost in the heat of his skin, the hardness of it, the vastness of sensations she submerged in, enjoying the unfamiliar calmness of their current unity. He wasn't mad at her, it was just one of those days he needed her badly, but never said he did, leaving her to notice. It bothered her, once, that he didn't pay attention to those things and doesn't deem them significant in any way She was used to that typical male reticence and she dared say she knew it very well thanks to her brothers, but then she thought there's nothing she could do. Shikamaru was kind of a lost cause when it came to personal matters.
His thrusts turned slightly sharper and more strenuous, and she heard herself mewl with the rising pressure in her lower stomach, but before it could even climb up, he clashed into her harshly and came, with a sensible, harsh shiver and a handful of colorful phrases that almost made her break into a sincere laughter. He had the habit of letting her fill the space with her voice, repressing his, but now she found out that she actually enjoyed hearing him moan and speak to her like that; it was weirdly sexy to her that he didn't even comprehend what he was doing, it was all natural. Why didn't they ever think of slowing things down like this?
He was trying to calm his breathing again, still and silent, when she detected the inconvenience sifting through him. He must've realized what he's been saying up until now, Temari mused with a small smile, but she didn't interrupt the silence; neither did he. It's never been in his style to apologize for anything he's said, but she was sure that he felt like it now. It was wiser to save him the dreadful frustration and change the subject.
"I'm sorry I'm such a pain sometimes." Temari breathed out against his ear, brushing back the dark and loose locks of his still damp hair, voice timid and soaked with repentance.
Shikamaru let out an exasperated sigh, slowly shifting beside her with his hand still attached to her waist. He was thoughtful, opening up a brief pause. Then he clicked his tongue, finally finding a reason to concede, it seems – it was a rarity, to have her admit she's wrong; he surely revered at the moment and was reluctant to let go. "It's because you're sometimes a pain why I married you."
Temari smirked. She loved when he presented substantial reasons that proved her to be a most logical choice in his history of logical choices, in his logical life. It was somehow cute.
"You know I didn't finish, right?" She muttered, but… there was no reply. Only a calm breathing. He had to be joking. "Shikamaru?" Temari bit her lower lip hard, slowly turning to face him, and bated her breath; she recognized that slow pattern of his breathing with a hollow gasp. Ten seconds. He needed ten seconds to fall asleep. And she wasn't even mad at him, it made her want to laugh. The air quivered with her silent chuckle as she reached for the pair of thick blankets at her side and covered them both carefully.
It would forever remain a mystery to her how she was fully inclined to give her own life in the hands of a man who didn't even care to pull the sheets over himself before falling asleep. Temari took a breath and released it as a prolonged sigh. She hoped he won't ever change.
Sliding back next to him, she pressed herself as close as she could and closed her eyes. Who said she was bad at fixing?
A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't know why, but it's always been a headcanon of mine that of all Naruto couples ShikaTema would be most BDSM/violent sex type of couple lol. I feel like neither Ino nor Sakura would be into that, I won't even mention Hinata. Temari and Shikamaru had always had that nonchalant air around them. Is it just me?