- Don't fight it -
Now. When the two of them ended up surrounded by some clones, freakishly weird clones. When they were forced to separate from the others, while pursuing an enemy; or maybe it was the enemy who lured them away to kill them, identifying them as the strongest among their squad. When it was obvious they couldn't get any help. When they stood in the pool of blood of their enemies, with their ankles splattered knee-high or thigh-high with bright red sticky essence. When he was behind her, several meters behind her, back to back, covering each other. When that black mass of clones moved on his side, but instead of focusing on her bunch, she just had to turn her head too see how bad was he overpowered. It was then when she understood what, or who, was her only weakness.
The second she wasted on the instinct that was to make sure he was okay could have been her final. As for when she faced her side of the clones, they were close, too close. Her eyes widened. Her hands lifted the tessen. Now it was a mere shield for her, not a weapon. Defense was not her style of attack, and she grunted in discontent of what situation she found herself in; of why thoughts of him had to cloud her mind now; of why did just the two of them end up here. Did she follow him with the same instinct? Or was it he who came to her aid?
She kicked some of the black-skinned bastards and others she pushed away with her fan, but the mass was way too big for her to attack effectively. She had to flee. But that was an easier task said than done; they were surrounded; they stood back to back. She felt his chest move with deep breaths; he was exhausted.
As they stood there, in the middle of a blood soaked field, among fallen trees, surrounded by gruesome enemies; she felt warmth radiating from him even through all the vests and mesh armor. She knew it was as close as they ever got, if you ignore those accidental hand brushes as they walked side by side in Konoha, or that moment he took her by the shoulders, gently, and slightly pushed her away, trying to get in front of her to hand a scroll to Choji as they were marching. A slight tremble arose in her heart, a tiny, unspoken, even unthought line – of all the things she didn't get a chance to do, of all the tasks she might not be able to achieve. The clouds were dark, their enemies were black; and she, used to bright desert light, almost gave up to this frightening darkness and the gloomy thoughts of inevitable death clouding her mind.
"Now!"
Shikamaru shouted, as if her ear wasn't just a few centimeters away from hers. His voice was desperate, but the strength in it surprised her. It was not the end yet.
Enemy's front line stagnated as his shadow stretched and split into many thin, weak tentacles. She spread her tessen and swung all the stars; her pure intention being to kill she had no mercy and a sudden burst of energy in her moves only proved that. A mass of bodies fell down, soaking the ground even more; she repeated again, eventually stepping in front of him and reaping clones in front. As she turned around to cast a look at him, his eyes were too on hers, not the enemies. The more this continued, the more this fight was not about the enemy, it was about the two of them. And this caused a bigger tremble in her chest than a thought of death.
She swung again, slicing the clones, that started melting whenever hurt; melting into something they were not made of: blood. It was nasty. Their battle arena reeked of the nauseous sweet smell with a tint of metal, and everybody that fell only filled the pool more. It was a technique neither had seen before.
She heard a dull sound behind her. He stumbled, one of his knees soaking in blood; panting heavily he barely managed not to fall down, his hands pressed on his thighs in search of support, shadow signs broken.
She attacked. Again, and again, and again, defending him in whatever way she thought of, running around him and pushing the clones back. They were never ending. Their enemy created them out of life; anything living could become a source. Therefore, a forest they were in was their biggest disadvantage. Yet the number of dry, dead trees that increased around them every minute proved their enemy, wherever he was hiding, was also in a hurry to attack as forcefully as he could.
Shikamaru, hurry up.
She silently pleaded, swinging her tessen again, but the strength was about to fail her too. Her legs shivered and she tripped over something, barely managing to hold her balance, and several clones used the opportunity to appear right in front of her, their hands already reaching for her neck. They stagnated mid-air. She took them out, for the third time thinking she would probably not survive this without him. However strong she thought herself to be, now she was in a situation where she was proven wrong. She barely managed to defend herself from this mass of never-ending clones, giving her no time to think of a smarter way than to overpower them.
"I know where he is."
His words reached her ears as a soothing sound of a gentle stream, and Temari was more than grateful to have him by her side, whether it was she who followed her or vice versa.
"Do you see that oak tree?" His voice was closer. Silent, a mere whisper, but she couldn't deny the tune of confidence, that at this moment she simply adored.
"He has to be there, on it, behind it. The exact center of this circle of life-exhausted forest is that oak tree."
"Can you bind something you don't see?"
She knew he didn't. But the hopelessness of their situation made her wish she did. To get to that tree there was an army of clones waiting for them. To her surprise, he laughed, a short but sincere chuckle escaped his lips as an answer.
"Let's go shed some more blood, then." She sighed. Maybe they will pull this through.
Temari lifted her tessen for another attack, letting the adrenaline fill her veins as she thought about their plan. Shikamaru threw some paper bombs in front of her, and she swung, killing bodies with fire, empowered by the wind. They repeated. And again. The mass of new clones started emerging from around them, and they all seemed to be desperately trying to block their way towards where their suspected enemy resided. Forcing the last bits of energy out of themselves, they broke through. And of all the explosions, the last was the most important one – it lit the oak tree form three sides, casting three consecutive shadows that were immediately pinned by Shikamaru's blades, a gift from Asuma.
The clones stopped moving. For another two seconds nothing happened. Then Temari snapped. The hatred boiled up inside her for this creature, hiding behind a tree, forcing so many emotions out of her that the need to destroy won over. She swung her weapon one last time, despite Shikamaru's shout to stop, and the oak tree gave in; cracking just above its roots it slowly, teasingly fell down with a loud thud. That second the clones behind them melted.
It was over.
They took a few steps to see only the legs of the creature as the rest of it was crushed by the oak. His legs was connected with the roots of the tree, and seemingly his hands as well; no wonder he couldn't run away when they approached. Temari turned away in disgust. It was one of the nastiest fights she had.
And now, the only thing she truly wanted was to run away. From all this blood puddle, from the dead creature beside them, from her physical and emotional fatigue, from this war they have been fighting. Even from Shikamaru. Temari took a few steps away, and leaned against another dead tree. She didn't want to acknowledge her lack of control when it came to that man, that man she could no longer call a boy no matter what. A silence fell around her as she closed her eyes, and for a second she relaxed, resting her head against a dry trunk, allowing herself at least a short moment of inner peace, trying her best to press the reset button on everything.
Her plan didn't work out; she was dragged back to reality by a noise he made, taking a step and cracking a dry branch that lay lifeless. Without a second though her eyes wandered to the noise source, and the same instance she regretted her gaze. As for when she met his eyes, there was something frightening in that look. Not in the way of being scared of something, but the feeling of inevitability, futile struggle, a lost fight overtook her.
Her feet moved by itself as she took a hasty step away from him, and another, and soon she was running. But her movements were weak, and they both knew it, just as well as they knew he had no other choice than to follow. With one accidental look everything became clear and decided; she tried to fight it, to run away, but it was pointless.
His hand reached for her, but she slipped away, leaving a handful of fabric in his hand. He didn't let go, and she was forced to stop, already feeling her dress slipping down from her shoulders. With one abrupt move her body was snatched by his hands; one arm around her waist, another in front of her shoulders, immobilizing her; though what really did that was that undeniable passion that introduced itself inside of her in a deep sting in her belly. He pulled her to himself so forcefully, that when her back hit his chest he hastily exhaled just next to her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Weakness took control over her muscles and her brain only dragged behind in realizing what her body was doing. It found her hands on his, and her face already turned to meet his, hovering above her shoulder.
A hasty kiss. A strand of her lose hair between her mouths. Her chest heaving in anything but rhythmical moves. A neck bite. Palm between her flesh and the dress. Nipple between his fingers. A moan on her lips.
Her back hit a trunk of a tree; her hands pulled his head deeper into a kiss. Just for a moment he froze as her hand slid into his pants, his own fingers at a task to get rid of her panties. They slid down her thighs, and he pulled them down, impatiently waiting for her to step out of it before throwing it somewhere away. She gasped as he lifted her leg, exposing her. One last look she shared was not something easily translated in words; nobody really needed any words now. He filled her just as her tongue filled his mouth, and she cried out in pleasure/despair/submittance/victory.
He thrust hard, with increasing intensity each time, releasing the accumulated emotions and desires; the way she cried out with his each move and how her fingers dug into his neck urged him not to be kind on her.
Temari couldn't think, the only thing she still could do was feel, and she felt; as she hugged him close to her partly exposed chest, as she wrapped her leg around his waist, as he moved inside her with the equal need as she wanted him to, she felt her desire being satisfied, and her pleasure increasing with each second. His face, eyes closed, mouth open, heaving next to her ear, his moves getting more and more needy; they both didn't require much, not in this setting. His fingers clutched her breast, and his lips found a patch of skin just below her ear.
She shut her eyes too, hard, mouth open to catch the last bits of blood-reeking air, sinking her nails into his muscular arms, soon all of the surroundings faded and she couldn't register anything external. Falling into the abyss, the vacuum, that had only one way out, she felt his lips on hers again, and as both of their bodies moved in unison with one last friction she exploded; an involuntary sound of agonic pleasure escaping her throat and ending up in his also open mouth that released some sounds in an echo as his movements gradually slowed, yet his grip of her body only tightened. She felt him pulse inside her between the last of her own contractions, and upon opening her eyes Temari couldn't believe this just happened. She was glad to have a tree behind her because her legs couldn't hold her weight, and the way he leaned into the same tree testified his own fatigue. With his sperm slowly running down her legs, one of her breasts peeking through open gap of her dress, her hair messed up, his member still exposed by slightly pulled down pants, his vest only hanging on one of his arms, the first thing he did after opening his eyes was a kiss. A deep, sensual, passionate, great kiss, without hastiness, without mind-numbing passion, but with meaning behind any unspoken words. She couldn't believe what just happened, but could never bring herself to regret it.
They fixed themselves without saying a word; only a chuckle escaped her lips as when she bent to pick up her panties, that so smoothly hung on a small branch of a fallen tree, protected from the mess on the ground, Shikamaru snatched them a second before she did. Ironically, they were red. She extended her hand, but instead they ended up in his pocket; his eyes shone stubbornly at hers and she didn't fight. Just laughed.
