Disclaimer: NARUTO and its characters were created and are owned by Masashi Kishimoto. Original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: UNDER THESE SCARS
Pairings: ShikaNeji/NejiShika, Kiba/Ino, Kakashi/Genma
Rating: M / R (language, themes, violence etc.)
Genre: Drama/Angst/General
Summary: Fate's changed the game but it's not over between the players. With Kusagakure's mission as the final round, Neji's agenda is finding his freedom. Shikamaru's agenda is forgetting his fear. But when an old and unfinished game threatens to pull Shikamaru back into the shadows of his past, Neji must make an impossible choice; his own destiny or Shikamaru's darkness. NejiShika, ShikaNeji [SEQUEL to Break to Breathe]
Timeline: Shippuden. Neji and Shikamaru aged 17-18 (post-Hidan and Kakuzu arc and pre-Invasion of Pain arc) 3 weeks after the Kusa Mission.
UNDER THESE SCARS
by Okami Rayne
Chapter Twenty Eight
The Jōnin Standby Station stood empty.
At least, for the most part.
A couple of Sunday toilers – Aoba and Raidō – sat in the communal area with their noses to the grindstone; steaming mugs in one hand and Akatsuki booklets in the other. Passing them by, Neji headed straight for the showers. Dust and sweat from the long road back itched along his skin. A good scrub under the scorching spray and he'd be set to go.
Hoteigu.
Hopefully Tenten and Lee had gotten the others to gather already; Neji much preferred to walk into the situation mid-flow than wait for people to trickle in. Created less ripples that way.
Hn. Perhaps Naruto was right about my social awkwardness…
Standing on ceremony was so much easier. It'd been a re-education, spending time with his team again, learning to loosen up and let go. The past three weeks had felt like a short rehabilitation.
Rehabilitation failing, there's always umeshu.
Ah yes. The merits of inebriation were not to be ruled out. After all, a dosage of drunkenness might be required to survive the event; especially if Tenten took it upon herself to regale the table with details of Team Gai's exploits in the Land of Rivers.
God spare me.
Shaking his head, Neji shouldered open the door to the locker room, flicked on the lights and flipped the immersion switch to fire up the hot water tank. The tiled floor was moist, as if it'd just been run over with a mop. The air hung damp but cool, the pipes overhead beaded with moisture, the odd drip sounding further off, amplified by the quiet. Along one tiled wall was a row of spacious metal lockers and to the other side an amenities section. Sports benches dominated the centre and further to the back a large adjoining annexe held rows of partitioned shower stalls.
Pausing, Neji listened out for a moment, Byakugan veins tautening around his eyes.
A quick scan confirmed his privacy.
No one here but him.
Sighing, he let some of the tension eke from his muscles, dōjutsu veins smoothing out. Heading for the toiletry section, he grabbed a couple of folded towels from the laundered shelf and selected the least colourful-looking shower and shampoo gel he could find; a simple blue one which read lemongrass and seasalt. He popped the cap and gave it a quick sniff.
Sharp and fresh.
A safe bet.
He had no desire to smell like a bad cocktail of camomile, vanilla, dragonfruit or coconut.
"Neji."
"No."
"It's coconut. Very exotic."
"No."
Despite Tenten's claims that a coconut-oil head massage was heaven on earth, he'd declined the offer of having said coconut poured over his scalp during their brief stay with a local family selling scented oils in Takumi Village. While Neji had often seen Hanabi combing argon oil through her sister's long lustrous mane, Neji shared Shikamaru's displeasure of people touching or fondling his hair.
Unless of course, it was during sex.
There was something arousing and intimate about it...or perhaps he'd just made that association after having been with Shikamaru. He still recalled, with a tingle in his palms, the feel of the shadow-nin's ink-black strands falling loose from their spiky bind, slipping between his fingers. Still remembered, with a hum in his blood, the way Shikamaru's neck had arched at the pressure along his scalp, his body going back as he'd leaned into Neji's touch.
Keep thinking along those lines and you'll be taking a cold shower...
Smiling at the thought, Neji moved over to one of the benches, set down the duffle bag containing his spare clothes and began to disrobe, trying to focus on the chill in the air to keep from thinking about the smouldering tingle at the base of his spine.
"Three weeks, Hyūga."
It'd felt longer…and while Neji had never known distance to do anything for bonds but weaken them, he finally understood the truth of that old adage about time apart bringing new depths of fondness.
Not fondness.
No. Far too tame a word for the feelings that'd deepened inside him; far too tame a word for the Need that still ran like a burning river through the icy tundra that'd always been his world.
And now, there is so much more…
New life, new hope, new desires springing up from the cracks in frozen-over ground; a thawing, an awakening, a change in heart as powerful as a change in season. It would take time to acclimatise. But for the first time in his life, he no longer dreaded the thought of changing direction or altering his course. So long as he wasn't going backwards or creating cages out of his choices, he could ride those winds of change.
Just like a cloud.
He preferred the hawk analogy, but his mind, as ever, had strayed to Shikamaru. And how could it not? When the shadow-nin was the one who'd guided him out of the cage?
And what about his cage? His shadows? His past?
Questions, questions. As much as Neji had managed to keep them at bay during the mission, it was like they'd been waiting at the gates to greet him the moment he'd gotten back, crowding his mind the second he'd set foot on home turf.
The hot water tank let out a deep belly gurgle.
Blinking back from his thoughts, Neji hung the towel in the crook of his arm, took up the shower gel and headed for the stalls at the back. With no gender segregation in the room, the walls were high for privacy. Neji preferred it for the fact that it disallowed small talk. Cleansing was a time to de-stress. And for Neji, that involved quiet.
Sociable as ever.
Hanging the towel on a robe hook, he tugged his hair-tie loose and raked his fingers back through thick mocha strands, the usually smooth mane caked with grime from the road and rain; in need of a good scrubbing.
The overhead faucet dripped.
A large niche cut into one side of the stall allowed for Neji to set down the gel. Reaching for the dial handle, he turned the shower to full heat and full blast, got pelted by an initial spray of ice before the hot water chugged through the pipes and steam began to mist the stall.
Letting out a slow breath, Neji turned and tipped his head back to soak his hair, enjoying the hot drum against his scalp and shoulders. It washed away the memory of the cold rainstorm that'd thundered down over Team Gai's heads during their How to Ford the Swollen River of Leeches excursion.
"If I have to shed one more drop of blood for this river, I swear to all that's holy—"
"Neji, calm down."
"I have a leech the size of Tsunade's giant slug mother attached to my back; do not tell me to calm down."
Squeezing a glob of gel into his palm, Neji smiled at the memory then set his mind to ritual cleansing; began the rinse and repeat kata of soaping up and scrubbing down from head to toe. He took his time; let the heat reach deep into sore muscles; let the scalding water sluice away the dirt before he repeated the process and began on his hair, lathering the gel into a thick foam, massing from root to ends, neck arched as he dipped back into the thundering spray.
Ah. Peace…
It felt like filling the well, recharging. As much as he'd needed and valued the time away with his team, he'd missed his time alone. Solitude had always been precious to him. And ever since his revival it'd taken on a more sacred quality. It had less to do with isolation and more to do with introspection. It almost felt as if he were getting reacquainted with himself, given the 360 Kaiten-spinning turn his life had taken.
Finding my centre again…
Not just within his own circle, but within the circles of others outside of his team and peers. Hiashi's actions in the courtyard had created some powerful ripples within the clan. Dynamics were strained, almost at a breaking point. As if the chains of tradition could no longer constrain the growing monster the elders called Change.
Resistance has always run in the clan's blood…
He was no exception.
It'd taken his death to deliver him back to life; and what greater change could one experience than that? It still amazed him how sacrifice had indeed saved him. In many ways, it'd brought him closer to understanding his father.
And what about Shikamaru?
Had the shadow-nin's suffering brought him to a similar reconciliation with Shikaku? Given what Katsu had told Neji back in the Shinjū Facility, it seemed those shadows and scars had been as hereditary for Shikamaru as the curse mark had been for Neji.
Such strange parallels our lives have had, Nara…
Stranger still, how those parallel paths had intersected. Turning, Neji pressed his palms against the tiles and bowed his head, letting the hot jets hammer across his nape and shoulders, eyes drifting shut as he tried to navigate his mind away from thoughts of Shikamaru just long enough to avoid having to turn on the cold spray.
At the snail's pace you're moving, you won't have to wait too long for that to happen all by itself…
The immersion might've boosted the heater but it wouldn't stay hot too long. One of the reasons Neji tended to avoid the communal showers here. The pipes were old, the boiler system shot from constant usage and the hot-water supply generally unpredictable. Several times he'd walked in to the shrill scream of some poor unsuspecting bastard caught under the cold spray mid-wash. Rather than subscribe to the hot-cold benefits of blood circulation, Neji steered clear for the most part and sought other facilities; although, given that he'd already been in here a good twenty minutes now, he was strongly starting to reconsider. If Sundays were always this deserted and the heat supply on high, it would be a good opportunity to steam in peace without paying for the onsen.
Excellent plan.
And considering the massive bill Kiba was likely to rack up in Hoteigu just to be a thorn in Neji's hide, Neji saw no harm in taking advantage of his Jōnin-level access benefits every Sunday until he could make up the monetary loss.
My god, I'm actually scheming.
No wonder Shikamaru did it so much. It felt…oddly satisfying. As did the knowledge that Neji probably had another fifteen minutes before the water began to cool. He intended to milk those precious minutes, as much to prolong the anticipatory sparks firing off in his gut as well as to attempt to subdue them.
"Go find your reasons, Hyūga. And when you're done finding them…come find me."
Neji intended to. Had spent his nights thinking of nothing but that moment; running through all the various scenarios of how it would play out. It'd been foremost on his mind during the midnight hours. When Tenten and Lee were lost to dreams, Neji had sat wrapped in firelight and shadow beneath the burning moon, fighting down his lust and his longing like a werewolf fighting off a transformation. He'd envisioned hunting Shikamaru down the second he got back…but for all the change that'd taken root inside him he still valued control to the utmost.
Yes. Show a little self-control.
Ah, but he had. Despite the itch and burn, the push and pull, the twist and wind of the coil tightening inside him, he had brought the beast of temptation to heel with an iron Hyūga fist. If and when he chose to surrender control and unleash himself it would not be until he felt absolutely certain he could maintain control if needs be.
Yes. You'll need it.
Maintaining professional distance during a mission or whilst conducting work-related or formal proceedings was one thing…it was another matter entirely to maintain such distance during a social engagement where he was expected to be relaxed and approachable. Neji had managed it in smaller circles, but with all the Chūnin there? With so many ninja eyes monitoring the scene? Neji had never tested those waters, let alone imagined all the ways to go about treading them.
Well, now's as good a time as any to get your head in the game.
After all, Shikamaru had promised him the first move. Perhaps a cold shower wasn't such a terrible idea…or perhaps he could find another way to take the edge off. Opening his eyes, he glanced down at the raging stiffness between his legs and sighed between his teeth.
So much for self-control.
To be fair, he'd spent three weeks re-routing all sexual energy into his chakra, refusing to take matters into his own hands – literally – and give himself some relief. Tantric torture, Shikamaru would've called it.
Or masochism…
Either way, Neji savoured the burn, the build – and yes, the control. The control of having held out…or held in, everything aching to be unleashed. The way he saw it, it would make it all the more rewarding when he finally let loose.
Which will not be now.
Despite this order, his treacherous erection refused to obey.
Tch. Cold water it is.
Preparing himself, Neji dialled down the heat a couple of notches and took a slow breath to forestall the automatic tensing of muscle, his mind telegraphing the imminent forecast to his nerves; icy showers ahead.
In three…two…
And then the lights went out.
Plunged into steamy darkness, Neji's hand froze on the dial. For a few seconds the water continued to shatter down across his raised skin, the loud hiss filling his ears as he glared straight ahead into blackness, Byakugan veins crawling across his temples.
A chill shot down his spine at what he saw.
More darkness.
As if the locker room had been plunged into the bottomless shadow of a barrier jutsu.
Yin Chakra…
He cut the water. A loud echoing gurgle as it vanished down the plughole, swirling away beneath his feet in a drawn-out belch. Effectively blind, Neji remained still, leaning on his other senses. The hum of the boiler and the groaning of the pipes filled the humid cavity of the cubicle, the fresh scent of the shower gel sharp in his nose. Sending out his sensory feelers through the black, he tried to detect a chakra signature but came up empty.
Damn…
There was only one man who'd ever been able to mask himself so masterfully from Neji whilst simultaneously striking the fear of god into him.
Nara Shikaku.
Was this the comeuppance Neji had suspected might be heading his way? He'd lied to the Jōnin Commander, thrown ANBU back in his scarred face and defied the order to stay away from his son.
Trust Shikaku to get me when my guard is down…
The perfect opportunity. But Neji had no intention of making it easy for the Nara. Drawing a breath, Neji focused his energy on haragei, the art of martial intuition. If he was looking for a shadow in the dark, the ability to anticipate his opponent would be crucial.
Time to move.
Moving slow and steady as a jungle cat, Neji exited the stall, hair dripping, flesh steaming. He reached for the towel on the hook, wrapped it about his hips, concentration narrowed as he advanced along the row of stalls.
Strange…
For all the masking and darkness, he sensed no hostile emanations. But then, would it be so surprising to learn that Shikaku could mask his intentions as flawlessly as his chakra? Neji paused, a sudden gravity in his gut weighting him to the spot. A different kind of tension gripped the air, a sudden awareness which rippled at the periphery of his senses; a sudden tingling at his nape before the feeling slithered down his spine in a lava hot trail.
Ah.
His heartbeat fluttered at his throat. Smiling, he turned his head ever-so-slightly, his voice purring out low. "Nice try. But I'd know you anywhere, Shikamaru."
"Yeah, but can you find me?"
Smile stretching, Neji deactivated his dōjutsu, one hand securing the towel around his waist, the other hanging loose at his side. He turned towards the sound of the soft smoky voice, but given the acoustics and dimensions of the tiled room, it could as well have been an echo.
"Hide and Seek, Nara?"
"More like Blind Man's Bluff."
Neji turned by degrees, his pulse skittering to the anticipatory rhythm of a predator readying itself for the chase – although, Shikamaru wasn't exactly the prey in this scenario. "I thought you said you'd let me make the first move this time around."
"Nah." A whisper of bare feet across tile, the warm smoky drawl sounding from behind now. "Said I might let you. Thought about it. Didn't like that strategy. Leap and bounds are hard to predict."
Neji edged sideways, lips still curved. "Afraid I might one-up you, Nara?"
"Ten steps ahead here, Hyūga."
"You'll need more than ten steps to outrun me."
"Don't be so sure. I know you, Hyūga. You're not gonna chase me outta here wearing nothing but a towel, are you?"
Neji froze, eyes widening at the playful note thrumming through that too-confident drawl. Shifting his stance, Neji let his feet carry him soundlessly backward, eyes darting around despite the fact that he was no closer to seeing anything. The backs of his knees struck one of the benches. Orienting himself, he followed it around and reached down to pat along the wooden slats where he'd left the duffle bag.
Nothing.
"You bastard, Nara."
Shikamaru's rusty chuckle shivered through the darkness, sent the shadows rippling, the sound of his laughter, shot-through with an intoxicating warmth, hit Neji's belly far stronger than any shōchū or saké. Chakra hummed low in his belly, all the repressed tension churning bright and hot as a burning fuse.
All the better to use it.
Straightening up, Neji brushed his palms together, the soft whispering of callused skin and faint hum of chakra lost beneath the drone of the boiler tank. "Don't chalk yourself up a point just yet, Shikamaru."
"Like I'd underestimate you."
Smirking, Neji focused on masking his chakra and sent a flood of energy to the centre of his palms, a hot-cold tingle numbing the tips of his slowly flexing fingers. "You're not coming out of those shadows are you?"
"Not a chance. You have any idea how long it's taken me to master this technique?"
"Far longer than you can hold it, I imagine."
"Ouch." A mock wince sounded out, further away now. "Score to Hyūga."
Not yet.
But why wait? Before Shikamaru could make his next move, Neji brought his palms out to either side and murmured into the darkness. "Jūkenpō Onibi."
Instantly, two orbs of blue-white chakra flared in his palms, their light chasing back the darkness until Neji stood in a halo of illumination, the phosphorous flames dancing in his hands, flaring in sync with the beating of his heart.
A sharp intake of breath, rasping off the tiles. "Flashy new jutsu, Hyūga?"
"Inspired by you."
"I don't do flashy. And I'm not flattered."
Resisting the urge to let the humour distract him, Neji fed the spheres of blue-white fire, imbuing the chakra with a slow-release Yang energy before he raised his hands as if encouraging birds to take flight. Sure enough, the orbs floated upwards, two will-o'-the-wisp flames drifting in an idle ascent, throwing light into the shrinking darkness.
"Kage Yodo," Shikamaru murmured.
Shadow Pool…?
Stiffening, Neji lowered his hands, snapped around just as an ebon figure blurred past, retreating into the thickening shadows which began to recede like black ink across the floors, spilling along the walls and ceiling before pooling into the annexe of shower stalls.
Watching, Neji froze.
For just a moment, he was back in the corridors of the Shinjū Facility, watching Shikamaru's chakra rage out of control, its dark and sinister secretions infused with so much hate, so much death, the sweat had frosted on Neji's skin, his blood running as cold as the killing intent he'd sensed rolling through the overhead cloud of shadow.
But then the moment passed…and with it, all hesitation.
The chakra orbs cut out.
Neji approached the darkness.
Stepping past the threshold of obsidian energy, his breath caught when he felt the darkness stroke across his skin soft as black silk, the minute ripples of chakra teasing the air around him. God, but it was tangible and yet…when he reached out to touch it, the shadows shredded between his fingers like black smoke. Fascinating, mystifying. As if he'd discovered an element yet to be classified as solid, liquid or gas.
"Incredible…" Neji breathed. "The composition…?"
"Blood, sweat and tears…" a voice answered to his left…or was it his right? Shikamaru's voice seemed omnipresent within this void. Something brushed across Neji's torso, flat and splayed, like a palm skimming up the taut muscles of his stomach to the broad planar angles of his chest. "But worth it."
The touch set off sparks beneath Neji's skin; a friction, a chemistry, an instant reaction which shot tiny forks of electricity along his nerve-endings, the static pulling at his blood.
Kami...every time…
Sucking a breath against the strength of his response, he reached up to grasp the skimming palm, wanting to feel Shikamaru's flesh against his fingers. But the second he grasped the attached wrist, it dissipated within his grip, black mist ghosting between his fingers.
Shadow hands…
"Can't tell the difference between me and my shadows, Neji?"
Neji turned his head, felt the breath-halting graze of what felt like lips against his neck before the touch puffed away into a vaporous caress at the hollow of his throat. "It appears you are your shadows, Shikamaru."
A ripple through the darkness, not unlike a purr, and Neji might've suspected some other sentience at work if he hadn't felt his blood humming in recognition of the energy enfolding him. No matter how separate an entity the darkness seemed, Shikamaru was the puppet-master pulling all the shadow-strings – and Neji sensed the sultry orchestration of this jutsu as an erotic performance. There was no danger here.
Not true. You're in danger of losing control.
Which, no doubt, Shikamaru was counting on. But rather than snatching at those chains, he was rattling them. Seducing Neji's resistance with touch alone. Ghosting caresses. Breath held, Neji stood perfectly still except for the throbbing of his heart, his world suspended, his senses on blazing point.
"Always so tense," Shikamaru murmured, above, below and all around. "Relax."
Neji drew a breath to respond but felt it catch in his throat at the feel of a silky soft tendril snaking along his spine, the tip feathering out like a serpent's tongue. Two more weaved along his ankles, began vining around his taut calves, dragging like ropes, with the barest hint of a burn. Despite the delicious coils of arousal ribboning up along his muscular thighs, the suggestion of constraint, of being chained, caused Neji to tense.
The vestiges of a dream came back to him.
No…a nightmare.
A nightmare in which a figure wearing Shikamaru's skin had bound them both in shadow, stringing Neji up in a vicious paralysis before forcing him to watch Shikamaru's slow asphyxiation. Like some erotic fantasy gone horrifically wrong. While Neji had since come to grips with the significance and symbolism of the dream – mostly his own fears surrounding Shikamaru's past and his own future – it still dealt him the occasional blow…a blow which left his heart tender and his head torn.
"Shikamaru…" he warned, velvet soft, with just a hint of threat.
The shadow tendrils loosened their hold, but only marginally, before climbing higher up his legs, tickling the backs of his knees. "Trust me, Neji." The barest inflection might've made that a question. "Trust me."
Snagging a breath, Neji surrendered a fraction of tension.
In an instant, the touches changed.
The shadows phased from multiple tendrils into multiple hands. As if they'd registered a tiny fraying in his roped muscles, reaching deeper into the tight-knit weave of control, working Neji over like the palms and fingers of a team of talented masseuses; finding tension, finding knots, unravelling pain and restraint into pleasure and release.
This was no dream.
And no vestiges of a nightmare could touch it the way Shikamaru was touching him.
God…
Neji shuddered powerfully.
Maddening, as what melted away from the surface sweltered south into his core, steaming so intensely it seemed to give off chemical clouds inside him. Heady vapours, powerful as toxins, a miasma of desire smoking out all resistance.
"Neji," Shikamaru murmured, his voice itself feeding into the fumes. "Breathe…"
Not even aware he'd been holding his breath, Neji pulled it in, a deep staggering lungful; felt wreathes of intoxicating lust drifting outwards and inwards in spirals and loops, darker and darker, winding tighter and tighter in his loins until he felt a weakening in his legs…a delicious pressure building between them…
Growing harder and harder…
Heavier and heavier…
Hotter and hotter and – cold tiles against his back.
Neji hissed, not even aware that he'd been walked backwards into one of the shower stalls. By what magic had Shikamaru accomplished that?
Shadow Possession…
Indeed, he'd navigated Neji through the dark and soupy waters so expertly Neji had practically floated without feeling the tiles passing beneath his feet. Ah, but he felt them now, smooth and cool, pressing into his overheated skin. With the shadows holding all around, sensation took on new dimensions – and then, so did the darkness.
Shikamaru's voice, rough as the coarse side of velvet, dragged over Neji from every angle. "You have no idea how many times I've played this out. How much incentive it gave me to master these shadows…the way I wanna master you."
Panting, Neji's head pressed back against the tiles. Weeks ago, those words would've rubbed him very, very wrong and very, very raw. But just like a hot mouth laving over old scars, Shikamaru knew how much heat and pressure to apply with that razor-sharp tongue; how to get the old wound sensitive, but not stinging.
All the same, Neji reacted for the sake of pride and nothing more, his smooth, low voice abraded by the soft growl rumbling its way up this throat. "Careful, Shikamaru."
"Troublesome. You're reading me wrong, Neji."
A beat of silence and stillness before Neji felt the slow glide of shadow hands at his ankles again, skimming his feet, almost with reverence, before stroking up along his shins. Six more hands joined them; two skimming around to the backs of his thighs; two mapping out the grooves and indentations of his torso, as if sculpting him, shaping him; the final pair crawling along the walls behind before pressing into his lower back and stroking upwards, smoothing out the tension between his shoulderblades in long sensual strokes.
"To master," Shikamaru murmured. "Has two definitions. To control and dominate something or to become unerringly proficient and skilled at understanding it." A shiver across Neji's lips, as if the words were being breathed directly against his mouth – he tasted cigarette smoke. "So take a guess which one I'm more interested in when it comes to mastering you, Hyūga."
Even without those words soothing over the ice, Neji was quickly turning to hot putty beneath the kneading touches of those multiple hands. A blissful state which might've had him pliable long enough for Shikamaru to get another move in – that is, if Neji wasn't already gripped by the heart-ratcheting realisation that Shikamaru was directly in front of him.
No tricks.
No shadow clones.
He could taste the tobacco on the shadow-nin's breath. Feigning ignorance at their proximity, Neji pretended to succumb completely to those stroking hands, tilting his body back, palms flattening against the tiles before one hand went wandering, searching for the shower dial embedded somewhere in the wall.
Come on…
"I don't have to guess, Shikamaru," he purred, fingers bumping against the metal dial, curling around the knob slowly. "I know."
"I know you know. And that's why I know you're gonna let me do whatever the hell I want to you right now. Because three weeks apart has—"
Neji spun the dial.
Cold water blasted down in a torrential shatter.
"FUCK!" Shikamaru yelled. "WHAT THE FUC—"
Anticipating Shikamaru's backward lurch, Neji rocked forward, threw out an arm and snarled his fingers into wet fabric, yanking Shikamaru forwards. A shot in the vanishing dark and by some miracle, he struck true. Angling his head, his mouth crushed over Shikamaru's parted lips in a kiss which scorched so wet and so hot that Neji thought the warm water might've kicked in.
Not so.
Gasping, Shikamaru tore back from him in a shudder, the shadows misting away, his concentration shot and his breaths stuttering. The shatter of water and the dimness of the stall made it almost impossible to register the look on his face, but his voice painted quite the vivid picture. "ARGH! The HELL, Neji? You sick, twisted, sonovabi—!"
Teeth flashing in a rare grin, Neji yanked him back and melded their mouths together with a growl, muffling Shikamaru's protests, swallowing his curses.
God, his taste.
There, beneath the tobacco.
Neji thirsted for it, hungered for it, drank down the breaths shivering out between Shikamaru's chattering teeth, nipping at those lips when they dared to close and deny him entry. Too impatient to wait, his kisses trailed down along Shikamaru's quivering jaw, first one side and then the other, hands coming up to frame the shadow-nin's face.
A begrudgingly amused snort and Shikamaru laughed a little, his breath shaking. "N-Neji…f-fucking…c-c-old…"
Fisting a hand in Shikamaru's soaking top, Neji slapped at the wet tiles with his other palm until he hit the dial, cranking the knob in an impatient jerk.
Cold turned warm, turned hot, turned humid as tropical rain.
Another yank of his hand and the spray softened to a mist, water steaming around them, trickling down their faces, sparking from their lips as their open mouths met again and again, tongues rolling over teeth before rubbing together, the fierceness of the kiss steadily easing into something softer, slower, swollen lips nudging close until they were sharing air, breaths passing back and forth between them.
"Hey…" Shikamaru whispered at length, his lips curving softly against Neji's. "That didn't go as planned."
At the feel of that smile, Neji's heart swelled against his ribcage. Swallowing thickly, he trailed his fingertips along the shadow-nin's cheekbone, skimming down to the sharp slant of his jaw before bringing both hands against Shikamaru's torso. Like a blind man re-fashioning an imagine in his mind, he charted the new contours of Shikamaru's body through the drenched fabric; found flesh and muscle where before he'd touched sinew and bone; thumbs digging in along all the hard lines, following strong grooves to the chiselled rise of lean muscle.
Healthy…whole…stronger…
"Neji…" Shikamaru reached up, gripped Neji's hands between his long musician-like fingers. How fitting, considering those fingers could play Neji as well as any instrument; right now, they might as well have been plucking at the strings of his heart. "No once-overs needed. I'm okay."
Throat going tight, Neji closed his eyes against the rush of relief, pretending it was the weight of the water on his lashes. "I never doubted that you would be."
Shikamaru's mouth ghosted over his, lips moving softly. "Yeah you did," he teased softly. "But I won't hold that against you. The cold shower though? That's going on record. That's some sick shit."
Laughter, deep and warm. "I needed it. So did you."
"Yeah, that jutsu had me sweating pretty damn hard. Hard being the operative word there."
More laughter, and how it loosened the stricture in Neji's chest. It also seemed to pull Shikamaru towards him. The shadow-nin's hands skimmed down, his fingers following the edge of the towel hanging low on Neji's hips.
Neji caught his wrists. "Not here."
A dark brow flicked up, just about discernible through the steamy dark. "Are you serious?"
"People keep asking me that lately. It's the sense of humour, isn't it?"
"Nothing funny about this," Shikamaru grumbled, though his mouth tilted in a crooked smile against Neji's, lips brushing in a feather-light kiss. "You know, we can just skip the whole tantric torture thing you usually do. Get to the part where you let this go to plan."
"Your plan, not mine. And where's the joy in letting you have the first move, Nara?"
Smirking, Shikamaru pressed forwards, backing Neji up against the tiles. "I'll show you."
"Straight to negotiations?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of demonstrations."
"Of course you were," Neji purred drolly, bringing his hands to the shadow-nin's hips to hold off the press of their hips. If Shikamaru pressed that close, there'd be no coming back. And as much as Neji wanted him – right here, right now, in every which way – he wanted to see the effect he had on the shadow-nin whilst sat across a table; across a situation of forced restraint; wanted to watch Shikamaru want, wait, need, anticipate, burn a little – or perhaps a lot.
"You're smiling way too much, Hyūga," Shikamaru observed, his mouth hovering close enough to feel the deep curl of Neji's lips. "Not that I don't like that…but I know this smile. It's the Dangling Off the Edge All Night kinda smile you wore back in Hanegakure."
"Accurate enough."
Shikamaru sighed through his nose, pulled his hands away and flattened his palms against the tiles either side of Neji's head with a drawn-out groan, fighting for control. "Your whole patience of a saint thing is getting to be really troublesome."
"Saint?" Neji could've laughed. None of the thoughts going through his head warranted religious stamps of approval. "It'll be worth it, Shikamaru," he promised, though seeing the shadow-nin this worked up was a hell of a turn-on. So was the confidence with which Shikamaru had approached him. No hesitation in stating what he wanted.
Needed.
God, but it was taking more restraint and control than Neji imagined he had left after three weeks of exactly the same torture; waiting, wanting...
Needing.
A slow tightening in his groin and across the muscles of his thighs, his body tensing against an involuntary shudder.
Shikamaru didn't miss it.
The bastard.
"I think you need to turn the cold water back on," the shadow-nin murmured, a smile in his voice and on his lips as he ducked his head to skim his mouth across flushed skin, chasing the trails of water running down Neji's throat to the hard angle of his collarbone, biting down lightly. "Or…you could let me turn you on…all the way."
Bolder and bolder by the second, that tongue, those teeth – a primal edge sharpening the bite against Neji's throat, the skin stinging hot before lips soothed over the burn. The water hissed around them, slithered serpentine trails across Neji's skin...only, the rivulets ran black.
Shadows…
Neji sucked a breath, his fingers tightening at Shikamaru's hips. "Nara."
"You remember the night you Rock Lee'd your ass through that wall to get me unsuspecting in that tub? You had this coming."
Tipping his head back against the tiles, Neji huffed a laugh, but the breath shattered out on a rough pant, his voice strained. "That was…ah…different…"
"Yeah. You had the patience to wait before you went to work on me. Seduced. Insinuated. Had me hanging off edges so high up I still get dizzy thinking about it…" Shikamaru paused here, lifted his head to graze his mouth along Neji's upturned jaw. "And I've thought about it…over…and over…what you did to me…what I want to do to you."
The door to the locker room swung open.
Both ninja froze, bodies rippling into immediate stillness.
Damn.
Neji turned his head, dōjutsu veins branching out at the corners of his eyes just as the lights flickered on.
"Hey, anyone in here?" a voice called, a note of unease tinging the otherwise calm tones. "We're locking up."
Raidō.
Shaking his head, Shikamaru pressed his brow against Neji's bare shoulder with a growl. "Really not going as planned."
Smirking, Neji squeezed the Nara's hips to denote silence and cleared his voice before raising it above the drone of the pipes and the hiss of the spray. "Raidō-senpai. I'll lock up here."
"Hyūga? What the hell are you doing showering in the dark?"
Huffing a low-pitched chuckle, Shikamaru licked at the hollow of Neji's throat and nipped along the right clavicle. Lashes flickering, Neji swallowed hard and tried to steady his voice. "I overused my dōjutsu during my latest mission. Darkness helps with the eyestrain."
"Huh."
Snorting, Shikamaru drew back just enough to raise his head and give Neji the trademark look of arched eyebrow and hooded lids. It was at this point that Neji saw him. Really saw him. No darkness to obscure. Like a dream, the sharp angles of Shikamaru's face passed in and out of the mist, the water hiding even as it revealed; damp black lashes hovering low over smouldering forest brown eyes; sun-kissed skin stippled with moisture; tiny silver streams carving down the chiselled groves of his cheeks to caress kiss-swollen lips which tilted upwards at the left corner in a sexy half-smile which went straight to Neji's gut.
His heart constricted…
His throat closed…
Along with the gateway between his mind and his mouth, lips parting.
Shikamaru took the opening, leaned in fast and kissed Neji messy and hard, stroking long fingers through wet mocha strands. Groaning, Neji's eyes fluttered shut, Byakugan veins ironing out as his hands slid up under the damp olive sweater clinging to Shikamaru's body, the skin on skin contact causing Shikamaru's hips to jerk.
Noise in the background. The sound of a locker door creaking open and smacking shut. "Alright," Raidō called. "Leaving the keys on the bench! Make sure you double-lock. Kotetsu has a tendency of sneaking in here to use the facilities."
Deaf to everything but the rush of blood in his ears, Neji peeled off Shikamaru's sweater, dropped it in a wet heap on the tiles, clogging the plughole. First layer gone, he dropped his hands to the fastenings of the Nara's black cargo pants, fingers tugging and yanking, shoving heavy wet material down Shikamaru's hips until his erection sprang free, flushed and swollen—
God…I want you…
Before he could voice it, he felt a pull on his scalp, his thick dark mane being twined around Shikamaru's wrist and hand. The Nara tugged hard, angling Neji's head to deepen the kiss, plunging his tongue into the Hyūga's gasping mouth.
Heat flared.
Skin flushed.
Nerve-endings fired out blistering signals.
"Word of warning," Raidō called again, his receding voice so faint on the periphery of Neji's world it barely penetrated the haze. "Hot water won't last long!"
God, neither will I at this rate….
Arousal throbbing in his groin, Neji reached to take Shikamaru in hand, palming thick erect flesh in a slow root-to-tip glide, twisting his fist at the blushing crown, milking out pearls of creamy pre-fluid. Breaking the kiss, Shikamaru grit his teeth, loosened a deep husky sound so low in his throat it reverberated through every fibre of fine-tuned want pulling hard beneath Neji's skin.
He had to touch.
Had to take.
Had to taste.
Without taking him completely off the edge…
No. When he granted Shikamaru that sweet release, he wanted the Nara under very different conditions. Conditions he had no idea if the other ninja would even consent to, much less desire, given the complications of his past.
Cross that bridge later…kami knows he'll consent to this…
Taking control of the kiss and the direction they were heading, Neji hooked a foot around Shikamaru's calf, grabbed the Nara's hip with his free hand and spun them fast, smacking Shikamaru's bare back up against the tiles just as the locker room door banged shut.
Their glazed eyes swung even through the steam.
"Stealing moves now," Shikamaru growled. "Bad sportsmanship, Hyūga."
"Hardly. I'm just stealing back the move you owe me."
"I'll give you what you're owed," Shikamaru promised in a voice which half-teased and half-threatened, kicking out of his cargo pants while reaching for the towel still knotted about Neji's hips.
Swaying out of range, Neji smacked the other ninja back with a palm against Shikamaru's bare chest, delighting in the heat which flashed savage and bright in those normally hooded, lazy eyes. The life in them now. The light. The longing. The lust. And yet, deeper still, far behind the tempest of swirling need and passion, Neji saw that lightning flicker of something lost in the storm.
"Come find me."
I will…
That was the part of the shadow-nin Neji needed to find. Needed to lead home. It would take more than erotic promises and seduction to draw that part of Shikamaru out from his shadows. As for whether that part of the shadow-nin would ever trust Neji enough to surrender itself completely? There was no guarantee…but then, when had anything ever been guaranteed between them? The only guarantee Neji ever truly had when it came to this – to them – was the way he felt.
The way I never thought I could…
For a long, heart-throbbing moment he watched the water drip over Shikamaru's firmly muscled body, trickling like pale slithering tongues along the creases and hollows, beads of moisture clinging to flesh which rippled and shivered beneath the Hyūga's hungry gaze.
Always so responsive…
And that did things to Neji. Dangerous, possessive, primal things which got his blood pumping thick and hot, a dark honeyed lust building between his legs. He almost hissed at the pressure; felt the towel gripping like a damned tourniquet, his arousal straining so hard against the drenched fabric it was almost painful.
Best take care of that…
Because, filled to the brim with want, it wouldn't take much to spill his pent-up desire right here and now; especially when Shikamaru's body was reacting so powerfully beneath his gaze.
Time to ensure we both stay hovering on that edge without flying off it…
Pinning Shikamaru with his stare, Neji flexed out his fingers and began channelling chakra into his hands, the dim blue-white glow haloed like two ghostly auras in the steam. Feeling the hot-cold tingle in his palms, he reached to unknot the towel, baring himself.
Shikamaru stopped breathing. Every muscle in his lithely muscled frame went rigid, the hardness of his arousal seeming to swell and stiffen to aching proportions. "Neji…"
"Patience. I can help you with that." Moving with utmost control, Neji took Shikamaru's leaking erection in one hand and his own in the other, gripping the thick bases and squeezing hard before dragging his glowing fists up along the thickly-veined shafts to the slitted crowns, closing both their tenketsu from root to tip.
Gasping, Shikamaru's eyes went unfocused, rolled shut. "Damn…" he whispered, tilting back against the tiles with a look of tortured pleasure. "I should've guessed…"
"Of course. I won't let you off easy."
"Get me off easy," Shikamaru corrected, reaching up to close his fist over Neji's when the Hyūga's thumb seesawed through his sensitive slit, stopping the movement. "No. My tur—"
"I haven't finished making my move…" Neji breathed softly, white eyes drifting up to settle on the dark ones which flickered open halfway, gazing at him with such blistering intensity it was like staring into two dark suns. It took Neji a long moment to find his voice. An even longer moment to pull his hands away from them both. "I'll grant you your move, Shikamaru. But first, you will allow me to finish mine."
The shadow-nin's eyes narrowed on him warily, but the stiff flesh jutting up between his legs seemed responsive enough to the suggestion. "What do you—?"
"Trust me."
Gazes holding, Neji moved to pull the band from Shikamaru's wilting ponytail. Frowning, the shadow-nin ducked his head from the touch, reactive, instinctive, shoulders drawing up defensively.
Neji paused, waited, his gaze steady, coaxing. "Trust me."
"It's not about trust."
"Then what?"
Head still craned, Shikamaru searched Neji's eyes for a hesitant moment, the muscles in his jaw bunching hard. "Bad memories."
Neji drew his head back a notch. "Triggers?"
"No. Not exactly triggers…just…" He shook his head, gave a sad tight-lipped smile. "Bad memories, Neji."
Aching for him, Neji studied those sad dark eyes for a weighted second, then lowered his hand to knead the tension from the side of Shikamaru's neck, smiling when the Nara's dark lashes drooped a little at the touch. "Then allow me to give you better ones, Shikamaru."
A slow considering blink before Shikamaru searched Neji's eyes…and nodded. Neji smiled, leaned in to sweep a kiss across the shadow-nin's strained smile until he felt the tension give way beneath the slow stroke of his tongue across those parting lips. Humming approval, Neji dipped into a slow sultry kiss, hooking the hair-tie with his thumb before tugging it free.
Shikamaru's hair fell loose in sharp black shards. "Troublesome," he groused, just to take the edge off his discomfort. "Don't make this a weird hair kink."
Fighting a smile, Neji arched a brow. "I'll endeavour to try."
He lifted his hands to carve his fingers through the thick strands, enjoying the wet silken texture as they pulled over his knuckles. "There," he murmured, kneading along Shikamaru's scalp, locating cranial tension with a sensitivity of touch which had the shadow-nin melting back against the wall. "Remember the feel of my hands on you…" he urged, rolling the balls of his thumbs along Shikamaru's hairline. "Every time you let it down…let the tension go with it…"
Beyond words, Shikamaru's lips moved soundlessly, his eyes shut, brows pulling together in concentrated pleasure before relaxing again; a slow contraction which Neji found both captivating and erotic to behold.
And knowing he was the only one who got to witness it?
Who got to create it?
No fire or flame could've possessed the kind of slow-burning warmth which suffused Neji's chest. Sighing out soft praises, he bent his head, kissed the hollow of Shikamaru's throat and began a slow descent, sampling skin like he'd never tasted it before…or might never taste it again.
"Ah…" Shikamaru arched when hot lips encompassed a nipple, one hand carving upwards through Neji's hair, the other fisting against the tiles. "Dammit, Neji…this can't…ahn…be one move…"
"I move very, very, slowly."
"No shit."
"I thought you liked to take things slow." Smirking, Neji swiped his tongue across the sensitive nipple, took it between his teeth and let his fingers drift across to administer a light pinch and twist to the neglected side until the flesh pebbled and Shikamaru's breath came harder and heavier, his hips rocking forwards mindlessly before he sucked a breath and pulled back.
A show of patience.
Of control.
Neji rewarded this effort by turning his trail of open-mouthed torture south, hands mapping out the sleek territory before following with tongue and teeth, slowly sinking down to his knees, water splashing up around the tight slabs of his thighs. Too far gone to acknowledge the rising water level, he set his hands at Shikamaru's hips and rolled his thumbs over the hipbones, leaning in to suck the sharp point, pulling a bruise to the skin.
Shikamaru's fingers tightened in his hair. "Neji…wait…"
Sliding his hands down the backs of Shikamaru's thighs, Neji traced the sharp muscular dip of the shadow-nin's pelvis with his mouth before he leaned in to drag his tongue along the sensitive juncture where thigh met hip.
"Shit," Shikamaru choked out again, his voice shaking. "Think we…ahn…need a…rule book…about what constitutes as…a-ah...a single move…and how long you…g-ah…get to…mnn…make it…"
Too much talking…
Which meant Shikamaru was trying to rev up his brain, distract himself from his body and outlast the torture. More than happy for the challenge, Neji drew back and turned his head, letting the steel-hard column of Shikamaru's erection glide along his cheek, tongue snaking out the corner of his mouth to lick along the pulsing shaft until the tip rested at his parted lips.
Shikamaru stopped talking pretty fast.
Might have stopped breathing too for the sudden stillness that came over him, his body going tight with restraint, fingers knotting in Neji's hair. Impressed by the show of control, and burning all the hotter with the desire to undo it, Neji drew his hands back around. One came to rest at Shikamaru's bruised hip while the other dragged up along a muscular inner thigh, fingers digging deep, spreading the leg wider, keeping the pace torturously slow.
"Neji…" Shikamaru called again, a little hoarser this time. "You don't...I don't expect..."
White eyes flickered upwards, caught on wide dilated orbs which smouldered like coals, dark and heated – yet…resistant? Neji watched him for a long second, his breaths fanning against the slitted head resting so close to his mouth just the barest movement would work his lips against the sensitive glans.
"If I did not want to do this," Neji said, "I would not do it. Do you think otherwise?"
Shikamaru hesitated, shook his head. "No."
"Good. Then stop thinking. And just feel." Holding eye contact, Neji eased forward and, ever-so-slowly, pushed the swollen tip into his mouth, teeth grazing, tongue flickering.
Mouth falling open slowly, Shikamaru's hips stuttered, calves going taut as he arched onto the balls of his feet, curling forward with a ragged gasp.
Neji pulled him deeper.
Shikamaru hissed.
Not what Neji wanted to hear.
Humming deep, he let the vibratory purr run along the stiff flesh feeding between his lips and pulled it deeper into his mouth, inch by inch, tongue dragging along the firm underside, breathing steadily through his nose until he carefully let the straining crown nudge into his throat.
A loud SMACK as the shadow-nin's palm slapped up against the tiles, a choked curse catching behind his teeth. "Fuck…" Shikamaru's voice shook out, guttural and deep. "…Ngh…Neji…"
Ah, much better. The pleasure of hearing his name trilling out low and breathless in those smoky tones sent a flash of heat straight to Neji's groin. And he felt the heaviness of his own need. Hot and hard as the flesh he pulled on with his lips, drawing back to the tip before urging Shikamaru to sink himself deeper, tugging on the shadow-nin's hip encouragingly.
"No." Shikamaru grit out between his teeth, the muscles in his thighs going tight with the strain of holding still. His head hung, too heavy to lift, the water streaking his hair flat, making it hang sharp and sleek as black glass either side of his face. "No."
Doubting the answer, Neji let the hand at Shikamaru's thigh circle around to grip and knead a firm buttock. He tugged again, harder this time, granting Shikamaru permission to thrust his hips.
"N-No…" Shikamaru gasped out again, either too dazed by the pleasure or – for some absurd reason – too reluctant to use Neji's mouth this way.
Strange. Because despite his vocal unwillingness he was clearly enjoying this. Neji could taste the salty musk of pleasure on his tongue, against the walls of his throat. The way Shikamaru twitched and tightened and throbbed for him. And even without the evidence in his mouth, Neji could read the other signs; the tremors across the muscles in Shikamaru's stomach; the violent judders along his thighs and the strain in the arm stretched out across the tiles, white-knuckled fist pressing hard into the wall.
Why are you holding back with me?
With one hand still on Shikamaru's hip, Neji set the pace, guided him back and forth in a rhythm which had Shikamaru's breaths sloughing out rougher and more erratic with every suck and lick and accompanying scrape of teeth. "Angh…Neji…"
That's better…
The fingers in Neji's hair clenched tighter, the pull on his scalp beginning to burn. Encouraged, Neji released Shikamaru's hip and gripped the base of his engorged shaft, twisting in a slow corkscrew motion as he began tonguing the sensitive frenulum under the flushed crown.
Gasping, Shikamaru's thighs began to shake.
Close…
Sucking at the sensitive glans and continuing to twist and pump, Neji slid his free hand up between Shikamaru's legs until he cupped the heavy velvet sac, gliding his thumb along the barely discernible seam. Another ragged gasp. Shikamaru's head fell back and his hips pushed forward ever-so-slightly.
Closer…
Hollowing his cheeks and taking Shikamaru deeper into his mouth again, Neji rolled the tight globes between his fingers before he dared to reach further, grazing his touch along the sensitive perineum, anticipating the immediate tension and resistance before pressing hard.
Shikamaru almost tore the hair from Neji's scalp.
A hoarse, broken shout and the shadow-nin's hips thrust forward, driving him deep into the slick tunnel of Neji's hand and mouth as orgasm ripped through him and he began to pulse dry. Stroking and sucking him through it, Neji's finger inched higher, swirled around the tight entrance. A sudden stiffening and Shikamaru's entire body lurched, bringing him back up onto the balls of his feet, flushed skin skipping and pulling against the wet tiles as he slammed the side of his fist into the wall, mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut.
God, how Neji ached to pin him there with his body; impaled and undone.
Fuck…
Cursing, Neji stood in one fluid motion, insinuated his leg between Shikamaru's trembling thighs to support him and cupped the back of the Nara's head, pulling him into a ravenous kiss. Shikamaru growled into it, rocking his hips, his still-hard length drilling against Neji's stomach. The hunger in his kiss begged the question of whether Neji had just taken the edge off or lifted Shikamaru to a higher ledge.
Aiming to keep him there, or maybe push him higher still, Neji reached between them.
Hissing between his teeth, Shikamaru tugged on Neji's hair and broke the kiss, his breath coming in halting gasps. "Ah…w-wait…"
Smiling against those parted lips, Neji shook his head. "I've waited three weeks."
Merciless, he took Shikamaru in hand, a slow catch and drag, chakra humming in his palm, fisting Shikamaru's quivering root before sliding up to the sensitive glans. Hips jerking, Shikamaru's mouth fell open soundlessly, neck corded with tension, eyes clenched shut in an expression of exquisite torture.
Neji's heart stuttered at the sight, at the vision.
He felt himself teetering.
So close to falling.
Growling, he leaned in to suck and bite along the taut column of Shikamaru's slick throat as he worked his hand at a steadily building tempo, listening to the ragged cadence of the shadow-nin's breathing as it began to shift, hitch and shatter out into the steam. No moans, no husky cries, just the panting breaths growing louder, louder.
"Let it out," Neji demanded, a low dark growl which only served to feed Shikamaru's stubborn refusal to obey, to submit, to sound out the pleasure which etched itself so clearly into every tautening line in his body.
Challenge.
It heightened Neji's arousal to painful proportions. "Come on, Nara," Neji murmured heatedly, thrusting his body forwards to smack Shikamaru back against the tiles, not sure whether he was praising or punishing the shadow-nin's defiance. "Or do I have to reach deeper to tear it out of you?"
Shikamaru's lashes flickered open, slivers of burning coal.
Holding that hot, lidded gaze, Neji slid his free hand around and arrowed down the hard curve of Shikamaru's back to the base of his spine, chakra purring at his fingertips. Teeth grit, Shikamaru's thighs went rigid, his pelvis canting hard as he arched, reaching behind to catch Neji's wrist, squeezing hard.
The touch said, No.
But his eyes, so dark, so dilated, so drunk with desire, seemed to scream, Yes.
Searching those eyes, Neji continued the steady pump of his hand, thumbing the thick vein and bulging head before nudging his mouth against Shikamaru's parted lips. "Are you daring me, or asking me, Shikamaru?"
No words, just jets of shaking breath.
And then Shikamaru's grip changed and he flattened Neji's palm against the base of his spine, closing his hand over Neji's before dragging the Hyūga's touch lower, dark eyes flickering shut, brows drawing together.
"Look at me," Neji whispered, urging those lashes to lift until he was gazing deep into glassy crescents swirling with shadow. "Stay with me."
Moving at Shikamaru's pace, he felt the Nara's fingers fold over his own, tucking Neji's long slender digits against the seam of his flexing buttocks, hips still rocking as he pressed harder, curling Neji's fingertips until they brushed the tight portal.
One grazing touch was all it took.
Shikamaru's hips lurched and his mouth hinged wide in a silent scream, his entire body going electric as the spasms rocked him from the balls of his arching feet to the crown of his tilting head, his skull crashing back against the tiles as another dry orgasm tore into him and through him.
God, but the sight was excruciating.
Close to bursting, Neji sank down to his knees again, took Shikamaru into his mouth while the Nara was still thrusting and grabbed those wildly pounding hips, sucking hard and grazing his chakra-charged fingertips over that clenching entrance without penetrating, sending a soft surge of blue-white heat against the sensitive cleft.
The sound that tore out of Shikamaru's throat was animal.
Sucking harder, Neji drew back just enough to watch the spray misting in ribbons down Shikamaru's shaking, steaming body, water flying in small sparks with every ragged thrust of his hips as he came again without spilling a drop.
His body gave out.
Neji stood fast, caught Shikamaru against his body, palms slapping up against the tiles as the shadow-nin's brow fell to the crook of his neck, one sun-bronzed arm hooking over Neji's shoulder to grip a pale jutting shoulderblade. He was shaking hard, panting harder, his tortured length sliding against Neji's, stabbing the Hyūga's stomach.
"Neji…"
Turning his head at the weak rasp of his name, Neji pulled his hips back to ease up on the torment of stimulation-overload and kissed Shikamaru's temple, his hair, his ear. And then Shikamaru mouthed something against his throat.
He never got the chance to ask what it was.
The hot water cut out.
A thousand icy needles rained down.
Twin yelps shattered off the walls before Shikamaru barked a laugh, grabbing at Neji with white-knuckled hands as they sank to the floor together, splashing into the lukewarm puddle that'd risen up and flooded out into the aisle between the stalls.
Cursing, laughing, Neji attempted to disentangle himself. "I'm not sure whether that's a blessing in disguise or just terrible timing."
"Both." Shikamaru didn't let go, pulled Neji into his lap and drew him down for a hard messy kiss while effectively using the Hyūga as a human shield against the cold spray.
Neji huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You're shameless."
"Says the guy who just took my legs out from under me three times. There's no way in any rulebook that was a single move."
"Are you complaining?"
Smirking, Shikamaru ticked his chin up for another kiss then tilted his head away when Neji made to slide their mouth together. "Wanna sort that cold water out first? I'm not coming out from under here until it's off."
"Careful," Neji teased, shifting on his knees, stretching up one hand to grope around for the shower dial. "Or you won't be coming at all for the rest of the day."
A dark brow quirked up. "Man, Hyūga. That sense of humour's really off its leash, huh?"
"Who said I was joking?"
"Sadist."
Neji twisted the dial, shut the spray off. Shikamaru's arms came around his waist lazily, fingertips tracing up his spine. Reaching back, Neji grasped those wandering hands with a knowing smile, dark strands spilling forwards in wet ropes as he bent his head and stole a light kiss, settling his mouth gently against the shadow-nin's.
Shikamaru hummed before drawing back a little, lidded eyes drifting up. "That was…" he trailed off, shook his head.
Neji smiled. "It was. You were."
A lick of heat across Shikamaru's cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, which Neji found both endearing and amusing given what they'd just done.
Flushing hotter under the bemusement on Neji's face, Shikamaru dodged those white eyes and tugged his hands back, gripping Neji's thighs. "Alright. Not gonna complain about the cold water. Because thanks to your tenketsu tantra torture…I don't think I'm gonna be able to stand for the next five minutes…" He sobered a little, glancing up through his water-spiked lashes. "Speaking of standing…you know…I didn't expect…I mean I didn't think—"
"Didn't think I was the kind of lover to get down on my knees?" Neji broke in gently, feeling the need to interject. Despite his amusement at seeing Shikamaru so awkward and flustered, he didn't want the other ninja in any doubt as to what pleased him, pleasured him. "Contrary to my selfish bastard tendencies, I enjoy giving as good as I get. You know I'm capable of doing this when it comes to pain. Is it such a shock I feel that way about pleasure? Do my battlefield tactics not translate well to the bedroom, Nara?"
Shikamaru's eyes rounded on him. "What? No. I mean yeah. Wait. Hold on. I meant that respectively." He winced, thudding his head back. "Ugh. Which question am I supposed to be answering here?"
Smiling, Neji reached up, gripped Shikamaru's jaw between his fingers and squeezed gently, bending down to touch their brows. "Too much thinking, Nara. Consider all questions rhetorical."
"I can do that."
An easy quiet settled between them, filled only with the faint wet sounds of lips clinging and tongues stroking back and forth, taking playful residency in one mouth before rolling slowly into the other. The cold water pooled around them was a damp blanket over the fire, keeping the flames banked to an ember burn.
For now…
Indeed. With every growing moment, Neji felt himself in danger of reigniting those flames. He hadn't unblocked their Root tenketsu, which left them both ultra-sensitive to touch. Like a pressure cooker, the heat and tension of delayed orgasm would only continue to climb until Neji turned the valves and opened the floodgates.
It seemed Shikamaru was already thinking along the same lines, his expression pinching in a look which settled on the borderline between pleasure and pain. "Dammit," he whispered. "You wanna unplug me before I bust a vein someplace I don't ever wanna see turn blue?"
Neji chuckled low in his throat. "That won't happen. Blood flow is not restricted. You'd need to have your Root tenketsu blocked for several hours for any resurgent or prolonged arousal to become damaging. And I only plan on making you wait until after lunch."
Shikamaru's eyes widened comically. "What? Shouldn't you have given me the chance to sign some kinda consent form before you…?" He couldn't bring himself to say it, glanced down at their laps instead. "You know. Shut me down."
"Consent form?" Neji echoed with mock seriousness, struggling to keep the smile from breaking through. "How about a contract? Would you also like a safe word, Nara?"
Embarrassed, Shikamaru laughed, rolling his eyes. "Troublesome, Hyūga. How the hell do you even know what that is?"
"How do you?" Neji countered.
"Education," Shikamaru said, an odd look coming to his eyes. "And you? Experience?"
Neji almost laughed at the suggestion, shaking his head. "Again, contrary to my personality, I'm not into that kind of play. I don't like submissive partners. Not in battle and not in my bed. No challenge. No chase." Searching Shikamaru's eyes, he leaned in slowly. "And you? What made you 'educate' yourself in those…arts?"
Shikamaru hiked a brow at the question, but the odd look vanished from his eyes, replaced with the same lazy amusement which purred out into his drawling words, "I refuse to answer on grounds of giving away my game."
Now that piqued Neji's attention.
Drawing back, he tried to read past the evasiveness dancing in Shikamaru's eyes, uncertain whether to feel amused or disturbed the shadow-nin's non-answer. "Very well," he conceded at length. "I suppose I owe you your move. I'll let this slide. For now."
"I'd say that's real merciful of you but I'm pretty sure these next couple of hours are gonna be hell on earth thanks to your little tantric kink."
"Ah, Shikamaru. Just because I have the patience of a saint, doesn't mean I am one."
"Yeah, your angel eyes won't save you."
Neji cocked his head at the familiar comment. And then he remembered. The little girl in Hanegakure. "Angel eyes?" he murmured.
Shikamaru went quiet for a moment, his gaze gaining that penetrative edge that'd always cut a little too deep. Pursing his lips, he grazed a thumb under one of Neji's eyes. "Yeah. That limpet-clinging kid said you had sad angel eyes."
"Well, I'd certainly be a sad excuse for an angel."
Shikamaru's gaze softened, the muscles in his throat pulling visibly. "I don't know about that. You pulled me outta hell when all I wanted to do was burn. Not all that sure what job description fits an angel, but I think saving people counts."
Frowning softly, Neji raked his fingers back through Shikamaru's hair in a rough sweep, gathering the dark strands in a fist before he settled his palm at the Nara's nape. "I'm no angel, Shikamaru. God knows I'm fallen. And far too flawed."
"Shit, Neji…aren't we all?" Shikamaru murmured, his gaze going distant. "You remember what you said about the world we live in being broken? You still mean it?"
The question caught Neji flatfooted and he stumbled over a response, his gaze skating away across the wet tiles as he searched for the right words. "I don't know. Sometimes." He glanced back. "Do you still mean what you said about people being broken?"
"I don't know…sometimes."
And in that uncertainty, at least they stood together.
Sighing, Shikamaru leaned forward, touched his lips to the ragged whorl of scar tissue on Neji's chest, fingertips grazing down his back. Warmed by the tender gesture, Neji gave the shadow-nin's nape an affectionate squeeze, not sure whether he was trying to impress comfort or concern with his touch. He still had so many questions.
Not now.
No. Later. When they weren't burning daylight or each other. Because as loath as he was to end this, one of them needed to before Tenten sent out a search party. He sighed. "What do you want to bet that Inuzuka is ordering meals for every passing minute our seats remain empty?"
"Rhetorical question."
Neji snorted, shaking his head. "We're late. More than late."
"Fashionably late," Shikamaru argued, refusing to budge. "Or so Ino said." And here, he suddenly sat bolt upright against the tiles, his eyes growing wide. "Ah, shit."
"What?"
Glancing around wildly, Shikamaru scrambled out from under Neji on shaky legs and yanked his waterlogged sweater from the plughole, holding it up and away as if he'd just rescued road-kill from the wayside. "Shit. Shit. Shit. No. No. No. Not good."
Neji didn't see the problem. "There are plenty of spare clothes here."
"Not the point."
"There's a point?"
Shikamaru laughed a wry mirthless laugh, twisting the sweater before slapping it over his shoulder. "Oh, there's a point alright. A sharp shiny point heading straight for my temple. You won't miss it."
"You're quick on your feet, Nara. I'm sure you can dodge it."
"Tch. I'd run for the hills but you took out my legs – and pretty much every damn nerve-ending in my body…" he paused, glanced up from beneath his lashes. "Am I gonna be feeling this worked up all the way through to the next round?"
Standing over the drain, Neji smirked, wringing out the long rope of his hair. "Does it make you feel better that you won't be suffering alone?"
"No, funnily enough," Shikamaru grumbled, raking black strands away from his face. An idle motion, but the pull of muscle along his torso was hypnotic.
Neji stared, his words miscarrying into silence.
Shikamaru didn't notice, which, as usual, was all part of his appeal. Utterly oblivious to the way his relaxed movements appeared so erotically sensual, all sways and rolls. No sharp turns or stiltedness, his body flowing lazily yet lithely from one state into another, skin shifting over muscle like golden water over rocks.
Neji felt himself growing painfully hard.
Again.
Damn.
Grabbing his soaked cargo pants, Shikamaru stepped towards the aisle beyond the stall, fingertips grazing the Hyūga's stomach as he passed. "Might wanna put that away unless you want the whole damn table thinking you've got a thing for fusion food."
"Bastard."
Backing down the aisle, Shikamaru turned on his heel and raised his hands in acquittal, a razor smile slicing sharp and sexy across his face. "Your play, Hyūga, not mine. Besides, good saints suffer in silence. And thanks to you, we're gonna be doing plenty of that for the next four hours."
God.
Eyes rolling up towards the dripping pipes, Neji couldn't help but wonder just what the hell he'd been thinking.
This is going to be a long, long, lunch…
Staggering their arrival seemed best, so Shikamaru let Neji go on ahead and took the longer, more troublesome route. The odds of their paths having crossed were slim. No reason to raise eyebrows or annoying questions around the table. He'd already cooked up some bullshit to explain why he was dressed in standard-issue Chūnin clothing; black turtleneck and matching pants.
She's still gonna screw…
What sucked worse was the fact that Shikamaru genuinely liked the stuff Ino got him – apart from that messed up party hat – and there wasn't a lot of material crap he really valued; Asuma's trench knives and lighter, the Team 10 earring studs and his Shogi board. That pretty much summed up his treasure chest of valuables. And oddly enough, all of those items had been given to him by his sensei.
Those aren't the only things you passed onto me…
Knowing Asuma was watching over him helped. And for the first time since his sensei's passing, he no longer had to believe – he knew. He'd seen too much evidence of life on the other side of the veil…and despite his logic telling him that any and all visions he'd experienced while losing his mind were nothing but psychotic imaginings, he knew on a purely instinctive and visceral level that Asuma had never left him…not truly. He couldn't explain it. And perhaps that's why he trusted it. Inexplicably.
"I hear you."
"I know you do," Shikamaru murmured, thumbing the lighter in his pocket.
Lighter. Cigarettes.
"Dammit."
He needed to get more cigarettes. His last packet was soaked and the stash he'd kept for Asuma was gone. While the old guy behind the counter had never had a problem selling to Shikamaru when Asuma was alive, things were different now. Since his sensei's passing there was no viable excuse for Shikamaru to be running cigarette errands, even if he did intend on using said cigarettes as joss sticks at his sensei's grave.
Shit.
Pausing by the only corner shop convenience store which still imported Asuma's brand of smokes, Shikamaru glanced around, searching for Chūnin or Jōnin who could legally purchase a pack. Kotetsu would've been ideal, but Lady Luck wasn't working Sundays.
Or any day of my week…dammit…
Maybe he should've rubbed the Budai Belly. Scanning the sidewalks, he spotted Iruka-sensei talking to a couple and their child. Shikamaru cringed at the thought. Chances are, with enough bullshit, he could get Iruka to buy them but he wasn't so sure he could sell a load of crap to such a decent and upstanding guy without feeling guilty.
Dammit…who the hell's loose enough in the moral department not to give a damn?
Maybe Asuma was listening and maybe he had some sway with the Big Bellied Budai and Lady Luck given all the statues he'd groped in his day. Whatever the reason, Shikamaru wouldn't have believed in blind luck if he hadn't almost blindly crashed straight into Shiranui Genma whilst turning back to enter the shop.
A near miss.
Before Shikamaru could even register they were about to crash, Genma swerved with a sinuous shift of his hips, avoiding collision with a move so relaxed and fluid he didn't even break stride. He simply passed by Shikamaru sideways with hands raised by his head, a can of tuna grasped in one hand and a bottle of milk in the other. He murmured an apology and didn't even look up to see who he'd avoided.
"Genma-senpai…"
The Tokujō froze on the sidewalk for a two count, then wheeled back lazily on his heel. The afternoon light gleamed off the senbon stuck between his lips and caught like a camera flash in his lidded bronze eyes, the narrow orbs pinching fractionally before his expression rearranged itself into trademark nonchalance.
"Hey, kid. How's tricks?"
Shikamaru had no idea how to answer that. Had no idea what Genma did or didn't know about what'd happened to him. At least recently. Shaking his head, Shikamaru backed up a pace and rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Yeah. Fine."
Monumental fail.
Genma's left eyebrow twitched upward, those keen bronze eyes appearing hawk-like and golden in the afternoon sun. Normally, he'd have grunted and sauntered off.
He stayed.
Surprised, Shikamaru flailed mentally for a moment, trying to get some traction on wobbly ground. There was so much he wanted to say to this man; too much to even know where the hell to begin. At first, he'd been angry. Later, after several long and enlightening talks with his father, he'd understood. Genma had done everything within his limited power to protect Shikamaru and the Nara's secrets without crossing the Council, tipping off Danzō, or going against the Sandaime's former orders. Truth was, Genma had gone so far for Shikamaru he'd almost gone completely off the rails with his guilt…his grief. He'd lost a lover and two years of his life…how the hell did you thank someone for that – much less apologise to them – without insulting them?
Swallowing hard, Shikamaru's eyes went to the tuna and milk in Genma's hands. "You got a cat?" he joked lamely.
"Yeah."
Joke fell flat. And suddenly Shikamaru was 15 years old and way outta his depths trying to get to grips with Konoha's infamous sharpshooting, ass-kicking, unflappable Goei Shōtai, Shiranui Genma. It didn't occur to him that he was being sized up just as warily, but Genma read him faster, way too adept at hiding his true face to let Shikamaru catch a glimpse.
"Don't go there, kid," Genma said, his voice low, quiet. "It's done."
Blinking, Shikamaru knocked his head back like he'd been smacked in the brow by a senbon. He struggled for a long second, searching Genma's face for some small opening. There was none. Shutters down. Entrances and exits barred. Nobody home. Or at least, no part of Genma willing to answer the door.
He's closed it for a reason. Don't push it…just let it drop.
Before he could think of how the hell to do that, Genma helped him out and veered off topic. "You're way too smart to get hooked on cigarettes."
Another imaginary senbon to the skull. "I'm…wait, what?"
Genma angled his chin towards the convenience store, but his sharp eyes never cut even a millimetre away from Shikamaru. "Asuma's brand. Only place that still sells it. You've got approximately four corner shops closer to home than this. Why go out of your way?"
"I was taking a walk and just happened to pass."
"No. You're lurking. You smoking?"
"No."
"You drinking?"
"No."
"You checking out Iruka-sensei? He doesn't date teenagers as a rule. He's prudish like that."
"What the hell!" Scandalised, Shikamaru shook his head, bringing his hands up in defence and disgust. "Ugh, and no!"
"So you're just loitering in the hopes that someone's gonna buy you something you're likely to get addicted to?"
A micro hesitation. "No."
"Bullshit."
Wow. It was like the Proctor Trials all over again.
Incredulous now, and maybe a little peeved at the thought of having to explain himself, Shikamaru's jaw tightened but he curbed his rarely-provoked anger and answered in a calm even voice, "I don't do flowers."
Genma's brow flicked up again.
Shikamaru held his gaze, continued on in the same level tone. "I don't do flowers. I don't do food offerings. I don't do pretty candles or fancy smelling joss sticks. But I do light a cigarette at my sensei's grave whenever I go see him. So yeah, I smoke, just not the way you think."
Silence.
Further down the sidewalk the young couple laughed at something Iruka-sensei said and the child bounced up and down with enthusiasm. Inside the shop, the cashier till chimed a high note and the old man hawked a phlegmy cough.
Genma said nothing.
But his unnatural stillness was way more unnerving than his silence.
All the same, Shikamaru held his gaze – studious and unflinching. He wasn't a 15-year-old kid anymore. The things he'd seen and done? Yeah. It'd changed him. It wasn't the kind of change that went unnoticed by men like Genma. It was impossible to miss, when you carried the same mark; lived with the same ghosts. Wounded shinobi shared that. And Genma acknowledged Shikamaru's scars as if the young Nara wore them on his face.
It wasn't a vocal acknowledgement.
It was a look.
An action.
Genma pursed his lips, lifted his head a fraction and the look in his eyes went from assessing to certain. Grunting, he blinked almost sleepily, lashes coming down halfway before he shoved the tuna can into his pocket and let the milk slide to dangle from his fingers, knuckles cinched around the neck of the bottle.
Without a word, he brushed past Shikamaru back into the shop.
Shikamaru made no move to follow. Knew without having to be told that he was expected to park his ass, keep his mouth shut and wait.
He did.
And Genma didn't make him wait long. Didn't need to make that kind of point. Money passed hands. The cashier's till chimed. No questions were asked. Genma breezed back out, smacked three cartons of cigarettes against Shikamaru's chest and kept his hand plastered there for a moment, making eye contact.
Shikamaru returned the look, nodded his thanks.
Genma inclined his head, lips twitching drily. "I catch you smoking this shit? I'll have you puffing smoke rings outta your ass for the next 3 years. You understand?"
Astonished by the switch from ANBU-worthy Elite to Sharp-tongued Senpai-Not-Sensei, Shikamaru couldn't help but return the demi-smile. "Yeah. I understand."
Humming, Genma gave a short nod, rocked his palm against Shikamaru's chest and stepped back, turning to leave. "Always were a quick study."
"Wait."
Genma paused, glanced over his shoulder.
Again, the words caught rusty in his throat and Shikamaru stood there wordlessly for a long second, the cigarette packets held against his chest before he pocketed them, slouching back in his shoes. He slicked a hand back over his scalp to his ponytail. "I know you said not to go there. But I just wanted to say—"
Genma turned away, began walking again.
Shikamaru scowled and started after him. "Dammit, Genma-sensei, I'm trying to sa—"
Genma swung back, raised the milk bottle like a finger and stabbed it at Shikamaru. "The hell did I just hear coming out of your mouth? Do I look like a fucking brat-pack daddy?"
Staring at the milk bottle levelled at his chest, Shikamaru raised his hands comically, eyes going wide. "Uh…no. But I still think you'd have made a good sensei."
Bronze eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. "Tch," Genma lowered his weapon of choice, backing off a step. "You still don't know the first thing about me, kid."
"I know that you still call me kid like you did back at the Proctor Trials, which probably means you still see me that way. Still see the stupid, naïve, 15 year old brat that disobeyed your orders and got himself into some serious shit which caused a lot of people a lot of grief…" At Genma's tight-lipped silence, Shikamaru sucked a breath and forced himself to go on. "I know if I hadn't given you the slip, if I hadn't left that room…none of this would've happened. But it did. And while I'm grateful for everything you did to protect me, I'm sorry for everything – and everyone – that it cost you."
Dangerous play, but Shikamaru couldn't keep that card to his chest. He laid it out on the table, half expecting Genma's angry palm to upturn it. But the violent outburst never came.
Genma's jaw simply went from side to side, senbon grinding. "Shit happens."
"Yeah, but it happened to you. And that's on me."
"I'm not gonna argue culpability with you. I had a job. I failed. You had an order. You disobeyed. I won't make the same mistake again. Be sure you don't either."
A neat professional answer. Championing action over words. Shikamaru figured he shouldn't have expected any less or any more from this Goei Shōtai. Genma was too guarded, too aware of protocol to make this exchange personal…despite all the personal sacrifices he'd made.
"Aren't you pissed?" Shikamaru asked. "Because I can take pissed."
"Light up a smoke, you'll see me plenty pissed."
"Senpai."
Genma went quiet, went still – went somewhere else in his mind because his gaze strayed from Shikamaru's face to a middle-distance point just beyond the Nara's left shoulder. "I appreciate what you're trying to do here, Shikamaru. But the kindest thing you can do for me right now is to let me leave."
Translation: let me move on.
Understanding eased the anxiousness tightening Shikamaru's expression, worry lines smoothing out across his brow and at the corners of his eyes. Two years of being a prisoner to this whole conspiracy, Genma didn't need apologies or thanks, just his freedom…
Just his second chance.
For all Lady Luck's stinginess, Budai's questionable fortunes and Fate's lousy punches and cheap shots…those second chances seemed to finally be going around. And in this sometimes broken world, with its sometimes broken people, sometimes a second chance was all that was needed to start putting the pieces back together.
Shikamaru nodded. "Thanks for the cigarettes." And everything else.
Shrugging, Genma's gaze cut back. He clucked his tongue, senbon flashing. "This doesn't make me your go-to guy. And I meant what I said. I catch you lighting up—"
"You'll have me blowing smoke rings outta my ass for the next 3 years," Shikamaru droned, but not without a smile. "Message received."
A slim smirk and Genma rolled on his heel, moving off down the sidewalk at a lazy pace. "Stay smart, kid."
That was the plan.
Heading the other way, Shikamaru selected the most expedient route. He'd killed some time here, no need to delay the inevitable any longer. Didn't mean he was going to rush. Hands jammed in the pockets of his slacks, he approached Hoteibaragu at a stroll, crossed the bridge and the fancy courtyard and passed through the moongates into the warm foyer where the smoky scent of incense perfumed the air.
"Good afternoon," said the rail-thin maître d' stationed behind a bronze podium, peering over the rims of her sharp rectangular glasses. "Do you have a reservation?"
"Hyūga," was all Shikamaru said.
Nodding, the woman stepped down and gestured for him to follow. "This way please."
Following behind, Shikamaru scanned the upscale interior. Burnished in warm ambient hues of honey and gold, the wooden floors were dark and polished, offset by pale walls stuccoed a light creamy bronze. Statues of the renowned potbellied Budai dominated alcoves and recesses while highly stylized masks hung at various intervals with small spotlights pointed upwards to accent their dimensions and exaggerate their pronounced expressions of joy and goodwill.
Shikamaru arched a brow as he passed.
I better walk outta this place ten times richer in karmic points…
All these promises of good fortune, someone might just kick up a fuss about false advertising. Resisting the urge to graze his fingertips over a protruding bronze belly, Shikamaru continued on after the woman, the smells of fusion food steadily overpowering the incense. Alongside the standard seating and booths, the restaurant also boasted four indoor pavilions on a second level, the pillars lacquered in deep crimson. Each rotunda held a round table large enough to sit a party of up to 20 people and was encircled by four strips of bench-seating.
Asuma would've liked this place…
Up until he'd had to fork out the cash, that is.
The maître d' led him to the pavilion at the far back, where intermittent laughter and the soft buzz of conversation hummed in the warm heady air, redolent with savoury and spice.
Thanking the woman, Shikamaru approached, scanning the table.
Neji was already seated at the edge of one of the benches, refusing to be boxed in. He was dressed as Shikamaru had last seen him when they'd exited the Jōnin Station; simple Jōnin slacks and a dove-grey sweater. Only, rather than the hitai-ate, he now wore a slim white bandana that striped across his brow and vanished under the fall of his still-damp hair, which he'd secured in a loose ponytail at his nape.
Kiba was the first to look up, cheeks stuffed with tempura. "Yo! Shikamaru! Did the whole damn herd go walkabouts or what?"
It was open season after that; questions flew like cross-firing kunai.
"Are the deer okay, Shikamaru-kun?" Hinata.
"What do you wanna eat?" Chōji.
"Did you get into trouble with your dad?" Naruto.
"WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR SWEATER?" Ino.
Sliding into one of the emptier benches beside Chōji, Shikamaru shot Neji a look which read 'and there's that sharp shiny point I was talking about' before he held up his hands to ward off the barrage of questions. "Deer are fine. I'll eat anything but eggs. Dad wasn't there. And I changed clothes to keep from getting dirty. Didn't have time to change back. We done? Can I eat now?"
Amusement all around for the most part, though Ino gave him the stink-eye of doom. He could live with that. So would his sweater. It just needed to air out. Not like Neji had ripped it in half while tearing it off…and then he had that visual playing out…and the accompanying discomfort of his body getting ahead of itself.
Ugh…
As if reading his mind, he could feel those opal eyes watching him. Glanced up and saw Neji's cloud-like orbs go smoky as topaz, his full lips curving in a slim knowing smile. Just the memory of those lips wrapped tight around him not an hour earlier had Shikamaru's groin cramping and his gut clenching.
Shit.
As much as the act had blown his mind – twice – it'd also shaken some of the shrapnel buried in his scars. The touch of those fingers, the almost-not-quite suggestion of what Neji might've done with them if Shikamaru had allowed it, enflamed the shadow-nin as much as it engendered an old anger and an old aversion to being touched that intimately…despite how insanely turned-on he'd been at the time. Just the lightest touch had sent him spiralling into one of the hottest climaxes of his life.
Crazy…Neji's touched me in more ways than Shuken ever did…
True. And upon piecing together his memories, Shikamaru had learned the worst physical violation Shuken had managed – aside from his groping hands and slathering tongue – was injecting Shikamaru with senjutsu. But the nature of the game that bastard had played had always felt sexual.
A literal mindfuck.
Yeah…and it's still fucking with me…
Because despite the fact that at his core Shuken had been a sadistic, perverse, obsessive and maniacal psychopath – he'd also been a highly intelligent, confident, charming and seductive predator, with enough sensual carnality to make up for his cold cerebral mind.
Qualities I see in Neji…
And that wasn't even the kicker. Because sure, Shikamaru knew what he was attracted to. He wasn't ashamed or disturbed by that. Not everyone with that raw sexual quality and intelligence was a rabid rapist psycho. No. What freaked Shikamaru out wasn't that he recognised those sensual, primal, erotic qualities in others…
…it's that I'm starting to recognise them in me.
That was the kicker. And that scared the hell out of him; maybe even worse than his shadows ever had. He could handle the animal nature of his chakra. But he had no idea how the hell to handle the sensual and animal nature of the things Neji stirred up inside him.
"Too much thinking, Nara."
Probably true. Before he'd gotten his memories back, he'd never tried to figure it out. Had always just gone with the flow, which had felt good, so damn good…at least until he felt himself slipping a little too far into the sweet dark heat.
"Do you want me to taste you, Shikamaru? To feel that fire of yours on my tongue? Do you want me deeper? Do you want to feel me inside you?"
Heat flashed through him.
Sucking a breath through his nose, Shikamaru gripped his thighs and swallowed hard. Laughter around the table caused him to jump. He looked up, saw Lee demonstrating something with a paper napkin he'd folded into an origami boat.
"It did not look like that," Tenten was saying. "If it had, we might actually have gotten halfway upstream before sinking. That raft was a joke."
Lee held up a finger. "We did not sink, Tenten. We capsized."
Kiba woofed a laugh, looking on with relish before his gaze cut to Neji. "I don't care if you swan-dived onto the rocks, just tell me you were at the helm when shit went south, Highness."
"A good Captain always goes down with his ship, Inuzuka," Neji murmured over the rim of his glass, his low melodic tones purring out on a droll note which rumbled across Shikamaru's heated skin like a devil-sent seism.
Kiba fist pumped. "Aww man, I wish I'd seen that!"
Tenten scoffed, waving a hand. "You think that was bad? You should've seen the giant Slug Mother."
Sighing, Neji set his glass down, shook his head.
Tenten grinned wide.
"Slug Mother?" Sakura queried, picking up a slimy-textured vegetable roll. "Is this story going to put me off my food?"
Sai blinked at her. "I doubt it. You work with Lady Katsuyu regularly and you continue to eat more than the recommended allowance for a kunoichi your size."
Sakura's mouth dropped open and the chopsticks snapped between her fingers. Naruto's eyes bugged out of his head. Laughing obnoxiously loud to cover up the red-hot hiss building behind Sakura's teeth, the Jinchūriki got Sai in a non-too-gentle headlock and squeezed.
"Ha! Sai! You joker!" Knuckling the artist's head with his fist, Naruto turned his strained smile onto Neji, squinting with the pained expression of a guy desperately trying not to notice Sakura's forking head-vein whilst simultaneously trying not to choke the tactlessness out of his other teammate. "So, where were we? Katsuyu? Slug Mother?"
"The biggest Slug Mother of them all," Ino drawled, enjoying Sakura's suffering as she mooched a tempura prawn off Kiba's plate. He made no move to stop her. "So it was a she slug, huh?" Ino shot Shikamaru a look. "Don't even think about making a troublesome woman comment."
Glad for the building distractions, Shikamaru raised his palms and cocked his head towards Tenten. "With this one present? Not likely."
Tenten grinned around her dim sum and made a threatening gesture of drawing her chopstick across her throat, nudging Neji with her elbow. "Go on, Neji, tell them about the Slug Momma."
Neji tilted away from the digging elbow and cradled his soup bowl in his palm. "The gender of the slug, at this point, is quite irrelevant."
"I don't know, Neji," Naruto piped up, letting go of Sai, eyebrows bobbing playfully. "I mean, how'd you know it wasn't a Slug Daddy?"
"Yeah, did you look up the bug's skirt, Highness?"
Hinata flushed. "Kiba…"
A loud clack stilled conversation as Shino set down his chopsticks, lifted his chin from the high collar of his jacket and turned his head fractionally towards Kiba, the ambient light flashing off his lenses. "A slug is not an insect."
Kiba paused mid-chew, his jaw canted to one side. "Aw man, you wanna do this now?"
"A slug is not an insect."
"I didn't say insect, I said bug."
"A slug is a gastropod mollusc."
Kiba rolled his eyes. "Wanna write that on a napkin for me? Maybe throw an illustration in there?"
Caught between them, Hinata attempted to diffuse the purple-grey cloud of wrath humming at Shino's sleeves. "Shino-kun, Kiba uses the term bug very loosely for—"
"Anything that creeps, crawls, flies or slimes its ass across the sidewalk," the dog-nin finished, waving off the black aura emanating from Shino in waves. "Relax. Slug, bug. Tomato, vegetable, whatever."
"No," Sai wheezed, rubbing at his neck. "A tomato is a fruit."
"Thanks for pointin' out my point there, book boy. We all still consider it a vegetable."
Chōji chuffed a laugh. "Ne, that's just you, Kiba."
"It's a fruit," Sai reiterated.
Kiba snickered, waving his chopsticks at Sai despite Hinata's gasp at such a blatant breach in table etiquette. "You don't wanna be talking about fruits, Crop Top. Someone might think you're comin' out."
Naruto groaned into his palm. "It's Shikamaru's birthday all over again."
The shadow-nin made a pained face.
Neji glanced across, an elegant brow arching upwards. Scrubbing at his mouth, Shikamaru gave him the 'don't ask' look. But Sai was still stuck on Crop Top, his narrow brows tugging together in confusion above his eyes.
"What?" Kiba laughed. "You prefer Midriff?"
"Leave him alone," Ino chided, bumping Kiba's shoulder with her own. "He can get away with it."
"Why? 'Cause he's pretty?"
"Yes."
"Well so's Neji, according to Naruto," Sakura teased, winking at Ino.
Neji stopped eating.
Hinata looked at Naruto in shock and maybe a little despair, blanching white. "Naruto-kun?"
Spluttering, Naruto scrunched up his face at her horrified look and thudded back in his seat like someone had just kicked him in the nuts under the table. "I said he had pretty eyes! And I didn't mean it like that. I mean, all Hyūga eyes are pretty and dreamy! Heck, look at yours, Hinata!"
Freezing, Hinata flushed from white to red at a speed which could've set land records. "I…I…"
"I do not see why you're getting so defensive, Naruto-kun," Lee observed. Frowning, he set down his Laksa Curry bowl, turned in his seat and gave Neji a direct, penetrating stare over Tenten's head before coming forward on one elbow to lean past her, peering deep and long into narrowing opal eyes. "He's right. You do have pretty eyes, Neji. Like clouds."
Chewing quietly, Shikamaru bit back a smile and tapped the side of his fist to his twitching lips, watching the discomfort tighten across Neji's face. Ino caught the gesture and flicked her chopstick wrapper at Shikamaru. "Crack that smile, Slacker. What? You don't agree?"
"Yeah, Shikamaru," Naruto needled, happy to transfer attention. "You don't agree?"
Tenten batted her lashes. "You don't think Neji has pretty dreamy cloud eyes?"
The women at the table turned like a united front towards him. Shikamaru stopped chewing, eyes rounding before he swallowed. "I think I've got a better sense of self-preservation than the rest of you."
Smirking, Neji tipped his drink in approval and fixed his lidded gaze on Shikamaru with brazen amusement and a lick of heat. "Well avoided, Nara."
Shikamaru's blood thickened at the look. "I'm gifted like that."
Ino flicked her wrist. "Oh please. That's not an answer! That's a cop out. As usual."
Shikamaru lifted a shoulder, went back to his meal and tried not to burn under the heat of those scorching pale eyes observing him from beneath lowered lashes. "Ask Sai, he's the artist."
Said artist looked up from his tofu ramen, his dark ink-pool orbs swimming with confusion. "I still don't understand. How is it appropriate for Ino to bare her stomach and not me? Is it a gender issue?"
Neji glanced at Tenten. "Shall we ask the axe-wielding authority on gender issues?"
A ripple of laughter around the table and Tenten blushed, sticking her tongue out at him. "You're lucky I don't have any of my sharp toys handy."
"As if you'd need them," Neji observed, watching her spin her chopsticks around her knuckles like senbons. "A kunoichi is always armed."
While the other girls beamed at the comment, Tenten wasn't flattered. She crinkled her nose at Neji, eyes narrowing with light-hearted menace. "Still digging yourself out of that sexist hole aren't you?"
Neji shook his head. "After all this talk about how pretty and dreamy my eyes are, I'm starting to think my emasculation is making up for it."
"Oh yeah?" Kiba chimed in. "Let's see those dreamy white peepers top my pretty gold eyeshine, Highness."
Shino gave a delicate snort. "I'm certain Hyūga can top your anything, Inuzuka."
A lewd glance between Ino and Sakura and the girls began to giggle, much to Naruto's seat-squirming discomfort. "Ugh. Can we not go down that road, please?"
Chōji laughed. "You're so insecure. You and Shikamaru both."
The shadow-nin, happily and quietly enjoying the lack of spotlight so he could screen Neji's movements through his lashes, choked on a noddle when Chōji threw the limelight back his way. Dabbing at his mouth, he recovered with a half-hearted scowl. "Shut up, Mangles."
Lee cocked his head. "Mangles?"
"Man bangles," Chōji explained. "For men. Manly men. Men who aren't threatened by looking ultra hip and cool."
Lee's eyes went so damn wide tiny moons could've orbited them. He slammed forward in his seat, practically reaching across the table with fists clenched. "Chōji-kun, you must tell me where I can purchase these manly mangles for men! NEJI! We must get them for Gai-sensei so that he might finally best Kakashi-san!"
Neji laughed quietly, a deep black satin chuckle which had an already flustered Shikamaru drawing back in his seat to escape not only the spellbinding lull of the sound, but also the magnetism of the faintly reserved but incredibly charming smile which followed.
Damn.
Shikamaru lost time for a while there, just watching that smile, seeing the faint lines fan out at the corners of those alluring moonstone eyes; like he could finally glimpse a hint of the white leonine sun which lent those lunar orbs their primal burn and hypnotising light. Neji had only to glance his way and desire scorched across Shikamaru's hyper-sensitive skin like a sere wind, spiralling south into a furnace pit where blocked tenketsu and building arousal left him hot and hard as a god-damned fire iron.
There's no way I'm gonna last until the end of this meal…
Even when courses changed, savoury dishes turned sweet and talk of manly accessories returned to giant Slug Mothers, Shikamaru felt himself phasing in and out like a man in a fever, the sensations in his body, namely the heat and the lust, growing more and more distracting. Even when Tenten and Lee practically re-enacted – in everything short of musical song – the entirety of Neji's epic bloodshed whilst battling the giant leeches of The Land of Rivers, Shikamaru still couldn't shake the Need pounding through him in waves.
On the adjacent bench beside him, Naruto gave a startled little jump.
Catching the movement out the corner of his glazing eyes, Shikamaru looked across, his focus sharpening on the Uzumaki. "What?"
As laughter went on around the table, Naruto remained oddly still, his dessert bowl cradled to his chest. Frowning, he cocked his head animal-like and looked over at Shikamaru. "What's with the chakra?"
Nonplussed, the shadow-nin let his silent single eyebrow do the talking.
Naruto gave him a puzzled look. "Your chakra. I can feel it."
The hell?
Clearing his throat, Shikamaru angled away, brows drawing together as he did a quick assessment, smoothing his hand down from his chest to his stomach. Sure enough, the blockage of his Root tenketsu coupled with his high state of arousal was causing retrograde chakra to build and swirl in molten circles at the point just below his navel.
Ugh. Troublesome.
While Neji probably knew all the tantric and meditative tricks to contain and sublimate that sexual energy like a freaking monk, Shikamaru wasn't equipped to hold it.
Okay. Calm down. Think. Assess.
Easier to do when his blood was in his brain. Taking a slow breath, he forced the mental cogs to turn and spin.
Alright. So this is uncomfortable as hell, but there's definitely a boner-BONUS. Definitely a bonus.
Said bonus being that Neji's little tantra energy trick had helped replenish the chakra reserves Shikamaru had expended back in the locker-room – which meant he'd have plenty of chakra with which to draw out his next move.
Yeah, if I ever move from this freaking table.
Naruto looked worried. "You okay?"
No. "Yeah."
Yeah right. He'd have excused himself if he didn't think standing up might cause his hard-on to upturn the table or take out someone's eye. Was Neji suffering at all?
He will be when we get the hell out of here…
Because 3 dry orgasms coupled with 3 weeks of scheming definitely inspired a few creative cogs to start turning in his bloodless brain. On all accounts, Shikamaru intended to pay Neji back every drop of pleasurable punishment – maybe with a little interest.
And now I've got the chakra to do it justice.
Though his dark eyes smouldered, Shikamaru knew better than to let his smile show. That would only challenge Neji to prolong this game and continue the torture. Shikamaru needed to move fast here. Given the Hyūga's pride, the shadow-nin calculated the best way to get Neji to end this round was to get him thinking he'd won it.
Let him think I'm at my limit.
When in truth, thanks to tantric torture, he was at his peak.
Wiping all traces of cunning from his face, Shikamaru aimed for the wounded look of defeat and shot Neji a murderous glare. He'd have sent out a lick of chakra if he didn't think Hinata, Ino, Naruto or any of the other sensory-nin might pick up on it.
Yeah, if Kiba doesn't pick up on my pheromones first…
Thank Budai and all his shiny replicas that the abundance of food and drink served as a cover scent. Although, at the rate Shikamaru's blood pressure was climbing, he was pretty sure it would only take one look at his blown pupils and burning skin to sense something was up.
Tch. Something's UP alright.
He was starting to seriously wonder whether it would ever be down at this rate.
Come on, Hyūga, look at me.
Neji was currently dividing his attention between his dessert and some weird-ass story Ino was telling about corsets and Kakashi-sensei and while several of the Chūnin began roaring with laughter, Shikamaru wished to god the disturbing Copy-nin-in-a-Corset visual would take the edge off the rock-solid blade tenting his damned pants.
Dammit, Neji.
With his guard down, it took Neji a few seconds longer to pick up on the I'm Burning Imaginary Holes in your Stupid Smug Face glare which Shikamaru kept shooting his way. On the fourth attempt, Neji sensed the look and glanced over, his gaze turning mockingly speculative. Shikamaru's jaw flexed and while his gaze didn't go pleading, he forced it to go pained.
Come on, Hyūga. Take the bait. Put me outta my misery.
For a second there, Neji simply watched him with veiled amusement, until, leaning back slowly, he stopped smiling that demonic demi-smile and cleared his throat, pushing his plate back subtly before tapping his palms down on the table. Apparently that was some kind of conclusive signal because his team were on him in a shot.
"Oh Neji come oooonn," Tenten whined. "You didn't even finish dessert."
"The burning hour is still youthful!"
Groans and boos around the table and Shikamaru resisted the urge to feign food poisoning. He wasn't below that. Not at this point. Fortunately, Neji didn't cave to the pressure. Shaking his head, he caught the waiter's eye and gave a subtle sign, requesting the bill.
Naruto whined a low note. "Listen to Bushy Brows, man. The afternoon's still young!"
Neji gave an eloquent Hyūga snort. "For you Chūnin, perhaps."
"And there it is," Kiba riled, though he was grinning with good humour. "He's pulling the rank card – straight outta his ass."
Neji gave a slim smile. "Would you rather I pull the stick out instead, Kiba?"
"Nah. I'm gonna let the bill do the damage."
"Ugh. I am soooo stuffed," Ino groaned, pushing her plate back. "Neji. That was amazing. Even if you are bailing on us."
"I have reports to finish. But by all means, feel free to stay for a final round," Neji invited, spreading his hands in a magnanimous gesture as he slid out of the booth and went to meet the waiter halfway rather than settle at the table.
As the group stood to rotate seats and dessert menus, Shikamaru took the opportunity to act and slid out sideways, keeping his hips strategically turned towards the aisle and his body in the shadow of the pillar.
Ino's voice froze him in his tracks. "Don't think I can't see you slinking off, Shikamaru!"
Sighing, Shikamaru made sure he was standing safely outside the pavilion before leaning over the backs of the benches, shaking his head. "I'm wiped. I was up at Stupid O'clock training."
"Pfft. Yeah right."
Like a Budai-bellied Saint, Chōji came to his rescue. "It's true, Ino. You should see the crazy trench-knife swinging routine. Awesome stuff. Give him a break. He's actually earned it."
A scot-free pass, right there.
Shikamaru took it, clapping Chōji on the shoulder before leaving the table to the next round of whatever the heck Kiba was ordering just to bump up the bill. The restaurant was beginning to fill now, votive candles taking the place of the overhead lights which steadily began to dim for dinner ambience.
Neji was standing at a payment desk.
Shikamaru smiled and headed down the outermost aisle, moving like a predator on the far periphery of its prey. Watching Neji, he narrowed his eyes and sent out a lick of chakra.
White eyes flashed up instantly.
Their gazes caught across the busy restaurant, struck like two livewires, the air going electric between them. It was only at this point that Shikamaru dropped the tortured act and allowed the small conquering smile to slip through; a look which caused Neji's smug countenance to waver, his lips parting, the hollow of his throat deepening.
Shikamaru could almost hear his breath hitch.
Got you.
Smirking, Shikamaru held the blistering stare until he passed beyond eyeshot, heading for the exit where the shadows of the foyer seemed to thicken and shiver in his wake.
Alright, Hyūga. Game on.
TBC.
Endnotes:
Haragei: In martial arts circles, haragei refers to those arts which supposedly enabled the practitioner to sense threats or anticipate an opponent's movements. Haragei literally means belly-art, often translated as a gut feeling, intuition, or pre-perception.
Jūkenpō Onibi: Gentle Fist Art: Will-o'-the-Wisp (Hyūga jutsu)
Kage Yodo – Shadow Pool (Nara Jutsu)
A/N: Okay, so this chapter original ended up being in excess of 60 pages – the longest I've probably written. Which meant there was too much lemon to digest without tipping the alkaline balance into the RED ZONE. As a result, I cut the chapter. But the good news? The next half of it will be up very soon (just a bit more to go). In one way, this evens out UtS into a neat 30 chapters by the time it ends…which is better than ending on an odd number, right? RIGHT? (insert superstitious Kakashi face here) More to come, my lovelies. More to come. Pun totally intended.
A/N(2): Typos. I hate you. I'll be back to bust a cap in your horrid little arses.
REVIEWERS: Dear reviewers! Ah my dear and faithful chakra-givers. I know you've been waiting for this. Thank you so much for your feedback for the last chapter. Naturally, I hope this one pleases – yes, I'm sorry to have cut it. But don't worry, the next ShikaNeji fix is coming very, VERY soon. As always, love and appreciate hearing from you. Only 2 more chapters to go now...well, 1 and a half, I should say, considering I cut this. When you read the next part you'll appreciate why. I think Shikamaru and Neji deserve the next instalment all to themselves.
Reviews = Love = Insanely happy and grateful, though no less crazy, Writer. THANK YOU!
