---

A/N: This chapter (at least the first part of it) is definitely of the citrus variety. It's not very explicit, but it has that tangy taste to it. Avoid if you must.

---

four.
CONTACT

and nothing in this world is for real
except you are for me, and I am so yours

I won't do it with you- I'll do it to you
I hope this hook gets caught in your mouth
I won't do it with you- I'll do it to you

don't say no, just say now

- Ka-boom Ka-boom, Marilyn Manson

---

Shikamaru coughed.

Whatever had possessed him at that moment, it was no longer there. He had Sasuke up against a tall rock by the waterfall- so reminescent of the night eight days before, only in reverse. It was entirely unnatural, how Sasuke didn't even protest- simply let himself be pushed back so easily, intense gaze tinged with surprise and yet some kind of knowing amusement as Shikamaru pressed their lips together.

It was awkward- Sasuke did not resist and his mouth slid open, but Shikamaru found himself leaning back, tilting his head, simply unable to hold him down- he felt Sasuke grab his arm and force it back, and he stepped back- coughed awkwardly.

Sasuke smirked, his cold, slim fingers still gripped tightly around Shikamaru's arm. Shikamaru flinched- tried to jerk away, but Sasuke's grasp was too strong. He realized just how pathetic he was- Sasuke had used him and walked away, and here he was, crawling back for more… he cursed Sasuke under his breath- cursed himself. He realized that, just moments before, as he pushed Sasuke back- that he had not pushed him away. And that at that moment he had felt rather happy about it.

They stood there for a moment that seemed to stretch forever- a fleeting few seconds in which time stood still.

Shikamaru wanted to say something- wanted to explain himself. Sasuke had used him- and now he would simply laugh and turn away- and he didn't want that to happen. He didn't… he didn't want it to end- Do I want to be used? He thought bitterly, trying to find the words. But his voice was lost to him- the words that came rose and died in his throat. How could he explain it, when he didn't know himself? "I- ah- just didn't…" he stammered, hating the way he was so nervous, hating the way he felt so vulnerable- "You… you haven't-"

And a moment later his back was slammed against the rock- painful, forceful, familiar- somehow comforting in a twisted way, somehow desirable. Sasuke was so much better at this. Shikamaru realized that in that familiar sudden sensation of pain and panic and twisted pleasure Sasuke had not turned him away- and a part of him was truly glad.

Their tongues met, twisted around each other- Sasuke's more forceful, always the aggresor, pressing and scraping Shikamaru's back against the rock. His eyes widened as one of Sasuke's hands, the nails digging into the flesh of his arms, began to wander- it found the sleeve of the thick, padded chuunin vest, His other arm slipped behind Shikamaru's back and lifted it clear of the cold, rough stone for a moment- and he slid the vest off- and without thinking Shikamaru's own hands assisted him, casting his thick jacket to the ground- it was always in the way, and he wanted to feel more- they pressed against each other in the heat and the sweat, Sasuke's cold fingers exploring the niches of his body thorugh the thin fishnet shirt, finding spots that he never knew could feel that way as they were massaged by slender fingers. Shikamaru's mind kept working and wondering and he wished, and wanted, just this once, he could stop analyzing, stop thinking- enjoy the moment as it was. And so he did- he closed his eyes, shut his inhibitions- groaned deep into Sasuke's mouth. There was only one thing he wanted to drive him- the desire that burned deep in his chest.

"Don't."

Shikamaru froze.

"Don't," Sasuke repeated harshly, commandingly, having drawn back ever so slightly so his words would be audible. Shikamaru could feel his warm breath against his own tongue.

Shikamaru shuddered as he felt Sasuke pull back, his cold hands tightening over Shikamaru's shoulders- small tears in the fishnet from his nails, and Shikamaru felt warm blood trickling across his skin. Sasuke had leaned his weight back in- but not the same as before, and Shikamaru felt his breath against his ear, instead, as his voice came- heavy and hoarse, almost a whisper, as though it took some effort to draw breath- and Shikamaru could feel it, too, that it almost labored his chest.

"Open your eyes."

A pause, a silence, and Shikamaru could feel it in the air- filled only by their ragged, mangled breaths that sounded as though they struggled to be free from their throats- and there was something in the way it felt, the way Sasuke's body felt against his own, that felt almost possesive-

"Open your eyes," Sasuke repeats, somewhat more impatiently, but softly enough- but there was something that made Shikamaru shudder and freeze up-

"Open your eyes," Sasuke growls- it was animalistic, vicious, louder- more forceful- and Shikamaru complied at once.

He found himself staring into Sasuke's hair- and it smelled faintly of grass and blood and sweat- but Sasuke tilted his head so their eyes met again.

And instantly he could read everything- raw emotion that built up behind those seemingly still eyes, the only thing telling in a coldly blank face. Amusement. Desire. Hatred. Obsession. Revenge- was that a tinge of confusion, some form of relief? He could read it- but he could not read why… what had Sasuke wanted him to see?

He didn't have much time to think of it at all- his mind blanked out again and gave in to raw instincts, groans escaping him as he felt Sasuke lick his ear, nibble along the lobe and his neck- uncharacteristically gentle compared to the force of his hands, but biting down hard on his shoulders, until he was sure Sasuke could taste the blood.

And Sasuke stands back, stepping cleanly away from Shikamaru. Shikamaru leans against the rock, savoring it's support- his knees felt weak- ignoring it's rough surface and the discomfort on his back. He closes his eyes- if only to rest for a moment- but then not long after snaps them open again, Sasuke's words- Sasuke'scommand- ringing fresh in his mind. He clutched at his shoulder, feeling pain radiate from the small but stinging wounds, patches of crusted blood- then at his chest, gasping for breath. He knows Sasuke is standing there, watching him- there was almost a hunger to those eyes, but Shikamaru hated the way they were so knowing and twistedly amused. His thoughts flooding back to him now, but Shikamaru doesn't want to deal with it- that… desire, burning, needed to be fufilled, and there was only one thing that he knew- he had to break the silence, had to say something, make Sasuke stay, or he would leave again-

"I…" he truly felt out of breath, breathing heavily, looking down- not wanting to look at those eyes again. "I... wanted to… Ino. Ino told me to talk to you."

There was a silence in which he could practically feel Sasuke's gaze burning holes in his body.

"That was talking?" the reply came- simple, unbroken even though he was as out of breath as Shikamaru was, a low, amused drawl.

Shikamaru tensed, the mocking tone only too evident in Sasuke's voice- but before he could form words he was cut off.

"Look at me." Sasuke sounded so dangerously calm… "Look at me," he repeats forcefully, and Shikamaru looks up- meets his eye. "Good," he hears Sasuke mutter amusedly, and he tenses again- what was he… ?

But again Sasuke doesn't give him time to consider anything. "Strip."

Shikamaru isn't sure he heard it right- but that look in those eyes, the sound of the voice, and he found himself complying.

Sasuke smirks, taking his time- a hawk, his eyes hungrily searching- a cat, toying with his prey. His gaze lingers as Shikamaru removes the last of his clothing- slowly yet hastily, almost fearful. Without warning he steps forward, throws Shikamaru to the ground, kneeling above him- bending over, his hands on either side, his mouth again next to Shikamaru's ear.

"Don't move," he whispers- soft only in volume, the tone as forceful as the anger in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down Shikamaru's spine.

Shikamaru realized, then, that he was letting Sasuke do this to him… letting him… dominate him. What was going on? And for a moment he felt Sasuke's tongue brush against his ear- and again he simply gives himself in.

I told you so, the voice in his mind whispered smugly.

Shut up, he tells it.

Amazingly, it does.

He doesn't move and he doesn't close his eyes as Sasuke licks at his ear again, his tongue trailing across his chest- as Sasuke's hands began to wander, as Sasuke's hand reached for his own trousers, as Sasuke presses against him, as he savors the feel of flesh against flesh, as he groans and slowly the commands forgotten they both close their eyes and as Sasuke's hands dig painfully into his hips his own are thrown around Sasuke's shoulders, and only one thing was on his mind, that desire that he finally was willing to admit to and name- lust. The world around them vanished into nothing and all that mattered was them, the gasps and the moans that mingled in the air, their blood and the sweat- the pleasure- the pain- the sensation of every thrust, the way Sasuke's name escaped his throat when they gave into nothing but lust and bliss.

---

Shikamaru wasn't sure what he should feel.

Happiness. Lust. Relief. Disgust. Depression. Anger. Anxiety…

He didn't know- and frankly he didn't care.

He staggered home exhausted and sweating, slipping in through the window to avoid his parents and troublesome questions and lay on the bed, briefly wondering if it would make more sense to slip into peaceful sleep or remain awake troubled by the consequences of everything that had occurred in the past week- but again his mind gave into exhaustion and he simply bathed in the warm afterglow and drifted off to dreamless sleep.

---

Shikamaru awoke and blinked blearily at the ceiling. He was vaguely aware of the time of day, that he was late for… something or another, and that he was feeling particularly lazy (as impossible at that seemed) and felt content to remain in his bed- and it was after a few minutes wandering in the realm of half-sleep, basking in the feel of warm satisfaction, did a violent thought strike him.

Fuck!

He bolted upright- stared at his own hands, flexed his fingers- almost to check if he were real, if he was dreaming. He closed his eyes, thought back- the memories flooded into his mind, clear as day. His hands flew to his shoulders and sure enough he felt scars where Sasuke's nails were just a night before- scratches across his skin and crusted blood on his hips.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

He tried to think clearly- tried to, but failed, and violent swearing was all that he could muster, screamed in his mind and muttered under harsh breaths, his nails digging into his own palms- only that they reminded him of the way Sasuke clawed at his skin, and as his thoughts became more frantic, all they did was Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck.

Deep breaths. Slow. Count down from ten, he willed himself. Just do it- do it.

Fuck… fuck. Ten.

So he'd been raped. Fucking raped. By Sasuke, of all people. His memories told him that he had consented, but he shoved it aside- for the love of all that was holy he couldn't deal with it then. Shades of gray were great and all, but black and white was much simpler to think about.

Nine.

The Uchiha had taken is virginity. God- he wanted to kill the fucker now. What made him think he could just go up to him, push him to the floor and just… have his way? Just like that? He wasn't about to be used and thrown away by some selfish bastard.

Eight.

All he could think of was burning hatred, and never in his life had he felt this much- after all his capacity for apathy and emotional detatchment was honed to perfection. What kind of self-obsessed prick was that guy? Proud as he may be, that voice in his head whispered- and God, did he hate that voice right about now- You're the one that let him do it.

Seven.

Let him? Let him? I didn't let him do anything! Shikamaru argued with himself- and all that anger was instantly directed at... himself. Shikamaru didn't know how to deal with extreme emotions like these- he had after all avoided them completely. Yes you did,the voice taunted, Don't you remember?

Six.

No, in fact I don't. People tend to block out their traumatic memories. Such as being fucking raped by a fucking stalker.

Five.

You remember.

Four.

Even if I do I don't fucking want to.

Three.

Try to remember, why don't you?

Two.

Squinting his eyes shut, he willed himself to remember- and it didn't take much effort. The smell of sweat and mud and grass and blood, strands of his hair falling into his face- Sasuke had torn off the band at some point of time, and whenever it was it was forgotten- such details were lost in the torrent of memories of overwhelming pleasure and pain and the feeling of each and every-

One.

It was then that he realized his breath was shorter, faster, more hurried, his face flushed- he was getting excited.

He threw himself back onto his bed and cursed.

---

"Your dad told us you were sick, Shikamaru."

Ino nodded in agreement from behind Chouji's back. She watched Shikamaru sprawled across the bed, pale and sickly looking, cold seat soaking his skin- the only thing that looked familiar about her friend was his ever lazy posture and the faraway expression on his face.

Shikaku said that Shikamaru had slept through the morning- checking on him they found him sweaty and tired and squirming uncomfortably in the bed and they had decided a day of rest would do him good. They had no idea what was wrong with him, but the questions weren't really asked- yet another thing about shinobi villages. Sicknesses were not unheard of, but more common was the plight of psychological trauma. They applied a very simple philosophy to it. Don't ask.

Shikamaru was clearly shaken. Ino slid a sideways glance to Chouji, who inbetween his mouthful of chips glanced back and nodded ever so slightly. He had known Shikamaru for far longer than she had. He understood- like Shikaku probably did. It would be an illness until Shikamaru said otherwise.

Shikamaru nodded grimly and acknowleded their presence. Ino felt a worry swell in the pit of her stomach as she and Chouji sat down by the windowsill. She had never seen Shikamaru like this before- so shaken, so… she couldn't even find the words.

Her eyes caught sight of the vase of flowers to the corner and she couldn't help a small smile. The only reason he kept those things around was because she gave them to him. It went unspoken, a simple gesture like this- that Shikamaru would keep something so troublesome to maintain was a mark of their friendship.

Shikamaru spent most of his time lazing around on the grass- and he said he felt an affinity with the grass. While she couldn't quite bring him grass to grow in the vase, she did bring flowers that Shikamaru liked (wild ones, weeds sometimes) and some that she thought were fitting. Shikamaru had spent enough time lazing around the shop hanging out to pick up some- probably most of, given that brain of his, she thought- the language of flowers that her mother had patiently taught her. She leaned over and tucked in some dandelions- wish-granters, her mother called them- poppies- yellow and white, bearing messages of friendship, dreams and peaceful sleep- and though she wondered if Shikamaru would notice, some talks of marigold- that was said to soothe aches of the heart.

Whatever was wrong with Shikamaru, Ino had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with… with what he approached her with the other day. For now, this was all she could do- and maye Shikamaru would pick up on it, too… there were times when they exchanged flowers as a means of talking, and Chouji didn't know the words of flowers but understood what they meant to them both (it certainly started many rumors flying around the academy at the time). Sometimes Ino thought that Shikamaru just enjoyed the subtlety of it- the arrangement and the flower choices were to him a puzzle to be read, like everything else.

"More flowers," Chouji said, chewing thoughtfully.

"That's right, Chouji, more flowers," Ino snapped indignantly- it was just in her nature to do so.

"I don't understand those things."

"I could always teach-" she sighed and shook her head, not bothering to finish. She and Shikamaru had tried to on more than one occasion but Chouji was much more interested in which plants were edible and which plants were not- survival training, he said. "Didn't you bring anything for Shikamaru?"

"Yep," Chouji grinned widely, beaming. Rumaging around he soon pulled out- food. A bag of chips- different than the ones he usually ate… but then again it always seemed like he had a billion of those things. Ino rolled her eyes. "They always help me when I'm sick," Chouji beamed, holding them out to Shikamaru brightly.

Ino watched wearily as Shikamaru pulled himself upright and massaged at his head. He coughed a little, groaning deeply- his eyes flickering from left to right, as though watching for something…

"Hai," Shikamaru mummured blearily, looking up at Chouji and forcing a smile. "Mendokusee, ne."

Ino noted the forced nature of it, but smiled. Same old Shikamaru.She knew Chouji noticed too, but he was far better at masking his worry than she was. She poked Shikamaru playfully in the shoulder. "Feeling better, Shikamaru?"

He grinned weakly, flinching away slightly from Ino's touch- enough to let her know that he'd rather not be, but not enough to make it seem like he was taking offense. "Rather… arigato, Chouji," he said, taking the chips from Chouji's hands. "And you, Ino," he added, eyes travelling to the fresh flowers.

Ino nodded and smiled- hid an inward frown. She was not sure if she saw it right, before Shikamaru jerked away, but there were scars- fresh scars, to the point where there might have been crusted blood- on his shoulders… what had happened to him? Did… did they still hurt? She was a medic-nin…

She looked up to find Shikamaru's eyes studying her quietly. A brief moment of silence passed between them before he spoke.

"Marigold, Ino?" He said softly, gaze trailings off to the flowers.

She nodded, watching for his reaction. He looked thoughtful, distant, and nodded quietly.

"I think that would help," he said.

She understood.

---

It was incredible how much a simple visit from friends could lighten one's day.

He didn't feel any less angry, any less disturbed, any less torn and confused and don'tfuckingtouchme but her felt much calmer now- much calmer, and more able to reason and think clearly without interference. And so he sat on his bed, his hands in a circle, thinking quietly.

Maybe it's the marigold, he thought.

The marigold.

He still remembered. Marigold was something that was supposed to aid the healing of wounds of the heart. He looked at the flower arrangement- he wasn't sure if it was in harmony or whatever Ino always went on about, but it… looked nice. And as always, meant a lot. Friendship. Support. Peace of mind.

He reached out to touch the soft, orange petals- warm, inviting, comforting… so unlike those cold, prying fingers- he shuddered (and for a moment he didn't know if it was from fear or from excitement) and brought his hand back to his chest, hating the way he felt so vulnerable.

And after all that, he thought bitterly, he still was no closer to knowing why.

Ino was a great friend, a worthy confidante. He would have to return to work at the office sooner or later or Godaime was going to have his head. Maybe he could pay her a visit at the flower shop, he decided. Getting up would do some good. Moving around would go some good. Walking- fresh air, just get out, anywhere, anywhere where he didn't have to just sit there and try desperately not to think of memories of the way those muscles rippled beneath almost unnaturally pale skin with every-

A walk would be good.

He got up, pulled on the jacket and vest over the fishnet shirt and made his way down the stairs- not even pausing to hesitate, as though afraid that if he did he would stop and not move on. He nodded to his father, and Shikaku simply nodded and watched his son on his way.

As he walked down the road, he wondered vaguely why he hadn't just went with what everyone thought and went ahead and fell in love Temari instead, or even Ino. It would make everything much less troublesome, the rumors easier to deal with- and it would be easy to tell her, with flowers and- Wait.

Fall in love with Ino? He blinked.

…Instead?

---

A/N: This chapter's a little shorter than usual, but that's because I had planned to have it go on abit more- but I found this a much better place to end it. Thank you to everyone who's read this and those kind reviews so far- I wasn't expecting much from this, being more or less an experimental crack!fic, but I'm having more fun with it than I thought- and the feasibility of this ship surprises me.

I've always felt that Ino and Shikamaru's friendship could be more meaningful than most believe. I'm not going to completely ignore his friendship with Chouji, of course, but I think that the InoShikaChou trio are all the best of friends- and if I were in Shikamaru's position, I would confide in Ino more than Chouji for something like this. With all that gossiping she's bound to know something, no?

And I am not good at the citrus! T.T

I went back and updated the previous chapters, fixed some typos I noticed (probably missed 90 of them) and added in a nifty thing at the top.

Til next time, folks!