In his enjoyment of the touch of her skin, Neji found himself to be utterly gluttonous.

Somber breaths of frigid autumn had exhaled all throughout the Hidden Leaf, and her small apartment had been effectively victimized by the austere chill. She didn't "believe" in using heaters, content to smother herself in extra layers and imbibe on barrels of piping hot tea. Always more vulnerable to the cold than she, Neji had no choice but to endure beneath her blankets; thankfully, he could do so in the comfort of her company, holding his arm around her form as they spooned all throughout the rest of the night.

It was now the morning after. Tenten's breaths were low and soft. Like clockwork, he had woken up at five in the day, and he gladly awaited her rise from slumber.

One could hear life distantly as it chirped outside—old carts rolling through the beaten village paths, early-rising ninja jumping cross the rooftops, and the euphoric tweets of unprisonable birds; yet he focused on the sounds of her sweet exhales, the slow drawings of air that filled up her chest. The outside world—everything that wasn't her frigid apartment, everything that wasn't the heat of her body—was immaterial like some abstract concept. Nothing felt so real as this immersive romance that had stolen his senses and swallowed his heart.

So Neji thought only of Tenten in his arms. He thought only of her sun-tanned skin, her so-winsome mahogany eyes, the impossible emotions of the night before that lingered thickly in his chest.

And how he loved this girl.

And there was ample fondness in the way that he held her. She wore a loose t-shirt where his hand was underneath. His arm was curled across her form as she laid on her side, with his other arm happily beneath her neck. Neji held her dearly, as one would with a most precious thing, his bare chest pressed against her back. With legs intertwined like crossed fingers, he drowned in the penetrating closeness of it all.

And never would he have thought something appreciable in this somber, frigid autumn, which reminded him quite of his own household, were it not for the sweet warmth of this girl he loved. How comfortable it was to embrace someone else when oppressed by climate as chilling as this, and how different it could be from the grim asperities and watchful eyes of the Hyuuga estate. These scarred plasterboard walls and sparse decorations, these flat, weary pillows owned since age nine, they were infinite in superiority to his namesake's furnishings—for they housed Tenten, they had been touched by her, and thusly beckoned his abundant preference. If he were so privileged, he might wish to stay here in this small apartment than ever to return to his clan's household.

It was a startling thought.

And it was one of the most startling emotions to ever afflict him. After last night, something changed permanently. He was not so eloquent as to afford that change with appropriate words, nor was he perceptive enough to understand it in a way that could make sense to anyone, much less himself.

What he knew for certain was that he had been graced by physical affections in a way that he had never experienced before. It was not quite sex (or maybe it was), and it was shockingly pleasant. He could not think of it too vividly without growing hot in the face and wanting for more—and now, he was strangely unrepulsed by it all, even though, in his mind, last night was objectively indecent—at least on his part. He had begged her to touch him. He had shown her the bare face of his hideous desires. And he had done something so disgusting to her glorious hand, which had siphoned from him a most decadent, dishonorable, unprecedented release.

And the night was cherished by him all the same. He was different, now—someone braver than the immature version of himself that had pushed her away on that first fateful night. Neji didn't even recognize that cowardly person—and he now felt foolish to have ever reacted in that way. And he could blame it on a terrible cacophony of his inexperience, his spectacular misconceptions, and how deeply he had feared being like those he looked down upon: sex-crazed adolescents, lecherous adults, and all the worst, perverted creatures who couldn't manage one breadth of logic without first obeying to the whims of their libidos.

He had to believe that he was different from them. And he very well did. And he could choose to delight in his growing physicality with Tenten as something special and romantic, not repugnant and immoral. The tenderness of it all, and the feelings it had conjured up, seemed sufficient proof that there was such a thing as decency in companion with sex, without the added requisites of marriage and reproduction.

And now he couldn't bear the thought of being absent from her, he wanted only to be with Tenten in this very apartment, he could be satisfied with staying here and doing not much else, so long as her close company remained near to his own. But what had really changed? One couldn't know for certain. He seemed to feel a sharp increase in his desire to be more apart of her world. Their lives were already closely-interwoven, yet he wanted more than what they already had. Neji wanted to experience everything with her. He wanted to endow himself with every one of her emotions, including her love, her shame, her erotic desires, for which he could not yet declare himself to be an expert in understanding.

He wanted to know her so intimately, until no mysteries remained. The most rare and untouchable fibers of her, the shaded crevices of her soul, and the intricate fabrics of her exuberant life—he should find them and drape them over his body, such that her presence could eternally blanket his own.

One day, he would try to communicate these feelings to her. But he was still unskilled in giving shape to his emotions. So Neji hoped that she might know them well enough, for now—that his fondness for her, and his yearning to be closer, could be tangibly felt in the embrace that he gave. Unspoken tenderness, though lacking in expression, was for now the most potent of affections he could offer.

Nearly an hour passed after his awakening, and finally, Tenten began to stir in his arms. He laid still, hoping not to aggravate her delicate slumber, but the noises outside were growing in volume, and like any trained ninja, she was always quite alert to her surroundings.

"... Neji..." she hummed, her eyes still closed as his back was at her chest. "... You're awake, huh?"

"I am," he answered. "I thought I was silent. How did you know?"

"You're always up before I am. Even in my own house."

"I've never stayed the night with you before."

"Yeah, I know... Is that gonna be a problem?"

She was tacitly asking of his family arrangements, which mandated his return to the Hyuuga premises at night unless good reason could be supplied for his absence. He hadn't thought much of it; the temptation of laying with her in the aftermath of last night had been irresistible like starved lungs wanting for air.

"No," he replied—less out of sureness, and more so from carelessness. Another startling, new mode of temperament for him. He began to stroke her arm, planting a kiss upon her shoulder. "It will not be a problem."

Though she was still morning-weary, the laugh she breathed was full of life. "Good. Because I want you here again tonight."

Something warm fluttered in his chest. It was pleasing to know that her feelings mirrored his own. "I thought the same all morning, Tenten."

"And the night after, and the night after, and the night after..."

Neji grinned against her skin, because the thought of staying here longer and longer filled him up with great excitement. Nonetheless, his words were coy, "... I'll halt you there. You'll make an enemy of my uncle before you've even met him."

Tenten scoffed. "Does your uncle even know that I exist?"

"Of course he does."

"Because I'm on your team?"

"Because I speak of you to him," he admitted, and half-regretted immediately. He could hear the smirk forming on those impish cheeks of hers.

"Oh, so you talk to your uncle about me, huh?"

"I misspoke."

"No, no, I heard you loud and clear." There was childish delight in her new revelation. Tenten shifted in his arms so that her face was aligned with his. "What kind of things are you saying about me to your uncle?"

His lips gave a partial sigh; it was not his foremost pleasure to talk of family right now. "... Uncle knows of our relationship. And he's obliged to mind his business."

"Does he know my name?"

"Yes, of course."

"Does he know what I do?"

"He knows of your specialties."

"Do you tell him that you like me?"

"I do." He answered. Because it was true.

"... Oh." She mumbled in surprise. He saw her cheeks imbued with pink. "Great. Now, I'm embarrassed."

Their eyes connected for some moments, as his answer seemed to have shocked her. Was it really so unbelievable? Over the years, his uncle had become more mildly paternal, more interested in his life beyond his servitude to the family, and no longer was Neji much conscious of the curse mark in uncle's presence—which was quite an achievement. He simply didn't feel threatened by that man anymore, and there seemed to be an understanding that invoking that power even once against his nephew would irrevocably vanquish their still-tentative relationship, thus replacing it with the cold, ugly thing that it once was.

Nonetheless, uncle was stoic. He was neither kind nor keen to much tenderness. The man would ask him, 'How was your day, nephew?' and Neji would reply, 'It was sufficient, uncle.' Uncle would ask, 'How goes your squadron?' and he would say, 'They are well enough.'

Then he'd often go, 'And Tenten? Things are well with the two of you, I hope.' To which Neji could barely muster anything beyond, 'Yes. We are well.'

His voice was almost amused. 'Are you charmed by her?'

Neji felt ridiculous. He's too old for patronizing questions like this—and his face got hotter against his will. '... Yes.'

And his brow would raise every time, in a most infuriating manner. 'And she, by you?'

'Uncle—'

'Nephew.'

'These matters are irrelevant. I will see myself out, now. Excuse me.'

The partners and spouses of branch family members were of much less importance than those of the main household—which was its own kind of privilege—so he could freely pursue whomever he wished, so long as he carried himself respectably, and that his chosen person would not bring scars upon the esteemed Hyuuga clan.

But uncle asked of her somewhat regularly, and seemed tepidly intrigued by his relationship with her. He didn't know why. It made him uneasy—and really, with the exception of Hinata, Neji was inclined to keep Tenten at a distance from his family, from their influence, and their unusual ways, which were surely bizarre to anyone who hadn't grown up experiencing them.

"You did this to yourself." He kissed her briefly on her forehead, pulling her body an inch closer. They needn't dwell on this subject. "Ask no more of my uncle. I refuse to think of him in bed."

"Hmm. Fair." Tenten shifted in his arms. "... Now, I kinda feel bad. I don't have a family to tell that I like you."

... Her solemn tone of voice confused him. Was she sad to admit that?

"You have me," Neji said. "... I hope you'll always tell me so."

She looked up at him with those alluring eyes, full of emotion that he wished to perfectly understand. And then another smile came upon her lips, a soft, small curl at the corner of her mouth that ensnared his heart in its bewitching grasp. "... Yeah. I will."

And so enchanted by that flower-sweet smile, he could think of no better action than to kiss her right then. So his hand massaged up from her arm to her cheek, and quite confidently, Neji closed his eyes, as so did she, and pressed his lips against hers.

And the love that he had came through tenfold.

And Tenten's kiss spoke clearly of her own. The subtle motions of her lips, the airy, affected moan in her throat, and the tender pressure with which she reciprocated... what heaven could host more paradise than the adoring passions bestowed by his lover?

Years ago, he might have thought that a ninja had no use for love in his soul. He'd have written off those feelings as ailments of the mind, self-assured that his own would never fall so ill. He'd thought that one could not survive as a shinobi with a glimmer of weakness for anything at all—not ordinary sins, not fruitless hope for a changeable future, and certainly not for the love of another.

If Neji could see that boy, his barely-adolescent self, right before him now—he would feel such pity. And were that self to appear in this room and observe what he had grown up into, what he'd someday experience—then he'd be speechless, surely. Though he had always generally approved of Tenten (she was the most tolerable presence in his life at the time), he would scoff to have ever imagined her as someone he could love and touch and speak comfortably to and share himself unabashedly with.

Last night had made them so much more familiar. He determined that to be the very crux of it all. Tenten's body and his own—his wretched maleness, she knew it now as he knew her pliant, perfect breasts, as well as the visage of her sexual desire, for which he exchanged his in rife abundance.

And he thought of this as their kiss came apart. Her warmth was stained across his lips. With eyes half-lidded, Neji gazed at her tenderly. Their noses were only centimeters apart, and Tenten's eyes were sweet like molten pools of exquisite chocolate. For some seconds, they were silent, close, and warm—together.

When she spoke up again, her voice was soft. "Neji. Do you ever think about how different we are?"

His brows tightened just a little. The question made him mildly uneasy. "... Are we that different, Tenten?"

"I think so," she said. "Not in a bad way. But, still... definitely different."

"Tell me how we are different, Tenten."

"The way we look, the way we talk," she began. "I'm all scrappy, and let's face it—you're the most polished and proper ninja in the Hidden Leaf."

"Then think of your achievements," Neji said with a begrudging smirk. "You had me more improper last night than ever I've been in my entire life."

He saw her cheeks grow scalded by blush, which lent him some slight satisfaction. "... Hmph. Well, you're right. I had you wrapped around my finger—or, it was more like, my fingers were wrapped around you."

Neji grunted. "Yes. I was there."

"And you liked it, huh."

"Don't press me, woman."

She lightly tapped her finger on his nose. "You're cute when you're pressed."

Neji raised his brow in perplexity. She's never done that to him before. What a rare, confounded gesture, and how furthermore bizarre to be called that word—"cute". No one else in the world would ever term him that way. And should anyone other than Tenten dare, he would probably jyuuken them off of a cliff.

Naturally, he reciprocated by tapping his finger to her nose, just to see what the action felt like. Her faced scrunched up in a way that was undeniably endearing. "... Why do you now think of our differences, Tenten? Are you concerned about something?"

The girl hummed thoughtfully. "... No, not really. I just, you know... it's the morning after. I know I'm joking around, but I still I hope you're okay with everything we did."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I guess I'm a little worried that I sullied you or something."

Neji couldn't help himself—he laughed at her immediately.

"Hey!" she whined, smacking his shoulder. "That wasn't a joke, Neji. I meant it."

"What do you think I am, Tenten? A white cloth that you've left some stain upon?"

"... More like an innocent boy that I just cussed a bunch of nasty words in front of."

He scoffed at her. "I am not so innocent as you think. Inexperienced, perhaps..."

His fingertips played a smooth, hot trail from the flesh of her arm, the skin of her waist, and eventually, her most shapely thigh, whose form was immensely pleasing to touch.

"... but not innocent."

She blushed adorably again, which made him smile. Neji laid another kiss to her dear forehead. Still, he needed to make himself perfectly clear, that she had no reason to be concerned for his virtue.

"Tenten. I don't want you to ever think of 'sullying' me, as if there is something poisonous about you." he said, and he suddenly thought of her kiss from the previous evening, how she'd touched his curse in more ways than one. Mindful of this, he added on, "... any sort mark that you could leave on me, I'd prefer to remain like a lasting tattoo."

"... That's really sweet, Neji. Thank you." she uttered warmly. "... Wait, you want a tattoo of me?"

"That isn't quite what I said."

"I'd get a tattoo of you." the girl affirmed, turning to lay on her back. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling. "People do that, don't they? They get tattoos of the people they love. Like their initials or birthday or something."

He shuddered, somewhat, to imagine the Hyuuga name blistered into her skin, for the same reason that he worried for her coming near the Hyuuga estate, the same reason that he worried for her taking on that name as an act of matrimony. "... There are better options you could choose from, surely."

"Mm... I'll definitely get a tattoo for Team Gai someday. I don't know what yet."

The thought quirked his brow, though he was glad for the subject change. "Of the jumpsuits, you mean."

"Oh, gods—absolutely not!" She let out a retching sound. "Never that. I was thinking something a little more symbolic. Maybe a subtle reference to one of the missions we've been on."

"As long as it isn't—"

"The 'curry of life' mission? No, that one counts, too!"

She grinned cheekily at him, to which he sighed wearily. "And you'd want all of us to get that same tattoo, I suppose?"

"What? No, no. I wouldn't expect anyone to do that."

"... We would. If you suggested it."

Her voice was colored in surprise. "Really? You think so?"

"Yes."

"Even you, Neji?"

"I'd prefer something subtler than that repugnant plate of curry," he acknowledged. His distaste for tattoos, in general, made the thought rather troubling—but after last night, he thought more kindly of permanently etching one's body with the mark of his loved ones. "... and it would have to be very slight in size. But there are worse tattoos for a man to have."

"Aww, Neji—you do love Team Gai!"

And he grimaced immediately. "Those words shall not leave your lips ever again."

"Neji, what has it been—eight years, now? There's no shame in admitting that you care about your squad, even just a little."

"There's no point in speaking of it."

"A tattoo is, like—the loudest way to speak of it." she argued lightheartedly. "Hey, do you want one right now?"

"... You aren't suggesting that we go to a tattoo parlor this instant, are you?"

The mischievous glimmer in her eyes suggested something otherwise. "No. I can give you one right now, right here in my bed. If you want."

Neji furrowed his brows at her. "I'm not allowing you to take a needle to my skin, Tenten, no matter how skilled with weapons you are."

"Geez, Neji..." And she made that particular face that she makes—a quirk in her grin, a frown at her eyebrows—whenever she expressed something that he failed to understand. "I guess it's my bad for trying to be coy with you. Neji, I was talking about giving you a hickey."

"A..." he had to ponder on the word for a moment; it was new to his lips, a stranger in his vocabulary. Neji pronounced it slowly, perturbed by its every consonant. "... 'hickey'?"

"Yeah. A hickey. Do you know what they are?"

"You are tricking me. It cannot be a real word."

She looked to be resisting the laughter in her throat. "It's a word, Neji."

"Then it is derisory, adolescent slang. I have no use for it."

"Neji!" she exclaimed. "You're so silly. I'll show you—it's just a little..."

The woman trailed off as she shifted in bed. He may have lingered on her insult—"silly"? Hyuuga Neji, the genius that he was, "silly"? It was worse even more than being called "cute"—but she came to grasp his hand in her own, and began to pull it towards her lips. His eyes darted towards her, watching in silent suspense as she lowered her mouth to a patch of flesh just below his palm—and then a sharp intake of breath arose when she suddenly sucked at the pale skin of his wrist, a touch which was brief and not so vigorous, but nonetheless shocking for the warm feel of her tongue.

Tenten pulled her lips away, appearing satisfied with her work. "... That's a hickey. Now you know."

Mildly fascinated, Neji examined the newborn mark on his arm, holding it over his eyes as he laid on his back. "It is a bruise."

"People call these hickeys. And showing one in public is considered..." Her eyes seemed to search for the most appropriate word. "... improper."

"I see." he stated mutely. For some seconds, he was transfixed on the mark. It was no tattoo; already it was beginning to fade from his skin, for the suction of her lips had not been harsh enough. "... Is there a purpose to this?"

"It's not so exciting when it's just on your arm. People usually do it around the neck—like, when you're making out, or when you're..."

She trailed off again. They locked eyes hotly. He understood her meaning.

... His cheeks warmed ever slightly, for he remembered each time that she had kissed his neck last night (and that fiery moment when he had felt her teeth), and he recalled the way that it had made his heart race. Tenten's touch had been its own kind of tattoo; everything she'd done was ultimately brief, but the sweltering sensations of it all held such indelible permanence to him. Undoubtedly, the memories of that night would live as immortals in the pathways of his mind.

With her explanation, Neji supposed that he could now see the appeal in this thing called "hickey"—despite the laughably insipid terminology. It was a mark of another person's passion, it was evidence that someone had wanted his body. And he could see why that might be considered indecent.

Being shown this simple matter of romance reminded him firmly that he had much to learn. Although his confidence had grown in the wake of last night, and he was fairly proud of how far he'd come, Neji had to concede that the evening before was a mere introduction; if he wanted to steepen his intimacy with Tenten, he'd have to acquaint himself well with the intricacies of sex—and hopefully become the kind of man that could give her expert pleasure like she'd given him.

So he leaned closer to his lover's body, allowing his lips to near her neck. "You are more knowledgeable of these matters than I."

"I'm... I'm just as inexperienced as you are," she said; he could hear her gulp as his lips made contact. "... but, yeah—maybe."

But he didn't mark her at all—it was another simple kiss; if "hickeys" were so improper, then he couldn't let her walk around with such a thing on her body. "You'll have to teach me everything you know."

"I can tell you some things. But let's just figure everything out together, okay?"

He brought his face in level to hers. They both watched each other, silent, peaceably, and with an undercurrent of affectionate desire. She moved closer to him, and it seemed that her lips sought the comforts of his own once more...

But then there was suddenly a noise at her window.

Both of them sat up readily in bed, and their eyes darted to the window steadfast—it looked to be a village messenger bird, tapping excitedly at the glass with its large, orange beak. In its mouth was a scroll with the hokage's seal, indubitably addressed to Tenten herself.

"I'll get it," Tenten said. Regrettably, she removed herself from his body and got to her feet. The girl arrived at the window quickly, lifted it open, and extracted the scroll from the obedient bird. It flew away the moment that she opened up the message.

"What does it say?" he asked, some annoyance in his tone; duty-bound ninja or not, it was irritating to have this sweet morning interrupted by obligation.

Her brows raised as she scanned the parchment. "Oh, uh... we've got a mission, it looks like. Lady Tsunade wants us right way."

"Us?" he echoed in bewilderment.

"Yeah. I guess, somehow, they... uh, they knew you were here."

It was a most disconcerting thought.

Lest he grow more unnerved and more agitated, Neji chose to belay that thought from his mind as he lifted her blanket from his form and begrudgingly dressed to see the hokage. This was exactly how things always went; a shinobi could not bask in tenderness long, he couldn't be dismissive of the outside world and its numerous affronts—which would always intrude on human comforts, like lounging in bed with his lover all day.

Within minutes, they were out the door and sailing the rooftops. And her mark on his arm had faded completely.

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