Everything He Ever Wanted

Later that day, Gaara went to their band’s studio where they were going to practice. Ah, the ills of being a rock star- it was all work, work, work. (Of course, he forgets all the parties, booze, fans, and the exhilaration of playing onstage.) They were going to practice their songs and try to come up with new songs until those became as natural as breathing—or playing blindfolded, whichever came first.



Gaara got his guitar and began tuning it, trying to get it just right. He knew all the parts to the song they were rehearsing, even the solo, but he loved hearing Neji play the solo. When Neji played, it was like magic. It was breathtakingly hypnotizing.



‘Would his fingers feel as talented on my body?’



Gaara blinked. Where the hell had that thought come from? The unsuspecting guitarist came into the room at that moment as though called by his thoughts. Again, Neji was wearing one of his signature shirts in the visual kei band, a shirt that showed off his flat, creamy stomach and naval (think sai, only hotter).



‘Would his skin feel as smooth as it looked?’



He shook his head trying to look away and blushed.



Neji glanced worriedly at Hitsugi. He walked over to the younger guitarist.



“Are you alright, Gaara-kun?” Gaara jumped at the proximity of the other man and shivered lightly then froze when Neji pressed his palm against Gaara’s forehead. This was typical behavior for Neji, the man was such a worrywart as the band’s leader, always thinking that everything should be perfect—and that included the band members health.



“You’re really warm Gaara-kun. And you’re flushed.” Neji said, concern for his band mate evident in his words.



Gaara took a second too late to answer. He tried to play it off, and while Neji wasn’t convinced, he backed off when Gaara ‘promised’ that he was okay.



“You drank too much again, didn’t you?” Neji asked, his tone reprimanding. The younger guitarist wasn’t a cheap drunk, not by far, but he had his limits.



“Oh, no, it’s not that. Please, do not worry, Neji- san.”



‘Neji-san?’ Neji thought. They were never this formal unless in front of the press. Nevertheless, he could tell that the younger man was flustered, so he let the matter drop. It didn’t look like Gaara was going to talk to him. A thought suddenly popped into the taller man’s mind. Gaara wouldn’t talk to him, but he knew who the younger man was more comfortable with.



Neji left the room with the excuse that he forgot his favorite guitar pick. Gaara didn’t notice anything, oblivious to his surroundings as he tried to distract himself, making an effort to look away from the expanse of creamy skin Neji displayed.



A few minutes later, Shikamaru sauntered in, standing six feet tall, his lanky body was all arms and legs, muscular from beating drums all day. He sat across from Gaara and without preamble grabbed the shorter man’s chin and forced him to look him in the eye.



“What’s wrong, sexy?”



Gaara froze. There were a few issues he had: like people in his personal space, or surprising him, or touching him. He was a very personal person. His eyes widened, then he blushed as he remembered the dream and Shikamaru’s ‘pet’ name finally registered in his brain. While Shikamaru’s pet names weren’t something new; he called Neji ‘babe’, Naruto ‘baby’, and Sasuke ‘hon’ (of course always changing them and sometimes made them vulgar). You see, Shikamaru liked touching people. He even kissed his band members and touched… parts that were only meant for a sexual partner—even in front of the camera. Shikamaru loved to flirt, that’s just who he was. But sometimes it made his more timid friends uncomfortable, like Neji and Gaara.



“Hello. Gaara? Stop spacing out.” Gaara blinked and Shikamaru was right there! The younger man was so surprised he jerked back, forcing his face out of Shikamaru’s grasp and almost fell back when fortunately, or unfortunately in Gaara’s case, Shikamaru grabbed him, by the waist no less, and righted him. However the movement brought them face to face once more. And Shikamaru, being the spontaneous person that he is (note sarcasm) he rid the space between them and closed his lips over Gaara’s. Gaara froze and his brain short-circuited. He didn’t pull back from Shikamaru’s kiss, but he didn’t respond either. His mouth moved with the pressure of Shikamaru’s lips. Then the drummer’s tongue touched his lips and Gaara finally responded—he gasped. The intake of breath through his mouth gave Shikamaru the opening to slip his tongue inside the warm wet cavern. The brunette’s tongue touched his and it was like an electric shock; it made him snap out of his frozen state. He jerked back, this time falling to the ground as he wrenched free of Shikamaru’s arms. The guitarist sat on his backside on the floor, his legs spread on the small stool he fell from; his eyes wide with shock, his flushed expression and position making him an unknowing enticing picture.



“You should see your face, Gaara-chan. You look like you saw a ghost.” Shikamaru joked trying to lighten the sexually tense atmosphere.





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