Worth the Trouble

Worth the Trouble

Chapter Three: Game for Two

Part I: Neji

Neji opened the door of his room in the Maple Bend Inn and experienced A Moment. It was, to be precise, that moment that happens only once in a lifetime, twice if you’re very lucky and never if you aren’t. All Neji’s senses but vision shut down as he recognized that stranger whom he’d always been looking for. Neji couldn’t hear, smell, taste, feel, or move. He was frozen at the sight before him. He didn’t really see any details—it was the whole effect: his dream man, sexy, gorgeous, perfect. The stranger had one arm on the doorjamb, his head tilted down to that same side, so his wet brown shoulder-length locks fell around his face allowing only a glimpse of a gold earring and soft, glossy pink lips. The skin-tight black long-sleeved fishnet shirt made it impossible not to see the six-pack abs, the perfect chest with just the right dusting of hair in the center, and the arms with their perfectly sculpted muscles.

Neji wasn’t sure how long he’d been frozen, but he was suddenly aware the dream man had spoken, and he had no idea what he’d said. And then the head lifted, one arm waived a shogi board in his face, and to his horror, he realized the vision was Shikamaru. Even worse, it was Shikamaru without any jutsu to enhance his appearance. Then the horror doubled as he realized what Shikamaru had meant before he’d dashed off after dinner. Neji would play SHOGI with Shikamaru, and Neji would be fucked because he’d lose the game. Fuck, he already felt like he’d lost several games.

“Neji? Just say yes or no, no pressure, man.”

He didn’t know what the question was, but mostly like it had to be would he like to play shogi. “No,” he said, feeling that he needed to be alone to process what had just happened.

“Great,” said Shikamaru, “Cause I don’t want to be alone tonight either. You can pick white or black, Neji, it won’t matter either way.”

Fuck! Still feeling a little shell-shocked Neji stepped back and let Shikamaru enter. As he passed by, Neji’s nose twitched. Something smelled medicinal, stinky—and Neji felt himself start to blush. He’d recognized that smell—it was an ointment that was used both to relieve hemorrhoids and to cover up dark circles under the eyes. Shikamaru had hemorrhoids, and he’d accused him of going to buy condoms or porn! Could this night get any worse?

It could. There was only one chair in the damn room, and Shikamaru lay down on one side of the queen-sized bed flipping open the small magnetic travel board and placing it in the middle of it. He tumbled out the koma or pieces, sorting them into two piles. His head was supported by one elbow, and those shoulder length damp locks were now tucked behind his ears. Small gold hoops glinted in his ears, and Neji felt the insane desire to suck on one of them, then those ears. Instead he busied himself pouring them each a glass of water before laying on what was obviously now “his side” of the bed.

He felt like a sick pervert, although he knew Shikamaru had deliberately been provoking him. He wondered if the hemorrhoids in some weird way were responsible for Shikamaru’s arousal today. Once when he’d experimented with a dildo, the next day his own asshole had been a little sore. The pain had made him constantly aware of his anus and its every contraction. He’d had a little trouble with unwanted erections that day.

Numbly, he chose black, and they placed their pieces on the board. He noticed that Shikamaru handicapped himself rather severely, but not too much to be humiliating: he removed one rook and one bishop, returning them to little bag in which he kept the koma. As a result, Shikamaru had the first move, which he made with no hesitation. After ten minutes, Neji made his move, thankful that silence and long pauses were the norm in shogi. Famously in one tournament held in Wave Country a few years ago, a player had taken over two hours before making his move. Shikamaru took only a few minutes with his second move, but Neji was pleased that as the game progressed, his opponent often reflected for ten or fifteen minutes before deciding which piece to move.

Neji was a little surprised to find himself relaxing as they played. He observed the game with an odd detachment. Shikamaru was stripping him of his pieces and gradually dropping them back into the game. If he didn’t turn things around, his king would eventually be in check. Losing usually bothered Neji, but tonight it didn’t. He was still feeling the shock of discovering Shikamaru was sexy, really sexy. Besides, everyone knew that Nara loved shogi and could be a professional at it; there was no shame in losing to him because everyone did. Pride was involved in how little Shikamaru had handicapped himself, how long it took, and whether when one conceded to him, one’s king was in check or in checkmate.

After an hour, Neji had to admit he was enjoying himself. Meditation was a good hobby, but hardly social. Shogi was an interesting compromise. One could be with someone else, but no words were needed, plus there was no pressure to hurry. He knew that some liked to play with set time limits for considering each move, and many people simply lacked enough patience or intelligence to play at all. He grinned remembering how Naruto had pulverized a very nice board of the Hyuuga family when Hinata had challenged him to the game.

“Tell me,” said Shikamaru, breaking the silence.

“You already know the story I’m sure of when Hinata challenged Naruto to a shogi game,” said Neji.

Shikamaru laughed, and Neji caught his breath. At sunset, he’d found the sight and sound of Neji laughing appealing. But now, with his hair loose and the tight fishnet showing off his body, it was mesmerizing. He almost wished that Shikamaru would flirt with him again. It was hardly likely, however; few men stinking of hemorrhoid cream would try to attract another man.

As they continued the game, Neji found himself watching Shika more than the pieces. Shikamaru’s hair was distracting. It seemed astounding that was the same hair that had been sticking straight up in a ponytail at dinner. Neji also found himself liking how Shikamaru looked as he stared down at the magnetic board. That look of serious concentration made him wonder what it would be like to be the object of such focus. It was hardly likely, he concluded, that the shadow nin’s lovemaking skills would be as brilliant as the tactics and strategy resulting from tonight’s concentration. Sadly, Neji could only appreciate the brilliance of Shikamaru’s shogi moves after his own pieces had been captured.

When Neji finally conceded the game, he’d lost track of the number of moves each of them had made, but he was pleased that the game had lasted about an hour and half. Shikamaru didn’t ask if he’d like another game, just began putting the koma in the little bag.

Watching the shadow nin’s graceful hands move, Neji found himself saying, “Well, I played with you, and I was fucked.”

Shikamaru looked up with his warm brown eyes, raising one eyebrow.

Neji flopped back on the bed looking at the white ceiling like he had earlier before dinner. He could feel Shikamaru’s eyes on him, and he added with a fake sigh, “It wasn’t as a bad as I thought.”

“If you want fucked harder,” said Shikamaru, shifting a little closer on the bed, “I can take the left lance not the bishop tomorrow night.”

Neji rolled his head a little to look up at Shikamaru. God, how had he not seen this beauty in Shikamaru? Oh, yeah, because he never saw Shikamaru, the little shit never looking at him and avoiding him over the past years.

“Why did you avoid—“ Neji stopped himself, looking away. He didn’t want to admit he’d noticed Shikamaru’s avoidance of him, suggesting that it had bothered him. Shifting movement on the bed made him look up again, and Shikamaru was leaning over him. His hair hung around them, and slowly he moved his head down. He was going to kiss Neji. He could stop him, probably should stop him. But he didn’t want to. And then those soft pink lips touched his, but before he could decide if he liked it, before there was even time to consider the whole issue of tongues, Shikamaru drew back.

He looked dazed, and he slowly rolled over and got up. Neji watched him pick up the shogi board and pieces. Shikamaru walked around the bed to the side Neji was on, and he made no effort to hide that he was erect.

“Goodnight, Neji,” he said softly, “Thank you.” And he turned and headed for the door.

As he opened it, Neji sat up and called, “Shikamaru.”

He turned, his face full of passion, his body beautiful in the soft light, and his erection straining his pants seemed fitting and right.

But Neji couldn’t bring himself to call him over, to take him to his bed. “Good night,” he said, his voice husky. “I’ll see you at five o’clock tomorrow.”

Shikamaru nodded and turned, letting Neji see a back that didn’t disappoint one bit. It was worthy of that ass he’d admired all afternoon. Then Nara was gone, the door shut, and Neji sensed Shikamaru setting a trap on the door, so he wouldn’t have to get up and do it himself.

Neji lay there on the bed unmoving, aware of his body’s readiness to make love. He moved his hand, not to touch his arousal, but rather his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed by a man with such innocence, such sweetness. It had been too brief, much too short a kiss, but his lips seemed to tingle beneath his index and middle fingers. He sucked the tip of his thumb and let its wetness slid over his lips, but they still felt different as if Shikamaru’s kiss transferred some drug to them.

Neji suddenly laughed, hoping the tingling wasn’t the effect of a trace of Formula H, the popular hemorrhoid cream. He shuddered. There was nothing remotely sexy about hemorrhoids. He’d better make sure Shikamaru stayed hydrated tomorrow and had some fiber—wheat pancakes with bananas and walnuts, maybe some prune juice would be good to order for breakfast. He should go down early and order for both of them.

With a grin, Neji got up and got ready for bed. Later, after he set his alarm and settled down to sleep, he found himself half hard. He tried to decide if it was worth masturbating, but before he’d made up his mind one way or another, he’d fallen asleep with his hand on his cock.

Part II: Shikamaru

At the store, Shikamaru picked up the lube he wanted. It wasn’t really for his ass, but his cock. He’d decided he was going to be jerking off quite a bit for the next month no doubt, so he might as well pick up something better than his moisturizer, which had a slightly distracting scent. He also had to admit that he did want to have some lube and condoms in case things did work out between Neji and him. He picked up a small packet of condoms, and with his true needs met, he went looking for a small tube of Formula H hemorrhoid cream. It could serve two purposes, really. One, it would be a lovely mindfuck for Ibiki-Neji, and two, on the off chance that Neji just might be interested in sex tonight, it would rule out Shikamaru as a bottom. Well, actually it would pretty much rule out sex. Oh, and three, if Neji did want to spank him, he might rethink that.

Wait was that a good thing? Yes, it was; in fact, it was really good, Shikamaru told himself. Neji didn’t value men that he won easily. The smell of Formula H would remind Shika that he was not going to Neji’s room tonight to pathetically beg for any drop of affection or sexual contact Neji might deem to give him. No, he was going to show Neji how the ninja Shikamaru chose to hang out with would enjoy himself.

Surely, Neji would enjoy tonight—the man was smart and mellow. A shogi game or two had to be better than just going to bed at a ridiculously early time. The trick of course would be getting into his room. But he had a plan.

Returning to the inn, Shikamaru smiled at seeing Neji at his window and catching his eye. That was a good sign. And judging by the stiffness of his carriage, the Hyuuga was still affronted, annoyed at his bratty little declaration. Oh, this would be fun!

When he reached his room, he quickly prepared himself. This was a jounin exam with Ibiki-Neji, and he was going to pass. After a piss and brush of his teeth, he was ready to transform. He stripped off his shirt, stepped in the bathroom, and put his head under the sink. He had weird hair, although at least it wasn’t pink like Sakura’s or purple like Hinata’s. If he combed or brushed it, his hair got thick and heavy. It would stick straight up when he fastened it. But if he just let it air dry, scrunching it in his hands, giving it only the teeniest bit of finger combing, it hung down normally and curled a bit. It took a little time to fix that way, too much for him to bother with normally. But for Neji, it was worth the trouble, Shikamaru decided.

When he was satisfied, he’d done his best with his hair, he dug out one of his fishnet shirts. It was getting too tight, but he’d packed it anyway, thank heaven. He took out the studs he usually wore, putting in his old gold hoops. They felt sexier shifting in his ears, brushing against his skin. He checked in the mirror again. Yes, he looked like he was ready to go clubbing—ah, but that lip balm. Yes, the not-quite gloss on his lips was the right touch. His shogi board and koma were there on the bed. He consulted his watch, and then smeared a bit of Formula H on himself, washing it off his hands. He sniffed; yes, he’d used just the right amount: the scent was obvious, but not overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, he slid the koma bag in a pocket and picked up the board.

Knocking on the door, he felt a buzz of excitement. It was too much excitement to show Neji; he had to look less interested. He put an arm on the doorjamb and tilted his head down, partially resting it on his arm. Finally, the door opened.

Peeking through his hair, Neji’s expression startled him. He’d never seen the Hyuuga look, well, pole-axed. A feeling a triumph welled up in him, which he suppressed, straightening to look Neji in the face. “Hey, how about a game of shogi?”

Neji didn’t seem to have heard. No, Ibiki-Neji, Shika sternly told himself, knowing that if Neji saw the slightest bit of a smirk, he’d never get in the door. “Would you prefer to be alone tonight, Neji?” he asked, pleased with how he was reminding the Hyuuga of the boredom that would result from refusing to play.

It was a little unnerving that Neji didn’t answer. “Neji? Just say yes or no, no pressure, man,” he said, forcing himself to sound as if the answer meant nothing to him.

The simple, “No,” was a relief. Good, he wasn’t going to get the silent treatment. Ignoring Neji’s stiffness, he moved into the room, saying, “Great, cause I don’t want to be alone tonight either. You can pick white or black, Neji, it won’t matter either way.”

He went directly to the bed, laying himself down on the window side of it, hoping he looked sexy not silly. It calmed his nerves to get the pieces ready to play. Neji got them each a glass of water, and for an instant Shikamaru thought how lovely it would be if they lived together. He took a sip of the water on the little stand on his side of the bed, feeling Neji lay down while he was looking away. He consoled himself that before this mission was done, he’d watch Neji get on a bed with him, see him do it willingly, eagerly.

He mentally prepared himself and rolled back to face Ibiki-Neji. Oh, this was a worthy opponent. His gi was loose and gapping, showing a tantalizing glimpse of Neji’s chest. His hair was a shiny mass of pure black, a few long locks enticingly spilling towards Shikamaru. It was good that he had to place his pieces on the board, better that he would be able to focus on the game. Otherwise, he might just be tempted to touch that hair.

Shikamaru let himself enjoy the game—it was odd to play lounging on a bed, odder still to be playing with Neji on a bed. But it was an odd he liked. He forced himself to ponder strategy, so his senses wouldn’t overload with Neji. The smell of Formula H helped when Neji did something sexy like bite his lip, shift his head, move his arm, fuck, like breathe—everything he did was sexy. He was hyperaware of each move of Neji’s body, each expression on Neji’s face. Thank god, the beauty didn’t want to talk because Shikamaru wasn’t sure he could have a conversation right now without Neji finding out just how obsessed he was with him.

Neji’s play was pretty good for someone that never played. But it wasn't good enough that Shikamaru had to think too hard about the game; no, he could play to win and still observe everything about Neji—discretely, of course. He loved how the Hyuuga seemed content with the silence and the slow pace of the game. If only he would fall in love with the game—Shikamaru internally winced, admitting that what he wanted was Neji to fall in love with him.

Just as he was letting himself accept that truth, Neji grinned. It unnerved Shikamaru—it was almost as if Neji was laughing at the idea of loving him. He broke his silence, saying, “Tell me.”

Ah, it was good to have Neji’s focus on him, even better when Neji replied with a smile, “You already know the story I’m sure of when Hinata challenged Naruto to a shogi game.”

Yes, that was pretty funny, but it was even more funny how relieved he felt—of course, Neji couldn’t read minds! He laughed, and the joy of sharing a moment of amusement with Neji made him feel a little buzzed.

The game went on, and it seemed to Shikamaru that life was just more intense, the colors of everything more vivid, and the very silence full of quiet music. It was a music of the wind’s breeze, the rustle of the leaves outside, and the soft shifting of bodies on the bed. The click of each piece when they made their moves seemed loud, and if not for the intense smell of Formula H, he might think this a dream, might say something silly like, “I’ve dreamed of doing this with you for years.” Shikamaru didn’t say anything; it was safer.

Too soon, the game was over. The hour and thirty-six minutes had flown by so fast. He wanted to start another game, but he should leave now, leave this relaxed Neji, let him not feel he could take Shikamaru and shogi for granted. He slowly began putting the pieces in the little bag he kept them in.

“Well, I played with you, and I was fucked,” said Neji, and Shikamaru could feel himself start to get hard. Ibiki-Neji, Ibiki-Neji, Ibiki-Neji, he recited in his mind as he looked up as though the comment hadn’t affected him at all. He raised one eyebrow as if Neji’s words were hardly worth the effort of speaking.

Ibiki-Neji flopped back on the bed and looked at the ceiling, sighing dramatically. Then he said, “It wasn’t as a bad as I thought.”

“If you want fucked harder, I can take the left lance not the bishop tomorrow night,” Shikamaru offered, unable to stop himself from flirting and moving closer. His heart was beating in his chest insanely fast—this was the moment, the moment he had waited years for, the moment he hadn’t wanted to happen because it would change him forever.

And Neji turned his head and looked up at him, looked at him like he was special, sexy, and significant. A flicker of something dark flashed over his face, and he asked, “Why did you avoid—“ Oh, god, why had he avoided this man? Why had he been such a stupid fool to turn away from him? The thought that his avoidance might have hurt Neji was unacceptable. Neji, vulnerable, looking up at him on the bed—he had to kiss him, to give his first kiss of a male to the one man he wanted. He leaned down slowly, expecting Neji to push him away, giving him time to stop him, and, and, and bliss.

He pulled away quickly. It was enough. He’d kissed Neji.

He’d kissed those amazing lips.

He’d kissed the most beautiful man in the world, Hyuuga Neji.

He had to get off this bed, out of this room, now. Otherwise he would throw himself on the man, letting his tongue invade his mouth, letting his hands caress that body, rubbing his cock against him, fighting the desire to hold him down with shadow hands and ravish him. Neji didn’t deserve that; he wouldn’t accept that. No, Shikamaru was leaving. But he couldn’t make himself go right to the door; he had to look down on Neji one more time.

He’d kissed that gorgeous man on the bed, the one, the only, Hyuuga Neji. “Goodnight, Neji,” he whispered, adding, “Thank you.” Then before he had to kiss Neji again, he went to the door.

“Shikamaru,” called Neji.

And Shikamaru turned, knowing he was doomed. Whatever Neji wanted, he could have it.

“Good night, I’ll see you at five o’clock tomorrow.”

Unable to speak, Shikamaru nodded. He must have shut the door and walked back to his room, but it didn’t register. He was naked on the bed with the lube, his hand on his cock, and then coming, coming, coming.

He didn’t have any clue as to how long he had been lying there in the dark, but he smelled of cum and Formula H and the scent of the slick he’d used. He got up to wash and set his alarm, and when he was done, he collapsed on the bed. He wanted to think over the night, to plan his wooing of Neji, to dwell on his first kiss of a man, but instead he slid into sleep in seconds.