A Virgin Kiss

Chapter 35: The Difference

“The sand is sticky tonight,” said Neji inside the dark sand shell, “How come sometimes it sticks to us and sometimes it doesn’t?”

“It depends on how much I can focus on the sand and how much chakra I have,” said Gaara.

“Your chakra levels are fine, Gaara-chan, so I guess I distracted you tonight, eh? Or are you just a secret exhibitionist, is that what’s got you all unable to focus?” When Gaara said nothing, Neji continued, “So being watched turns you on? Then maybe you should have to walk back to the suite in nothing but your weapons, robe, and sandals. I got a little excited myself cutting up that turtleneck and your pants, so I was planning to return by jutsu, but if it gets you so hot, you can’t perfectly control your sand, we should walk. Would you like that?”

Gaara’s response was to perform the transporting jutsu himself. Neji, fully clothed, found himself in the brightly lit main room of their suite with the large stone sofas, staring at a glaring, naked Gaara, whose clothes were nowhere in sight. For a second, Neji thought they were in the wrong room since the room seemed to have exploded with color. Bright rugs were on the floor, cushions on the sofas, and vases of flowers provided ornamentation, which had all been missing yesterday.

But it was hard to look away from Gaara. The red rugs, the red cushions, the red flowers—none of them were as bright or vibrant to Neji as Gaara’s hair. The shock of red on his head and at his crotch against that smooth, pale skin—the seductive thrill of seeing the marks left by his mouth on that whiteness, and those eyes—those glowing green eyes inside those dark black rims—from the first time Neji had seen Gaara, he’d thought him stunning. Naked, his lips puffy and swollen from Neji’s kisses, his nipples red and hard as well: this was becoming a familiar sight, but it still could freeze Neji in his tracks, overwhelming him with a sense of amazement that he was this man’s lover.

But looking over Gaara, it occurred to Neji all his clothes—his sliced up clothes—were still on the balcony. He grinned, “Tsk, tsk, we really are distracted, aren’t we? Left something behind didn’t we?”

Gaara said nothing but turned around and stalked over to a small table that hadn’t been there before with various bottles and glasses. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it. When he turned around, he smirked at the bulge in Neji’s pants.

The sight of Gaara’s tight ass with its fading hickeys and base of the butt plug pushing apart those buttcheeks, holding in Neji’s own cum—god, how was he supposed to look at that and not get hard? Those patches of sand stuck to Gaara’s back where he had sweated, a sign of his distraction, his loss of control—how could that not fill him with sexual pride and the desire to fuck? Just as a cat spotting a mouse can’t help but want to hunt, instinct made Neji hard, craving to bury himself again in that body.

“Will you go get my clothes for me, Neji?”

“Give me an incentive to go, Red,” Neji forced out, not really joking since leaving this room was the last thing he wanted to do.

“You can spank me for forgetting them when you get back,” said Gaara pausing in the doorway to the master bedroom. He looked back over his shoulder and the expression on his face seemed to move from Neji’s eyes into his brain and through his body with a burst of heat, like he’d just swallowed liquid flame.

Neji retrieved the clothes barely aware of what he was doing and dropped the garments in the doorway—it seemed like no time at all had gone by, but this, this was a sight even more provocative. Gaara was kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, holding a small paddle in his teeth. He crawled forward on his knees, stopping in front of Neji, bowing his head with the paddle still in his teeth.

Neji’s heart was pounding so loud, and his brain seemed to have shut down. His hand took the paddle from Gaara’s mouth, but he just stood there immobile. His lips opened and closed as he tried to speak, but nothing was coming out. Gaara lowered his head and began licking and kissing the bits of flesh on Neji’s foot left exposed by his sandals. His head down, his ass jutting in the air—Neji’s body reacted to the sight without waiting for his mind to catch up.

He sat himself on the bottom of the bed and freed his cock from his pants before bending Gaara over his lap. The feel of their erections rubbing together, the sight of Gaara’s asscheeks spread wide by that toy—it had Neji feeling like he was in dream. His ears were filled with a weird rushing sound punctuated by faint drumbeats. He watched himself jerk the plug out of Gaara’s anus with the hand not holding the paddle. The pale body draped over his lap didn’t buck or jerk or make a sound.

Yet, he had to have felt it, for that pink starburst contracted and widened. As Neji stared, transfixed, some cum pooled in the center of that pink pucker, and two small, glistening trails formed as some of that liquid spilled down moving slowly towards the small of Gaara’s back and towards his balls.

Neji bit back a moan and felt a spurt of anger at Gaara’s silence. Why was he the one unable to speak, the one who couldn’t stand now if he had to, the one barely able to breathe? Neji shoved the plug back in rapidly, wanting Gaara to cry out, to show some weakness, some neediness. But that little flinch—had that been Gaara or himself? Neji would make Gaara moan, make him admit to feeling as weak as Neji did. The paddle descended and landed, with a sharp crack.

The sound shook Neji out of his odd state. Shit—this was the first time they were in this bedroom aroused together--it shouldn’t be about pain. But perversely the situation made Neji angry, and he brought the paddle down hard with each angry phrase he snapped out, “What . . . The Fuck . . . Is Up . . . With You? . . . Why . . . Do You . . . Want . . . This?” Neji stopped and waited for answer. After almost a dozen smacks, Gaara’s ass was red again. Neji could feel Gaara’s body quivering and shaking, but he still hadn’t said a thing.

“Dammit!” cried Neji, throwing the paddle away and sliding his arms under Gaara’s chest and legs to pick him up. Standing Neji walked around and put Gaara down on the bed and rolled him over, climbing up to straddle him and look down into his face.

Gaara shut his eyes and turned his head away. “What is this? You didn’t even want to pinch your nipples in Konoha for one minute, and now you want me to beat your ass every night? What’s going on? Is it this suite? I don’t care if we have to share a futon and one shower, if this room is driving you crazy, we are out of here, Gaara! Talk to me, Red, talk to me!”

But Gaara rolled his head back to face Neji and just reached up with his face to kiss Neji, pushing his hips up, rubbing their erections together. Neji tried to pull his head away, but Gaara finally spoke—an erotic moan pleading, “Kiss me, fuck me, make me forget everything but you, Neji, make all the pain inside go away, so all I can feel is the pleasure and pain outside, all I can think of is you.”

There was something about Gaara’s words that still bothered Neji, but he was young, aroused, and had a hot, needy body beneath him. Having already come once, he felt no need to rush and just kissed and touched Gaara until the Sand nin began to beg. Neji then lay on his back and had Gaara remove the toy from himself and impale himself on his cock. The redhead worked himself up and down, stroking himself, till he at last came with a cry.

At this point Neji got up, undressed, and let Gaara clean himself and the toys. He turned down the covers, got them both drinks, and waited for Gaara to climb in beside him. Then kissing, licking, and stroking, Neji made love to Gaara like he had wanted to since yesterday when he had heard Gaara talk of his father and uncle’s betrayal of him: just skin against skin, lips against lips, tongue against skin, nothing to distract Gaara from the touch and taste of Neji—no smacking, no toys, no biting, no clothes, no watchers, no words. Neji wanted to show Gaara with his body how lovable he was, how treasured, how precious.

But it didn’t work.

Gaara was unresponsive, a pliant living sex doll, despite all Neji’s efforts. But Neji was stubborn and once more began to lick and kiss Gaara from his forehead to his toes and back up again.

It was almost a half an hour later when Gaara jerked, and cried out, “It’s not true.”

Abruptly, Neji went from lover to warrior, invoking “Byukugan!” There was no way he was letting Shukaku join them. Methodically and ruthlessly, he struck Gaara’s tenketsu as a warrior, not a lover, bring numbness, not pleasure. “You want to lie still, fine, I’m not giving you a choice. You’re not slipping away from me, Red, you’re staying here as yourself, mind and body, until I get off.” Gaara’s eyes were now wide, focused on him. Neji noted that his chakra was growing more normal as he jerked Gaara’s legs up over his shoulder and thrust into him. “You awake now, Red?”

“Neji!”

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you? How about this, will this keep you awake?” Neji slid his cock out half way, grasped Gaara’s ankles, and pushed them back against the bed on either side of his head. Then he slammed back into Gaara, driving as deep as he could.

“Yes! Yes! Harder, Neji, harder!”

Neji obliged.

“Yes! Fuck me deeper!”

Neji tried, but there was only so far his cock could thrust into Gaara’s ass, still loose, still wet from their earlier sex. But he made up for being unable to go deeper by thrusting harder, moving faster. A top-rate jounin can move quite fast. The Hyuuga’s hips slammed into Gaara, his white eyes boring into Gaara’s green ones, his face fierce with determination. A minute—three minutes—five minutes—ten minutes--

“Neji! Neji, I’m—I’m—Ahhhh!”

Feeling Gaara tighten around him with one of the only muscles Neji had left working, Neji didn’t let himself come until he could feel Gaara’s ejaculate between them. Silently, he thrust in a last time and stilled, spilling once more into that exquisite heat. Gaara, still unable to move from Neji’s blows to his chakra points, lay beneath him, eyes shut, mouth open and panting a little, cheeks and chest flushed pink. He looked half asleep with his ankles still back by his head, but as Neji moved his body and wiped it off, those green eyes opened, and Gaara made little sounds of satisfaction that reassured the jounin he could safely fall asleep now.

Exhausted, Neji curled around Gaara in the big bed. As he fell asleep, he vowed he make love to Gaara in this bed one day and bring him to orgasm gently, romantically—even if he had to tie him down and fuck him silly first. Someday, someday he’d do that. But now, now, now there was something else, something he was supposed to be doing, something—oh, yeah, sleeping, yeah. Yeah, he could do that, sleeping, yeah.

Gaara looked down at Neji’s still, resting face on his chest and the black hair spilled over Neji’s back, Gaara’s chest, and one of his arms. Neji seemed to shiver a little, and Gaara made them a blanket of sand since moving his arms and legs to get to the covers at their feet would take more effort. In the curving ceiling above them, the wooden shutters were thrown back from the circular window over the bed.

Gaara focused on the feel of Neji’s weight, the feeling of soreness inside and out from the hard fucking and the blows to his tenketsu, and the wetness of Neji’s cum inside him and its slow dribbling out of him. He studied the texture of Neji’s skin, his hair, the bedding, and his sand. He made the sand shift a little, looking like a striped blanket, a polka-dotted one, then a plaid one, but Neji looked beautiful against any pattern.

He was now laying in a little pool of wetness—the wetness of Hyuuga Neji’s cum, the cum of the genius of Konoha’s most powerful clan today. He was the only one that Neji had ever fucked, ever filled with cum. He was the only one to have ever taken the proud, strong Hyuuga, to have pushed his cock deep up his ass, to have pounded into that powerful, deadly jounin. He had made Hyuuga Neji beg and scream with pleasure. Oh, he’d made many people beg and scream in his young life, many, many of them dead now. But making his White Eyes beg and scream—that was something truly amazing.

Gaara’s hand reached out and caught some of Neji’s hair, then stilled and relaxed with some of that silky black stuff between his fingers and palm. His body ached as if Neji was still awake and fucking him, spanking him. The Kazekage lay in the bed that was his parents before him and watched the stars above through the little window, a smile on his lips.

The stars above Suna really were spectacular tonight.