A Virgin Kiss

Chapter 40: The Mirror

The restaurant was almost empty. It was just Kiba, Shino, Sakura, Neji, and Gaara now. Kiba and Shino were going to stay and settle with the owner, and the other three were just waiting on Sakura to get back from the bathroom before walking out. Gaara had watched how Naruto had looked at Sakura’s butt as she walked to the ladies room. The blonde was sitting there looking a little down. Gaara decided to tease him, for contrary to what his brother believed, he had begun to get the habit of this joking thing you did with friends.

“What a sad little mess your love life is, Uzumaki,” said Gaara. “Poor Hinata desperately loves you, and she could be a tree for all you care. You lust for Sakura who isn’t interested in you. But you really love Sasuke.”

“What?! What the fuck? Gaara!” sputtered Naruto.

“Sex with Sasuke will be a thousand times better than with Pink Hair,” said Gaara.

Naruto leaped up and swung a punch at Gaara. The sand flew from the little gourd Gaara had brought with him in lieu of his two jounin bodyguards for the first time that night.

“You—you—“ Naruto was struggling to come up with a term appropriate for Gaara.

Gaara leaned in close to Naruto, his sand swirling around the red and blonde heads preventing the others from hearing his whisper, “Trust me, sex with someone you love is so much better than with someone that just gets you hard. Think about them when you jerk off, and then come back and tell me I’m a lying fool.”

The sand settled back into the small gourd. Naruto looked at Gaara horrified. Gaara smiled—it was the first time Naruto had looked at him like that, that way almost everyone looked at him. But it didn’t matter because he was helping Naruto. The stupid blonde just didn’t know it yet.

Naruto’s head finally jerked around to his empty glass. “Some people like girls you know,” he muttered.

“I’ve fucked girls, Naruto. Surely you haven’t forgotten that time in Tensu City with Jiraiya have you?” said Gaara.

Naruto looked over at Gaara and suddenly noticed over Gaara’s shoulder the look of deep pain on Neji’s face. He shut his mouth and returned to looking at his glass.

“Hey, Naruto, being bi is cool,” said Kiba, “You know I’m bi; let me tell you it gives you more options.”

“You’re not bi, your tri,” snapped back Naruto, “I know you do it with Akamaru—“

“Sakura’s coming,” said Shino.

Sakura met them smiling, “Sorry to hold you up! I really don’t need an escort home, Naruto! After all I’m the chuunin, and you’re the genin!”

After a little more squabbling and chit-chat, the four left Kiba, Shino, and the owner with thanks and bows. The walked together to the hotel, and with more good-byes split into two pairs. Neji and Gaara stood on the steps of the hotel watching Naruto and Sakura disappear down the street in the darkness. His bright yellow hair and her pink locks caught the light from the buildings and the moon. It took a long time until those bright heads of hair couldn’t be distinguished.

Gaara felt Neji’s hand on his neck, massaging it. The stood there looking up at the moon. “Trying a little matchmaking?” Neji finally said.

Gaara suddenly turned around and looked at Neji very seriously. He gathered up chakra and reached out, grabbing Neji and transporting them to their room. There he gazed at Neji solemnly, seriously, and, it seemed to Neji, sadly. “Naruto and I are alike in more ways than being jinchuuriki,” Gaara finally said. “We love men with blood inheritance limits, men who are some of the most powerful ninjas in the Five Countries, men who will have to marry women and have children to keep that special inheritance alive. We have to take what we can get when we can get it. He’s running out of time just like we are, and he hasn’t even had a chance to taste what he’s willing to die for.”

Neji suddenly felt ill and sat down on the bed. He’d talked with Gaara about his clan’s desires for him long ago—when was it? Was it that first night? But it didn’t matter when, he’d been honest. The Hyuuga men were all pressured to marry in their twenties—and not really given a lot of choice about with whom either. The clan, the survival of the clan and its precious blood inheritance came before love. They’d demanded the life of his father, why would they hesitate to separate him from the man he loved? He didn’t even know if he could sleep with a woman—that would be the ultimate irony, wouldn’t it? To have his heart broken and be forced to marry and then not to be able to impregnate the chosen woman--would it come to that? He felt Gaara’s fingers pulling the black scarf from his head. His fingers traced over that green mark, the seal, his curse.

Gaara lowered his head and softly kissed the curse seal, then sat himself on Neji’s lap and kissed his lips. His kiss was gentle, light, soft. Neji opened his lips and let Gaara slip his tongue in his mouth. He tasted of saki and barbeque and of, well, Gaara. Neji let himself fall back on the bed, pulling Gaara down with him. “Let’s move up higher on the bed, Red, ok?”

“Should we take our boots off?”

“Later,” was all Neji said as he stretched out fully and looked over at Gaara, letting his eyes move up and down his body.

“Are you going to pierce me tonight, Neji?”

“No, I’ve drunk too much, Red. I want to be in perfect shape when I do that.”

“So you want to be uke tonight? I’m all ready to do some penetrating,” said Gaara mischievously.

Looking at Gaara in that black mesh, those tight pants, and those sexy laced-up boots, Neji smiled. Maybe Gaara was right, they didn’t have much time. “Sure,” he said and then laughed at the expressions that flashed across Gaara’s face—surprise, delight, and then a look of such intense lust it made Neji feel a little nervous.

Gaara sat up and looked down at Neji, smiling and licking his lips. He bent over Neji and slowly undid the buttons on Neji’s shirt. He then slowly pulled the fabric aside, revealing all of Neji’s torso. Neji watched Gaara’s mouth open as if to comment on what he saw, but then he just ran his tongue slowly along the rim of his upper teeth. Neji waiting to see what Gaara would do now, expecting to feel that tongue and teeth on his nipples and skin. But Gaara moved to straddle Neji’s legs, facing his boots. He leaned over to grasp one boot and pull it off, his ass and thighs in those tight black pants there in front of Neji.

The sight of that ass in front of him—he could look at that all night. Grinning Neji focused his chakra and concentrated on keeping his boots on his legs. Gaara shifted, tugged, strained, and shifted—his ass in those tight black pants moving and shifting. Then Gaara’s body stilled—he’d caught on to Neji’s trick—and that red head rose up and looked back at Neji. “Nej?”

“Yeah, Red?”

“You ever hear the saying that for every action there’s an equal but opposite reaction?”

“Hmmm, you sure that’s how the saying goes? I—Fuck!” Gaara had distracted him and formed a sand clone standing on the wall above him, leaning on the ceiling. Neji found himself hanging from the clone’s arms, dangling in the air, his legs hitting the bed for just a few seconds and then swinging free as the clone moved over a bit.

Gaara smiled at Neji, the predatory gleam back in his eye. Shit, pulling that little prank with his boots was a bit of a mistake, thought Neji. That slim figure in black came over and pulled the boots off with ease. Then he pulled Neji’s tight pants down and off as well, leaving him naked from the waist down.

As Neji thought about ways to break the sand clone’s grip, he suddenly was released and dropped down into Gaara’s arms. “Gotcha,” said Gaara his voice rich with satisfaction.

“You better,” said Neji, “You better take care of me tonight.”

Gaara looked down at Neji with an expression that the Leaf nin couldn’t quite read and then adjusted his body in his arms and carried Neji over to the bed. The redhead sat leaning against the headboard with the Hyuuga on his lap, his head cradled against Gaara’s shoulder. For a while he just stroked Neji’s hair. Then he said, “This will be the tenth time you’ve let me be the seme, Neji. I remember every one of those times. Aside from that first time when Shukaku was controlling me, I’ve tried to take good care of you. How does it feel when I’m inside you?”

Neji stiffened against Gaara—the tenth time, he’d been uke nine times? How did it feel? Sometimes painful (at the start and afterwards), and sometimes wonderful (when Gaara was hitting his prostrate and making him cum). But that was just his body—how did it make him feel emotionally?

“Neji?”

“I’m still thinking about it Gaara, let me think a little more,” replied Neji, his thoughts returning to how being uke made him feel. Bad. Good. Weak. Protected. Feminine. Fantastic. Frightened. Fabulous. Foolish. Vulnerable. Safe. Sexy. Satisfied. Stupid. Hypocritical. Naked. Needy. Overwhelmed. Embarrassed. Uncool. Upset. Unnerved. Un-Neji. Fuck—no—no—I will not panic—I am not panicking—I can’t breath—he’s holding me too tight—have to breath—have to get away—have to get up—no—no—I’m Neji—I don’t panic—I’m a genius—I’m in control—I’m fine—

“It’s ok, baby, it’s ok,” whispered Gaara, holding the shaking Neji and stroking him. “You’re ok, you’re safe, don’t worry, baby.” Gaara felt anything but safe—Neji hated being uke so much, he started hyperventilating and trembling? But, but this afternoon, this morning—this love had all seemed so right, so solid, so secure. Gaara noticed with shock his own hand was shaking a little. The words of comfort spilling from his mouth—he’d never said things like this before. Where they for Neji or for himself?

Suddenly Neji pulled himself up and out of Gaara’s arms. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said and bolted into the little room, shutting the door. Everything seemed weird to Gaara—ever since he had mentioned losing Neji to a wife, things had seemed off kilter, different.

In the bathroom, Neji washed his face. He’d definitely drunk too much. He was so close to having the crying jags, that depressive, after tearful funk that hits when you drink too much with too many doubts and hurts. He’d been thinking of dumping Gaara, of not going back to Suna, but to hear Gaara talk of just waiting to be dumped, to be left—expecting it, expecting Neji to just be one more person in his life who didn’t love him enough, who wouldn’t be there when Gaara needed him—it hurt. Why did it hurt? It was true, wasn’t it? They hadn’t promised each other anything had they? They were young, no one ended up with the person they lost their virginity to, right? It was all about being young, having fun—why couldn’t he breathe? Oh, god, he was going to be sick. He didn’t puke from drinking—no, not Hyuuga Neji. No he wasn’t gagging, he wasn’t going to, he would—uuuuuugggggghhhhh, splat. Neji knelt down in front of the toilet, trying not groan or make noise. The last thing he needed was for Gaara to run in and see this.

Gaara ended his third-eye jutsu, shocked. Thinking about being uke made Neji puke? But, but, he had asked, almost begged—that one time, and only that one time. But he had gotten off, he had seemed to like it—was he puking because he was drunk? But he’d seen Neji drink tons more than he had tonight, and he’d never gotten sick. Was he regretting this morning and afternoon? Was it something he’d done at dinner? Was it because of his talk about Neji getting married? `Oh—maybe Neji was sick at the thought of losing me!’ Gaara suddenly thought. `He’s hurting—I have to be strong for him.’

Gaara stood up and undressed. He wouldn’t bother Neji with questions, with thinking. He would use his body to reassure him, to seduce him back to the Neji of this afternoon, to his Neji, his lover. Gaara smoothed lube on his cock, hard again—he suddenly grinned. Anyone able to get an erection for someone who just vomited has to be in love. His hand went up to the pendant Neji had given him—he was loved. He had been loved. `Whatever happens in the future,’ thought Gaara fiercely, `I was loved, I was loved for a whole month. I am loveable.’

Gaara walked over and jerked open the bathroom door. Neji was standing at the long counter with two sinks in it, looking pale but otherwise fine. He was fussing with his hair in the large mirror that ran from counter to ceiling. Gaara had to smile—that was his Neji.

“You don’t have to make yourself pretty for me, Hyuuga. But, hey, if you want to look in the mirror while I make love to you, that’s fine with me.” Gaara moved up behind Neji. “Let’s get this shirt off you, White Eyes, so I can see your sexy body.”

As they both watched, the green shirt slipped off Neji’s shoulders and was tossed aside. Gaara carefully pulled all Neji’s long hair together into a tight roll as if he was going to tie it in a ponytail. But instead he wrapped the hair around his fist and jerked Neji’s head to the side, biting down on Neji’s neck. Lifting his mouth just a centimeter and raising his eyes to meet Neji’s in the mirror, he said, “Watch me as I mark you, Neji. You’re my lover, and I’m going to make love to you. And you’re going to take it like a good shinobi and not run.” Neji’s eyes widened at those words, but Gaara didn’t keep looking to see what emotions followed that little moment of shock. He was too busy sucking, tasting Neji, smelling his scent, feeling that silky hair in his fist, under his control.

When he raised his eyes to look in the mirror, Neji’s were shut. Gaara tugged on his hair, disappointed. “Don’t be a baby, Hyuuga, it’s a hickey. You like them, remember? You must have forgotten a lot of what you like when we were apart. I’m going to have to remind you.” Angry white eyes glared into Gaara’s. Gaara put his fingers up to Neji’s mouth, “Suck them, White Eyes. Or do you want it rough? Am I misreading you?”

But Neji opened that mouth and his tongue licked at the fingers in front of him. Gaara groaned and pressed his cock into Neji’s back. Neji’s eyes held his as his tongue flicked over the fingers, teasing, and then finally sucked them in. “So hot, so fucking hot,” Gaara whispered. Then Neji’s mouth tightened and released rapidly around Gaara’s digits—and remembering how it felt when the Hyuuga did that around his cock made Gaara’s head tilt back and his eyelids slide down.

Neji pulled his mouth off the fingers and in a low, dangerous voice said, “Eyes open, Red.”

Gaara moaned and released Neji’s hair, pushing him forward and reaching down to spread his legs and asscheeks. He spit again on the fingers before sliding one in. Their eyes met in the mirror as he forced it inside that tight pucker. Neji’s hair had spilled around his face that showed—showed everything—that expression of pain, yet pleasure, that look of vulnerability and need, that haunting look of submission and love. Oh, god, that look, that look he would never forget. Gaara slid another finger in, fascinated. No prostitute had ever looked so fascinating, so erotic. This was Neji, Neji with his lips apart, with his face full of need and humility—and pleasure.

Gaara found Neji’s prostrate and began to work it, and that pink mouth opened and moaned. Oh fuck, oh god, he was going to cum on Neji’s back before long if the Hyuuga kept looking like that. Gaara pulled his fingers out and lifted up Neji’s ass, positioning his cock. Then meeting those white eyes that looked so vulnerable, so dazed, he slid in.

“Aaaahhh!” cried Neji, a high-pitched, feminine sound—a uke sound, his bitch’s sound. Neji was balancing with his hands on the counter, and Gaara pulled his legs up harder, thrusting in roughly. Neji cried even louder, his face twisting in with pain and pleasure. His eyes looked wide, almost frightened. Gaara felt something in him stir—it wasn’t Shukaku, but it was that part of him that shared some of Shukaku’s needs and feelings. He, Gaara, was in charge, was going to push Neji to the breaking point—he would see that he liked this, that his body liked this, that he belonged to Gaara, that a fucking from Gaara would give him an orgasm more intense than any he’d felt yet. Gaara began thrust in, hitting Neji’s prostrate, making Neji cry out. He rode his love hard until he could see tears running out the side of those white eyes.

Pulling Neji’s chest up against his own, Gaara stopped his wild thrusting to be more gentle. His hands however tormented Neji’s nipples before moving to lift and settle Neji’s body over his. He turned Neji’s head, to lick at those tears, to taste their salt. Then he turned Neji’s head back to the mirror. “Look, look at that sexy, sexy man. Look how gorgeous he is, how magnificent. Look at that face, that beautiful expression. Look at me loving you. Look at how your cock likes this. Look it’s wet, it’s ready. I’m going to touch it now, I’m going to stroke you, and you’re going to cum for me, Neji. You’re going cum right in my hand, and you’re going watch, watch how your body likes this, wants this, needs this. That’s my cock in your ass—“ Neji whimpered and tried to turn his head away.

“Look, dammit, look.” The white eyes turned back to the mirror, tears glimmering in them, but the mouth was opening and panting, and each thrust seemed to send an expression of pleasure flickering over that face.
“Do you want cum, Neji?”

“Yes, Gaara, please.”

“Then look at me, what’s in your ass? Say it!”

“Your cock, Gaara.”

“And you like it, don’t you?” Gaara aimed precisely and thrust.

“AAAAHHH! Yes! Yes! Yes I like!”

“Good boy, you can cum now,” said Gaara grasping Neji’s penis and starting to stroke him just how he liked it best.

“GAAAAARRRAA! AAAHHH!” The cum flew and hit the mirror. Neji’s face—oh, god, from the first time he’d seen how Neji looked in orgasm, nothing, nothing, so good—Gaara cried out and shuddered—he was dying, this had to be the end—nothing this intense could be lived through—nothing, nothing . . .

They ended up panting on the cold tile floor of the bathroom. They should shower, they should get clean. Gaara picked up Neji and just carried him into the bed. Neji--Neji, the clean-freak and perfectionist--said nothing when Gaara shut off the lights and pulled the blankets up over their sticky, sweaty bodies. They had nothing left physically.

But Gaara struggled against his exhaustion, against the need to sleep—he couldn’t let Shukaku steal more of his soul, his personality. He had everything to protect, everything right here in his arms.