A Virgin Kiss

Chapter 41: The Acceptance

“Nej, come on, don’t be mad,” said Gaara to the bathroom door. Neji had used his chakra to seal it against him.

“I’m not mad; I’m just trying to get the taste of puke out of my mouth, your cum out of my ass, my cum out of my hair, and the pain out of my head. I feel grumpy and like shit, Gaara, so just give me some time. Go have breakfast with Uzumaki and Lee. You know they’re downstairs waiting.”

Gaara sighed, frustrated, “Yea, but I want to eat with the man I love. Come on, Nej, hurry up. You don’t need to wash—”

“I will be the judge of what I need, Gaara! Now get the fuck out,” snapped Neji.

Get the fuck out? Hyuuga Neji just told him to get the fuck out of his own hotel room? Fine!

Furious because that was easier to feel instead of hurt, Gaara pulled on his jacket and grabbed his gourd. Without saying good-bye, he headed downstairs to his friends. Yeah, he’d felt their chakras arrive twenty minutes ago. He’d been trying to hurry Neji’s ass up, so they could spend the day together. He’d been there when they’d made plans at dinner last night. If he didn’t like the plans, why hadn’t he said something? Why—

“Gaara! Finally! Shake that sandy ass, and let’s get a move on it!” cried Naruto.

“Gaara-san! Good morning!” grinned Lee.

“You’re not going to believe this jutsu Jiraiya taught me, Gaara! Do you need breakfast first? We haven’t been out for ramen together in ages!”

“Gaara-san isn’t Neji coming?” asked Lee, ignoring Naruto.

“No,” said Gaara, “Let’s have ramen.”

“Cool! Man, I’ve missed you, sandman! So how’s Suna? How’s that brother of yours? Wow, Temari has been doing so much here; everybody thinks she’s awesome! We’re not going to let you have your big sister back!”

“Indeed, Gaara-san, Temari-san has done a most wonderful job as a liaison,” Lee added.

Gaara smiled as the three of them walked to the ramen stand. He didn’t need to say a thing. Hell, he couldn’t say a thing without talking over them. Had he always been this quiet with them? Compared to being with Neji, this felt odd. Didn’t they care what he thought? But somehow it was too much work to stop the flow of their energy. He’d always let them talk at him, direct him, lead him around. Gaara surrendered to the energy that was Naruto and Lee.


Neji felt Gaara leave without saying goodbye and felt sick again. This being hung over sucked. Of course that was why his chest was hurting, his head was hurting, his heart—no, his heart was fine. Completely fine.

`He couldn’t wait to get to his friends, Naruto and Lee,’ thought Neji unreasonably. `He fucks me silly last night, humiliates me by making me say those embarrassing things, leaves me all messy and sticky, and expects me to be happy about it and just go hang around with him and his precious Naruto.’ Somehow the fact that his teammate Lee would be with them, too, was forgotten. `He’s probably hugging him right now,’ thought Neji, tormenting himself, `and that Uzumaki had a boner last night! Fuck! Where’s that fucking Uchiha when you need him? Off betraying everyone and ruining everyone’s lives, that’s where!’

Neji growled and dumped more conditioner on his hair. Somehow working conditioner into his hair made him feel better. He wasn’t vain, he wasn’t girly about his appearance--no, he was responsible and careful. Some people understood good grooming—people like himself. `And I know when not to care as well,’ thought Neji. `I’ve never cared or hesitated to get filthy for a mission, for training.’ The Leaf nin’s feeling of self-satisfaction, however, was unsettled by a little voice in his head saying, `Then why care or hesitated when it’s for love? Isn’t love just as important as training? Is all this anger because you aren’t really in love?’

That question gave Neji a lot to think about as he rinsed his hair and finished washing his body. Had he just told himself and Gaara that he was in love because it seemed too cruel not to? Or had he been in love and now fallen out of it? But if he wasn’t in love, why did Gaara make him feel so right? Why did he only feel complete and relaxed when he was by his side? Why did thoughts of Gaara giving him up, planning a future without him, make him feel so ill, so enraged? Why couldn’t men get married? Why did loving someone of the same sex mean that everybody wanted your love to fail, to end? Why didn’t he know any gay couples that lived together and were happy?

Stepping out the shower, Neji felt depressingly convinced that any homosexual love was fated to fail. But no sooner had he thought those words than that persistent voice in his head asked, `What about Kotetsu and Izumo? What about Tsunade and Shizune? What about those two guys that own the bakery shop by the ninja academy? What about Genma and Raido? What about making your own fate, Hyuuga? Why are you giving up, forgetting the lesson Naruto taught you by kicking your ass in that damn Chuunin exam? Why are you such a coward?’

A coward, he was a coward! No! Never!

Furiously, Neji wrung out his hair and began brushing his teeth.

Why couldn’t he just accept that he liked being fucked by Gaara? Why was he so embarrassed and ashamed of liking it that he risked driving his lover away? Why couldn’t he take what he dished out?

`I’m a genius! I can take it!’ Neji insisted to himself, spitting out the tooth paste more fiercely than necessary.

So then why did he expect Gaara to feel no shame in being uke when he felt shame, felt somehow lesser? Why was he always so worried about being seen as weak, as inferior? Neji looked in the mirror and saw his curse seal, bright green above his eyes.

“Because I’ve been being a child,” said Neji aloud. Suddenly it seemed clear to him: `My whole life I’ve been feeling hurt because I wanted people to think I’m superior, special. I’ve wanted to have it easy, to be the one that everyone expects everything from—to be in Hinata’s shoes, to be in Sasuke’s shoes. But how have those expectations made their lives any better? If they accomplish anything, people just say of course. If they don’t, their lives are hell. I think my uncle is cruel because he ignores me and expects me to fail, but to Hinata, to his own daughter, he is even worse. Why would I even want to be in the main family branch? Why can’t I be proud to be what I am?’

Neji looked in the mirror, looking at himself. His curse seal was green against his skin. The hickeys Gaara had given him were black and purple as well. He remembered being here in front of the mirror, watching himself being fucked—no, Gaara hadn’t called it that—being loved. That was him in the mirror, that was who Hyuuga Neji was—that naked guy covered with marks of love and the mark of the branch family!

The fucking seal—truly it had cursed his life. But he wasn’t going to let it hold him down. That would be pathetic given what Gaara and Naruto had gone through! Shit! Naruto was out with Gaara, no doubt flirting his blonde head off! Neji began getting ready more quickly, periodically glancing in the mirror to look at that bright green cross.

And then as he was drying his hair, it came to him that that green mark meant he wasn’t needed by the Hyyugas even though he was the most powerful of the younger generations. He was branch family, and hell, there were enough members in the main family that he wasn’t going to be needed to take over as head of the family. So maybe they wanted his genes—yeah, right—he was branch family! Why would they want the branch family to be so strong? He had second cousins who already had kids. The branch family wasn’t going to die out. They didn’t need him.

`But Gaara needs you,’ thought Neji. Then he had a moment of doubt before he told himself firmly, `Yes, he does. Remember what Kankurou said to you—how he and others had feared Gaara’s personality was being eaten away by Shukaku, that he wouldn’t be able to hold out for many years, that he was fated to go mad, to punish Suna for what they had dared to do, putting a demon in their own leader? But now, with me, Gaara seemed to be getting stronger, to be conquering Shukaku. I make him more him, more Gaara.’

`And what does Gaara make me?’ questioned Neji. But the answer seemed to be the figure in the mirror, the figure with the hickeys and the green curse seal. But Gaara didn’t care about his mark, and the people in Suna didn’t care either. In Suna he’d not bothered to cover it some days—he’d get distracted and forget. No one looked at him any differently for it there.

And as for those hickeys, Gaara was proud to have marked him, to have claimed him as a lover. The figure in the mirror didn’t look bad—hell, he looked good! And fucking sexy! And frankly, he looked happy, happy with that seal, with those marks of love, happy with being the uke of the powerful Kazekage!

Neji put down the hair dryer and started at himself thinking, `that is me, this is me. It’s good to be me. It’s good to be branch family, to be able to go where my heart leads me. It’s good to be uke, to be loved. It’s time to accept me, all of me—the branch family me, the gay me, the lover of Gaara me.’

“It’s time to grow up,” said Neji aloud. “It’s time to be me, the real me. And it’s time I went and made sure that Uzumaki doesn’t try anything with what’s mine.”

Minutes later, a disgruntled Neji transported to his room in the Hyuuga compound. The clothes of his in Gaara’s hotel room were unacceptable. As Neji jerked open his closet door, it suddenly occurred to him that he was acting a little like the stereotype of a gay man—fussing over clothes, over his appearance. Instead of trying to deny it, however, he just grinned. `Yeah, so I like to look good. That’s me too,’ he told himself.

Later when he took one last look in the mirror before heading out to find Gaara, Naruto, and Lee, he smiled again. After all when you could look this good, this hot, why not? Tight blue jeans were tucked into his black boots. A tight dark green t-shirt clung to his body the way the loose white jacket he usually wore didn’t. His hair was back in a simple braid down his back, and he wore no hitai-ate. The green curse seal and the black hickeys stood out sharply against his pale skin. Satisfied, Neji put his weapons in a black pouch and secured it at his waist. He strapped his shuriken holder over his jeans, shoved his wallet in his back pocket, and headed out the door, head high.

He was done with hiding from himself, from the Hyuugas, from everyone. Gaara was his, he was Gaara’s, and by tonight, he intended that to be clear to everyone.