Constructive Possession

A/N: This chapter jumps around a bit. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. yaoilovergirl, your question is answered here! ^_^

Many thanks to all who reviewed.

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Warning: unbeta’d; language; OC; implied het; implied yaoi; alcohol abuse

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Hiashi Hyuuga pulled the wireless Bluetooth earpiece from his ear and tossed it onto the couch next to him. That conference call had taken entirely too long in his estimation. Lawyers were their own worst enemies--just a bunch of highly-paid blowhards who enjoyed the sound of their own flapping gums, Hiashi included.

The elder Hyuuga removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was getting late. Hiashi was looking forward to a nice soak in his nephew’s bath before turning in for the evening.

The promise of the bath turned Hiashi’s thoughts to his nephew and his nephew’s companion. He smirked as he imagined what they were doing. He hoped the sexy Nara prodigy was successfully selling his uptight nephew on the adventuresome aspect of taking a longer-than-average erection up the ass, to say nothing of its entertainment value.

He shut down his laptop and was pouring himself another cup of sake when he heard someone knocking.

Hiashi turned his head toward the door. Who might his nephew be expecting at this hour on a Friday night?

He walked to the door. Whoever it was, they either worked on the property or had to get through the stringent security, so Hiashi wasn’t too worried. He looked through the peephole in the door. A curly-haired man in a familiar uniform stood outside.

Neji opened the door clad only in a tightly-tied gray silk robe with burgundy piping that enhanced his eyes, and gray slippers. His long, dark hair hung loosely around his shoulders.

“Yes?” was Hiashi’s monosyllabic greeting.

“Good evening, sir”, the man responded. He then held out his hand. Clenched in his fingers was a large brown envelope. “This came for you by special messenger.”

Hiashi took possession of the envelope, eyeing it warily, and then deciding it looked harmless enough. “I’ll make sure my nephew gets this, thank you.”

Before Hiashi could close the door the man spoke. “Oh, no, the delivery is for Hiashi Hyuuga. The envelope is for you.”

Shit. Hiashi scanned the surface of the envelope again, then held it in the air and shook it. Very few people even knew where he was to be sending him packages there. The only writing on the envelope anywhere was the Hyuuga’s own name and it wasn’t written in handwriting Hiashi remembered ever seeing before.

“I don’t suppose you know who sent this to me?” he asked.

“No sir”, the man responded, “I was instructed to give this to the lawyer, not the cop; that’s all I know.”

The Hyuuga relented. He was a lawyer, for corn’s sake. He could spend days spitballing the possibilities. It was best to simply accept his fate and let it be done.

Hiashi sighed. “Very well. Thank you.” The elder Hyuuga closed the door with a soft click.

The curly-haired man heard the lock being activated on the other side of the door before he turned and walked back toward the elevators. Guess there wasn’t any room in that flimsy robe to be carrying around a tip anyway, he thought to himself.

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Hiashi walked back to his perch on the living room couch. He set the envelope down on the table and watched it for a few moments. He received packages like this all the time. What made this one so special? Hiashi wasn’t sure. He had heard something when he shook the envelope, something small moving around within its confines. But it could have been anything.

Recognizing the futility of indecision, the elder Hyuuga picked up the envelope and ripped away the perforated tab. He pulled the envelope apart and looked inside. There were large photographs in the envelope.

Hiashi quirked a brow. “Interesting”, he declared.

Hiashi then reached into the envelope and pulled out the stack of photographs inside, placing the envelope back on the table in front of him.

He held up the first photograph. His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

Using both hands, he turned the photograph clockwise. He leaned his head to the left, furrowing his brows.

Hiashi turned the photograph once more, quirking a single brow.

“Compelling use of a balance beam”, he ultimately commented, then added, “Gods, he’s gifted. I wonder if he swings both ways?”

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By the time Hiashi had analyzed all the photographs he was in need of another drink. He set the stack of photographs down while he poured, then remembered that something small and loose was still in the envelope. Hiashi set down the bottle of sake and picked up the envelope, looked inside, then reached for the small dark rectangle at the bottom. He pulled it out and held it up in the air. It was a tiny cassette tape, used in handheld recorders. Hiashi smiled, and then reached inside his briefcase for his own handheld recorder. He removed the cassette inside and replaced it with the one from the envelope. Smiling deviously, he hit the play button.

“Fuck”, he whispered slowly as he listened. Hiashi reached for the cup of sake and quickly downed its contents. Lube, got to find lube, he thought to himself, and got up from his perch in search of a bottle, recorder in hand.

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A loud crashing sound jolted Kiba back into consciousness. His eyes fluttered opened slowly, then squinted against the glare from the television screen. He tried to move his arms. He managed to move one, but he couldn’t feel the other one, which lay beneath his body in an awkward position.

Using his moving arm to brace himself, Kiba tried to lift his upper body. His throbbing head attacked him, and he plopped back onto the couch, groaning. His foggy brain registered only the throbbing in his head, the volume of the television and the raspy feel of the couch cushions beneath his head and hand.

The Inuzuka forced himself to take even, steady breaths. Mush get up. Even his thoughts were slurred. He attempted to lift himself from the couch again and succeeded this time, adjusting his lumbering body to a half-sitting/half-lying position on the couch. Now he could see the obnoxious movie playing loudly on the television. Kiba shifted his half-lidded eyes, scanning the perimeter for a remote control to turn off the television. He didn’t see one. I…find it later.

Kiba wiped the drool from his face with the back of one hand. The feeling in his arm was returning, but the throbbing in his head was getting worse. What the fuck had he been drinking? Half-lidded eyes scanned the room again until it located its target, an empty bourbon bottle. Four Roashes¹. Hmph.

Suddenly, the drunken police detective’s mouth became super-watery and his stomach lurched. He bent forward quickly, violently expelling the contents of his stomach on his floor, table, shoes and pants. He remained in that position as the constant stream of vomit left a bitter trail from his stomach to his mouth and burned his throat. At one point the Inuzuka lurched so sharply that the vomit came out through his nose.

Several minutes of painful heaving proved too much for Kiba’s already exhausted body. He fell over into the warm, smelly puddles he’d created as darkness once again enveloped him.

In the background, the television still blared.

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Shikamaru opened his eyes. Not only was it morning, but the sun was high in the sky. The Nara estimated the time at around 9AM.

He looked to both sides of him in search of his lover, who wasn’t there. He took note of his swaddle, and smirked. Why did Neji insist on swaddling him like a newborn?

Shikamaru scanned the room, noting the aspirin and glass of water on the nightstand as well as the black sleeping pants laid out at the foot of the bed. Unsheathing himself from the blankets, a naked and sore Shikamaru emerged from the bed, reached for the pants and put them on.

Wincing slightly as he walked, he grabbed the aspirin and water from the nightstand and downed them as he went in search of his Neji.

Shikamaru found the Hyuuga on the deck of the yacht, practicing his taijutsu. He watched him from inside, through the window. The two men had been together a month and yet Neji Hyuuga still amazed the Nara. Shikamaru wondered to himself if that would ever change. He’d never seen anything with so much grace and speed and power. It was all so beautiful and majestic, all wrapped up into one extraordinary man. A man who had claimed ownership of the Nara; the man to whom the Nara had given that ownership without protest.

Shikamaru Nara’s heart throbbed. He was completely in love with Neji Hyuuga.

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From a distance, it almost seemed like a mirage, the image of what appeared to be a warrior in training on the deck of a nearby yacht.

Oslo watched a young man with long hair and a lean body punctuated with hard muscles moving through a series of martial arts positions against the backdrop of a clear blue sky.

Oslo walked, as if in trance, toward that pier, toward that yacht, taking in the details.

There were long legs. Oh, how he loved long legs! And the young man’s legs were sturdy, if the way he moved through his back flips was any indication. The man wore white pants that sat well below his waist, providing, even from a distance, a tantalizing tease of what lie just beyond the waistband. It was impossible from the distance to tell if what was there was substantial, but Oslo hoped it was. The young man’s stomach was flat and hard, his waist a lean, rippling column. Oslo wasn’t sure, but he thought he might be drooling. He checked with his hand. No. No drool, but lots of saliva.

Oslo swallowed.

Oslo’s eyes continued their trek upward, resting on two hard pectorals, each bearing a nipple that begged to be licked, to be sucked, to be…clamped.

Ah.

There was that hair, that long straight fall of dark brown hair that flowed behind him like a banner, moving and swirling with his movements against the wind.

It wasn’t unusual to find a pretty young man on a yacht. And this one was all toy. He was candy for the mind and body. Someone’s mind and body, Oslo surmised. He wondered to whom the young man belonged, and what the young man might be receiving in exchange for his…services.

Oslo knew as he approached the gangplank that he would make the young man an offer. Oslo needed a diversion, and the young man appeared to be an excellent diversion. Oslo was determined to get a taste of what he saw. When it was over, if the young man proved deserving, he’d make a recommendation to a few of his friends.

And here Oslo was thinking he wouldn’t see anything new when he set off on his morning stroll.

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Neji was conscious of a man boarding the yacht. The Hyuuga continued to move through the series of positions until the man reached the deck. Neji didn’t like being interrupted, but it was an inherent risk when he trained outside for anyone to see. Besides, he hadn’t wanted to disturb Shikamaru, whom Neji was confident would need all the rest he could get when Neji didn’t have his hands on him.

“Good morning”, Oslo called out as he walked up the gangplank, stopping when he reached the deck. He watched the young man and was grateful for the expensive sunglasses that obscured his eyes.

Neji stopped his training and looked at the man, waiting for him to state his purpose. The Hyuuga heard an unusual accent and guessed the man’s age to be in his late forties or early fifties. His arms were covered in curly hair—was it blond?--And he was even paler than the Hyuuga himself. The man looked like a ghost.

Oslo couldn’t take his eyes off the living sensation in front of him, who stood upright, breathing hard and sweating. The hair that didn’t cling to his sweaty skin blew in the breeze, creating a dark fan around one shoulder. Oslo couldn’t find a single blemish on that pale skin, and those eyes…it was the body that drew him there but the eyes that now held him, eyes filled with emotion that made him ache to know what kind of noises he could draw out of the young man in bed.

Oslo fought the urge to check again for drool in front of this beautiful stranger.

“May I help you?” Neji asked in a neutral voice.

The man smiled in response. A very masculine voice for one so pretty, he thought to himself. “I’m Oslo; I own a yacht a few piers down from here. I was just out having a stroll and I couldn’t help admiring your form—I mean your moves. You’re very good.” When Neji didn’t respond the man asked, “Have you been studying long?”

Gods on a ship, Neji thought to himself, here we go again. “Yes.”

The man cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen you around here before; do you work for the owner of this yacht?”

Neji wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t. He simply stood there silently and waited for the older man to get the hint. The Hyuuga had been hit on countless times in his life by men like him, and they all ran the same tiresome game. It was pathetic.

When Neji didn’t respond Oslo asked, “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Neji’s response was more silence. Oslo chuckled, watching as Neji lifted a hand and brushed his hair away from his face.

“It’s okay. Silence can be a highly profitable skill.” Oslo looked around. “This is a nice yacht. Not as big as the one I own, but nice. The name—it’s Japanese, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Oslo smiled. “You know, for someone who doesn’t talk much, you’ve said yes to me twice.” Oslo hesitated, then added in a coaxing voice, “I like the way it sounds when you say it. It’s very encouraging.”

This has got to be a joke. “What do you want?” the Hyuuga asked in a bored voice.

Oslo’s eyes roamed the Hyuuga’s torso. It was all he could do not to walk over to where the young man stood, reach out with his finger and trace the trail of that bead of sweat running down the Hyuuga’s chest. “You know, my yacht is just down the pier, I'd enjoy giving you a tour of her. I gave her a Scandinavian name, like mine. I bet you haven’t eaten, we could do an early lunch.”

Neji didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. “Forgive me, but I must decline your offer.” Neji wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of hearing him say his name.

Wrong answer. “Oh, you don't want to do that, not really. I'd more than make it worth your while.” Oslo licked his lips. He could practically feel the young god’s hair in his fists as he shot his load into his waiting throat, and it had already made him half-hard.

“What makes you think he doesn't have better things to do with his time?” a third voice asked. Oslo looked over to see another young man approaching. He took in the other’s shirtless, tanned and toned body, and the intensity of the look he was being given from hard, dark eyes. This must be another harem boy, Oslo thought to himself. He’s not bad.

Shikamaru moved casually, hands in his pockets, trying carefully not to wince and stopping when he reached his lover’s side.

Oslo scanned the two men. He noted that while they stood side-by-side, neither one acknowledged the other with as much as a glance. The darker one wore black jersey pants. Oslo’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of his substantial bulge, which was impossible to camouflage in the pants he wore.

I’ve got to find out who owns this yacht!

“Ah”, Oslo exclaimed. “I seem to have interrupted...something.” Oslo was frustrated. They were so close, and yet so far! He didn’t know what to do to turn the situation in his favor. Neither of the two men seemed interested.

“Yes”, the Nara affirmed. “You interrupted his training. About five minutes ago.”

Oslo smirked. “Your friend only had to speak up to let me know. Or is that something you do for him routinely?” Oslo actually hoped it was. Perhaps it might be a way to get one or both of them to come with him.

Neither Shikamaru nor Neji rose to the bait. “Nah”, Shikamaru replied. “I don't bother with talking, since waving the gun around pretty much gets the point across." Shikamaru reached behind him and pulled a .9MM from the waistband of his pants. He lifted it in the air, wiggling it for emphasis.

The old man’s eyes widened and his heartbeat sped up as adrenaline coursed through him, a response that neither officer missed.

Shikamaru chuckled. “Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't shoot you. Heck, this isn't even my gun.” Without taking his eyes off the man, the Nara handed the gun to Neji, who took it wordlessly. As Neji busied himself checking the clip for rounds, Shikamaru continued. “Neji, on the other hand, can be a bit short on patience.”

Neji? Oslo said to himself a second before the full impact of Shikamaru’s statement hit him. Oslo furrowed his brows. “Is that some kind of a threat?” he asked them. “If it is, you might want to rethink it. You don't know who you are dealing with here.” Oslo was anxious. They were armed, and that changed the game. He was going to have to bluff his way through this now.

“Funny, as cliché as that sounds,” The Nara responded, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Neji unlatched the safety on the weapon and raised it, pointing it at Oslo.

The man gasped, eyes wide, looking into the faces of both men for some sign of intent. He found nothing but cold glares on those attractive faces. “I’ll have the police here in minutes to arrest you both for this. And they are going to adore you two pretty boys in jail”, he threatened. Oslo could feel sweat begin to trickle down his back beneath his shirt.

It was Neji who spoke this time, in a voice so cold it was downright scary. “You’d have them here even sooner than that, since we ARE the police.”

The ground seemed to move beneath Oslo’s feet. You two men are police? He thought to himself. Since when do police look like you?

“Don't you recognize a standard issue .9MM Glock when it’s staring you in the face?” Shikamaru asked him.

Oslo didn’t, but it really wasn’t the right time to split hairs on the subject. “This is police misconduct. I'll have both your badges for this.” It sounded obnoxious even to Oslo’s ears, but it was all he could come up with.

Gods, what a piece of work. Shikamaru chuckled again. “You just don’t get it, do you? You started this when you trespassed on private property in a blatant attempt to solicit sex--from a cop.”

At this statement, Oslo thought he was going to have a heart attack. “Th-that's horseshit”, he huffed in indignance while his heart beat wildly in his chest. “You didn't hear me mention money or sex!”

“I didn't need to.” Shikamaru jerked his thumb at Neji, who was still pointing the loaded weapon at the man. “And the point is more or less moot, isn't it?”

By now Oslo was a babbling, quaking, wide-eyed mess. Shit. My dick might get me killed today, he thought to himself.

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A/N: (1) Four Roses™. Kiba can’t enunciate very well under its influence.

So…Hiashi receives a mystery package containing mystery photographs and audio; Kiba passes out in a large puddle of his own vomit; and Neji is hit on—yet again—by another wealthy bored person. If I seem to be typecasting wealthy people, well, for the purpose of this AU, I am.

This chapter wound up being so big I found it necessary to cut it, so it’s kind of a cliffhanger, and for that I do apologize. Find out what the boys do to Oslo in the next chapter. Stay tuned and please leave a review!