A Virgin Kiss

Chapter 6: The Shower

Neji was half asleep when Gaara couldn’t take it anymore. Lying under Neji, half off the bed, feeling both sexually satisfied yet depressed wasn’t something he wanted to keep doing. Gaara shifted Neji to the center of the bed and headed for the shower. He had definitely made more noise than the Hyuuga. The jounin was good at everything he did; it was annoying to find a virgin seemed to know more about sex than he did after a whole year of having it.

Gaara scowled as he saw himself in the mirror. He had two hickeys, two “love-bites.” He’d promised to tell anyone who asked that Neji had given them to him. What stories would Neji tell of him? Would he laughingly tell people how he fucked the Kazekage and made him scream his name? Would he tell people that Gaara wasn’t good in bed? But he’d liked that hand job; that was clear. But he’d been a virgin only as regards to anal sex; he’d probably had other hand jobs to compare Gaara to. The way Neji had looked that first time he had come flashed back into Gaara’s mind—eyes closed, head back, and his face transformed by pleasure. Annoyingly Gaara didn’t know how Neji had looked the second time—he’d gotten so caught up the overwhelming feeling of being kissed and fucked at the same time, his eyes had closed.

They’d never had that shower, either. Gaara hadn’t had anal sex in a shower before. Now he’d be thinking of Neji everytime he showered. He’d be remembering the feeling of Neji washing him off, of Neji . . . dammit, this was not good. Gaara quickly finished his shower, dryed off, and picked up his dirty pants and cut shirt. He washed his pants in the sink and hung them to dry in the shower. He checked out the pile of Neji’s clothes and did the same to Neji’s pants. He carefully arranged Neji’s clothes and weapons on the chair in the bedroom that the Leaf nin had wanted to sit in before they'd started drinking.

The mesh shirt was ruined, but Gaara didn’t want to throw it away: he’d had his first kiss in that shirt. The shirt was carefully folded up and stowed away in Gaara’s pack. Gaara dressed for the day, putting on a shirt with a high collar to cover his hickey. If no one asked, he didn’t have to tell who gave it to him. There was nothing else to do now except watch Neji sleep or stare at the stars. It was after 4:30 a.m.—if he left now, he could hike up the mountain carved with the faces of the hokages and sit up there to watch the dawn.

Gaara headed for the door and paused. He really didn’t want to see Kotetsu and Izumo. They had to have heard what happened, and, well—Gaara paused and went and sat on the edge of the bed looking down at Neji, reflecting.

He’d never been ashamed of sleeping with prostitutes, never felt he had to hide it, never felt a moment of embarrassment. Normal people, people without demons in them, seemed to find prostitution very embarrassing, something to stutter and stammer about, something to blush about. Gaara hadn’t understood, but now, he was understanding. So this was what sex was really like—what he had had before was sexual release: an orgasm and cash being just about all he’d contributed. Sex seemed to require kissing, moaning, blushing, biting, and feeling embarrassed and proud, weak and strong, all at the same time.

It was, actually, a lot like public sparring, facing someone powerful and worthy, knowing you could triumph and knowing you could end up hurt, and not knowing which was going to happen next, maybe even both. It reminded him of his chuunin and jounin examinations, but without the blood and the constant pressure of Shukaku. No, it wasn’t like the chuunin exam—he had never been hurt before and had been too in the grip of Shukaku, too aware he had to manifest him fully in the perfect form for the sake of his village. But once he had understood from fighting Sasuke and Naruto what pain was, informal and formal matches with other ninjas had been different. You could fight someone, not kill him or her, and still feel yourself worthy of existence, still feel there was a reason you existed in this world. More importantly, you could find yourself with someone you respected, someone that might be a friend.

Gaara thought about the people he considered friends—Kankurou, Temari, Naruto, and Lee. Only Temari was here in Konoha. Of course, he needed to talk to Temari. This thing with White Eyes was confusing, and he needed a friend’s advice. That’s what friends did. But Temari was his older sister, too. Could he talk to her about sex? And kisses? Neji had talked about kissing mothers and sisters. Should he kiss Temari—not like he had kissed Neji, not seriously, but just lips touching lips?

Gaara felt himself blushing, embarrassed, remembering his first kiss. He was conscious of the one hickey just hidden by his shirt collar. Neji had said everyone would see it, everyone would want to know who gave it to him. Gaara thought about when he’d seen hickeys—love bites—on other people’s necks. He’d always known who gave them to Temari or Kankurou—but yes, when he saw them on Naruto, he had wondered who had given them to him. He hadn’t asked who had done that to Naruto, but then he didn’t talk much. So normal people talked about that—but it didn’t really explain this odd, strange reluctance Gaara felt about walking out the door and confronting Kotetsu and Izumo. People had always talked about Gaara, always noticed him, always whispered about him. He’d had terrible things whispered about him. Getting a hickey, well two of them, was normal, not remotely horrible. Why was he hesitant?

`You’re weak, you’re soft, you should love only yourself,' roared Shukaku in his mind, awakening. `Everyone hates you. You have no friends.’

“No, shut up!” Gaara yelled at Shukaku, jumping up from the bed and pressing his hands to the sides of his head, struggling to regain control of his mind.

“Gaara? Gaara, answer me, Gaara, do you need a medic?”

`He was just using you; he doesn’t like you; he’s going to run away now that he sees how demonic you are,’ said Shukaku in Gaara’s mind, his awful laughter filling Gaara’s head, making him moan.

"No, no, no! Not true!" cried Gaara.

“Gaara, kiss me, kiss me,” said Neji.

Gaara’s eyes opened, and even with Shukaku’s laughter in his mind, he could see Neji standing in front of him, staring at him with his Byukagan, demanding, “Come on Red, wake up and kiss me like you did last night, open those big green eyes of yours, yeah, that’s it.”

And then Neji was kissing him. His breath tasted awful, fuzzy, foul, like the breath of a man who had fallen asleep after too much drinking. But Shukaku was gone, Gaara’s feeling of fear was gone, and he felt a rush of desire for Neji—but not his mouth. Gaara pulled away and began kissing Neji’s shoulder. Oh god, maybe he had bad breath last night, maybe that was why Neji wanted to give him love bites on his neck and shoulder? But it felt good to bite and suck on Neji’s shoulder, to feel his arms around him, rubbing his back. Remembering how he had started to like that feeling of Neji sucking on his own nipple, Gaara put his hand up and stroked Neji’s nipple on the side of his body he wasn’t biting.

Neji started laughing, and Gaara felt a feeling of lightness sweep into him and felt his sex stiffen and harden. Neji’s hand came down and found Gaara’s erection, then he pulled Gaara off his shoulder, saying, “Hey, let me wake up a little first here, Gaara.”

“You have horrible morning breath.”

Neji laughed and pulled away, “Only a coward would leave without saying good-bye, Gaara.” His naked back and ass taunted Gaara as he went into the bathroom.

A coward! Dammit. Shit. Fuck. That snotty, know-it-all genius knew exactly how to manipulate him—it was infuriating! Just because he had such a great body, just because even a kiss from him with the worse morning breath got him hard, just because when he laughed it made Gaara feel weak and soft—hell, none of that meant Gaara was going to roll over and be Neji’s toy dog. Neji’s dog, oh god—Neji giving it to him from behind like a dog—oh god. He tried that only once and didn’t like it. But Neji, Neji behind him, Neji pushing into him—just thinking about it made Gaara shake with desire and put his hand down to stroke himself. It was sex, this was sex, this was normal-people sex, and god, Neji, was in there, in Gaara’s bathroom, naked, running the shower. They’d never gotten to take that shower.

The one time Gaara had sex in a shower was with a female prostitute who said her specialty was Golden Showers. Having a woman urinate on you was disgusting, and Gaara had stopped her and told her he just wanted a blow job. She’d given it to him in the shower once she’d washed off the urine, but it had taken a long time for Gaara to get off. The water had started to get cold. He hadn’t been able to see or hear much because of the sound of the shower. He’d turned down anything suggested that involved showers of any sort ever since. But Neji in a shower—Gaara began removing his clothes a lot more quickly than he had put them on.

He wanted to keep Shukaku away, and sex was the best way he knew to do that. Yeah, that was the reason he was feeling so shaky, so needy. Gaara didn’t even look in the mirror when he strode into the bathroom. He pulled back the shower curtain and stepped in behind Neji, pulling the white cloth back to shut them in the small tiled stall together. Neji turned around, and Gaara was fascinated to see his bare forehead with the green curse seal on his forehead. His hand flew up to trace it, but as he did Neji’s face seemed to harden, grow distant. Oh, yes, Naruto had told him the story—Neji’s family had done this to control him, to limit his powers, to mark him as inferior, as branch family, to kill him if he went against them. So this was what drove the Hyuuga, this mark of inferiority written on his head that he hid. Gaara’s hand went from Neji’s to his own mark on his forehead, the kanji for love.

“When my uncle told me he hated me and tried to kill me, I put this mark on my head,” said Gaara. “It reminds me of what I don’t have, I can’t have.”

Neji’s face seemed to reawaken, and he put his hand up to trace that mark. “But you are a precious person, Gaara, to your sister and brother, to Naruto, to Lee . . .”

“Your mark is the color of my eyes.”

The two stared into each other’s eyes, and Gaara watched as Neji’s face changed from one of pain to one of—peace? of relaxation?

Neji’s hand moved down and began to trace the dark circles around Gaara’s eyes, “Rough night after I feel asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I crashed on you—I was reporting back from a solo mission to Tsunade when I was assigned to explain to you how prostitution works in Konoha. I didn’t eat, and with drinking and losing my virginity, I was sort of worn out.”

“You should have let me do the work last night—all you had to do was sit there,” said Gaara.

“My god, I can’t believe I lost my virginity on a toilet. That doesn’t make for a very good story does it?”

“Then don’t talk about it, Hyuuga, you don’t have to remind me of how bad at sex I am,” snapped Gaara defensively pulling out of Neji’s arms. “Not everyone’s a god-damn genius like you!” He reached out and jerked the shower curtain open, instinctively wanting to get away from a situation, from feelings, he didn’t like.

“Cowards run,” said Neji, freezing Gaara there, curtain open and water splashing out on the floor, “and cowards don’t talk about the incredible, amazing, unbelievably good sex they had with their lovers. I’m no coward, Gaara, so I’ll be honest, you’re the best in everything I’ve tried so far—kissing, hand jobs, fucking. So do you have something to say to me, Kazekage-sama or are you a coward?”

Gaara stepped back into the shower, sighed, and leaned against the tile wall. The water was hitting Neji’s naked back, and almost none of it was reaching Gaara. But Gaara wasn’t thinking about being cold, he was choosing his words with care.

“You’ve ruined me, Neji, sex with a prostitute compared to sex with you is like saying an acorn and an oak tree are the same thing. Only a pathetic coward would settle for paying for some fake faces and sounds when they could have the real thing.”

The sight of Neji’s face when Gaara finished that speech made Gaara’s chest hurt, made him feel weak and dizzy, needy.

“Yea, but was I ok or can it be better?” asked Neji leaning in, “What position did you like the best? Is there a better position we can try?”

The image of Neji behind Gaara immediately came to mind again, and Gaara briefly closed his eyes and shuddered.

Neji reached back and turned off the water. He was hard now, and he moved close to Gaara putting his hands on the tile on either side of him. Gaara’s mouth fell open and his face tilted up, wanting a kiss.

But Neji’s mouth went to his ear, licking it, and whispered, “Tell me what made you shudder, Red.”

“Doggie-style, Neji.”

“But I though you liked to watch faces, I though you didn’t do sex that way.”

“When you make me come, I can’t keep my eyes open, Neji; I can’t focus on your face.”

Neji’s hand was now stroking Gaara’s cock, Neji’s own penis pushing against the Sand nin’s thigh and groin. His breathing was loud and deep, not quite a pant. “Is that a good thing?” he asked into Gaara’s ear, and then kept his tongue there, licking and nipping at Gaara’s ear.

Gaara thought about how it felt to come earlier, with Neji inside him, against him, kissing him, and just shivered and moaned, pushing his cock into Neji’s hand. Neji bit down on Gaara’s earlobe, hard, and Gaara cried out, “Yes, yes, it’s a good thing.”

“Touch my cock, but don’t get me off,” ordered Neji.

Gaara’s hand found Neji's dick as Neji’s mouth descended on Gaara’s. His breath tasted like toothpaste now, and Gaara eagerly reached out his tongue to push into the Hyuuga's mouth, to pull their tongues together into that erotic mouth dance that the Leaf nin had taught him. They stroked each other in unison, as if they had done this before, but it was their skill as ninjas, that ability to anticipate and predict the opponent’s movements, that made their hands grip and slide together.

Then Neji’s mouth moved back to Gaara’s ear, “I thought you put that tattoo on you to torment everyone that wanted you. It was your way of saying, `I’m fucking hot, I’m love incarnate, and none of you are good enough for me.’ And I never thought you’d be a uke. I pictured you just taking what you wanted, trapping whatever person took your fancy in bonds of sand, in that shell of sand, and fucking them till they screamed.”

“I want to fuck you until you scream, Neji; I want to do whatever it takes to make you scream my name as you come.”

“God, Gaara, god,” said Neji letting go of Gaara’s cock and grabbing Gaara’s wrists to pull his hands away from his body, “Take pity on a newbie here—you're going to make me come too soon again. I don’t have your ability to get hard again so soon. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s real disappointing when you come, Hyuuga, when you throw back that head of pretty hair, your eyes shut, your mouth open, and your face, your face gets so fucking beautiful it makes me come, too.”

And as Gaara watched, Neji’s head tilted back a little, his mouth opened, his eyes half shut, and his face began to take on that expression of pleasure he had when he’d spilled his cum right in Gaara’s hand. But Neji reached back and turned on the cold water full force.

“Dammit!” said Gaara since Neji had been mostly out of the shower’s range, and the cold water hit his face and chest at full force.

“I told you not to make me come, and you were, so you deserved that, Red,” said Neji shutting the water off again and grabbing a towel. “Now are you going to dry off and come to bed, or am I going to have to carry you again?”

Gaara pulled back the shower curtain and grabbed another towel with the menacing look that actually had made grown men in Suna wet their pants like little boys afraid of the dark. The hiss of sand could be heard outside the bathroom door, “I’m perfectly able to walk to the bed, Neji. Maybe somebody needs to spend some time in a sand shell and learn his place.”

“Oh, so you’re going to teach me my place?” said Neji, with a grin, grabbing the tube of lube off of the bathroom shelf where Gaara had placed it when he cleaned up earlier.

“What did you do with our pants?” asked Gaara curious, remembering he had hung them to dry in the shower. However, a quick glance around the small bathroom revealed that the pants in question were in a wrinkled ball on the floor.

“Here,” said Neji throwing the lube to Gaara, “I’ll make sure they’re clean and hung up right. I’ll be out in a bit.”

Gaara walked into the bedroom and began picking up his clothes he had tossed on the floor himself. Neji was feeling a little bit of guilt at having thrown the pants Gaara had washed on the floor, so it wouldn’t do for Gaara to have also thrown his clothes there as well. A Neji feeling some guilt was good. Smiling Gaara carefully folded his clothes and placed them on the dresser, so that Neji wouldn’t know he also was a slob on occasion.

“Yo, Gaara, wake up and—“ called Temari from the doorway, swinging open the unlocked door.

Horrified, Gaara rushed up a sand wall between Temari and himself.

Temari just burst into laughter and shut the door of the room behind her, “So little brother, all clean and fresh from the showweerrr . . .” His sister’s voice trailed off in shock. Gaara blushed. Dammit, the hickeys!

“Little brother you have hickeys on you! Who’s been sucking and munching on my baby brother?

“Hyuuga Neji,” said Gaara.

“Hi, Temari-san,” said Neji from the bathroom door behind Gaara.

Gaara and Temari turned. Neji looked calm, superior, and incredibly sexy, leaning casually against the doorframe, his damp black pants low on his hips, clinging to his thighs. Just a wee bit of pubic hair showed, teasing the eye, drawing it down to his crotch. His long dark head hair hung down, damp and loose, the dark ends drapping over his chest and biceps, drawing attention to his sleek, muscled grace. The green curse seal on his forehead only accented the paleness of his skin and blackness of his hair. He had just a bit of chest hair, which drew the eyes to his perfect stomach. Once he was sure both siblings could see nothing but him, Neji walked into the room with a towel and calmly wrapped Gaara in it. The sound of Gaara's sand sliding back to the gourd was loud in the room.

“Uhhh, good morning to you, Hyuuga-san,” said Temari, her face bright red. “I’ll talk to you later, Gaara. We are supposed to be at Tsunade’s office at 9, ok?”

Gaara nodded, and Temari walked out, pulling the door shut, but then popped her head back in and said, “Lock the door!” When Gaara didn’t move, Neji walked over to the door and locked it. He then leaned back against the door with a satisfied smile on his face.