Shino's Problem

Shino’s Problem

I.

He always called him Hyuuga-san in his mind, never Neji. That way if he accidentally called out his name too loud when masturbating or in a dream, people would just assume he loved Hinata. She understood. There had been that one night on a mission when he must have called out, and she’d shook him awake. There above him were those pale white eyes, the long dark hair, the darkness in the tent and his dream confusing him. He’d pulled her down for a kiss, murmuring, “Hyuuga-san, my love, Hyuuga-san.” And then her breasts had hit his chest, and his erection had vanished, and he had gasped out in a shocked voice, “Hinata!”

They’d pretended it hadn’t happened, but things had changed. Hinata had relaxed around him, grown more comfortable touching him, and had asked him over to her house more frequently—always carefully mentioning that Neji would be by—sparring with her father, eating dinner with the family, or playing shogi with another one of the many Hyuuga’s all living in that huge compound. And he had returned the favor, taking her out for ramen on days when Naruto would be sure to visit the same ramen stand, bringing her to parties that the blonde would be at, dancing, laughing, and showing off, completely oblivious to the way those white eyes would follow his every move.

And one day, Shino realized that people thought they were in love. There was absolutely nothing he could do to correct that misperception without revealing the truth. And there was no way that he would ever do that. Hyuuga Neji’s pride made him cold and cruel. Shino knew there was a softer side, a hurting side, a secret side to his Hyuuga-san, but it was hopeless. Neji would never date someone from his clan, date someone whose body was the host for a living weapon of bugs. He would sneer, would laugh, and Shino couldn’t bear the thought of it. He had no problem being courageous when in came to fighting, to being a shinobi. But as a lover, he was timid and fearful. He’d never kissed anyone but Hinata and Kiba, and Kiba was the only person he’d ever slept with. It used to happen every once in a while, but since he’d gotten closer to Hinata, Kiba had kept his distance. It hadn’t been serious; they been fuck buddies in the purest sense of term—friends who sometimes fucked, mostly on missions when they were wired up on adrenaline and needed release.

But the loss of Kiba combined with increasingly frequent tantalizing glimpses of Neji was driving Shino mad. When he masturbated, his bugs reacted, broadcasting the fact to his entire family in a way that was humiliating. He was desperate enough to have masturbated a few times in the training areas, in pubic restrooms, wanting to go home able to get through the night without touching himself. After getting caught jerking off by Kiba, he finally decided to get his own apartment. His family understood of course—being young, full of hormones, and sexually frustrated was a normal, tough, embarrassing, and often humiliating period of an Aburame’s life. When he finally told his family that he was going to move out of the compound for a while, they made it clear that they were surprised it had taken him so long to decided to do so and that they were impressed at his self-control.

He’d hardly been in the apartment a week when Hinata came by with an invitation. Shino was a little surprised she’d come to his apartment, and not waited to meet him at the training grounds, but then again this was a special request. The Hyuuga’s were having a clan celebration, complete with a full formal ball in traditional garb. And Hinata needed a date—a date who would wear formal robes as well. A big concealing coat was out of the question, and even something with a high collar wouldn’t do.

“I can’t, Hinata, I can’t,” said Shino, burying his head in his collar.

“Neji’s robes are thin white silk,” said Hinata.

Shino kept his head in the collar.

“I’ll bribe my cousins to push him in the fountain,” she said, “White silk clinging to his body.”

“You don’t have any cousins capable of pushing Hyuuga-san into a fountain, Hinata,” said Shino, “so just stop it.”

“They are 3 and 5, and they’d do it,” said Hinata.

“But Hyuuga-san would be upset, so don’t,” said Shino.

“H-he-re, l-l-ook at this,” said Hinata holding out a black cardboard folder, clearly containing a photo. Her fingers shook as Shino took it, and she turned away, carefully looking away from Shino, completely red.

`What the hell,’ thought Shino, taking it. He flipped open the black cover and gasped. His cock woke up, and he moaned. This was Hyuuga-san, the Hyuuga-san he had dreamed of, shown from the waist up, lying on a bed—naked, or, well at least half-naked. With his arm reaching down—towards THERE! And the look, the look on his face—Shino felt a rage in him suddenly, and his bugs exploded out into the room, buzzing around.

“Who took this picture, Hinata?” said Shino, knowing for the first time in his life that he was capable of murder, capable of killing when not on mission, not in danger.

“I-I-I did,” said Hinata. After a long silence in which the sound of the bugs was loud, she burst out, “He’s lonely too, Shino! He’s branch family, you’re a guy, you two can have something! You don’t have to be like me!”

Shino’s bugs now swung around the room in a fury, knocking over lamps, pictures, a chair. Hinata screamed, “Shino! Shino!”

“Hinata!” bellowed Shino, frustrated beyond caring. They stared at each other, the bugs still racing around the room, until finally something broke in each of them, and they clung to each other, two lonely people knowing their fates, resigned to it.

Shino’s bugs slowed, gently circled, and finally landed and began to crawl back inside him, some of them moving over Hinata on their way. She didn’t flinch, noted Shino, why, why couldn’t he have fallen in love with Hinata?

He walked her to the door in silence. Then when she was standing in the hallway, she said softly, “I took three more of them. If you come to the ball with me, you can have them. Otherwise, after the ball is over, I’ll destroy them.”

The explosion of bugs that swirled out around Hinata resulted in a sudden poof, leaving a shoe in the hallway. When had Hinata made that clone of herself? Dammit, thought Shino, I’m losing it. No, I’ve lost it; I’ve already lost it.

Shutting the door behind him, Shino opened the little black folder again and stared at that photo, at his Hyuuga-san, lying there, his face contorting in ecstasy. His legs felt weak, and he swayed, leaning against the door, slowly sliding to the floor. His hand slid inside his pants and moaning, Shino let himself go.

He’d go to the ball of course. To get those photos, hell, he’d even dance. But for now, well, now it was just him, his hand, and his photo of his Hyuuga-san.

He’d fallen in love with Neji back when he was a genin. It was love him or hate him, for Neji had so much that Shino didn’t have and yet still he was unhappy. He had prestige, brains, talent. He was the genius, the prodigy, the member of one of the supreme clans of Konoha: the Hyuugas. He was gorgeous and his fighting style and techniques were like a beautiful, deadly dance. His clothing and his hair were elegant, and his eyes never revealed his emotions. In contrast, Shino’s clan was one that people didn’t long to join, and many found repulsive. When his bugs moved out of him, people sometimes vomited, fainted, or fled. His hair was a kinky, untamable mess. His clothing, well, it was awful. But he didn’t have a body like Neji’s, and he felt safer hiding his, concealing the holes from which his bugs emerged, concealing the fact that he let them crawl over him, around him under his baggy clothing. And as he got older, his loose baggy coat concealed the fact that looking at Hyuuga Neji made him hard. His eyes, well, his eyes weren’t ugly; in fact, they were a gorgeous dark purple that always drew compliments from those that saw them. But they showed his emotions plainly—his desires, his anger, his hurt, his happiness, and his love. He felt naked without his dark glasses, and he didn’t go anywhere without spare pairs.

When he’d first seen Neji, he’d felt an instant shock. This, this was perfection, absolute perfection. Of course he’d soon discovered Neji’s flaws: his pride, his resentment of his fate, his bitterness. Losing your father, trapped into obedience by a cursed seal: these were things that Shino was spared. His father was wonderful. Before he’d seen Neji, Shino’s dad had been his ideal. But the tragic story of Neji’s father’s death, the horror of the curse seal—well, it made Shino love his Hyuuga-san more. He was both perfection to be worshipped and a poor boy to be pitied. He was strong and weak, a beautiful ninja with some ugly emotional scars and behaviors.

Maybe his attraction to Neji would have faded, but for the fact he was also someone that Shino could observe easily. Because he was Hinata’s teammate, he was permitted into the Hyuuga compound. And Neji regularly trained in an open courtyard there, a courtyard that Shino would sit in and wait for Hinata. She, kindness herself, always gave him time to watch Neji before she would emerge, and they would leave to meet Kiba to train. Neji also trained at Gai’s dojo with his teammate Lee. Over the years, Shino had become a regular fixture there. He didn’t fight there, he didn’t socialize with the others, he just would drift in quietly and watch. When people would try to question him or get close to him, he would have his bugs wander over his face or hands, and sometimes buzz around him. When he watched Neji, sometimes that happened anyway—his arousal would spike, his control over his bugs would weaken, and he would sit hunched over in his coat, painfully hard, his bugs swirling around the feet of his chair or around his head.

He actually come in his pants twice when watching Neji at the dojo. The first time had happened the first time he’d seen Neji fighting in just a pair of shorts. The second had been when his opponent used a water jutsu that had left Neji’s white gi clinging to his body. Fortunately his coat was long enough and his hood big enough that no one had noticed.

His Hyuuga-san half-naked or wet had become two of his favorite mental images to pleasure himself to, but now, now, he would always see this photo Hinata had taken. Never in all his years of watching Neji had he seen that expression on his face—a naked, vulnerable, unguarded expression of pure arousal, pure need, pure desire. Hyuuga-san touching himself, lost in his own pleasure, all pride and bitterness gone. This face, this would be what Hyuuga-san’s lover would get to see, get to hear, get to smell, to taste, to touch. Shino’s hand moved over his penis imagining himself watching Hyuuga-san, imagining himself kneeling before the beauty that was Hyuuga Neji, kneeling with his face near his Hyuuga-san’s erect cock. He wasn’t worthy to touch that cock, to lick it, to suck it, but oh, god, he wanted to.

But he, full of bugs, with his thin, scrawny body, those holes on him for his bugs to emerge from, his horrid hair—no, Hyuuga-san wouldn’t let him touch, wouldn’t let him suck. But in his dream, he let Shino watch him, let him kneel there with in front of that beautiful body pleasuring himself with his mouth open. His dream Hyuuga-san let his cum spray on Shino’s face, on his glasses, into his hair, into his mouth. He would watch Shino, order Shino to undress, to pull out his cock, to jerk himself off. He liked Shino splattered in cum, and he wouldn’t let him cover his cock or catch his cum—no, he liked to watch Shino bend his head down and add his own cum to that already coating him, to spray his own face, his mouth, his chest. And looking at the photo of Neji, Shino did just that—came with a blast that propelled his cum right up into his face, over his glasses, into his hair.

Carefully Shino put away his precious photo and stripped for his shower. Since he’d taken the apartment only a week ago, he’d developed a ritual of washing out off his cum that always involved another round of masturbating—an even more intimate kind of masturbation. He would strip and get in the shower without the water on. He would suck on his fingers, getting them wet, and rub them in his own cum—and then insert them in himself. It was incredible, intense, and arousing. It wasn’t as good as sex of course—those few times Kiba had fucked him, well, that had taught him just how good sex could be. He’d thought about getting a dildo or vibrator, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to. And even though he’d loved having sex with Kiba, well, he hadn’t been thinking of Kiba when they’d done it. Remembering Kiba naked did nothing for him. Imagining Hyuuga-san fucking him, that hair of his falling down on him, over him—that was all he needed to send him into orgasm.

This was his life, his future—no Kiba, no Hyuuga-san, just memories, dreams, and a photograph. And soon, so soon, photographs. Yes, Shino would be there at the Hyuuga clan celebration—nothing could keep him away from it.