Worth the Trouble

Worth the Trouble

Chapter One: Mission for Two

Part I: Shikamaru

“The snow leopards have been possessed by demons and have attacked visitors to the Temple of the Eternal Snows, killing four so far. The ninja of the Hidden Village of the Mountain have been unable to track them, for the demons are able to make the cats blend in completely with the snow, removing even their smell. Yet, I think they will not be able to camouflage their chakra from a Hyuuga’s Byakugan. The temple priests want the leopards to be taken alive, so they can exercise the demons from them. That will require, however, the cats be held still but awake for the exorcism to work. You can hold them with your shadows for long enough; it’s not a long process, but any metal would be a problem so cages or shackles aren’t an option. And a water prison won’t work with the freezing cold. Shikamaru, you and Neji will take this mission. On the way, you can deliver some medicines in Earth Country . . .”

The Fifth’s words went on, but Shikamaru wasn’t paying much attention any more. He didn’t need to—a little bit of his mind was enough to register that Tsunade was saying nothing beyond what Shikamaru had predicted upon hearing the first details of his new assignment.

Neji! A mission with Neji! How very, very fucking troublesome!

As Shikamaru packed his gear later that afternoon, he couldn’t get Neji out of his mind. He was only a year older than Shikamaru, but had made jounin before him. But Shikamaru didn’t want the extra trouble of being a jounin, yet, right? He told himself that, but as he carefully brushed and fastened his hair for the second time in one day, he knew having the same rank as Neji might make the mission easier. The Hyuuga respected rank and cleanliness. It was logical to want the mission to go easily, hence the need for a little effort about his appearance. It wasn’t as if he was trying to impress the Hyuuga; a good appearance would make him more receptive, no, ah, more congenial. Yes, yes, that was—so not the reason Shikamaru was ensuring he looked as good as he could in his normal uniform. It was not the reason he had made sure he’d actually packed not only soap, deodorant, toothpaste, and a toothbrush, but also shampoo, conditioner, skin moisturizer, mouthwash, dental floss, and lip balm. Shikamaru looked in the mirror, sighing.

He wanted to look calm and professional. He looked like a besotted fool with a crush about to go on a date—a nervous, little nerdy virgin who had somehow scored a date with the sexiest, coolest kid in school. And the most pathetic thing was that it was just about true.

No, he wasn’t a virgin—with women. It had been troublesome to work himself up for the effort, but it had been necessary. As a kid, he’d thought that his lack of interest in girls was merely the fact he hadn’t hit puberty yet. When puberty came, he’d figured out the problem, but it was just too troublesome to be gay. And there was no one he wanted—his feelings for his very heterosexual sensei and teammate were not ones of desire. He had no desire for a man like Kiba with his noisy dog, nor for Shino with his secrets and social ineptness. Naruto was too high energy, and Sasuke was just an absolute “no” along with Lee. Shikamaru shuddered. As for other ninjas--he didn’t want to have a lover old enough to be his father—or even just ten or twelve years older. The age gap would be troublesome, if not for them, for others.

Not that he was going to come out of the closet. Nor would he get married, he sighed. He’d planned to, with the ignorance of full virginity. But sex with women was troublesome—if only they could be happy giving him blowjobs or hand jobs . . . but no, they were demanding. The first time he’d penetrated a woman he’d lost interest long before either of them approached orgasm. He’d tried to avoid future dates getting sexual, but the damage was done. It was more troublesome to deal with his friends thinking he was impotent and offering ridiculous cures than to simply put his mind to work and have a “successful” sex act with a woman. If he’d hesitated any longer, no doubt his supposed erectile dysfunction would have eventually gotten to his parents, or even the Fifth, and that, that would have been pure agony.

Shikamaru shivered as he had to accept the fact he was ready for the mission and had to now actually go meet Neji. He’d successfully avoided missions with Neji for a long, long time. God—Neji had come close to dying on the first mission Shikamaru had been team leader on. It had been a nightmare—he’d almost lost everything—his best friend, Chouji; his own life; and the life of the most beautiful man in the world, Hyuuga Neji. Beautiful, deadly, graceful, powerful Neji—a man whose hobby was meditating, a man whose mind was brilliant. He could see them together—Neji meditating as Shika lazily watched the clouds. He could imagine them playing shogi, genius vs. genius. He could spend hours watching Neji train, meditate, eat, drink, sleep—and he knew this although he’d made very sure that he’d only seen Neji for minutes doing any of them. But he could close his eyes and see him laying in the hospital asleep, his hair spread out around him; he could close his eyes and see him drink a cup of tea with Lee, see his throat as he swallowed, see his lips on the cup, his tongue lick his lips . . .

Fuck! This was why he had to avoid Neji—the memory was bad enough, but the reality of him, of feeling those white eyes on his body—Shikamaru struggled to not show that he was experiencing an immensely juvenile flood of desire and awe.

“Nara,” said the tall man in white with the amazing white eyes.

“Hyuuga,” Shikamaru managed to say without panting, thanking whatever urge had made Neji decide as a jounin he would cover his magnificent hair. He would not, NOT, get a boner over a man who sexual appetite was for cute little bishies without a brain in their pretty little heads. No, he would not pop wood over a guy that only fucked barely legal and literate civilians once or twice and moved on to the next one and the next and the next.

“Let’s go,” said Neji, and they went. And as they sped along the treetops, Shikamaru tried to think of everything awful he could about Neji, tried to remind himself how troublesome it would be to be with Neji and then know he would never experience that again. But maybe, maybe Neji moved from lover to love because he was looking for more. Maybe his inability stay with anyone for long was just that Neji hadn’t had a ninja lover—surely he hadn’t . . . well, Shikamaru really hadn’t done serious research on Neji’s lovelife . . . but maybe a genius like Hyuuga just needed another to understand him . . . but it would be so troublesome to seduce Neji, and he would have to bottom . . .

Fuck.

Shikamaru’s uniform was really not designed to conceal an erection, and he was pretty sure Neji would feel the need to investigate if he started using chakra for an illusion. Fortunately, the new turtleneck of his uniform was long. As discretely as possible, Shika jerked it out of his pants. It would have to do until he could get himself under control. It shouldn’t take that long, really.

“Trouble keeping up, Nara?” asked Neji, his head swinging around, giving Shikamaru a glimpse of his long hair swirling under the black head covering, a pale face with paler eyes, and lips, curving in a teasing smile.

Shika narrowly missed tripping over a branch.

Fuck.

He was about as up as he could be, and it sure was trouble.

_________


By late afternoon, Shikamaru was feeling exhausted—emotionally. He was experiencing something most of his peers had experienced long ago, some even as early as seven or eight. Hyuuga Neji, jounin to his chuunin, was his first out-of-control, I-know-this-will-end-badly-but-I-cannot-help-myself love. Normal teenagers went through this—he’d seen it in Chouji, in Ino, in Sakura, in Naruto, in Lee, and countless others, but seeing and experiencing a crush were different in several orders of magnitude.

His mind was full of impossible, ridiculous thoughts—how perhaps on such a long mission, Neji Hyuuga might lower his standards of beauty, might be willing to . . . but none of the wild images in his mind seemed anything remotely possible. He’d never wrap that long hair around his cock and let his hand please himself, jerking that hair, tugging at Neji’s one obvious vanity, that ridiculously long and impractical hair, that amazingly beautiful long head of hair. He’d never stare down into white eyes, into a face feeling each jerk, seeing his cock so close . . . He’d never slap those pale cheeks with his stiffened flesh, punishing them for making him so hard and aching, never feel that hair slipping over his cock under his hand, feel his cum spraying out . . . He’d never see that pale, proud Hyuuga face smeared with his cum, the white liquid on the white skin, beneath white eyes . . .

But would it be so bad to be quiet and passive—for what conversation would those silly, pretty boys be able to produce being loved by such a powerful nin as Neji? No, they’d be quiet . . . He could be quiet; he had no love of talking when there was no need for words. And what would that black hair feel like on his bare skin? What would it be like to feel those hands on his body that could find the tiniest chakra holes with blinding speed and amazing precision? What would it be like to have a body so powerful, flexible, and with immense stamina touching him, using him, taking him?

He had no experience at all with men, had never even kissed a man, or even touched a man in any way other than innocently. But surely Neji liked inexperience?

No, no, no, no, no, no . . . it was foolish . . . it would be much too troublesome . . .

And so his mind had raced back and forth unable to think clearly. His cock would stiffen for a ridiculously long time, then finally when he’d reached a state of calm and control, Neji would speak . . . or pause . . . and drink some water . . . splash some on his face . . . make some comment that seemed half flirting and half normal . . . and his blood would rush humiliatingly fast to fill his cock, proclaiming how pathetically, desperately he wanted the Hyuuga.

“ . . . fucking asleep back there, Nara?”

Neji had said fucking.

Fucking.

And then he was touching Shikamaru, his hands on Shikamaru’s arms, shaking him.

“Nara, Nara, are you fucking ok?”

He knew his mouth was opening and closing. He, the strategist, the supposedly most intelligent shinobi of his class, was acting worse that Naruto when he had been hung up on Sakura. He could only think dazed that, yes, it would be worth it, worth any trouble, for Neji to hold him, to talk dirty to him . . .

“ . . . the first fucking day of our first fucking mission alone together and you are fucking it up by falling behind, tripping and slipping on tree trunks that a genin would be ashamed to have trouble with. Give me the respect I gave you as a team leader, Nara.”

Shikamaru’s cock went soft, and his mind and body shifted into that state that was his most deadly and efficient. It was like this that he killed, that he fought his best, that he could plan and trap an S-class nin despite his mere chuunin status. In this state, he knew he could pass the jounin exam easily, perhaps even qualify for ANBU, but he didn’t want to.

“Forgive me, Hyuuga-san,” he said quietly and sincerely.

And then Neji smiled—full out smiled at him, and said, “Good, Nara. Now run in front of me, so I can watch your ass doesn’t fall asleep or off a tree. And if it does, I’ll put you over my knee and spank that ass of yours till you . . .”

Shikamaru turned and bolted, shouting something incoherent, drowning out whatever words Neji was saying. It wasn’t respectful, but if he’d listened to one more word, looked for one second longer at that smiling face, he would have come in his pants.


Part II: Neji

God, why Nara? Why did he have to go on mission that would take at least four weeks, probably a month or even two, with such a boring, holier-than-thou, lazy, infuriatingly brilliant ass? Why did the kid not like him? Not that he was a kid anymore, no, he’d filled out nicely. But it was hard to be around someone that disliked him so much.

Neji snorted—not that he’d ever experienced that hardship. The Nara avoided him like he had some terrible disease, and when they were brought together by chance, he was always scowling, turning away, averting his eyes, even muttering to himself. It was irritating because Neji had no idea why. He’d never acted that way until after that failed mission to reclaim Sasuke. They’d both managed to live, and he’d respected the Nara’s leadership. He’d even thought that Shikamaru had been upset at his near death and valued him as a friend. The Nara had come into his sickroom when Neji was meditating. He’d thought Neji was sleeping. Stupidly, Neji had (it seemed so silly now) pretended to sleep, stealing peeks at Shikamaru.

Shikamaru had looked at Neji with such emotion, such grief, and such sorrow. He’d even reached out a shaking hand and touched a lock of his hair with one fingertip like it was something wondrous. He’d actually thought for a minute that the Nara might secretly like him—well, that just showed how it was important not to trust one’s impressions when drugged to the gills. It had been a bit of a shock to be so wrong, but then that had been a crazy time. He had been a horrid ass at the chuunin exams, and the Nara boy had seen it, judged, and been a closed-minded prig that didn’t believe anyone could change. How ironic! His very own flaw—no, former flaw--was now something he could so clearly see in someone else!

But it didn’t matter. He was a Hyuuga and a genius. He was a jounin. He could work with someone that didn’t like him, and the mission would be a success. It could be worse. The Nara could be one of those people that expressed dislike by making faces, talking, criticizing, or worse, making a scene. If Shikamaru didn’t enjoy Neji’s company, it was his loss.

_________


It was hardly ten minutes into the mission before Neji was irritated. It was ridiculous for the Nara to insist on running behind him. They weren’t in enemy territory. Any other normal nin would run at his side. Not that they had to talk. But really, this lingering behind was silly—unless Shikamaru was ill? No, he had looked good, quite normal, actually a little better than he usually looked, not that Neji saw him that often. And then he’d heard it, a little stumble. A stumble? That made no sense at all.

He quietly activated his Byakugan and almost stumbled himself. Shikamaru had a boner. He was running behind him with full-on raging wood, because, yes, chakra flowed THERE, and it was flowing in a way that indicated the chuunin was thinking naughty thoughts. How weird! Shikamaru was just about as close to asexual as it came. For a while there was a rumor he was impotent. But then he’d done some stupid girl, or maybe two, but that was years ago. He’d never dated anyone since. So why was he pitching a tent running behind him? Could—no—but—maybe—no, it couldn’t be that—but wouldn’t that be funny? All this time Shikamaru avoiding him because he found him hot, and he was a repressed, homophobic gay? No, that would just be too ironic, too funny, and too, well, perfect.

And suddenly the whole thing was hilarious, absolutely hilarious. He would have to tell Naruto; no, of course, he couldn’t, but it was funny. It was his turn to make the Nara hurt, now. Hurt? Fuck, he’d actually been hurt over Shikamaru’s dislike of him. Yes, it was sad to admit it. And maybe, no, most likely, he didn’t dislike Neji at all. Well, he could find out; no, by god, he would find out.

“Trouble keeping up, Nara?” he called back, looking back to check he’d read Shikamaru’s body right.

The Nara almost tripped! The genius at shogi, the calm, analytical thinker that had led so many successful missions, had almost tripped. And his cock had jumped in his pants! Neji activated his Byakugan again briefly. It was unbelievable. It was wonderful.

Wait, what was he thinking? Was it wonderful that Nara Shikamaru might secretly want him, but not want to want him? It was weird and kind of insulting. Why wouldn’t he just admit he wanted Neji? But he was supposedly “straight.” How sad! Neji tried to ignore the whole situation.

But his mind couldn’t help thinking of the ninja behind him, running through the woods with wood—with a hard cock for him, for Hyuuga Neji. It was flattering—and funny. No, it was pathetic and unprofessional. But hadn’t he had a problem sometimes after a mission? Yeah, but that was AFTER. After a mission of risk, especially one that ended unexpectedly well, there was a buzz, a need, well, for something—fighting, fucking, or feasting. But fucking was the best.

Fucking—what would it be like to fuck Shikamaru? Wait—no—this was not good. The Nara might have a lover he was missing—but why would he be in this condition if he had a lover? Who could it be? Could Shika have been subject to some humiliating prank? Had someone given him something making him have an unnatural erection? It was possible. There were drugs and jutsus that would do that. Neji needed more information—after all this could affect the mission.

Neji’s face twitched, and he suppressed a snort. Hyuugas do not, well, rarely snort. It was not elegant or classy to snort. But if it was juvenile and unprofessional to be sporting wood on a mission, it was even more juvenile and unprofessional to try to determine that he personally was the focus and cause of that erection. But something in him wanted to know if Shikamaru was hard for him, for Hyuuga Neji whom he seemed to dislike. It was silly to try to find out. Yeah, but it also was rather fun, and it was hardly as bad as some of the pranks Naruto had pulled with his ridiculous jutsu that produced one or more naked women.

Although supposedly Naruto (or had it been Konohamaru?) had developed a version for women or men like himself that he wouldn’t mind experiencing. Not that he’d be massively affected by the sight of two men kissing—he’d require a bit more to be reduced to a nose-bleeding, aroused and inarticulate mess. And not if one of the guys was Sasuke—Neji did snort. He had no desire for someone like duck-hair.

He liked hair a bit longer—but not as long as his. Still he preferred hair you could run your fingers through and get a good fistful of. And he liked skin more fleshy, more tan; Sasuke and Sai were as pale as he was and, worst of all, were psychotic killers—well, maybe Sai wasn’t, but the guy was certainly fucked up. Neji was looking for a guy that wasn’t quite such a good killer, someone simpler, who didn’t have a messed up family. Cripes, Neji had enough fucked up family of his own! He liked his lovers to come from a normal family, with two parents who loved each other and were, well, normal.

Shikamaru came from a normal family—well, his mom was a bitch and his dad was pussy-whipped, but otherwise they were damn normal, well, for ninjas. And his skin, Shikamaru’s skin wasn’t colorless like that of all the Hyuugas, nor was it really dark, either. It was just normal, fleshy pinky-tan skin. He like to see his hands, pale against normal skin like that, or better yet, pale against such skin flushed with arousal or desire.

And he liked his lovers quiet, not too demanding, not like a Naruto or Kiba. But not too fragile—he hated when his ukes cried—who the fuck cried over getting off? Or cried over a sunset? Or over a fucking spider, and not even a poisonous or giant one? And that redhead—what the hell was his name—he’d cried over Neji tearing his damn clothes! Of course, he’d replaced them. What a fussy little man cunt that one had been, a pain in his ass! He’d never fuck a redhead again, ever.

God, why couldn’t he find a nice man pussy that wasn’t a pussy? Or a nice hot bitch that didn’t bitch? And what was with his lovers wanting to see his forehead, and then wanting to talk about and touch his “tattoo”? God, he hadn’t even known that there were people who couldn’t tell a tattoo from a curse scar—shit, maybe he needed to find and fuck a ninja. Or someone that at least knew something about Hyuugas and would have enough fucking sense to know that the green mark on his head was fucking personal!

Shit, did Nara almost run into a tree trunk back there? Neji paused and waited for Shikamaru to land next to him on a big, broad branch. Shikamaru landed and was looking away from Neji, his turned-away posture familiar, but not. It was familiar in that Neji had seen it before, but not familiar in that he had always thought it was caused by dislike. Shikamaru, however, was trying to hide a boner, not staring away because the sight of Neji made him angry or disgusted—oh my god, how many times had this happened before? Had this always been the true cause of the annoying avoidances, the irritating silences, and the infuriating I-won’t-look-at-you thing? For YEARS? He’d been giving Nara Shikamaru boners for years?

Shikamaru was readjusting his shoes now when they obviously didn’t need it, something he knew he’d fumed about in the past, thinking the man disliked him so much he would do anything to avoid even exchanging the most common conversation. Dear god, did he really get a boner anytime he was around Neji? Did it happen with other men? Oh, fuck, this was too weird—Neji started running again, not explaining the pause. He checked with his Byakugan—yup, Shikamaru was still hard. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to demand to know why Neji had stopped.

As they ran that morning, Neji’s mind kept going back to one thing. Nara Shikamaru wanted him. But why hadn’t he ever acted on it? Maybe he did hate Neji, hate that he was attracted to a man, hate that he was gay. But he was such a generally content man—well, not that Neji had bothered to study the guy’s life—but surely that would be something that would fuck a guy up. But then consider ANBU, consider some of the horrors that had befallen Naruto, Gaara, Sasuke, Ibiki . . . Could Shikamaru have been raped? Even gang raped? Raped by an enemy ninja? Afraid? Was he hiding his arousal because he was afraid of anal sex?

It seemed laughable to think of Shikamaru, so calm and able to strategize under pressure as afraid. On that mission to recover Sasuke he’d faced death calmly, more annoyed that he had to sacrifice himself and be a hero, instead of just surfing lazily through life. It had been, well, cool. And damn, with his various shadow jutsus, he could rape someone so easily.

And then it flashed into his mind—he was being held down by four, no more hands, shadow hands. Shadow hands were all over him, touching him everywhere. And above him, Shikamaru’s cock was jutting out from his body and dripping with desire, shaking at the sight of him, ready to come from just looking at him, from just touching him with shadow hands. Fuck! Neji was a seme. He might tie a lover up, but Neji wasn’t the one held down and—and—oh, no, stop, think of something else, something to keep his cock from stiffening more that it was. This was a fucking mission!

And into his head he suddenly saw himself fucking Shikamaru, saying that very thing—ah, fuck! Now he was running with a stiffy in his pants, too. No! But his cock did seem to like the idea of forcing that slim body up against a tree trunk and slamming into it hard again and again. Or gripping that ponytail in his fist, driving his cock into that mouth that frowned at him, that muttered at him, yawned, and dismissed him. No it would be open, needing, wanting his cock . . . fuck!

Hyuugas do not force themselves on anyone. They are courted and chased. Hyuugas do not spend the boring parts of missions fantasizing about fucking team members. He was a Hyuuga.

And Neji found himself trying not to laugh. Maybe the two of them could even laugh about this tomorrow—what a pair they were! Two powerful shinobi running through the woods with erections like teenage virgins. Oh, god, tonight . . . Shikamaru would have to jack off . . . he would jack off thinking about him, about Neji . . . Fuck! He would not get a nosebleed. It was pathetic, not erotic. It was egotistical and ridiculous to think he was the cause for Shikamaru’s erection. Was he even still hard?

Neji checked. No, he wasn’t. Good. No, he was not disappointed. And, well, that had his cock back to normal. Cripes, maybe it was time for some water.

He stopped and pulled out a bottle. Shikamaru landed next to him on the branch, and their eyes met as Neji drank. And for just an instant, Neji saw that look he’d seen so long ago pretending to be sleeping before Shikamaru turned away. A look of awe, like Shikamaru was seeing something awesome, something wonderful, something he found stunning and beautiful.

Had he imagined it? Had he just wanted that look on Shikamaru’s face? Staring at the apparently disinterested and bored back of Shikamaru, Neji activated his Byakugan briefly. Wow. And for a second he fought the temptation to step up behind Shikamaru and kiss the back of that pretty neck, press into that cute ass, reach around and feel that desire for him. He could force the Nara back against a tree trunk and make him look him in that face, make him show all that need, that desire, that worship . . .

Shikamaru yawned.

Neji checked—he was still hard, the little actor.

“Wanting to go to bed already, Nara?” Neji drawled and then had to start running again, to not to laugh aloud at how that had made Shikamaru flinch. Oh, he was bad to tease him so, but he wasn’t going to stop yet. Nara could take, take it like a shinobi, like the man he so obviously was, and besides, it was deliciously, deliciously fun.

_________


Hours later, it was still fun. Neji was sure that he was part of the reason that Shikamaru was struggling with an inappropriate need, but the shadow nin was controlling himself well. Hell, Neji might not have noticed if he’d had something on his mind or needed to worry about their safety. But they were in Fire Country and heading for an inn traditionally favored by Konoha’s ninja on their way to missions in the Northwest. They’d have to pass through Grass Country, then Earth on their way to Mountain Country.

Tonight Nara would take care of his problem and the fun would be over. Hmmm, would he pick up a rent boy? Not likely, given how in the closet he was. Or was he bisexual? Good god, what if it was his hair, making Shikamaru think of some woman? But his hair was covered. Hmm, maybe it was time to take a piss again. Oh, god, I’m a dick, thought Neji, laughing to himself. But then the laugh was on him—because damn, if his cock didn’t think it wanted to spew sperm, not urine. Fuck!

Maybe this was some weird joke the Nara was playing—the shadow-user was supposed to always be seven steps ahead in planning. Maybe he was counting on his little, well, no nice-sized, normal-sized, ok, a maybe a bit above average, but it was hard too fucking tell, fuck, fuck, fuck! Hyuuga Neji did not spend missions trying to figure out the size of another shinobi’s cock. Why the hell did he care? Not that he minded if a cock was small. Small fit in his mouth nice, and he hadn’t yet found anyone worth the trouble of letting them take him.

And then his mind just freaked out because he had this idea that someone with the sort of wrist and finger control that came from working shadows would have fingers that would feel good—long fingers that could find a guy’s spot, find THERE—oh, no fucking way was he imagining getting fingered by Shikamaru! No, no, no, just no! Just this morning he was convinced the guy was an asshole—no fucking, no! He was not going to think about Shikamaru’s asshole and if it would be a pink one, a gapper that had been used before, or tight like a little—oh god, Neji needed a fucking slap in the face and a dose of reality.

Shit! Here he was with his mind full of unacceptable sex shit, and Nara wasn’t even hard, was just jogging along back there like nothing was up.

“Are you fucking asleep back there, Nara?” he shouted feeling so angry he wanted to punch something.

Goddamn it, now what? He’d glanced back, and Shikamaru had just stopped. Shit, he wasn’t going back there with wood.

“Nara!”

He wasn’t going to look and try to see if the guy had a boner, no Neji wasn’t, and there was no excuse for using his blood limit again. Fuck, no excuse or need for it all fucking day, really. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Nara, Nara, are you fucking ok?”

Oh, this stopping and not saying anything was too much! Neji was going to punch some fucking sense into him now. And then his hands were on those long, lightly muscled arms, and he was looking down into a face that had to be lying, that couldn’t be conveying that emotion written so plainly on it. No, it was a lie, and he would wipe that look of dazed lovesickness off the lying little fuck’s pretty face! Then Neji was shaking that lithe body like it was some civilian’s, snarling out, “I can’t fucking believe you. It’s the first fucking day of our first fucking mission alone together, and you are fucking it up by falling behind, tripping and slipping on tree trunks that a genin would be ashamed to have trouble with. Give me the respect I gave you as a team leader, Nara.”

And he did.

Oh.

Fuck. Shikamaru had gone to red alert and apologized.

This was the Nara whose mind had was one of the great resources of Konoha, the one that everyone knew would probably end up a war leader or personal assistant to the sixth or even head of ANBU some day.

What the fuck had Neji been thinking shaking Shikamaru, the lazy genius who could easily be more than a mere chuunin if he would give a shit? Dear god, the man before him would kill him in a heartbeat if was an enemy nin. And then, he remembered for some reason that as a genin, Shikamaru had the balls to pretend he wanted Neji’s autograph! He sure fucking had balls. Oh, yeah, balls that sure needed drained today!

Neji grinned at Shikamaru. Well, it now seemed like Neji was the one with the problem, with being juvenile and thinking silly smutty things. It was pretty fucking funny actually. Smiling, he said, “Good, Nara. Now run in front of me, so I can watch your ass doesn’t fall asleep or off a tree. And if it does, I’ll put you over my knee and spank that ass of yours till you cry out and beg me--”

Holy fucking shit! Nara had a fucking crush on him big time! God, he might just let me put him over my knee—but I’d rather slide my fingers in his ass than seriously spank it and make him beg me to fuck him . . .

Two rooms, two horny guys, two jerk-off sessions: that was what was happening tonight. Cause if Nara was thinking of picking up a little rent boy, Neji was going to fucking stop that—no, no, no, Hyuugas did not have to fight for lovers or force them. No way was he ever going to make an effort to get a guy—guys chased Neji, came up and begged him to touch them, to dance with them, to kiss them, to take them . . . guys that were fucking boring. Guys that would shit themselves if he ever yelled at them like he’d just yelled at Nara Shikamaru. And he’d gone all deadly—fuck, Shikamaru had looked sexy dangerous, and then he’d looked like he was getting head or gonna come for a second and fled. What would he look like with something touching that needy dick of his? With a hand . . . with a tongue . . . with his cock deep in a throat . . . buried to the hilt in an ass?

Fuck!! This mission was going to suck, no, there was going to be no sucking, no fucking . . . God, thank god, Shikamaru was setting a fast pace—the sooner they got to the inn, the better. Cripes, couldn’t the Fifth have sent Hinata instead of him? Shikamaru got along well with Hinata . . . no, no fucking way was he thinking of Hinata . . .

Ah, damn, Nara wasn’t worth this much emotion, this much irritation, arousal, no, not arousal, this much anger—oh, god, he needed to meditate tonight, to relax. Maybe he should activate his Byakugan and count the animals, birds, and bugs as he ran . . . no, he was not going to look at Shikamaru’s chakra, to trace its flow, to let himself look at every chakra point’s position and imagine his hand on each one . . . no, Shikamaru wasn’t worth it, absolutely not . . .

Ah fuck, the two of them were hard as could be and heading for a night at a very good inn with very good beds . . . what if there was only one room . . . if he didn’t love his hair so much, he might just tear it out by the time this mission was over. Fuck, whatever Mountain Country was paying them wasn’t enough; no way it was worth this shit . . . oh god, four pilgrims had been killed, one a young boy. Shit, focus on that, focus on fucking demon-possessed snow leopards. Yeah, snow leopards and icy cold mountains. Great . . . just great . . . something a jounin can look forward to . . . not tonight, no he was not looking forward to tonight, to that ass in front of him beneath him . . .

And struggling as much as Shikamaru was, Neji made his way towards the inn, consoling himself that at least his uniform completely covered his cock . . . and it wasn’t raining, either. Not that he wanted to see Shikamaru wet or anything . . . no, not at all.