Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Golden ❯ Golden ( Chapter 1 )

Golden

white with touches of pink, the clouds seemed more of a sky than the gray-burned blue of the celestial heavens. The gently ruffled things were like balls of woven cotton, tighter than expected but full of life...all of it a sun-touched, cold and almost ethereal cloud.

His smile was barely traceable, his eyes touched with heaviness not usually found in seventeen-year-old boys. But this young fool was older than his years—and with a rank to match, nonetheless.

Jounin.

But he spent his time in quiet observation of the heavens, ignoring his past missions and steadfastly forgetting the immediate future...except, perhaps, what black eyes observed from the heavens above.

Quietly, he smiled.

Finally, the ruffled clouds smoothed into a thick, ashen blanket, covering the sun and dimming the light completely. The boy took note of the air, then. It was chill—sharp, even—with the smell of cold and wet. It was enough to numb his fingers and irritate his nose.

He smiled to himself, thinking, ...a nice reprise...

The wind sighed while the young man allowed himself a small privilege—a quiet jaunt to the more secluded side of Konoha, the village of the Leaf.

Sandaled feet dtted and thnned along the overshadowed path—trees older than the city looming high around such outskirts—and the young man smiled again.

These are the days a shinobi dreams about... he thought, and some of the weariness departed. Slow afternoons bleeding into morning...eah. These are the things I love...

“Oi!” a voice called, somewhere off to the side.

Shikamaru turned, a habitual gesture, seeing that he'd already placed the speaker from memory. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the greeting.

“Shikamaru, I said!” the full grin of white teeth sparkled even in dim lighting, and strong hands shook a long clay bottle, slshhhh, slllhhh, the liquid begged for release from stony insides. The grin turned to a determined smile before the young man could blink, and the blond ran a hand through unruly

golden

hair as though the soft spikes needed taming. A red tongue rolled against soft lips, and a sweet smile overcame the round face. Almost cherubic in his soft good looks, Naruto's beckoning hand automatically drew Shikamaru's attention. “You wanna watch,” a flash of white teeth and hard blue eyes, “the moon rise

“with me?”

Shikamaru smiled back, and raised a hand as he turned away, “no, thanks, I don't have the time—” the taller boy began.

“Hehheh,” Naruto's blue eyes flashed a deep crimson red, reflecting the setting sun's brilliant colors, “yeah, you do,” the boy leered, and for a moment it seemed the small, well-built blond was taller, leaner, like a cat. “Or else you'd be home, sleeping up for tomorrow's mission.” The blond boy's laughter filled the quiet path, and suddenly

white

hands clutched at Shikamaru's crooked arm. “Come on,, Shika...we're buds,” the word rolled of the boy's tongue like honey, slow and achingly sweet.

The stark contrast between the usual rowdy, loud-mouthed, annoying Naruto and this lean, smooth-talking young man was enough to startle Shikamaru off his cloud. He raised one eyebrow at the other, and opened his mouth to protest—

—but the other wasn't finished. “Maru, baby,” explosive laughter bit at Shikamaru like sharp teeth, “I've got a whole bottle of sake,” Japanese rice wine, “and nobody to take up a generous offer?” the indignant snort forthcoming once again put Shikamaru to odds. “Please.”

Shikamaru scowled, his dark eyes narrowing. “Naruto,” he began carefully, “...don't tell me you've got a mission tomorrow.” Shikamaru put a cold hand against a flushed and sweaty forehead, holding his breath.

Blue eyes flashed dangerously, and a small snarl twisted soft lips downward. “Fine,” the youth purred dangerously, “I won't.”

Black eyes shifted slightly, and Shikamaru had to wonder...if the rumors he'd heard of infiltrating Kagamigakure, the village of mirrors, were true...and he could only guess whether or not a certain sultry, black-haired young demon of a missing-nin had truly created a monstrous host of rogues there. Shoving such thoughts aside, Shikamaru shook his head.

A cup from nowhere, reflecting in the clear liquid a full and glowing sun...and Naruto's cheek, the six whiskers darkened on unusually pale skin.

Shikamaru sighed just as Naruto laughed sweetly in his ear—so close he could feel the wet of Naruto's breath—like a young and playful soul. “Alright, Naruto,” he agreed, taking a whiff of the pleasantly aged sake Naruto offered, “we'll watch the moon rise,” he smiled, taking the cup with three fingers. And I'll make sure you get home tonight, even if it takes all my time, he promised himself.

Shikamaru's fingers tightened as he looked at Naruto's lovingly polished Konoha headband...and he wished a night of easy freedom good-bye.

Naruto didn't seem to hear the long suffering sigh forthcoming, didn't seem to catch Shikamaru's dark and intelligent gaze. “Excellent,” the blond purred, and one arm snaked around Shikamaru's slender waist while the other gestured wildly in circular motions. “We'll find us a nice spot in the woods...I know just the place.”

As they walked, Shikamaru watched the emerald leaves darken to black, indistinct shapes, and listened to the quiet fall of their feet on heavily trod-on foliage. They strayed far from the city's paths, and deep into an ancient grove Shikamaru barely remembered.

Though they walked in silence, both could hear the

whisper

of the wind on the rise. Slowly, as the darkness swallowed them, they stalled, and finally, they stopped. It was then that Shikamaru lifted his gaze, and a faint smile twisted at his lips.

They were near the edge of Konoha's many cliffs, but the fall was not a long one—it could be easily scaled by one of the ninja elite. And instead of the common jutting rocks, the way was covered in smooth, moss-devoured stones that drew breath from clear, reflective water. The trees left off for the darkening pool, before beginning again, not far in the distance. It was an old place, full of untapped power and ancient, beautiful trees.

“See?” Naruto pulled away quickly, spreading out his long, red trench coat on the moist grass. “It's beautiful, ain't it?” white teeth glistened in the darkness, and for a moment, the shadows fell on Naruto's darkened

eyes

so that the pupil became slitted, like a cat's.

The red tongue darted out again, tasted the air with eerie exhilaration, a giddy and dangerous grin between six dark whisker lines.

Shikamaru could only nod in agreement with the blond's statement, and so he hastily gulped the first cup of sake. “Mmm,” he said lazily, plopping himself on the soft coat. “Thanks,” he grumbled, beginning to situate himself.

Before Shikamaru could sprawl in his usual manner—arms folded under his head for a firm pillow—Naruto snuck up behind the youth, one arm once again nestled against Shikamaru's back. At first, the limb was cold—shocking to gently stretched flesh—and then it was unearthly hot.

Naruto's other hand, Shikamaru was satisfied to find, steadied the bottle of sake.

Graciously playing host with his amused, if slightly bored friend, Naruto poured another cup of the alcohol. “Mmm,” Naruto mumbled, taking a deep pull from his own cup, “...that old pervert definitely knows his wine...” Naruto breathed.

Shikamaru snorted, leaning against Naruto's arm somewhat awkwardly, “What, he told you what to get?” the genius asked quietly.

Naruto grinned into Shikamaru's hair, letting the startled boy feel sharp teeth graze the tender scalp. “Nah,” Naruto laughed quietly. “I stole it from him.”

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. “Good grief, Naruto—”

“—`good grief?'” the boy mocked, pitching his voice to a childish squeak, “what are you, ten years old?” the sound of careful drinking, and more laughter. “Don't be such a prick; I left him plenty more...” the boy began, “and Inari,” god of the harvest, the full moon, “knows he's stolen loads of that brat Naru—”a hasty cough, “—kiddie me's money.”

Shikamaru wondered at this as he drained another cup. “Look, the moon,” he mumbled, anxious to get the conversation to a pleasant standstill.

He got his wish as Naruto nuzzled against him, red mouth hot on cold skin. “...mm...” the grin Naruto wore brought the hair on Shikamaru's arms up.

“Stop it.” The jounin demanded.

Breaking off with a laugh, Naruto simply poured the two of them more rice-wine. The liquid made a quiet swwww as it hit their cups.

Shikamaru concentrated on the sound, not quite satisfied with Naruto's reaction. But eventually, he relaxed, and let himself lean against the close-by blond.

For a while, they contemplated the reddening moon in silence.

Then, a few cups of sake later Shikamaru almost didn't realize it was Naruto's hand that traced circles in Shikamaru's deliciously sensitive belly. Content, he leaned into the other's embrace lazily, like a tired pup.

Amused chuckles burned in Shikamaru's ears. “Aaah, the moon,” a break, “has risen, hasn't she?” slow maneuvering of long limbs made Shikamaru painfully aware of Naruto's hardening body.

A protest sprang from dulled lips. “Stop it, Narrr...” the words slurred past distinction, and the genius' befuzzled mind latched—at long last—on to two puzzling concepts.

Naruto's breath smelled clear...of mist and dark nights—not of alcohol.

Secondly, Naruto's eyes weren't blue. They were red...and the deep lines on his cheeks were like engravings of ebony...

...and then the bright orbs flashed blue all over again. Cherubic lips hid a blood-red mouth and pearlen teeth, golden hair masked a too-pale face.

“You know you want to,” the other boy breathed, amusement somehow harsher on marble-like features, “...you know you want

“me.”

Shikamaru's lips were too cold, too hard. He couldn't form the denial, couldn't even mouth, no,

no.

Dimly, Shikamaru felt Naruto's cold hands rock his hips back and forth, and the unnatural heat the sake lent brought embarrassing reactions oh too quickly.

“Mmm...” Shikamaru moaned.

Naruto's smile was catlike in its vicious pleasure.

Foxlike, Shikamaru thought dimly. His mind slowed, his eyes half closed as clothing was eased off unyielding limbs.

Naruto smirked behind a wave of golden hair, “if you let me,” he licked pink lips, “this could be quite enjoyable,” the boy's skin turned silver in the moonlight.

Shikamaru groaned loudly, “Ah,” and with effort, he spoke, “Decline—”

Naruto's hand flew to cover trembling lips, and Shikamaru was suddenly overwhelmed by how powerful Naruto had become. Red-tinged and haloed, the blond edged forward, putting his hardened, battle-scarred and oddly porcelain body on top of Shikamaru's chilled form.

“Shh,” the blond bade, and his eyes matched his vicious tongue, “no tricks.”

Dimly, Shikamaru saw the moon reflected in Naruto's bloodied eyes, and he remembered, strangely, that Inari was hailed by another people...

...the old god was Lord of the kitsune...the fox spirits...

Shikamaru's mind folded in on itself as

pain

shot through him, and he could only moan against unyielding fingers as the worst came. Hot and cold, aching from more than restraint, Shikamaru was aware of the water-heavy air on his head, and he

wished

himself far away, on a cloud of pure

white

beauty and flexibility.

Shikamaru relented, to his shame, as his legs were raised, his body turned, and an amused eye turned on

him.

Soft, ragged, strong and brutal as any beast. But not without disgraceful pleasure and unutterable delight.

Sex was not enough.

Shikamaru's mouth was allowed fresh air for an instant, before a thirsting red tongue plundered his sore and gagging mouth. Soft, wet and sensually sensitive as anything, Shikamaru knew delight,

he knew humiliation,

and he knew

gold

and altogether unfamiliar

red

as unspeakable play was enacted on his body.

He waited for it to pass, imagining himself aloft in the blind, deadened and blackened sky. Dejected and unsure of his course of action, he ignored everything possible.

Finally,

a fully satisfied and highly entertained cherub caught the sore and hurting young man in a strong embrace. The next thing he knew, Shikamaru felt the cool touch of healing water on his skin.

Naruto smiled softly, showing only a hint of white teeth. He bent in and smoothly kissed Shikamaru to sleep, strong hands soothing aching joints. The blond sang, eerily, of a song so old not even the trees could recognize it.

Old masks are burning bright...
wild
walk the night terrors...
nightmares are riding by,
riding by the lofty meadows—
—onto the brink of all--
—flows on, my voice,
singing,
singing.

Shikamaru tried not to think.

...and he let the cold water numb him, finally submitting to a cool, enveloping unconscious, lost in a sweet smelling pond as clear as a looking-glass.

When he opened his eyes again, there was no sign of the maliciously angelic boy, no trace of the fox-like humor...but there were wide eyes—

—brown eyes—

and unruly, spiked hair, and a

gentle growl of concern from behind.

In the trees, a red coat hung to dry...Naruto's...and the words floated to him like a charm,

“Shikamaru?”

He groaned in response.

“What in hell possessed you to skinny-dip drunk?”

Shikamaru could only laugh bitterly, and imagine cold, red eyes and a cruel red mouth, all crowned with hair of

gold.

His eyes shut.

...and the world was a calm, peaceful black.