Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Habits ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

A/N: Ah yes, the lemon. My first real one - so please, rip it to pieces in your reviews.

If you’d rather see a clean version, head on over to Fanfiction.net. I assure you that it gets the message across just fine, without being smutty.

Habits - Chapter 4

As luck would have it, Shikamaru’s mom wasn’t home when he got there. That likely wouldn’t last long, as evidenced by the note lying on the kitchen table:

Gone to the Akimichis’ for the evening, leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.

~Mom

P.S. Tell Temari she needs to stay for breakfast.

His eye twitched as he read the last line of the note, dropping it back on the table with a sigh. There was an after note of amusement in his mind as he realized that minutes before he and his mother had unknowingly only been a few houses apart.

In the sink was a plate, chopsticks, and an empty tupperware - Temari had obviously decided to take advantage of the leftovers since he wasn’t going to. That was fine with him, since it meant she wouldn’t be bitching about being hungry any time soon.

He headed upstairs and narrowly escaped a wrestling match with the fan leaning against the inside of his door. He’d have to talk to her about her choice of weapon-stashing locations.

It was instantly obvious that his bed was already taken; the kunoichi sleeping there had thrown his pillows to the foot of the bed and was tangled in the blanket, her body in and one foot out. He sighed, glancing out the window. The sun had barely begun to set, and it was a fairly warm evening... there was time yet to enjoy some cloud gazing. He patted his pockets, confirming the items within them before popping open the window and climbing onto the roof.

He sat there for a moment, eyes fixed on a random point in his back yard. His hands slid back into his pants, pulling out the carton and lighter, flicking both open and lighting one up. The action had become instinct in less than four days, and already his eyes had grown almost immune to the irritation from the smoke. He guessed that this was how it’d started for Asuma, though he didn’t really know. It was something for his mind to consider, though; something to occupy the time that should have been spent playing board games with his teacher.

Shikamaru slumped back onto the roof, one hand pillowing his head while the other lazily moved his cigarette every now and then. There were barely enough clouds to justify watching tonight, but the sunset was growing gradually more brilliant. His eyes began to fall shut, his second hand joining the first behind his head as he contemplated sleep.

The weight that appeared on his chest came only a minute or two later, but he’d managed to drift off for an instant in between. He looked down over his chin at Temari, who was in turn staring off at the horizon, in the opposite direction of his face. He moved his arm back to rest on her waist, acknowledging her presence, but content with the silence, he decided to wait till she inevitably spoke to start conversing.

Her words didn’t come until the cigarette had shrunk to nothing but a filter and been discarded. He felt one of her hands grip his shirt and knew she wanted to say something, so he gave her a half-hearted “Hmm?”

“I still remember when my mom died,” she began, and for a moment, he wished he could see her face to know where this was going. “I hated Gaara for the first few years, for taking her away from me. Kankurou doesn’t remember her, but I was four, so I remember...” She sighed, the breath moving her whole body. She tended to do that - she wasn’t one to half-ass or hide anything, and emotions were no exception. “And when dad was killed by Orochimaru... I remember that, too. We all do.”

She rolled over suddenly, holding her head up just a few inches above his chest, to look down at him. “And in the last few months... I nearly lost both of my brothers. For a while, I honestly thought I was going to be alone.”

He reached up, touching her cheek softly with his thumb. It was odd to him to hear the normally ultra-tough kunoichi open up in this way. Her pain was radiating off her face, and for a moment he thought she was going to cry. That was before he realized that she already was.

“I don’t know how much comfort it is to you, but you’re not alone. I know how you feel - I’ve lost so many people and come close to losing others. In fact...” she closed her eyes, trying to hold back her remaining tears as she realized some had already fallen, “I think you’re the only person important to me who hasn’t come close to dying yet.”

He used his thumb to wipe away the wetness from her face, understanding what she was trying to say. She’d been there when he’d nearly lost his best friend three years before. She knew that losing those close to him - one of the most common facts of shinobi life - was the one thing he couldn’t handle, the one thing that would bring him to tears. And she was warning him that she was the same. It was a silent, implied version of the same agreement he’d made with his teammates less than an hour before: neither of them were allowed to die any time soon.

Leaning up to kiss her, he brought his hand behind her neck to comfort her softly. She sighed again, this time much softer, and laid her head back on his chest. They both rested there for a moment, gazing at each other, before Temari’s instincts took over, reconnecting their lips and pushing him down by the shoulders. His lips twitched into a smirk before he began to lazily return her eager kisses.

Her hands worked their way off his shoulders and onto his neck, then into his hair, tangling and tugging and forcing his head to tilt to the right so she could kiss him better. The fact that the band tying back his hair managed to stay in place for a good five minutes was proof that she was being slow and gentle today - any other, he’d have been half naked by that time. Unless, of course, she’d gone after her own garments first.

Speaking of which, her kimono had been hiked up around her knees via some wriggling, enabling her to toss one leg over his hips. Now she was somewhere between straddling him and just laying on him. Her thoughts were too focused on the union of their mouths and tongues for her to pay attention to what her body was doing just yet. Temari continued to run her hand through his hair, combing it back from his forehead repeatedly while the other hand gripped loosely at the nape of his neck, holding him where she wanted him.

Shikamaru’s hands hung loosely against her back, trailing her spine slowly with just enough force for it to not tickle. With each sweep he tugged at her obi a little more, loosening the sash until it fell open. She slid her knees up alongside his hips, raising her weight from his body. The black kimono hung from her sides, and what edges were still caught between them he tugged free before returning his hands to her sides.

Their mouths separated momentarily as she shifted, allowing them a moment to catch their breath and observe one another. Shikamaru’s head lay cocked to one side, his long hair draped above his head where Temari had pushed it after freeing it from its tie. One of his eyebrows was raised as he lazily scanned her face, seemingly apathetic to the fact her half-naked body was only a few inches lower than that. For now he was content to marvel in the red tint covering her cheeks. He knew full well that her rosy face was purely a hormonal flush; Temari wasn’t one to get embarrassed, and the only time he’d seen her blush was the first time she’d asked him for sex. That didn’t change that it made her uncharacteristically cute. Normal, every day Temari was somewhat beautiful and definitely sexy - in a dangerous way - but the cute version was something only he saw.

That’s probably why it made him smirk.

She rolled her eyes, certain the amused expression was the reaction to having a set of boobs displayed for him rather nicely. She hadn’t yet mastered the art of reading the leaf shinobi’s thoughts, and probably never would. Part of her knew it’d be best if she never did manage to figure him out - the mystery was a large part of what kept her interested.

An impatient shiver ran through her. Yes, it was true that right now they were both depressed, but in her mind, the best cure for sorrow was a major distraction, and she knew no distraction more powerful than sex. She dropped back down, lips diving for his neck as her elbows settled near his shoulders. He let out a sigh that was somewhere between enjoying himself and just being tired, prompting her to growl and increase her efforts.

She’d figured out a few months back that often he’d pretend to be less interested than he was, just to see what she’d try. Now it was a game they’d play; she’d pretend not to know and keep tormenting him until he reacted, and he’d pretend not to know she knew and enjoy whatever was thrown his way.

Only an idiot wouldn’t have noticed the frustrated noises coming from his shoulder two minutes later, though, and so he grasped her by the arms, pushing her into his line of sight. Her face was tight, her lips pursed as she avoided his eyes. “Temari?” he asked, even as his slightly-clouded mind assembled a list of a dozen or so reasons for her reaction.

“Damn’t.” Her teeth clenched, grinding together as she fisted the shoulders of his shirt. “Damn’t Shikamaru... do something. Please.” She finally looked at him on the last word, her eyes piercing through his with a combination of annoyance and sorrow. “I need to forget about everything.”

For a moment, his brain slowed further, the vision of the rainy day four days before filling his eyes for a moment, threatening to bring the wetness with it.

He could respect that. He needed to forget, too.

His right hand released her arm and dropped to the lower part of his stomach, where her hips hovered just a couple inches above him. Eyes never leaving hers, he slipped his fingers past her blonde curls to brush over her clit. She wasn’t wearing underwear - she never did, having them wad up while fighting just wasn’t worth it, so there was no fabric in the way. By the time he repeated the motion, her eyes had snapped shut and her mouth had done the opposite. To Shikamaru, it was one of her sexiest expressions, and so he didn’t mind encouraging it to continue.

This was far from their first time together, but they hadn’t yet reached full fluency with one another’s bodies. Sex between them generally involved Shikamaru drawing out the foreplay until Temari got frustrated enough to do most the thrusting herself. That would last until he got off, and if she hadn’t finished within that time, one of them would fix that, multiple times if necessary. Depending on who they were supposed to meet and where the next day, as well as where they were hiding that night, the process might repeat itself. He was still far from a pro at bringing her to orgasm (hence the “one of them” clause), but he had mastered the art of making her face twist into a perverted, blissful grin.

And really, that was good enough for both of them.

He practiced one of his favorite tricks, squeezing her clit between two fingers and his thumb and rolling it ever so slightly. Her grip on his shirt tightened, then gradually loosened as she drew in a breath and willed her fingers to let go. The pattern continued for a little while, until Temari’s arms were shaking too much for her hands to remember to unfasten and his face was plastered with a smug, vaguely interested smirk.

His hand shifted, earning a suppressed whimper. She never made more noise than she wanted to - part of it was simply her unwillingness to submit to anyone, and part of it was habit from sharing a room with her brothers for the better part of puberty. He swiped his finger along her opening, wetting it and causing her to bite her lip in anticipation.

The day they’d discovered that his long, skinny fingers, while awkward for performing hand seals, were perfect for hooking inside of her just right, was a very happy one indeed for Temari. So as she felt his middle finger curl and begin to grind inside of her, she couldn’t help but let out a squeak of enjoyment. While wonderful, this sort of stimulation was less intense, leaving her capable of sitting up and paying a little attention to him in return. One hand massaged his shoulder and chest roughly while the other reached behind her, her torso twisting so that she could push her palm into his thigh.

She fought to keep her hips still in near silence for the next few minutes, even after he’d added another finger, then a third for good measure. Her grin was wide enough to show at least half her teeth, and what noise she did make was the occasional grateful utterance of his name.

Halfway through the syllables, though, there was suddenly nothing. It took her the rest of his name and another breath to notice, but once she did, she was greeted by Shikamaru’s best bored, “who, me?” face. The kunoichi swatted at his chest, scolding him more for the innocent look than for stopping. He sat up, causing her to slide off his stomach and onto his lap, sending her labia over a rather obvious lump on the way.

She got the hint. Rather quickly, at that.

One hand dropped between them, pushing up his shirt and pulling on the tie of his waistband, freeing it and allowing her to pull them down a little less than carefully. She grabbed his cock through the remaining layer of clothing and shoved her lips into his at the same time, forcing him to prop himself up with his hands if he didn’t want to tumble back on to the roof. Once again, their tongues battled, each in their own way; Temari’s forced its way in, roughly attacking his mouth, while his hid, sneaking in to taunt her each time she started to ease up.

Her grip on his dick loosened, only for her hand to snake inside his boxers and resume the steady stroking. He winced slightly from the rough movements, but groaned just the same. Unlike Temari, he was too lazy to either hold back or force any reactions, so any noises were genuine. She loved it, not because of the sounds themselves - though they could get rather sexy - but because she was the one making him moan and not the other way around. She’d managed to take possession of a man who was considered one of his country’s finest assets. Only the fact that she outranked him ever lessened that enjoyment.

When Shikamaru had had enough, he let her know, once more by making it painfully obvious. He wrapped one hand behind her butt, pulling her closer and causing her crotch to rub against his and her working hand. As the heat of his erection pressed against her, she moaned, biting her lip again. “Fine,” she growled lowly, pushing her body up by her legs so that her stomach pressed into his chest. He drew his legs up, folding them and pushing both his pants and black boxers halfway down his thighs before resting on his heels.

He didn’t miss the grin on her face as she slid back down his body, one hand holding his cock steady below her entrance. The grin only grew as she wriggled her way onto him. Settling down until her lips pressed against his balls, she let out a sigh, only to rise back up again. Within a couple quick strokes, her face had gone from sly to intoxicated, her flush deepening as the first beads of sweat appeared beneath her bangs.

Their lack of protection was due to a particularly choice piece of Shikamaru logic that he’d declared some months earlier: since she was the one capable of getting pregnant, it was her responsibility to ensure it didn’t happen. The argument had gone on for at least a month, with him refusing to partake in sex until she’d come up with an alternative to condoms - he didn’t feel that a 15-year-old chuunin was father material, and she had to agree. Finally she’d decided to ask Sakura about it (“I heard that herbal remedies would lessen my PMS, and it can be so hard to fight when you’re cramping”) and had wound up on some type of birth control that Shizune had concocted. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but if the risks were low enough for the genius they were good enough for her.

Naturally she’d rationalized the situation by telling herself that since she was responsible for most of the fucking that went on anyway, she might as well take the preventative measures too.

She hated to let him decide anything for her. Unless she asked.

Right now she was doing the asking, though, and her exact request was that he do something useful. He’d leaned forward enough that he wasn’t in risk of falling backwards, leaving him with one free hand - the other was still on her ass, pretending to help her move on him. She snatched up the unoccupied hand and shoved it against her closest breast, squeezing both just in case that wasn’t enough hint for him. He obliged, rubbing her slowly, at a pace that matched their current movements.

Their rhythm fell into place within the next minute, a slow and steady grinding of her hips over his. His head rested on her shoulder, his eyes traveling sluggishly from her face to the breast in his hand and back, his lips occasionally brushing over her skin. Her own face was pressed into his neck where it met his shoulder so that each breath washed over what skin his shirt left exposed. Her hands had attached themselves to a fistful each of his hair and his shirt, and her yukata hung loosely across her back and along her elbows after it fell from her shoulders.

They’d had sex at least a dozen times since their relationship had progressed to that level, and not once had they done something that either considered “making love”. Tonight, moving slowly against each other on the roof, with the sunset as a backdrop, there was just enough affection to their actions to change that. Though unspoken, their efforts to comfort each other were perfect compliments to their respective needs and personalities. Temari slowed down to let him have things his lazy way, relinquishing at least a little control of herself and the situation, and Shikamaru obeyed her wishes without any ulterior motives, aside from the fact he cared about her.

Whatever control either one had began to vanish as Temari inevitably sped up bit by bit. Her head fell back, her breath escaping with audible shudders, as she rocked and bounced on his lap. At some point he had to stop massaging her chest, his hand behind her shoulder blades instead to support her as she leaned back more and more, making sure his erection rubbed the right section of her walls. Finally one of her own fell to the shingles, supporting them both and providing just enough extra leverage to satisfy the heat in her stomach. The hand still attached to his hair pushed just a bit, encouraging his lips to press into her neck. For once the shinobi did so earnestly, his tongue lapping against the pulse point he knew she loved.

That did it for her; she’d hit the point of no return. For the first time in the whole act her groans began to outnumber her silent breaths, a clear urgency in the speed of everything she did. Her head fell forward again, forehead against his shoulder. The air started to catch in her lungs and her body stiffened more with each stroke. “Shika,” she managed to choke out once, her second hand seizing his shirt once more.

She managed half a gasp between the time the first wave started in her pussy and when it hit her lungs. Her teeth quickly sank into his shoulder through the fabric, muffling the long whimper that followed. Hips still moving in stutters of their own accord, her body shook for a few seconds and then went limp gradually, her hands releasing their grip first before the rest of her body relaxed.

She pushed him into a sloppy kiss, the closest she ever came to thanking him for the things they did. He met it with a moan to remind her that he wasn’t done yet, and not even his level of casualness was going to stop him from finishing once he’d gotten this far. While he waited for her to recover he wrestled her yukata off her arms, balling it up and setting it on the roof beside them. Temari pulled from the kiss to give him a half dazed, “what was that for?” look, and he answered by rolling them both over so that her head rested on the discarded garment.

His shirt was about half-soaked - he hated to think of how sweaty it’d be once he was putting out more effort - so Shikamaru took a moment to strip himself down before settling over her. He pushed back in effortlessly, his eyes slipping shut as he pounded her at a rate close to the one she’d left off with. Her legs rose and fastened behind his ass, holding him down against her but allowing him space to move still.

This much, at least, was the same as always; she was on top first with only rare exception, and he was on top second round or if she happened to finish before him. There was a silent agreement to alternate turns like that, so that neither would get too tired to continue until they’d reached their limit - but since they’d only rarely gotten far enough for her to be on top a second time, neither was sure how far that agreement lasted. Far enough for tonight’s purposes, at least, and that was what was important at the moment.

He shoved into her time and time again, his face peaceful as he enjoyed the warmth enveloping his arousal. Below him, her face was tinted red and glistening from orgasmic bliss, and her hair stuck to her face or hung loose where it had escaped from her hair ties. It was worth the effort just to see her like this and to feel her tighten around him whenever he pushed along the right spot.

The heat was tightening within his crotch, and everything “her” just made it worse: the breaths against his ear, the stinging in his shoulder where she’d bit him, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades, and of course the pulsing warmth surrounding him. How she managed to hypnotize every nerve in his body at once was beyond even his comprehension, but he suspected it had something to do with a combination of familiarity, practice, and love.

He grunted as his body switched to autopilot, thrusting into her blindly towards the inevitable. This was the one time in his life where his intelligence meant nothing. Only instinct was important now. He quickly lost track of how much time and how many strokes went by before the heat surged through his whole body and then out again. He groaned at the first wave, his eyes shutting as his head fell limp beside hers, then panted out the rest before letting his weight sink onto her body.

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, until both began to wonder if the other had fallen asleep. He knew she hadn’t come a second time, but if she cared, she’d complain about it until one of them did something about it. For now it mattered that she was warm, unlike the air, and that he couldn’t really move with her limbs tangled around him anyway.

“It’s cold,” Temari finally grumbled, “and dark. And someone’s bound to notice two naked teenagers on a roof.” She dropped her arms and legs from around his body, yawning as she stretched them out. He sat up slowly, shaking his head a little and glancing down at her. She flashed him a ridiculous grin, earning a genuine smile in return from him. “Love you,” she announced, adding a tongue to her expression.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, standing up a little shakily and pulling up his pants, “love you too.” It was probably the closest they came to being mushy with one another, and it was one of the rare times they actually said the L word aloud; both knew the fact well enough that they seldom bothered saying it.

“Wrong way,” she said, gesturing to his pants before standing herself, bringing their discarded clothing with her. He glanced down, then back at her, an eyebrow raised. “You’re supposed to be taking them off right now. You know, in case I want another.”

He shrugged again, ducking in through his window. “If you want that, you can do it yourself,” he called after her.

“Well that’s not fair.” Their clothes landed inside just before her feet did. “Yours are better.”

He turned around, walking up to her until their bare chests were pressed together again. Unconsciously she held her breath in sudden anticipation... until he reached past her and shut the window. She snorted, her eyes rolling and head shaking in annoyance.

His lips pressed softly to hers, and she suddenly forgot what had her so annoyed.

“Thanks for being here,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. “It means a lot.”

She smiled up at him for a moment, nodding. One corner of her lips then rose higher, as she chided, “don’t go getting all soft on me now. You’ve still got an exam to grade in a month.”

He sighed, his default expression somewhere between bored and amused taking over his face as he plopped down on the bed. She sat beside him and watched as he fished the lighter out of his pocket and began playing with the lid in one hand. “You’re not going to start smoking after sex too, are you?” she asked, only half teasing.

“No,” he said, turning his attention from the ceiling to her. “That’s something for when I want to remember someone who’s not here anymore. If I want to remember you...” he used his other hand to motion for her to come closer, “I can just touch you. You’re right here.”