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All in a Day's Work	By : darkninja666 Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1321 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-All in a Day's Work
- 1
Author notes:
First ever fanfic, written for my friend GenderLine: http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/user/genderline/ and
inspired by a wonderful picture she drew me � go check out! Betaed
by her as well, plus a friend of hers - I am eternally grateful.
Warnings: RAPE. Blood, nastiness, mind-fuckery,
crying, British spelling, and clipboards. Though I am told it manages to
be horrible and sweet at the same time.

All in a Day�s Work

In hindsight, Shikamaru pondered as he struggled
half-heartedly with the chakra-enhanced chains he knew very well he couldn�t
escape, he should perhaps have given the matter of joining ANBU more thought.
It�d seemed the logical thing to do. Truthfully, it was a
welcome added bonus that applying would save him from his mother�s constant nagging
that he needed to get off his ass and make the most of his talents; Shikamaru�s
promotion to Jounin after his single-handed defeat of an Akatsuki
member apparently wasn�t enough to satisfy Yoshino�s ambitions on her son�s
behalf. Yet after that revenge had soothed Shikamaru�s blinding rage, the weeks
he spent aimlessly pushing shougi pieces around or
training to the point of self-destruction had somehow crystallized into a genuine
resolve for the future: never again would those he loved, such as his dead
sensei�s now nearly two year old son, come to harm if he could prevent.
Shikamaru reckoned he wasn�t really old enough to truly be a father to the boy Kurenai had named for her dead lover, but he was old enough
to know that however he could protect little Asuma,
he would.
Plus, well, his friends were getting into ANBU. Neji, of course; but Chouji had also recently become
accepted into ANBU, and though Shikamaru shrugged it off behind a mask of
indifference, it did hurt to be, in a way, inevitably separated from his old
teammate and best friend.
So, he�d up and applied once he�d thought the matter over
(two months), gotten back from a diplomatic mission to Suna,
which was prolonged in a rather enjoyable way (two weeks, some scratches on his
back and a pulled muscle in his leg, and where the hell did his blue boxers
go?), and finally gotten around to filling in the paperwork (nine days because
he lost the form, but found it again under a mixed pile of books and dirty
laundry.)
The Hokage had accepted the papers
with an appreciative nod and told him he would be
monitored for a trial period while he continued his normal Jounin activities.
She�d also, in passing, muttered something about an �initiation test�.
Shikamaru had worried about this for a while after, horrible flashbacks of
being forced to run laps around Konoha as a Genin tormenting his over-active mind. Yet as the weeks
went by, and all that transpired was the occasional glimpse of a masked figure
watching him as he ambled about his usual business, he stopped worrying and put
it down to either a weird way of informing him of the customary tattoo that he
already knew about, or just the sake and perhaps senility talking.
Unfortunately, that left him completely unprepared and
utterly surprised - not to mention annoyed that he had failed to foresee this -
when after two months of uneventful surveillance, three
masked figures stole soundlessly through his bedroom window one night (they
must know he was sleeping even heavier than usual after yet another� diplomatic�
visit to Suna). He�d been bound and blindfolded
before he could say �Kagemane�, then carried to this
unknown location. He was not truly worried, however. He had yet to be hurt in
any way (although he was rather unpleasantly cold as all he was wearing was a
shirt and his underclothes), they had only gone 728 steps, and he could smell
the river as well as pine trees, meaning that they were still in Konoha. It didn�t take a genius to figure out that this was
probably merely that initiation Tsunade had spoken of.
Not that Shikamaru was about to imagine himself a desirable target for
kidnapping by enemy shinobi, anyway.
He�d been dragged inside a building of some sort, probably a
warehouse given its location by the river and the musty smell, as well as the
concrete floor and the echo made by even the slightest sound. He�d had ample
opportunity to rattle forth echoes to his heart�s content, for chakra-powered manacles
had next been clapped on his hands and feet - even, spirits only knew why,
around his neck. These were attached to what must be a veritable spider�s web
of chains that seemed to Shikamaru rather excessive for a physically weak
shinobi like himself; at any rate, they left him spread-eagled, halfway hanging
from his wrists, halfway supported by his bare feet on the cold, rough floor,
only able to shift arms and legs approximately fifteen centimeters to either
side before his bonds halted the movement.
More than anything, it annoyed him that the initiation
ritual was this simple. Undoubtedly, Morino Ibiki would step through the door any time, subject him to
whatever extended amount of troublesome torture would satisfy him, then, after
Shikamaru had screamed enough (he was not about to deceive himself that he
could hold off), brand the ANBU sign onto his shoulder and bid him welcome. So obvious.
The shackled shadow-user tilted his head towards the sound
as the door clicked as expected, and couldn�t keep a small smile from appearing
on his lips as heavy footsteps came towards him. Hello, Ibiki. The footsteps shuffled
behind him, then fell silent as the torture master apparently wondered where to
begin. Shikamaru braced himself for the scarred shinobi�s voice grating out
whatever scorn he could come up with, for feeling the bite of steel on his
flesh.
He was therefore rather surprised when all he felt was a
nearly gentle touch as two broad hands ran up his thighs to the hem of his
night shirt. Laboured breathing was held in check as the
bulk of a large body leaned into his back, and he felt the clenching of
powerful arm muscles across his back and torso as his shirt was effortlessly
torn in half from behind and then, with a few more forceful tugs, stripped from
his body.
Behind him, the unseen someone gasped.
A moment of silence stretched itself into near intolerable
length.
Shikamaru silently berated his body for tensing at being
thus exposed - after all, nothing was happening to him. He felt his skin pull
itself into goose bumps and his nipples harden against the cold, dusty air, and
shuddered slightly, rattling his metal web in near impatient apprehension as
well as chill. The captive was not about to deceive himself that he would get
away with mere humiliation; shinobi were far beyond such shyness of body.
Surely, pain would follow - but whoever was behind Shikamaru didn�t seem to be
commencing any torture anytime soon; or if they were, this was a form of
torture which was new to him and probably would not go into the ANBU journals
for its efficiency. At this rate, he was at most likely to catch a cold.
Someone cleared his throat further away, where Shikamaru
imagined the door to be, and the Jounin jolted involuntarily in his chains.
He�d not even heard the second person. Immediately, he began calculating
possible implications of the presence of two people. Perhaps his would-be
tormentor was a rookie like him, being taught the ropes? If it was a younger ANBU,
perhaps the torture would be inefficient; he might keep from screaming, hell,
if he played it just right he might �
The bound genius� mind, however, came to a screeching halt
as he felt a hot breath in his ear as the powerful body pressed itself against
his back once more. Those strong hands were back on his body, inching over his
abdominal muscles which clenched involuntarily away from the touch; cradling
his hipbones, they traced the trail of hair on his lower stomach and dipped
beneath the elastic band of his underwear.
Oh, spirits, they�re
not going to�
Shikamaru could not suppress a moan of realization and despair
as his captor reached into his underclothes and cupped his member. His very male captor. There was no mistaking the warm
hardness that dug itself into his lower back.
Fuck, they can�t do
this, even ANBU, this is too much, I have to get out
of this, please, cut me open instead, anything!
He would cry out and flee like a panicked deer, but the only
sound that escaped him was a strangled �Uuugh!� as he
feebly pulled at chains he knew very well he could never break. Chouji might�ve
stood a chance against them, but never Shikamaru, who didn�t miss the irony
that he, the shadow trapper, was now firmly caught himself.
The hands were still on him, carefully, almost lovingly.
Shikamaru was lost. If this was� he could not quite wrap his mind around what
he knew was happening. He had heard of such things� If they were going to do that to him, surely brutish and hard was
the way it ought to be?
An inexplicable shuffle of feet near the door, and the man
behind him drew a deep breath. Then, Shikamaru felt a sudden chill on his
privates as his underclothes were disposed of as quickly as his shirt had been.
Cold dread pooled in the captive�s belly as his captor leaned into him with a
slight twist of his hips that brought his hardness flush against the cleft of
Shikamaru�s ass, separated only by thin cloth. Morbidly, Shikamaru visualized
the standard-issue dark blue Jounin pants as the hands resumed their work on
his own flaccid member.
And as one hand was drawn away to return a moment later,
lathered and wet, to work on his nipple as the other pumped his cock, as a hot
tongue began to work on the back of his neck, moving along the line of his jaw where
teeth lightly nibbled at his earlobe, catching hold and tugging at the metal
stud that pierced it, Shikamaru half groaned, half moaned deep in his throat in
utter shame as he felt himself respond to those tender caresses.
He was absolutely mortified, he was terrified, and he wasn�t
sure he would want to go on living after this, but those firm, calloused
fingers rubbing him right there! � slipping down to stroke his balls, skimming
over his thighs, then returning to fondle his rising cock� while his nipples
were toyed with by warm wetness, and a hot, panting mouth on his earlobe
mimicked in miniature the pumps on his dick� It was too much. Shikamaru arched
his back into the hand bringing him to hardness, then fell back again with a
pull against the chains and a jingle, against the other erection that rubbed
against him, the heavy balls he could feel below just brushing his asshole if
he leaned into it like that�
Abruptly, the movements stopped, and Shikamaru fell back as
the hands left him and the solid support against his back withdrew with a great
jerk. He swayed disoriented in his clanking bonds, biting his teeth in a
strangled whine as the movements supplanted themselves to his nearly full
erection, wondering dizzily what the hell was going on.
�I� I can�t� Please, I can�t do this,� a deep voice choked
out behind Shikamaru. And the captive froze, for that was a voice he knew
almost as well as his own, a man he�d seen change from a chubby little kid who
cried when he wasn�t allowed to play ninja into an expert shinobi. Someone who�d
shared his last barbecue chip with Shikamaru more than once and who he would
trust with his life without a second thought. The last person he ever thought
would raise a finger to harm him.
Kami, no. Why did they
drag you into this, Chouji?
His captor � Chouji!
� was breathing labouredly, interspersed with sobs. �I� I can�t do this to him,
not like this, please��
From further away, an impassionate, faintly familiar voice
graveled out: �You know the consequences if you fail to complete this. Not
least for your friend. You have made reasonable progress. Reconsider. You have
point 30 seconds. Then I call in the backup.� Then, as an afterthought: �I�m
rather convinced he will not mind.�
Shikamaru counted twenty seconds. Then, a sigh, and Chouji�s
soft, strained baritone: �I will complete this mission.�
The warm, solid presence against his back returned.
Inexplicably, Chouji was still erect; Shikamaru flinched, rigid in his harness.
�I�� whispered Chouji in his ear, then fell silent. A slight
shuffle heralded movement, perhaps to judge the reaction of his master by the
door, for Shikamaru just barely caught a small affirmative �hm�
from that direction. �I�m so sorry, Shika. Please,
please don�t hate me for this. I��
His friend lost his voice as a sob rocked his hefty frame.
Shikamaru tried to speak, swallowed, then somehow brought
up his voice from his parched throat.
�It� It�s alright. �Chouji, just�� He had no words. Tears pricked
against his closed eyes and wetted the blindfold. ��go� do it��
For a moment, no sound or movement existed in the cold room.
Then Chouji�s powerful, infinitely tender hands invaded Shikamaru�s naked body
once more. Tongue and lips skimmed across his neck, behind his ear, down the
line of his jaw, while the big man resumed his ministrations on his friend�s
member, calloused fingers sliding down Shikamaru�s tightened abdominals to
grasp the shaft as the other hand massaged his balls. Shikamaru gave a dry sob,
and more tears came, soaking through the cloth covering his eyes, and he
couldn�t breathe, couldn�t grasp this, would
not feel� and yet, relentlessly, a
distant part of the Nara�s fogged mind pondered the issue of just where the
hell Chouji had ever become so fucking amazingly good at this.
The bound Jounin jerked his legs involuntarily as Chouji
gave a small flick of his wrist on an upstroke, twisting Shikamaru�s foreskin
around his cock head, teasing nerves he�d never even known were there, forcing
out wetness that slicked the turgid flesh, making each sick, wrong, fucked up,
so damn delicious tug and pull echo with
faint wet smacks in the chamber. Shikamaru whined
hopelessly and arched again, straining his aching arm muscles, pulling his
entire body taut as a wire against the chains and the manacles that bit
painfully into his wrists. Chouji�s other hand responded, caressing � for that
was what his friend was doing, Shikamaru realized, letting his heart shine through
even in this nightmare as in everything � lovingly caressing his balls and
moving further between his legs to massage the tight ring of muscle there.
The chained shinobi opened his mouth helplessly, and warm
lips captured his, only barely touching at this angle, but sending sparks
through him before they moved away and a slight nibble
and scrape of teeth at the joint of his shoulder and neck jolted his body anew.
Chouji shifted position, then the pressure, pushing� That�s disgusting, he can�t �
Shikamaru gave his first full-out cry as slowly, oh so slowly, Chouji stretched him open with a large, warm finger.
�Nnghuuhh!�
�oh, fuck� don�t� stop�

Shikamaru normally benefited from his ability to visualize
with clarity any possible turnout of a combat or shougi
match. Now, however, he felt betrayed by his own mind, as it presented him with
an altogether too lucid image of himself being invaded there; Chouji�s broad hand, a nail-bitten finger, perhaps his index
finger - no, surely the middle one, with that scar across it from when he cut
it on a fumbled kunai when they were eight and had to have stitches, and it
went steadily upwards, inside Shikamaru, who hadn�t even realized he was tightening
up against the intrusion, around it, until Chouji whispered in a breath that
puffed hotly against his captive�s ear: �I�m sorry..� He was weeping, choking
out his words. �Shika, you have to try and relax for
this� Please, else it�s� It�s going to hurt a lot.�
Relax. He could do that, he wasn�t the laziest ninja in Konoha for nothing. Okay, breathe, muscle control�
�Haaaah!�

As the tightness around it eased, Chouji�s finger slid into
Shikamaru until it could go no further, and he twisted it, and right there made the shadow user spasm
uncontrollably, and the chains sing out their cacophony in counterpoint to his vocal
chords. It was only the merest of brushes, but Shikamaru, sick to his stomach,
knew then that between the hand stretching his ass and the other still pumping
his weeping cock, Chouji would make him come.
The Nara
heir moaned as the invading digit was pulled out; then it was back, along with
another. He had not felt the hurt from one finger, but two forcing their way
inside spread a slow burn through his buttocks and made him jerk his legs and
twist his ankles in their manacles to gain better foothold on the rough
concrete, to push against the pain, withstand it. It didn�t help. Two fingers
slowly made their way up the passage, and the burn flared to override all else.
Shikamaru whimpered even as Chouji captured his lips again, to distract him no
doubt, but it was no use, this was too much, the rules of space�
The fingers scissored suddenly,
brutally, and Shikamaru heard an odd, strangled noise like that of a wounded
animal as he felt something pull, stretch, then tear. Dimly,
he realized the noise was him.
��sorry� so sorry�� hummed in his ear like a constant
litany.
It was alright, really. It didn�t hurt so much anymore. He
could bear it, he really could. It seemed to go easier back there now, anyway -
the fingers were slicker for some reason. Shikamaru just wished he could stop
crying, the blindfold was soaked and unpleasant.

The overseer by the door cleared his throat. �Engage. Now.�
Chouji froze, tensed against Shikamaru�s back.
Shikamaru pondered distantly in the minute sane corner of
his mind the exact role of victim here.
Then Chouji�s fingers slicked out of him, leaving behind
only a dull, empty ache and the chill of cold air on
wet skin. In that brief void, Shikamaru was granted the mental respite to
realize, gratefully, that he must be bleeding. Then the fingers were replaced
with a solid, blunt hotness, and his genius mind went gratefully blank as his
body overrode it, screaming bolts of pain racing from between his legs to the
tips of his fingers and toes as Chouji thrust his cock into Shikamaru.
�Please, Shika�, a wet, choked sob
in his ear as he was stretched open, apart, the stinging heat pushing ever
relentlessly inside and he couldn�t believe that hurt� �Try� ah!� relaxing� Don�t fight me�
Please.�
Shikamaru tried to answer, but he only managed to gasp out a
horribly distorted version of his best friend�s name.
He registered the strong arm across his chest holding him close, and struggled
to force his rebelling muscle and sinew into some semblance of relaxation. In
the end, exhaustion aided him, and he slumped weakly, held up like a puppet by
his jangling strings and Chouji�s powerful half-hug of his chest and the spike
of flesh gliding forwards, upwards, impaling him with its icy burn, finally,
mercifully stopping.
Shikamaru vaguely registered that his legs were beginning to
cramp, and then realized he�d been violently tensing
his calves for whatever period of time. Oh. He�d lost the feelings in his arms
as well. His mouth was full of the pungent taste of iron; Konoha�s
finest strategist distantly mused that he must have bitten his lip open. It
bled quite a bit. Shikamaru found that breathing seemed to have become harder;
he was unconsciously struggling to keep his breaths shallow and quick lest the pain
should awaken again, his panting spraying beads of blood and spittle that ran
in a half-dribble down his chin and into the iron ring encasing his neck.
Behind him, across him, inside
him, Chouji stood immobile. Shikamaru gritted his teeth and waited for the
movement to begin that would surely split him open.
It did not come. Instead, Chouji once again palmed
Shikamaru�s now limp member, those inexplicably talented fingers skimming
across the shaft once more, down to rub light circles over his balls, then up,
squeezing his cock head with that gentle, slippery twist. And Chouji�s free
hand, slick with Shikamaru�s own blood, slid across one hip bone over painfully
tight abdominals to tweak one hardened nipple and send a spike of anything but
pain straight to the chained shinobi�s cock and balls. It lingered there;
caressing, massaging, and Shikamaru opened his mouth to gasp through the blood,
for he could not breathe in enough to steady himself against the raw, clenching
need that flared in him between the ignition points of Chouji�s fierce, gentle
hands.
Reaching up, Chouji cupped Shikamaru�s chin with one hand,
turning his head sideways just enough so that he could brush his victim�s lips
with his own, sucking and licking the blood from the open, whimpering mouth. Shikamaru
moaned helplessly as heat flared in his groin, and tensed his thighs to gain
more purchase on the floor, more friction against the hand on his cock. Tears
trickled down his cheeks through the blindfold and into his and Chouji�s mouths,
and he sobbed as he kissed back, sucking and tasting Chouji�s lower lip through
the fresh blood, snapping blindly for this to hold on to as his world caved in
and his life-long friend pumped him to full erection again with long, smooth
strokes of blood-slicked fingers.
Seconds ticked into minutes as, over the occasional jingle
of a chain and his own keening moans, Shikamaru caught the tiny, sharp smacking
noises borne from his lips touching Chouji�s and
Chouji�s hand coaxing agonized pleasure out of his cock. He hadn�t thought it
possible that he could bring his muscles into action once more, but now they
clenched and unclenched on their own accord, his thighs and ass flexing in
harmony with Chouji�s strokes, spasming with a rattle
of chains around him when his foreskin was rubbed and squeezed across that spot that made his balls tighten
and his stomach clench. In between nursing the wound on Shikamaru�s lips with
his own, Chouji kissed his neck and throat again, mouth-fucked his earlobe�
Oh, spirits, oh, no,
no, no�
And ever so gentle and terrible, Chouji began moving against
him and up him, and there was hardly any pain, and if there was, he didn�t
feel it over everything else he was trying not to feel all at once, as the buzz
of numbness in his bloodless arms and the cramp in his legs only seemed to
intensify the pure carnal lust that pulsed relentlessly through him, forced outwards
in never-ceasing waves from each pull and tug on his now dripping cock. Chouji
thrust slightly at first, little flexes that pained Shikamaru�s ears with the
maddening tiny noises of wet skin meeting and separating; then, he picked up
his pace and his power, half-way withdrawing on each stroke and pushing forward
again to bury himself to the hilt, filling, exquisitely straining his captive.
Shikamaru could gasp freely now, for Chouji�s mouth had left his, and he did,
trying at first to build a barrier of air in his lungs against all of this, but
then, as his tormentor picked up the pace, aiding each thrust with a clench of
his arm across Shikamaru�s chest that pushed the slighter shinobi downwards,
moaning, whining, finally crying out in time to the pulse that shocked his
nerves every time Chouji hit that very angle, that very spot inside; a broken
rhythm at first, but gradually, forcefully, it fell in synch with each slick
pump of clenched fingers upwards to impossibly force even more blood and raw feeling to the pulsing head of Shikamaru�s
dripping erection.
Chouji was crying still, his tears as wet on Shikamaru�s
shoulder as the caresses of his lips and tongue; but he was moaning, now, as
well, a deep ululation vibrating through the chamber
and from his chest into Shikamaru�s back on each jangling push forward.
Shikamaru whined as the comfort of the solid bond of muscle across his chest
left him, then was silenced with a twist of his neck and a burning mouth once
again drinking the blood from his lips and his soul, and Chouji fisted his
fingers roughly in Shikamaru�s hair, breaking the slight hold of the elastic
band that held the pony tail, grasping desperately for purchase in the tresses that
spilled down to stick to the sweat and blood and tears and saliva smeared
across Shikamaru�s face.
And with that sweet stinging pull on his scalp, Shikamaru
too came undone, his body clenching, spasming wildly
as Chouji shifted his hips just so and the agony of his cramped muscles and the
raw desire that throbbed through his body in endless waves from each stroke on
his slicked cock, each tiny pressure point where his lips were worshipped by
Chouji, and the maddening tingle in his wet nipples, and each push forward of
that aching, burning firm hardness inside � it all crashed together, fire and
fire, scorching him, consuming him, and he came, in a hoarse, inhuman cry that
echoed in the cold chamber with a jangle of chains.
Stars danced before Shikamaru�s covered eyes as his body
went slack and he fell back in his harness of chain and warm flesh, panting,
spitting blood and tears, mercifully only semi-conscious now. Chouji�s hold on
his hair was suddenly gone, and Shikamaru�s head fell back limply to be caught
on his friend�s shoulder. A strangled moan erupted in Shikamaru�s ear as Chouji
grasped his hips forcefully with both hands, fingers and nails digging into the
skin and muscle beneath, halfway lifting his captive off the ground as he gave
one last thrust and Shikamaru jerked uncontrollably with a whimper and an
answering spasm in his own sagging cock as the fullness inside him throbbed
once, then spilled forth its stinging heat.
Chouji relaxed his death grip on Shikamaru�s hips; it�d hurt
quite a bit, Shikamaru dimly acknowledged. Then he was enfolded safely in those
strong arms again, pressed back against Chouji�s solid chest, and Shikamaru
screamed in pain as Chouji pulled brutally out of his bleeding ass. Warm liquid
followed, oozing down his boneless legs; Chouji let him loose and he was lost,
dangling to the rattle of metal above and around, and he heaved a dry sob, for
it seemed all his tears were finally spent.
There was a rustle of cloth behind Shikamaru; hands on the
back of his head, supporting it, and then an odd pulling across his eyes. At
some point he had forgotten about the blindfold and simply taken the darkness
for granted. Now it fell to the ground with a liquid slap, and he was blinded
even by the dim light in the large room. A strangled noise of protest arose
from Shikamaru�s throat and he somehow managed the necessary muscle control to
bring his head forward to slump on his chest. There, his vision gradually
returned; for a while, his mind spun around the single fixed point of bare feet
in heavy steel manacles and the spattered dots of red and milky white where his
own cum and blood mixed on the grey concrete beneath him.
Then he heard through the pounding of blood in his ears the
broken crying behind his back.
Shikamaru threw up.

The slosh of his stomach contents hitting the ground was,
however, obliterated by a final angry clatter of steel as the weave of chains
above Shikamaru were gripped, one by one, and torn from their sockets to come
crashing down, ringing out against the concrete, but never even grazing the one
they held. Shikamaru hung limply, and, when Chouji broke the final chain,
sagged towards the hard ground on legs that had long since given in. He hoped for
unconsciousness when his head hit the floor and gave a faint whine as even that
was denied him and he was caught again, held in strong arms; then eased down to
feel the chill of stone seep into his legs and soothe the burning pain in his
backside as his lifeless body was guided into a position halfway slumped across
Chouji�s lap, halfway against his firm chest.
Chouji wiped across his face with a wet cloth of some sort,
cleaning off the stickiness, smoothing away the matted hair; Shikamaru flinched
from the contact. His friend was still crying, huge, heaving sobs rocking his
sturdy frame and the man he held.
�Shika, I� oh spirits, forgive me,
I� I had to, they��
From whatever depths of his being the shadow user brought up
the presence of a mind rapidly fading to speak and act, he did not know, but
Shikamaru silenced Chouji with a weak grasp of the strong shinobi�s hand in his
own. That hurt, again. Looking down, he found that the manacles had bitten
through his wrists; the skin was chafed to the point where he thought he could
glimpse a bared muscle. He had only felt that with the warm contact of skin on
skin.
Shikamaru tilted his head back to peer vaguely up at the
face he knew so well, cast in a ghastly pallor by the gleam of fluorescent
tubes and contorted in pain and grief and abhorrence, and he split his lip open
again as he smiled at Chouji.
��.s�� He croaked feebly, swallowed blood, and then tried
again. �We�ll� be alright.� �s alright� Chou.�

And for one moment, it somehow was.
***
Their overseer wrote a final note on his clip-board.
�Rape is easy�, he proclaimed. �Adding the clause that the
victim must � enjoy it� is what makes
this test worthy of its level � for you both. An acceptable, if extended,
performance, Akimichi Chouji. Nara
Shikamaru, welcome to ANBU.�
From their slumped position on the frigid concrete, both young
men looked at each other, then to the unmistakable form of Morino
Ibiki in the doorway, and said with one voice:
�Fuck you.�

Endnotes of Indebtedness:
These really belong in the start, but I felt they would give
away too much and clash with the story as such. So, here goes:
Quite late in the editing process I realized that a few of
the ideas pouring out my noggin weren't as original as I thought. Their impact
on the actual story content is, however, so minimal that I feel confident in
putting up this work without asking permission of the other writers - but they
definitely still require mention and are being tipped off to protest if they so
desire.

The phrase "bound genius" I realize is lifted from a fic title: http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/view/381735 by Animeluney on Ygallery. I choose
to consider it a tribute to that user's plethora of hot Shikamaru fic ;).

I recalled to my shame that I stole the idea that Shikamaru was made Jounin for
killing Hidan from a Shika/Temari
fic on fanfiction.net - I am searching for that, so
watch this space.

The same pertains to the idea of rape as an ANBU initiation, which I realize is
also featured in Monkey Lady's wonderful "Teach Me" here on AFF.net:
http://naruto.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600005413

However, GenderLine had the same idea as I squeed over her picture, so maybe it's sort of fan
collective unconscious? :D
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All in a Day's Work