A Virgin Kiss

Chapter 11: The Demon

As Neji’s head slowly bent down to Gaara’s, Gaara and his sand awoke. Neji found himself pinned on the ceiling, held by bonds of sand. Gaara shouted some confusing words, as if he was in the middle of a fight with someone else. Neji cried out "Byukugan," and immediately the sand moved and covered his mouth. But with the jutsu already activated, the Hyuuga could see that Gaara’s chakra was different now, that the Sand nin’s short sleep had awakened Shukaku in him. This morning when Neji had sensed that same chakra awakening, he’d coaxed Gaara into a kiss, which had seemed to take all the demon out of him. But now, his mouth covered and muted by sand, unable to move to do any hand seals, Neji was feeling like he’d made a big mistake—he could really get injured before Gaara got control of himself or someone intervened. Damn, Gaara’s eyes closed again, and he was sleeping again. But the sand holding Neji didn’t relax one bit.

Before Neji’s fight with Naruto, he might have let himself just lie in those bonds of sand, feeling that as he was a jounin and Gaara was the Kazekage, it was pointless to try to change things. But now he knew better, and Neji was pushing chakra from his fingertips trying to slice through the sand. He wiggled his body, testing for weaknesses, and tried to plan some way to get his release. Gaara lay beneath him on the bed, his pale white body unmarked except for those hickeys from Neji. Looking down now, Neji couldn’t believe he’d done that—he’d marked that perfect skin, that perfect body.

With Gaara lying on the bed naked six feet beneath him, Neji now had time to really look at his first lover. The creamy white of his skin made the impact of that red, red hair and those dark circles around his eyes even greater by the contrast. There wasn’t a single freckle, birthmark, mole, or scar that Neji could see. Gaara’s face and upper body were completely hairless, which now struck Neji as odd. He’d had to shave this morning with a kunai since he hadn’t found Gaara’s shaving gear. Now Neji realized, he probably didn’t have any.

Gaara didn’t have eyebrows, chest hair, armpit hair, or leg hair. His pubic hair was as red as the hair on the top of his head, but that was it. Neji knew of men born totally hairless, but never of anyone selectively hairless. But then Gaara wasn’t normal, he’d had Shukaku sealed in him—at birth? Before birth? Neji didn’t know, but he doubted that Gaara would ever need to buy shaving gear even though he was only fifteen. Even as Neji tried to force his mind to focus on getting off the ceiling and away from the sand, he couldn’t help but admire Gaara’s legs.

God, he’d trapped those legs, he’d pulled them up, he’d put them over his shoulders, but he’d not really taken time to admire them. Women would kill to have such perfect hairless smooth skin on their legs thought Neji. But the shape of the thigh and the calf, the muscles so clearly giving those legs their shape, didn’t seem feminine. They spoke of power: the ability to run, to kick, to leap great distances.

In fact aside from those two hickeys, everything about Gaara seemed to scream out power and strength. Even sleeping he was holding a jounin helpless. Gaara opened his eyes, those big green eyes, and Neji found himself being lowered down, still trapped in sand. Now he was face down on the bed, and there was nothing he could do about it. The sand closed around his eyes as well as his mouth, and Neji tried not to panic, to just focus on his ability to see chakra in an almost perfect 360 degree radius. But focusing on chakra only revealed that Gaara was moving himself, now above Neji’s body, in a way that seemed to promise that Neji was about to find out what it was like to be an uke.

Neji legs were spread, sand seemed to just form beneath his groin, forcing his ass into the air. The sand encased his cock as well, which to Neji’s embarrassment was fully aroused. He didn’t want this; his cock shouldn’t be hard, shouldn’t be feeling so desperate for contact against something. But the sand wasn’t holding his cock tight like it was his arms, legs, mouth, and eyes. He could twitch his cock, move it, but instead of it grinding against sand or against the bed, it was as if his penis was just hanging in the air freely. The sand moved with his member giving it always the same feeling of something being there but not, well, being there. It didn’t make sense, but Neji found himself wishing he had on underwear, so he could at least feel fabric against that needy part of his body.

Then came a shocking feeling of wet coldness as Gaara squeezed a huge blop of lube on his ass. Was Gaara back in control? But no, the chakra was still mixed, red and blue. Then came the first finger—oh god, no, no. He couldn’t watch with his Byukugan, he didn’t want to see this, he didn’t want to feel this—but god, oh god, he was feeling it!

It was as bad as he’d imagined. His ass felt stretched wide, and that was only a finger! His throat and mouth were shouting, but his uncovered ears heard nothing. He was being violated; he was going to be raped, taken against his will. And no one would believe him or sympathize with him—Gaara’s ass was full of his cum, and those hickeys were on his skin, both things screaming that they were lovers. Politically it would be a disaster to accuse the Kazekage of rape. Konoha needed an ally the other countries perceived as strong. For the treaty to broken over the rape of a jounin—god, jounins weren’t raped—that just didn’t happen.

But it was happening! Oh shit, another finger now. They were cruel; they were pulling him apart—ohhhh, ohhh, pleasure ripped through Neji. So this was that magic contact of the prostate, the thing that made men crave to be uke. Gaara’s fingers found that spot again—oh god, it was good, it was very good! No, this couldn’t be; he wouldn’t let himself get lost in pleasure—this wasn’t what he wanted, he wasn’t liking this, it wasn’t his fault his body was spasming in pleasure and his cock leaking into the sand and desperate for touch.

The fingers were then gone, and Neji tried to tell himself he was glad, he wasn’t feeling so unfulfilled, so disappointed, so hopeful, hopeful, that, oh yes, that was Gaara’s cock there against his asshole. Gaara was going to take his virginity again, his virgin ass!

`No, no, I don’t want this, I don’t want this,' Neji cried into the muting sand, but it was happening.

"No!" cried Gaara too as his cock breached Neji's anus. Neji clung to that word, clung to the idea that Gaara couldn't help this, was fighting it just as much as he was. But oh god, it was too much, too much! That cock was so painful, so big! Gaara was muttering and crying out, but it was hard for Neji to focus on the words. Gaara's penis felt huge inside Neji. But at least it wasn't moving fast or cruelly. It slid in slowly, finally stopping inside him. It hurt, but he'd felt worse, a lot worse. It wasn't the physical pain, no, even though he felt filled, split apart. It was his emotions that hurt.

"No! No!" cried out Gaara, sounding as if he was in agony, and his body shook. Neji could see it with his Byukugan, could feel the cock move in him, feel the hands on him trembling. That movement made Neji so aware that the big, hard penis inside him was so close to that spot, so close to that place where Gaara's fingers had touched and made pleasure ripple through him against his wishes. He felt Gaara move again as he struggled against the sand holding him. Oh god, he’s sliding back, he’s going to fuck me, and I’m not going to be able to stop it, to enjoy it—enjoy it?

But then Gaara was pushing in, and his cock hit that very spot, and, oh god, yes, yes, yes! Yes, it felt good! No, no, I won't accept this! I won't like this! No, it's humiliating, degrading, but oh, god, it was making his nerves vibrate with pleasure, it was pushing him towards orgasm, and there was still nothing for his cock to rub against. Again, oh god yes, again, there! And the shock of pleasure ripped through Neji again. Another stroke, and then another, then another--with Gaara still muttering and crying out "No!" They were slow strokes, and Neji knew Gaara was winning over the beast inside him that surely would have ripped him apart, taken him without lube, without care.

And as each stoke followed the next, Neji found himself saying in his head, `there Gaara, hit that spot there!' It did feel good, and somehow the fact that he couldn't stop it, couldn't prevent it, made that easier to admit. He wouldn't pick this, no, no, he wasn't a bitch, but it did feel good, oh god, very good. `Oh, yes,' thought Neji, and he pushed his ass up higher to meet Gaara’s cock and intensify the pleasure.

Wait—I’m moving my ass, shit, I’m moving my ass for him, making it easier for him to keep raping me, taking me. Neji jerked his ass down and up and pushed in every direction he could. Gaara had given him back limited movement, just enough that he could move like this, straining to push Gaara’s cock out, that cock that was forcing him to feel so fucking good when he should be enraged and angry. But no matter how he moved or shook, it was still there, that cock was still in him, fucking him, mastering him, and oh god, oh god, pleasuring him! It was hard to hold on to his anger, and he felt suddenly ashamed, humiliated for enjoying any of this.

Neji felt himself crying, sobbing. He was grateful for the sand over his mouth and eyes. He was crying like a little boy, not a jounin, crying because his pride was hurt, because he was being raped, because he was liking this, because he was feeling so sexually turned on he was going to come if it didn’t stop, and if it did stop, he would cry because he was so close to what he knew would be the best orgasm of his life.

Oh god, he could come, come from being raped! No, no, he couldn’t come—Gaara wasn’t finished, Gaara would keep fucking him even if he came, Gaara was going to just thrust in him no matter what Neji did, just take what he wanted, when he wanted it, how he wanted it. He could be here for hours, forced to take these thrusts, forced to feel these tremors of pleasure that he didn't want. Why did this helplessness make him feel so good, so on the edge of bliss, so, oh, so, so--

Abruptly, Gaara’s cock pulled out of him, and the sand released him, sending him thudding down on the bed. Oh god—contact on his cock, yes, yes, the sound of his crying, no, oh god, Gaara was back to being in charge! The demon was gone. Neji sobbed in frustration, trying to stop the tears, yet pushing his cock hard against the sheets, trying to reach the orgasm that would let him forget all this—all this, no, oh, please no, don’t look at my face. But Gaara flipped him over, so he was face up.

But Gaara was crying too. Gaara crying! “Neji, Neji, I didn’t want to force you; I wasn’t going to force you! Please believe me, Neji! I didn’t mean your first time to be this way. Are you hurt? Please talk to me, tell me how I help can help you,” Gaara was saying, tears spilling from his big green eyes. The Sand nin's hand brushed away Neji's humiliating tears, ignoring the ones spilling down his own cheeks. Neji shut his eyes and wouldn’t look, couldn’t look at Gaara. He lay on his back, still aroused, still stimulated, but now even more humiliated. At least he had stopped his crying—god, he never cried!

That mouth he’d plan to fill with come was now begging, “Please talk to me, Neji! Please let me try to explain, to make it up to you—“ And all Neji could think of was how he wanted, he needed to come, to have Gaara take him, force him, to master him. It was his old fantasy come to life--the gorgeous, sexy Gaara raping him, minus that shell of sand. And now that the real rape was over, the fantasy was there in Neji's mind, haunting him and keeping him on the edge of orgasm.

“Should I get Shizune or Tsunade? Do you want a medical nin? Please, Neji talk to me, or I’ll send for one. Oh my god, Neji, please.”

“No, no, no,” Neji forced himself to say, opening his eyes. God, Gaara’s eyes were beautiful, so beautiful! Blood-shot, wet with tears, they were unnaturally green, greener than green somehow, even though that didn't make sense.

“Tell me what you need, love, tell me,” said Gaara.

Love? He was Gaara’s love? Need, what did he need? God he knew what he needed, but he couldn’t say it, wouldn’t say it. And Gaara kept begging, kept looking at him with those impossibly green eyes, pleading, “Please Neji, please Neji, tell me, ask me for anything! I’ll do anything for you! What can I do? Please, love, what do you need?”

`Damn him,’ Neji raged in his mind, `He can see my cock wet with my desire, he felt me push up into him, he has to know what I need, he’s just playing with me, but fuck I still want him.’ This powerful jinchuuriki was begging and crying, offering him anything, and part of Neji exalted at that.

With that feeling of adrenline and of risk that usually only came with the knowledge that physical pain was but a second away, Neji let himself admit it: “I need you, Gaara, damn it! I need you to touch me, stroke me, hit that spot in me, god damn it! I need you inside me, making me feel so fucking good, I can’t figure out who I am. I need your cock in my ass, damn it, your hand on my cock, I need to come around you. Oh god, no, I need to not need that, I need to not want that, I need to stop thinking about you, wanting you, damn it! Stop make me feel need! I don’t want to need! I don’t want you to fuck me, so I’ll come like I’ve never come before—“

His words stopped as Gaara once more flipped him over, and his cock pushed back inside him. Then the Kazekage jerked his head back by his long hair, pulling him up on his knees so that his back was against Gaara’s hairless chest. “Where’s the Hyuuga I know? Where’s the Neji that doesn’t like lies, that isn’t afraid to like what other shinobis fear or to demand what he wants? Who are you? Where is my White Eyes? Where is my lover?”

The sand was swirling around them again, menancing, and Gaara’s voice was a harsh growl, but Neji was too proud to back down from a challenge. He reached for Gaara’s hand on his hip and pulled it over to his cock. “Dammit, Gaara, get me off now! Stoke me inside and outside! Give it to me like you gave it to those whores—I can take anything they can take if not more!”

And at last Gaara was hitting that spot in him, pulling out of him only to thrust back in hard and deep, pleasuring him from above, from below, inside, outside, sensation everywhere, overwhelming him—oh, here it was! He was going to come, yes—oh god, no, no, sand was pushing into the tip of his cock, holding the come back! What the fuck! No, oh god, he was going to explode, his cock and balls would just explode, the pain, the pleasure—and Neji screamed out, “Gaara.”

He was the one who never screamed, not when angry, not when frustrated, not when fighting, not when scared—and he screamed out again, “Please, Gaara, please—“

And then it seemed to Neji like he left his body and was flying, was soaring through space, falling, splitting apart, and yet he could feel his own come hitting his chin, feel Gaara filling him with warm sperm. He heard Gaara’s grunts and cries, but from a distance, from some other universe, some world of sensation that Neji had never known before, a world in which Neji was dying, being born, everywhere, nowhere, stars, wetness, softness, a cloud, a web, no a pillow, a bed, he was on a bed—yes, he was on a bed with Gaara inside, on top of him, oh god!

Gaara gently pulled out of him, turned him over, and Neji felt his lips on his closed eyelids, his checks, his mouth. And with a groan, the dark-haired teen opened up his mouth and let the kiss happen.

Oh god, he’d never pity an uke again!