A Virgin Kiss

Chapter 33: The Spanking

Neji didn’t want to tell Gaara, but this was the first time he had spanked anyone. He wasn’t even sure where the idea had come from—spanking had never been anything he’d fantasized about in any way. Yet here he was slapping the most beautiful ass he’d ever seen. Gaara’s asscheeks had just enough flesh to be rounded and tempting, but not enough to be fat. They were so smooth, so soft, so white—and now so pink. The skin was beginning to feel warm under Neji’s hand.

He stopped between each stroke to caress each cheek, to trace the outline of the marks he’d made, to feel the heat on the flesh. Neji had never thought he’d get tired of having sex, but he was really feeling worn out. Having a boyfriend who seemed to constantly have an erection and be ready for sex was not exactly as awesome as it sounded. Gaara had from that very first night been able to get hard after coming in a way that was just a little bit, well, humiliating.

Wasn’t he any good? Why did Gaara always need more? Was he just Gaara’s distraction, his plaything? But Gaara, poor unloved Gaara—how could he be so selfish and petty when his lover was hurting and sex seemed to make him feel better? Gaara hadn’t ever complained that Neji didn’t last as long as he did and didn’t get hard as fast. `Sex isn’t a competition,’ the Hyuuga said to himself. But, fuck, between the two of them from day one, it had been.

The twitching of Gaara’s ass, the way his head kept jerking with each blow, the quiet little murmurs that were getting louder with each smack—Neji had to admit it was arousing him. Shit—if he didn’t come down hard on Gaara now, he would be the one bent over, taking a spanking in a skirt and makeup. God, this was too weird—he was spanking the most powerful ninja in Suna in his own stronghold.

“Who does this ass belong to?” snarled out Neji, suddenly wanting to hear his powerful lover humble himself.

“You, Neji-sama,” said Gaara in a husky, emotion-laden voice that made Neji’s cock jump.

Neji squeezed Gaara’s asscheeks hard, and that husky, low voice he loved to hear, moaned. Gaara, the silent one, was moaning for him.

“Your asscheeks are all pink like this pink little pucker here,” said Neji, pushing an unlubed finger deep into Gaara.

“Aaahh!! Neji-sama! Neji-sama!”

Neji pulled the finger out and delievered another smack—and this one he deliberately made as hard as he could. “Do you like fingers in your ass, little slut?”

“Yes, Neji-sama, yes! Please finger fuck me! Please shove your fingers deep in my ass and spread me wide.”

“Slut! Cockslut!” cried out Neji, slapping Gaara’s ass again, three times on each asscheek.

“Yes! Please give me cock, shove your cock in me, please! Thrust it in my throat or my ass, whatever pleases you, master, my master! I want to feel you in my body, inside me, making me feel alive, feeling full, feeling, feeling everything! Oh god, Neji, oh god, my ass is burning—it hurts, it hurts so good!”

“This is a punishment, cockslut!” snapped Neji, sharply pinching the now dark rose flesh on Gaara’s ass.

“Ohhhh! Ahhh! Oh god! Oh god!”

“Look at you,” cried Neji his hand now rubbing over the tip of Gaara’s dripping cock, “you’re so wet and hard, you’ll probably come if I just stroke you a few times.”

“Ahhh! Please, please!”

“Kneel in front of me now, fucktoy!” ordered Neji, wanting his cock wet so he could thrust it into Gaara.

Gaara knelt down before him and reached for Neji’s cock. Even though that was exactly what he wanted, somehow the Leaf nin knew that Gaara needed roughness. And, yes, a part of him wanted to punish Gaara for making him feel inadequate, less of a man, less of a lover, for the fact that Gaara had fucked other women, fucked other men, fucked so many that how could Neji ever make him forget them all? Neji gripped that red, red hair he loved and jerked, forcing those green eyes up to his, and smacked Gaara across the face—but gently with no force, no power behind the slap that could bruise. In a way it was even more of an insult, as if Gaara was a delicate little thing who couldn’t take any pain.

Those eyes, those green eyes, were so big, so wide with desire, with need, and with a little bit of hurt. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me yet, slut. But since you’re so eager, open up.” Then, the minute he felt Gaara’s mouth around him, Neji lost it. He forgot that he was just going to get his cock wet enough to shove in Gaara’s ass, forgot that he was tired of sex, tired of fucking. He shut his eyes, moaned, gripping Gaara’s head harshly by the hair, and fucked hard and fast into that wetness.

But Gaara wasn’t just taking him in, he was trying to make each stroke last, sucking, his tongue moving despite the pace Neji was forcing on him. Oh—that squeezing, that suction, that tightness—no, Neji would dictate the pace. But Gaara, god Gaara, he was making Neji’s knees weak, making him pant—holy fucking shit, Gaara had never giving him head like this before. Neji was moving, but now it was to Gaara’s whims, and it was Neji’s body jerking and shaking. He thrust in deep, staying buried in Gaara’s throat—surely this would give him back control. But that pulsing pressure from tip to base—AAAAHHH! Can’t stand still, can’t stop the quiver--Gaara’s hands, Gaara’s hands holding, supporting—no! Don’t touch me there, too quick, can’t last, can’t, must last, must take control, oh god, oh god, no, no, no, yes, yes—NOW!

There wasn’t much cum, but it was intense and sharp—and humiliating and humbling. Gaara was good, too good—and Neji was collapsing down in front of Gaara, cursing, his hand catching Gaara’s shoulder, his grace gone. Neji let himself flop back on the stone floor and shut his eyes, throwing his arm over his face to hide it from Gaara. If he didn’t feel so incredible, he’d be depressed—he was a complete failure as a master.

When he heard Gaara moving about, Neji wanted to apologize, but, but—it just wouldn’t come out. Dammit—no, no, not again. His ass was already a little sore from Gaara doing him in the cave this afternoon. But he didn’t have the strength to fight. He moaned as Gaara’s fingers stretched him, but his lover was gentle and slow.

Then, then that sharp shock of the head pushing inside, feeling stretched, filled, taken, humbled. But each time Neji braced for sharp pain, it didn’t come. That thickness penetrated into him—oh god, how did Gaara find that exact spot so fast? The gentle expertise and perfection of Gaara’s movements made Neji both feel good and feel mad—how many bodies had Gaara fucked to get this so right, so exquisitely painless, so amazingly pleasurable just after coming?

In the silence, Neji could hear the sounds of Gaara moving inside him. He wouldn’t look, he wouldn’t cry out, he—oh, oh, that was good. Neji bit his lip, and then cried out anyway as Gaara began to move faster, more rhythmically, now gasping a little, all signs he was close to coming. Neji pulled away his arm from his eyes and looked—and watched Gaara work himself into orgasm, wearing nothing but Neji’s gift around his neck. He was beautiful, beautiful, and Neji suddenly rose up, demanding a kiss.

Gaara’s kiss—no one but Neji had slid his tongue into this mouth. This, this magic thing with lips and tongues was theirs alone, this—this was loving, being loved. And Neji found himself sitting on Gaara’s lap, his legs and arms wrapped around that white body, riding him, holding him, feeling Gaara fill him one more time.

Clinging to each other, they caught their breath. And at that moment, nothing, nothing, felt more right to Neji, than resting his head on that smooth, white shoulder and saying, “Gaara, I love you so much.”