Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Word-Collection	By : Infek Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1738 -:- 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-Ghost
- 2-Kiss
- 3-Nail Polish
- 4-Bottle
- 5-Game
- 6-Bed
- 7-Scary
- 6
- 7
Word-Collection: Scary
Barely able to believe his own eyes, Shikaku overlooked the battle-field where so many of his comrades, his very own son were fighting, trying to stave off the oncoming treat of Akatsuki. Their enemies were more powerful than any, including himself, could have foreseen. He was a man of logic and reason and while he still held the belief he could oversee all this and ensure that Konohagakure would survive, he would fail to do so for the lives of many he had sent out into the battlefield. So much death on the very first day and many more would follow in their single-minded footsteps. Screams were scattered around, filling the air with a desolation he had only experienced once more in his lifetime. Then he also had been worrying about his son, who had been a mere infant then. He had fought with everything he’d had, every attack fuelled by the thought that his son would live to experience his life and not have it brutally cut short.
Intel came through, a never-ceasing crackle over the radio, some bits shouted, some said more calmly but always tinged with what he could only describe as an omen of death. He recognised it so easily and even after so many years of being faced with death, seeing shinobi writhing on the ground, pain the last thing they experience on this green earth, he had never found a better description for it. Perhaps every shinobi had his own, that tone of voice that only came when you knew there was no coming back and that you would not live to see another day. No peaceful death of old age, surrounded by your loved ones but out there, on a treacherous battle-field, the onslaught of enemies unstoppable and.
The radio kept up the incessant stream of noise, his subordinates spitting out information on their enemy as fast as they could collect it, every word punctuated with harsh breaths of exhaustion. There was still determination to be found though. The Fire of Konohagakure was not one blown out so easily.
“-Yūga Neji is dead! I repeat, Hyūga Neji is dead. Obito and Madara are ready to unleash the Shinju!” He didn’t recognise the voice but the message made Shikaku sharply turn his head towards the radio.
“You know this is wrong,” a soft voice murmured in his ear, although Neji didn’t make a single move to escape his grasp.
It was wrong. If anyone ever found out, they would be tried as criminals. One could overlook the mission-sex which sometimes occurred between members of a team but to continue such a dalliance when at home was nothing short of a crime.
Shikaku sighed deeply. This boy- and he was a boy, even if he was eighteen, had lodged himself in his heart, carving out a nice little niche for himself and doing all that completely unintentionally. Always repeating that they should stop, that people would find out. The threat, real as it was, had done very little to stop the illicit meetings which only seemed to increase in frequency. Every time it became harder to untangle from his warm embrace –whoever said Neji was cold clearly never had seen him like he had the privilege of doing many times now, his eyes beautiful, lips curled up in a sated smile and his cheeks sporting a healthy blush, a clear testament of their more rigorous activities earlier. Leaning forward, he kissed him, gently coaxing him to respond and Neji did, moaning into his mouth.
Tanned hands eagerly roamed that supple skin stretching over slender muscles, conveniently hiding their strength. He could find which buttons to push so easily he could do it with his eyes closed now and he did, over and over, revelling in the broken sound he managed to extract from his lover. Ever teasing, wanting to stretch this moment in time as far as he could, Shikaku caressed an inner thigh, Neji hurriedly pressing into the touch, his body curling but groaning in disappointment as the touch was only taken away.
Shikaku opened his eyes, separating their moistened lips and staring at Neji, eyes half-lidded.
“I love you.” The words had hung in the air long before this specific meeting. Neji only lifted his head, kissing him.
“You shouldn’t.”
“I know.”
Nothing could be done. He had sworn to do his duty and he would ensure his subordinates would follow in his footsteps.
“The Bijūdama is hitting long-distance targets!”
“We are its next target.” The realisation came easier than he had expected. Heh, he could have laughed. So far from the battle-field is where he would finally be confronted with his own mortality and his life’s inevitable demise.
“Well, Shikaku, what do we do?”
The answer came even easier. He would not fear death. But he would not let it be in vain either. He would die for what he believed in and what he had always tried to install in his son. One’s duty is continuous and doesn’t have downtime. He still remembered Shikamaru loudly complaining about that last part, the six-year old loudly griping that everyone deserved a day off. Lazy little thing he was then. Now out there, fighting as a proxy-commander and undoubtedly following in his footsteps after today as the Head Strategist in this godforsaken war. He couldn’t be more proud.
“Just keep doing what we must do. It will be our last act. Send me through to everyone in the battlefield.” His commanding voice didn’t leave room for discussion, the few people gathered here scrambling to follow his last commands, some looking far paler than usual, others trying to hide unshed tears in their eyes. Some were still so young and barely had had the chance to live their lives. Probably never felt the joy of marriage, the incomparable feeling of holding your firstborn in your arms and the sheer fright of realising that you were responsible for this tiny human and would need to guide them through to adulthood, even then always worrying and hoping they could achieve all they desired.
Neji had been young too but had always seemed older to him. Always so self-assured and determined to become stronger and overcome his own weaknesses. It was probably what had drawn him to the young shinobi in the first place on that ridiculous mission the two of them had been sent out on. Mere B-rank as it was supposed to be about diplomacy but only finding an ambush waiting for them. Neither of them had come out unscathed but as blood pumped rapidly through their body, adrenaline creating an incomparable high, he had found his mission-partner in his light-coloured clothing, now speckled with blood and dirt, that pale skin slightly reddened after the extensive and brutal fight, he had found no protest as he dragged the young shinobi outside and proceeded to kiss him, stripping him off his clothing and doing things to him he had later felt the need to apologise for. Neji had only smiled and kissed him, never wavering in his confidence even as he lay underneath him, sweat clinging to his skin and his hair a tangled mess on the forest-floor.
It was never supposed to happen but it had returned to him a sparkle of vigour he had found himself lacking in the past few years. It had drawn him back again until he found he could no longer do without. Not once had they talked about the future, realising there was none for them. War had already been approaching and the chances of the two of them, both prominent in their own ways, surviving without being specifically targeted were slim to none. And now, as it turned out, both he and Neji would be another name added to the Memorial.
“I have a plan to stop the Bijūdama.” Don’t let this be in vain. Don’t let the death of so many people be worthless in the end. And Yoshino... forgive me.

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