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Down the Rabbit Hole and Back Again	By : PrplGrl Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1208 -:- 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.

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Down the Rabbit Hole and Back Again

Push, moan, thrust.

That’s how it was. A routine, simple. It came quickly to Shikamaru Nara, after his first few times there. He had gone through very little training before his first customer; all the more experienced… entertainers said he didn’t need it. Shikamaru didn’t argue, just did as he had been told.

Squeeze, arch, growl.

Nobody minded his age. In fact, many of the people who came through preferred the younger ones. They liked the youthful, lean body beneath them. Many customers loved it; living out their fantasies of having that cute teenager who lived next door, or even the one they taught at school. Some even asked Shikamaru to call them by a parental status, to which he complied. That’s what he did best, and why he was now one of the best-paid entertainers in the facility. The customers had come to call him the Pleaser.

Groan, call out, touch.

His gender hadn’t been an issue either. There weren’t very many males in that part of town who were willing to do what he was doing. Most of the customers he got were men, the symbol of their married status glimmering on their fingers. The ring never got taken off, and Shikamaru knew why. During the throws of passion, it would have been easy to loose such a small object. His customers couldn’t risk being caught at what they were doing, and that suited him fine. It was all an act, after all.

Scratch, pant, thrust harder.

Shikamaru was shaking. He always was, before a customer would enter the door to his lavish bedroom. It was probably one of the traits that got him his title and status; he acted like a virgin every time. In truth, he was scared. He didn’t know what would come through his door, and he’d had a few frightening, rape-like experiences before. One customer had been so rough, Shikamaru couldn’t walk or sit right for several days, to which he was not very happy. He had lost a lot of money trying to heal his broken body, which, he figured, was the whole point of it all. Money.

Grab, pump, bite.

It was all a routine. He knew how to make his customers reach an orgasm and hit it harder than they could imagine. They usually gave a little extra cash for that. Sometimes Shikamaru never reached completion, but he knew his own release wasn’t important, unless it was what his client wanted. Some of them say they like to see him come, that his face is exquisite or beautiful, but Shikamaru doesn’t pay any mind. After all, it didn’t mean anything. That’s how this business worked.

Pull out, kneel, suck.

Any sweet words said to him were locked away within his mind. It was always a funny subject matter with the others who lived there. They’d spend a few hours conversing about their clientele of the past; some of the sappiest things said, the most disgusting, and the most loving were a few on the list. Again anything said wasn’t to be taken literally, nothing about what he was doing meant anything. For the client, it was merely a form of release, usually from a wife or girlfriend refusing to sleep in the same bed. For Shikamaru, it was for the money. He needed that precious currency to continue on with his life.

Squeeze, suck harder, swallow.

Get paid.

That’s how it was.

To say Shikamaru was happy would be an overstatement. He was not very proud of what he was doing, but he found out that many he worked alongside weren’t either. It was just a way to make some extra money. Nothing more. Happiness was not to be found in this kind of place, and he knew that, after being there for several months already. However, he liked the other people living there, he liked their boss, he liked the money, and for the most part he liked the clients. Overall, he liked the place, which was why he never left.

He had not been happy before, living with his parents, going to school, and feeling his heart break every day. No, Shikamaru called that part of his life misery. He had fallen in love with people who didn’t want him. He got his friends in trouble, though he was positive it had all been a set up. The guys his friends were dating beat him up on a regular basis, not liking how he looked at, talked to, or touched their boyfriends. It didn’t take long for Shikamaru to be on outcast, receiving glares and threats almost daily. He didn’t talk hardly at all, not even to his parents, who worried incisively over him. He didn’t want it, what he wanted was an escape.

Which eventually led him to his current position as a very expensive entertainer, living in a large, beautiful room. Again, it was all part of the routine.

Get up, get laid, get paid, get drugs.

Simple.

That’s how Shikamaru liked it.

His first taste into the contraband material came in the form of his current boss, Deidara. Shikamaru only knew his first name, that’s how it was. Last names or family names were forbidden to talk about, which suited him fine, it made things less complicated.

The blonde haired man had come across Shikamaru as he was walking home from school, some months ago, now, maybe even a year. He had been feeling particularly down that day, when the feminine man had stepped up to him and offered him a drink, since it was extremely warm out. Shikamaru found himself accepting the offer; not having much human contact over an extended period of time will usually cause one to jump at the chance at some kind of contact. Talking with the blonde hadn’t been disappointing, either. The man was kind to him and even mentioned that he noticed the teenager to be depressed. Shikamaru almost left at that, not wanting to talk about it, but then the blonde handed him a small syringe, filled with a clear liquid, and a small and short rubber hose.

That had been the start. Shikamaru had finally found his escape. It was wonderful every time he used it and had tried other forms of the same; the results making him smile and forget about his life. That was what he wanted.

After a few weeks, he couldn’t pay for the expensive habit on just his allowance and was going to ask his friend Deidara how he could work it off. He ended up staying with the blonde man, however, when Shikamaru had been getting a ride from him after school. He had to stop by his house, but quickly told his friend to pass the house completely.

Three Konoha cop cars were sitting in the driveway.

There was usually only one, seeing as his father was a policeman and all. However, when his cop buddies stopped by, they never brought their squad cars.

Shikamaru had a stash.

It was then he realized someone had stumbled across his hidden syringe, rubber tie, and two or three little baggies with some left over amounts in them. He couldn’t remember which narcotics he had saved.

Thus started his current, likable life. The misery was over. All that was left of his past with those people was a blocked out part of his mind and an eerie reminder every time he looked in the mirror. Every one always told him he looked like his father.

Which was why Shikamaru kept his hair down, slightly hiding his young, mid-teenage face. He felt it also made him look more seductive; it was amazing what a few loose locks could do to a person’s libido. He liked it.

Shikamaru sat on the edge of his big bed, pulling up the sleeve of his purple kimono, which was tied loosely to his slender form. He reached to the small table sitting next to him and picked up the razor blade, carefully separating the white powder into even lines. Usually, he would share his bounty with the other entertainers, but today he felt like indulging on his own. Just the day before, he had made his customer come so hard he passed out. He felt that was enough for a private celebration.

He grabbed the rolled up dollar bill and leaned down, placed some hair behind his ear, and inhaled the addicting substance. Sniffing a few times to make sure not a single white flake was lost, Shikamaru put down the bill and grabbed a cigarette, which was already lit and sitting in the ashtray. He took a drag, his buzz becoming much more intense as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs.

He looked at the door lazily, as he could hear heavy footsteps pounding down the hall, stopping at his door. There was a very loud sound as the wood was kicked free of its frame, but Shikamaru didn’t seem bothered. It wasn’t until he noticed the gun pointing at him that he panicked.

Letting out a hoarse scream, Shikamaru scrambled back on his bed, eyes wide behind his dark locks. He leaned heavily on the opposite wall, his heavy and frightened breathing making his buzz cascade even more, while his body’s adrenaline tried to cancel out the drug.

His dark eyes focused to the man as he slowly lowered his weapon. Shikamaru recognized his long, dirty blonde hair tied in a ponytail and the Konoha Police symbol on his vest, right underneath the large lettering, Yamanaka.

Shikamaru knew this man, but couldn’t place him.

“Oh, shit,” the officer said after a moment of staring at the teen. He holstered his gun just as another policemen jumped into the room.

This one was just as tall, covered in the same attire, with the same symbol branded to his chest. This man’s hair wasn’t nearly as long, though, and was kept at by with a bandana, which he had tied in the front. The lettering on him was Shiranui.

“What’s the situation, Yamanaka?” the new arrival asked, keeping his gun pointed at the base of the bed. “The rest of the building is secure, and we were able to catch Deidara trying to flee with a handful of his whores. Is this the only one in the wing?”

The blonde officer nodded, scowling at the terrified Shikamaru.

The cops had just raided this place he liked.

He could not return to it.

“What’s wrong, Yamanaka?” Shiranui asked, looking at the other with concern. “Do you know this kid?”

The other sighed. “That’s Shikamaru,” he whispered. “Shikaku’s missing boy.”

He flinched at the sound of his father’s name. He didn’t want to remember it, his past had been so miserable! Shikamaru didn’t want to return to it, but he couldn’t flee. The police were blocking his only exit and he highly doubted they were going to leave him alone, now.

“I’ll stop Nara from coming down this way,” Shiranui suddenly said, holstering his firearm and striding from the room. Not two seconds later, Shikamaru could hear his voice just outside the door, “Nara!”

“How’s this wing?” a deep voice asked, an unpleasant shiver cascading down the teen’s spine, the blonde keeping his gaze on the young man. “We’ve got the rest in custody and are on their way to be booked. One of the whores said there was another one on this end of the building. Did you secure the subject?”

“Yes, sir,” Shiranui confirmed. “Yamanaka is apprehending the subject now.”

“Good, I’ll take little slut down to be processed.”

“We can handle that, sir. Don’t—”

Shikamaru began trembling uncontrollably, as his eyes made contact with that of his father, standing not a foot behind Yamanaka.

Shikaku’s eyes widened in horror, his mouth opening a moment before closing again. He swallowed audibly and whispered, “Shikamaru?”

The teen lowered his gaze, turning his head so his hair could hide his face. Tears stung his eyes as he began rubbing at his arm.

He needed a hit.

Shikamaru needed a hit badly.

There were a few footsteps toward him, but they stopped, the officer named Yamanaka talking, “No, Shikaku, let us handle him.”

“Yes,” Shiranui agreed, “we’ll book him, Nara.” He paused a moment. “He has to be arrested, Nara. He’s underage, whoring himself, and I can see cocaine on the table. There is no other choice.”

A long silence fell around them for a few minutes, before Shikamaru heard his father sigh. “…I’ll do it,” he whispered.

“Are you sure?” Yamanaka asked, but he received no verbal answer.

The teen could hear the steps near his bed, and he fought the urge to look up. He didn’t want to see his father; he didn’t want to look into those disappointed eyes. Those eyes only looked at him back then, when he had been miserable! He didn’t want to be miserable again!

“Shikamaru Nara,” his father’s voice boomed over him.

Despite his best efforts, Shikamaru looked up at the man, eyes widening slightly at what he saw. There was no disappointment, no anger, not even hate floating in his dark gaze.

Tears.

A small smile.

“You are under arrest.”

That’s not how it was supposed to be.
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Down the Rabbit Hole and Back Again