Inspired by e e cummings' poem "she being Brand/ -new" and double entendres. Oh, how I enjoy suggestiveness.
Title: Last Move
Rating: Really, really high T. If you don't like suggestive sex, then don't read.
Disclaimer: Lord, the things I would do if I owned Shikamaru and Temari. I know for a darn fact that no little twelve years old would be sporting the manga, that's for sure.
Describing their first time on command was rather nerve wracking, especially since she was so precariously close by, only a few yards away standing with her brothers, that terrifyingly huge fan strapped on her back and ready to use. The nudging on Kiba's part, the elbows in his gut, the smirks and suggestive whistles that followed Naruto's exclamation as to "How'd it go with Temari last night?" didn't help a bit, not at all, and made Shikamaru want to use his own jutsu against himself, praying that he'd somehow find a way to strangle himself with the black tentacles of his own shadow.
"So come on," Kiba was saying, his voice low yet somehow still managing to catch the attention of the youngest Sand sibling, red flaming tattoo bright against the morning sun of Konoha. "Tell us how it went."
Chouji was smiling happily through his chips, a bag having lasted him a whole of ten minutes since the conversation had begun. "Yeah," he prodded, eyebrows rising up and down. "Tell us."
Neji had been dragged along with Rock Lee, totally against his will as he claimed, and he simply shrugged and looked the other way while cleverly avoiding eye contact with Shikamaru as he could relate to the poor boy. He'd been forced into revealing a night of "youth filled passion" shared with Tenten, even though he admit that nothing had gone on and he had simply kissed his teammate on the cheek, innocently he had emphasized, before leaving her at her door. But he seemed in no desire to help the poor Lazy Genius out, not that the spike-haired ninja thought he would get any.
"We didn't do anything," he tried again, not surprised to find four boys scoffing in disbelief towards his direction. His brown eyes traveled the small distance to where she stood, tall and blonde and scary against the Ichiraku Ramen's walls.
"Like we'll believe that," Naruto said quickly, his voice lowered (thank the almighty gods) as his own eyes took in the sight of an angry looking Gaara and an equally irritated Kankuro, who seemed preoccupied with the puppet strapped to his back. "You're both practically glowing."
Shikamaru winced, eyes glancing downwards to stare at his hands, wondering faintly if he was, in fact, glowing as Naruto said. But he found himself looking rather normal, if not a little pale. Yet he didn't press the issue further, worrying that if he did, he'd only contribute to the accusations being thrown at him.
"Yeah," Kiba agreed, staring pointedly at the blonde girl's breasts as they heaved up and down in time to the breaths she took. A small shriek coming from the dog-loving male and a rub to his shins indicated that Shikamaru hadn't taken lightly to the staring.
"Nothing. Happened." His voice had grown lower, calmer, stronger. If his friends (he wasn't sure he could consider them that at the moment) knew anything about him, they would know he wasn't in any mood for playful banter. In fact, he was near strangling them all with his jutsu, maybe even bribing Kakashi to help out, using a few new Jiraiya-like books he had found stashed in Asuma's room found when Shikamaru had been assigned on duty to wake the lazy sensei up if that man still hadn't arrived to his meeting with Team 10. And with Kakashi, the tortures he could inflict on all four (Shikamaru couldn't bear to include Neji) boys was practically enough to light motivational fire under his ass.
"You both seem a little tired," Rock Lee observed, large eyes widening, thick eyebrows furrowing. "In fact, is her hair still wet from a morning shower she had to take quickly?"
"I'm going to murder you all," Shikamaru threatened under his breath, flexing his fingers before their eyes. "I'll become a homicidal maniac and poke your eyes out with chopsticks." He was in no mood to be creative, and the chopsticks were in his other hand, ready to be used as food utensils or murder weapons.
"Well, if you just tell us if you guys did or not," Chouji couldn't bring himself to elaborate as to what did meant. "We'll leave you alone."
Naruto nodded eagerly, eyes wide, his face inches across from Shikamaru's own. He seemed so desperate for some details.
Shikamaru inwardly cursed Jiraiya into oblivion and three hells. Why'd he go and turn Naruto into a perverted man as well? Didn't they have enough perverted "hardworking" geniuses already with that one Legendary Sannin? Why'd they have to go and encourage another one?
And Hinata's sudden spurt through puberty didn't help the matter, now that she was all Naruto thought about these days, unless he was out pestering Shikamaru until the latter contemplated suicide.
"What do you guys want to know?" Because in the end, Shikamaru was as lazy as they came, and if giving up and admitting a simple night's doing would get the Konoha boys off his back, then he'd spill his guts out in under a minute, if only to return to the beautiful world that was his hills and clouds and everything that wasn't troublesome.
"What did you guys do?" Kiba jumped in immediately, hands gripping the table till his knuckles turned white, veins popping out.
Neji seemed ready to slam his head against the edge. His white eyes seemed to be staring at the kunai sitting innocently on the table surface with a strange affinity towards it.
Shikamaru stared blankly ahead, determined not to look at the blonde Sand girl who had turned his way and was boring a burning hole through the back of his skull. "We had sex," he whispered.
A collected gasp ran through the four boys (Neji was far too dignified to do such a degrading thing as gasp in shock).
Naruto was the first to break the silence. "You didn't!"
Shikamaru shrugged, leaned back, lacing his hands together behind his head. "Fine. We didn't."
"Shikamaru—" Kiba growled, and a far-off distanced growl joined his.
"I'm not repeating myself."
Rock Lee was leaning further into the table, eyes so wide they resembled tea saucers. "So then—how was it?"
"Would you mind?" Shikamaru spat, monotone and calm even though his eyes flashed fire and death, depicting the utter pain any of them would go through if they dared to open their mouths and let themselves repeat the words he spoke.
Shikamaru sighed at the voice of his best friend. "Fine." He closed his eyes, placed his fingertips together, and thought.
"Hmm… Think of it this way. It's like your finishing move in an intense battle you just know you're this close to losing. You have to think clearly, yet you're panicking and you can't see to control the way your heart is pounding against your chest. You're thinking of all the possible moves, running each one through your mind countless of times before you can choose half a hundred to even consider. And then you can feel the opponent moving, but you're just not ready yet; you have no idea, and they seem as completely and utterly lost as you. But you can't just let them win; you know you'll never live it down. In fact, it may be the death of you. So you force yourself to think, to go slow, to take your time, even though you're dying to get it over with and experience the satisfaction that comes after the fight. This last move is everything, yet you can't reveal that to your opponent, or else everything is completely ruined. That's when you start diverting them, taking careful note of how they react to every single move you make on them. Every wince, every scream, every tremble. You have to remember, because you never know if it will help later on in devising that ultimate move of yours, the one that will end it all with a bang, whether it is metaphorical or literal. And so once you have the final move planned, ready to place into action, ready to be formulated into the grand scheme of things, you have to maneuver yourself as to make it seem as unplanned as possible, because one tiny move can set the whole thing off and warn them ahead of time. When the time is right, you release the final move and there you have it, victory is yours."
When Shikamaru opened his eyes, he was met with the blank stares of four inexperienced boys and the smug smirk of a mature jounin Leaf who thought the comparison quite comedic.
"Wait—you fought Temari?" Naruto's voice came out slow, deliberate.
"Oi, Crybaby." Her voice rung in his ears as he slowly turned his head to find her standing a few feet away from him, leaning casually against her large fan, a grin fitting neatly upon her lips. "Next time you're describing our sex life," she said, her tone smug and casual, even as her two brothers sputtered into their drinks and a suspicious leak of orange juice ran down from Gaara's nose. "Don't compare me to a fight. We both know I'd win."
In a moment where he felt daring, where the clouds rolled high and wide above the blue backdrop of the sky, Shikamaru smiled and said, "Tch. We both know that wasn't true last night."
AN: Hated it? Loved it? Would like to skin me alive because of how atrocious it was? Leave a review: I eat them up. Indigestion or not.