He kisses harder than most, and no one really would have figured, considering there had always been an air of rigid passivity about him. (-Paradox, maybe? But he has been described as one of these as well.) He lets his tongue drag hard across skin rigid from sand and pain and whatever other dirty things that had set into Gaara's flesh, and maybe it was that taste, the one that wasn't perfect in every way because (Gaara is perfect in no shape or form.)

His eyes are gray nowadays, and that color doesn't reflect anything like it used to, because the light in such an expression had faded and the mirror had cracked a few times. (But not broken. Seven years of bad luck, that is-) And Gaara almost likes his eyes for this reason. (Almost. Because Gaara doesn't really like anything.) And Neji knows Gaara would spread his legs for anyone else that promised opportunity. (-Because that is what life boils down to. Opportunity.) And Gaara knows this too. (One of the few things he remains sure about.)

They are both sure that the cycle of missions to Sunagakure resulting in Gaara screaming Neji's name against the metal bars of his bedstand will not last forever. But for the moment they are almost content. (Because Neji and Gaara are never really content.)