This was actually supposed to be the start of a multi-chapter fic, but I thought better of having too many projects at once. I wrote this back in 2005 and I think it isn't too bad, as far as writing goes. :) So I decided I'd just throw it up as a one-shot. Maybe some day I'll be able to write a multi-part with them together.

Shifting in sleep, Nara Shikamaru moved restlessly against the pressure in his middle and muttered something, throwing his arm out. When it came into contact with a solid, warm form, his eyes flew open and every fighting instinct shot across his nerves like wildfire. He supposed, had her thighs not been firmly entrenched around his hips, he would've thrown her off.

Elbows resting comfortably on his chest, Temari's nose was near level with his chin as she glanced into is face, amused. He was glad she could find something funny about this situation. They were in the middle of a field in Konoha. Anyone could walk by and see them. Worse yet, he could've instinctively attacked her (though there would've been hell to pay regardless of whether he meant it or not). And probably the most embarrassing of all, his swollen sex had betrayed him even in sleep.

Sometimes it was too troublesome, being a male. He had hormones that didn't obey him and chose to make themselves present at the most inopportune times. He'd bet women didn't have that same difficulty. Of course, given his situation right now, even a monk would be tempted. It wasn't everyday a man woke up to find a beautiful, desirable woman straddling him. Especially not one that knew exactly what she wanted and likely intended to get it.

How did he get into these messes?

"Temari," he growled, "anyone could walk by and see us."

"So?" She answered, her perfect lips tilting into a smirk.

He'd never met a woman like her. One that could be both feminine and strong at the same time. Her body was largely composed of well-made muscle, but soft in the right places as he was finding out. She smelled spicy, like cinnamon with a hint of lemon. It was all he could do to stop himself from burying his nose in her neck and inhaling. Encouraging her, however, was more than just a bad idea. It was relationship suicide.

"So," he replied with restrained patience, "get off me."

"I don't know," she mused, moving experimentally. "You seem pretty interested to me."

"A man'd have to be dead not to be interested," he snapped, scowling.

She smoothed capable fingers down the line in his forehead. "Better be careful. You're going to age prematurely."

Shikamaru stared blandly at her. The last thing he cared about was how he aged. He wasn't a pretty boy liked Sasuke or material worth fawning over, like Neji. As far as he was concerned, his looks were average, he was average, and life sure as hell should be average. There was nothing average about Temari. She was special.

"I already told you before. I'm not interested."

Temari arched a wheat blonde eyebrow, as if daring him to argue further. "Really."

He sighed. "You know what I mean."

"And what makes you think I give up that easily? You're just too lazy to start anything. I intend to change your mind."

"I don't want my mind changed," he muttered, hoping that no one came by.

"Too bad," she replied flippantly.

"I hardly know you."

Her expression turned wicked. "You don't need to know someone to have sex with them."

Despite himself, his face flushed. "Dammit, Temari-"

"I'm just teasing. Lighten up, Shikamaru," she replied, rolling to fall onto her side next to him, head resting in her hand.

She'd left him like he asked, but his erection wasn't going anywhere. What a hassle. Trust this woman to work him into such a state and then refuse to follow through. Not that he intended to have sex with her. That'd open him to a whole new set of troubles, something he wasn't willing to deal with. Life was comfortable as it was. He didn't need a woman to complicate it. But damned if he wasn't drawn to her.

"Are you sure you aren't an old man, instead of just 18? How does a lazy bum like you get to be Jounin before anyone in his village?" She continued, further insulting him.

Rather than bothering to respond, he shrugged.

For a time, she watched him silence, as if attempting to pick him apart and reassemble him in a manner that made him better understood. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, he squirmed and studied the clouds.

"You're different from other men," she murmured, as if talking more to herself than him.

Forcing himself to roll to his side and look at her, he asked blandly, "Why? Because I'm a lazy-ass?"

Delighted, feminine laughter rang out before she curled in on herself and worked to suppress it. Her delicate shoulders shook with the effort, and the mirth in what was visible of her face was unmistakable.

Snorting, he rolled his eyes and surprised himself by reaching out to tug on one of her four ponytails.

Temari was obviously surprised as well, for she jerked her head up and stared at him with faintly widened eyes. It didn't last long, however. Her expression settled into a satisfied smirk and he wondered what the hell he'd done to deserve this woman. She was going to be the death of him.

"Not interested, huh?" She mocked, eyes rife with amusement.

"Did you know," he responded lazily, completely ignoring her meaning as he turned his attention back to the clouds, "that Temari is an ancient practice where thread is woven around balls to create intricate, beautiful patterns?"

She was so quiet and without reply, that he couldn't help but look over at her. She studied him, her countenance sober and her eyes glittering with something he didn't want to touch. He once again felt unnerved by her, and hated that a woman could do that just by looking at him. What would happen if she ever actually got her hands on him?

"No," she finally said, softly. Then, "I told you that you were different from other men."

Strengthening his resolve, he flipped onto his back and effected annoyance. He wasn't different from other men. He was average.

"No I'm not," he muttered, wishing she'd quit saying that.

Temari shrugged, though he felt the motion more than he saw it. "Whatever. You can think what you like. And I'll think what I like."

Snorting again, Shikamaru folded his arms. "You always do."

Soft laughter again. "Would you like me if I was subservient?"

As if reciting from dictation, he said, "I want an average wife, an average life, and two kids. I don't need anything else. It's too troublesome."

"Geniuses don't get average lives. Neither do Jounin," she added after a moments thought.

"This one does."

"You keep fooling yourself," she returned, yawning as she stretched out impossibly long legs, drawing his attention there against his will. She was almost as tall as him, though that was really no feat.

Being intelligent didn't mean that you had absolute command of your mind. At the moment it was wandering, considering what it would be like to touch those smooth, muscular legs. Her skin was darker than that of most women, a side-effect of living in the sand country, he imagined. Small, rounded hips curved beneath the fabric of her kimono and he could easily imagine his hand splaying across her flat stomach. Or drifting further still, cupping her breast, removing the head protector from her neck, replacing it with his lips...

He fervently wished she would leave him be.

Never once had he asked for this. Never once had he wanted what she could give him. Temari was strong-willed and independent, she knew what she needed and took with a selfish pleasure that would be disgusting if it weren't so stunning to watch. Women like her were out of the reach of slackers like him. He had to be content with the mundane because it was far too easy to get caught up in the intoxicating.

She spun around him like a bright star. Pulled into her orbit, he was helpless to do anything by follow along. And she knew what she was doing. Temari was no shy maid with thoughts of love and marriage. She was a woman who understood the cravings of the flesh and wanted nothing more than to satiate herself, them both. Since that aroused him, he had only to surmise that even his thoughts ran to the shallow end.

If he was going to bother himself to get involved with someone, however, he wanted all of it. He couldn't put his effort into what he'd never have. But damned if he wasn't tempted.

"You're a troublesome woman, Temari."

"But you still like me," she informed him with confidence, her tone sleepy. He supposed she'd traveled a long way. Just to see him? He doubted it. Temari wasn't the type.

"Somehow, yeah," he admitted on a sigh.

Her lips curved in victory, but she didn't voice whatever thoughts were roving through her mind. He thought she ought to go to wherever it was she was staying and sleep, leave him in peace.

"You should go to bed."

"Is that an invitation?" She teased, not bothering to open her eyes.

"No," he said flatly.

"Pity." She sat up, stretching her arms above her head and leaving her body straining against the fabric.

She had to know what she did to him. Unless she was the least self-aware woman in the world. Somehow that didn't seem to apply to her.

"Because I'm tired, I'm going to take your advice. But I want to see you tomorrow. I know you don't have a mission."

Not 'would like' or 'please'. It was 'want', as if she expected no argument from him. It was likely to be too much of a hassle either way. But he hated to argue and tried to avoid it at all costs, though is seemed pleased enough with him that arguments rarely left him alone.

"I've got important things to do tomorrow," he hedged.

She snorted, managing to make it sound elegant. "Like what? Watching the clouds? Napping?"

"That's important enough for me," he shot back defensively.

"That's not living. I have a few places I want to go in Konoha before I leave. I expect you to take me."

"Fine," he muttered, capitulating with a glare that faded into a grimace.

She fairly glowed as she smiled, leaning over to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. "I knew I could count on you."

Rising to his elbows, Shikamaru watched her walk away because he couldn't not. Temari was a woman for certain. The sway and flare of her hips, the length of her legs, the curve of neck... And chaste as that kiss might've been, his lips were still burning.

What in the hell are you getting yourself into, Shikamaru?