I felt my toes curling in on themselves. I was sure that at this rate I would have a cramp, I was also sure that at this rate, I wouldn't last very long at all. I focused on his face, I wanted to make him work for this, but the one place where I would admit defeat to him was when we were having sex.

You wouldn't expect Shikamaru to be the kind of man who would make a good lover. He was lazy, he was sexist, he was analytical. I was worried that he would be dissecting my body with his mind, figuring out things and making conclusions, as he lay on his back and let me do all the work, and afterward telling me I was overbearing, and mannish. (And honestly, I was also worried that he would memorize my bodily flaws.)

But he didn't. In fact, he never had. Because Shikamaru was also the kind of man who would make the perfect lover. He was smart, compassionate, focused on details, and very, very generous. I had never walked away from him without an orgasm. Often, it wasn't during sex that I had one, sometimes it was after. It was a long buildup to get there though. In the beginning, it was terrible.

And yes, I came, but it was uncomfortable, and it felt more like he was testing the waters before diving in. After that, I saw that it had given him a push, and a push was all that Shikamaru needs. He began to set unspoken personal goals for himself when it came to this. It figures, the man who cared about barely anything wanted to outdo himself and train himself in all the ways of pleasing women.

And that was okay, as long as I was that woman.

Shikamaru was not the only man I had orgasms with. In fact, he wasn't even the first man I had an orgasm with. But I was the first woman he had, and somehow, on luck, intelligence, and plenty of reaction, I managed to enjoy that first time. That was impressive, considering that I didn't cum easily, and he was so lazy and thought everything was troublesome, and when I met him, he was a virgin. That was almost a disaster. He thought too much, and I could see the cogs whirring in his brain. He didn't just lay back and feel his way, it was almost robotic. It wasn't very good.

I suppose that was maybe why he decided to set these personal goals for himself. The first time we had sex, it was awkward and clumsy. He was lanky and tall, and I was squirming and uncomfortable. When he came, he pulled away from me and after a few minutes of composing himself, I saw that he was ashamed.

It was pretty obvious that I wasn't exactly having the good time that he was. He sighed next to me, heavy and heaving and I felt some pity for him. I was far more experienced than he was, with three lovers under my belt. People like making these cute stories about how women would have their first times with a man and it would be wonderful, and they would be shocked by how good they were and cum in five minutes flat.

It was never like that with me, or any girls I ever talked to. Our first times were frightful and often, bloody, unexpected, painful, and entirely unsatisfying. In fact, most sex was like that. Mainly because the men I had been with didn't care very much about how I felt. They were often cold, and callous, and I never minded. But one thing I learned with Shikamaru was that if he set his mind to something, he would never do it halfheartedly. I learned that in the chunin exams when he outsmarted me, I learned that when we started dating.

Hell, I even learned it from Yoshino and her baby stories, and Ino and her tales of missions they were on together. He had little motivation, but when he did find some, he was a force unable to be stopped. He had determination, but very few people knew it.

He was determined enough to continue smoking, even though every bone in his body, every intelligent cell of his mind told him it was bad, and that it tasted awful. He was determined enough to hunt down Hidan and win against him.

And if there was one thing that was a good match with determination, it was patience. And Shikamaru had plenty, plenty of patience.

So after our awkward first time, I found myself with a head between my legs, and it took ten minutes of him figuring out a battle plan and fifteen minutes of action, but I came. I could see in his eyes that he memorized every piece of our interaction. He memorized the way my thighs locked against him, how I pulsed around his tongue and his fingers, how I started rocking when I was close.

He was good with his mouth, both in words and actions. So when he found out later from his friends that they have a hell of a time pleasing their girlfriends, he was genuinely surprised. Sure, it took a while, and yes, it was messy and harsh, sloppy and almost disgusting when you think about it, it still happened. And he didn't even know what a big compliment of his skills it was that I came when we had sex for the first time.

It was not my first orgasm, and not my most memorable. He beat out that measly moment of pleasure several times. He was a fast learner, and demanded I teach him. He spouted some crap about how men should look out for women.

Later though, when we were more comfortable with one another, he told me it was because he couldn't stand to have sex like that ever again. He told me it felt wrong, awkward and ugly, and like he was almost raping me, even if I was willing. He told me he just didn't appreciate it unless I came as well.

And I am not ashamed to say that I was flattered that he cared about my pleasure that much, and happy that I could coax determination from him, and entirely turned on.

Of course, I didn't even need to remind myself that I was lucky that he was as observant as he was. Sometimes, I hated it. He would beat me in board games, in strategy, and he was incredibly intelligent and often shot down my plans on missions in favor for his own, which were usually better, though based off of my idea.

Give him a push and he will soar.

I remember the first time I came when he was still inside of me. Previously, he had slicked his fingers with me, had grasped my thighs and gently ran his nails down my hips as he licked me clean. But he had stopped, told me he wanted to try something. And I was angry, I wanted my orgasm, I wanted my fun. He shushed me, and got on top. He grabbed my legs which were already wrapping themselves around him and entered me.

Now, I don't like the beginnings of sex. Usually, it's messy and very sloppy, and usually a guess as to where to thrust. But we were so comfortable with one another, we had done this so often, and he knew my anatomy better than I knew his, and I was expecting a few blind thrusts before he finally hit home.

He always had a habit of surprising me, and when he entered me in one go on the first try, I gasped, loud and unexpected. I saw the cockiness in his eyes, he liked it when I was caught off guard. I understood that, I liked it when he was off guard too, but I hadn't expected him to be so suddenly confident with himself. He thrust into me, and the original shock wore off.

His hair was loose and wisped around his face, and I usually concentrated on him entirely, making it pleasurable.

He snaked his hand down between us, and rubbed me in circles, and figure eights, in infinity symbols and then the alphabet. I saw his strain, and I couldn't help but start to shake. It was a slow build up, the heat was overwhelming, and lying underneath him on his sheets, my mouth stretched open and his kisses on my jaw were sweet, and his hands caressed me, and I let out a loud, shuddering moan, and came.

Hard.

I made a wet spot on his sheets, and he gave a few more thrusts before shaking and clawing at the bed, and cumming.

He collapsed on me, and I was breathing in harsh, hacking gasps, eager to introduce air back into my lungs. I felt his lightly toned body against me, I felt the heat and the wetness, I felt the tickle of his hair, and I untangled my legs from him, and lay my head down, still gulping in breath.

Finally, he looked at me. His eyes were dark and content, his face was slightly cocky and perfectly sexy. I shuddered. This was his defining moment, and it made me realize that he was no longer that clumsy boy fumbling with my underwear.

He was a man, and he was good.

I told him he should experiment more often and he only smiled. He got up, found a towel and helped me clean off. We weren't particularly crazy, like some of the other couples with their fetishes and their roleplay. In fact, we were plenty traditional.

But it was far from boring.

Of course, we had our moments. Once, we had sex against a tree, our teammates just a few yards away. Another time, in a chair.

My favorite so far was the shower, but maybe I'm just bias because I came easily that time.

Our relationship was not just sex, but sometimes it felt like it. I was scared that he would leave one day and find another woman and make her feel as good as he made me feel. And though it made me jealous, it also made me mad. I was the one who taught him, the one who endured countless dry moments and the steep learning curve.

I was the one who taught him to behave on instinct. I marked him as mine.

I'll be damned if some other woman came along and gathered the fruits of my labor. Thankfully, no woman ever did. I was genuinely glad of that fact. I was, above all, prideful. I hated to lose, I despised it, really, and I just adored the fact that I was the only person he had ever been inside of. I loved the fact that I was the only woman he had pleasured and that he stayed with me, and he could face me, head on, and win. But knowing how much I loved the fact that I was the only person in his romantic life, that he was fully mine, I also knew how bad he must feel, thinking that he had to share me. After all, Shikamaru too, had his pride.

Once, I asked him if he was okay with the fact that I wasn't a virgin when we had sex that first time, that I had sex with others before him. Bluntly, he told me no. He was not okay with it, and it made him unhappy, but then he stood up and pinned me against a wall, determination written on his features.

"Honestly, Temari, I'm pissed that someone got you before me, I hate it. I wanted you to be mine, completely, and fully. But, I don't give a damn who was your first, but I'll BE damned if I'm not your last and you're not my only."

And Shikamaru was not a very romantic man. In fact, he was sarcastic and coarse, rough and dry and often, too sharp tongued for my liking. But I remembered that moment forever. And when other people wolf whistled at me on the streets, I held my head high and brushed past them, not even bothering to look. In my eyes, I had found my match, my equal. I didn't need any more men tugging at my skirt, calloused fingers brushing over my hips. I didn't need to wake up to a scent that wasn't a combination of cigarette smoke, grass, dirt, and soap. I didn't need to wake up on sheets that weren't green, or a man that didn't have soft black hair. I didn't need to have anyone but him.

And just to be honest, when he gave me a ring with "My Only" engraved on it, I smirked. Wearing it made me feel powerful, it made me cocky and haughty. I proudly wore that ring on missions and on trips, I wore it to girls nights out and even though all they could see was the small diamond glinting on my left hand ring finger, I felt the scripture, and I would smirk. I loved him, something I never thought I'd do when I faced him in the chunin exams, something I thought others were stupid for doing. I loved that simplicity, and his hands, his compassion and attention for detail, his dedication and determination. I loved his stupid hair and his brown eyes, and the fact that he gladly leaves Konoha for months on end so we can visit Suna.

And, really, I love the fact that he was right.

I'll be damned if he's not my last.

Is it sad that I blushed almost the entire time I was writing this? I know, I know, it's not even a complete lemon, but still, I was NEVER good with these things. I know a lot of people see the romantic interactions between Shikamaru and Temari as being more coarse and more raunchy, but a piece of me just loves when they're sweet, and I ADORE the idea of Temari having an upper hand on Shikamaru, and then having it blow up in her face.

I suppose I just like seeing how far I can stretch this relationship. They're plenty complex, and I could have taken it at face value, that Temari liked control, and Shikamaru doesn't like to be bothered, but it irked me, and I wanted to see how I could make poor little Shika up to par with someone as bossy as Temari. And she IS always telling him to hurry up and become better, probably so she can gloat. (I KNOW those kunoichi have girl talk, damnit, and one of these days, I'll write a fanfic on it!)

I also love the idea of Shikamaru being good at things without trying, and suddenly, realizing that he can't do a half assed job on THIS area.

Oooooor, maybe I just like Shika too much to have him be crappy and submissive in bed. Either or! ^^;