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TRACK 16 : BODY TALKS - THE STRUTS (ft. Ke$ha)
“Your brother’s right upstairs, ya know,” Kiba breathes as Kankuro hovers over him. He clearly doesn’t mind all too much, with the way he’s grinning, the kind that shows his teeth.
“Then you’ll just have to keep it down,” Kankuro quips with a kiss to the corner of Kiba’s mouth. He pulls back up with a playful cock of his head, “Unless you think you won’t be able to.”
Kiba rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he repeats, a mimicry of Kankuro from just moments before.
“You’re just all talk sometimes,” Kankuro grins. His lips return to the spot between Kiba’s neck and his shoulder. “You missed me.”
Before Kiba can get a word in edgewise, Kankuro’s hand is slipping under the half-strewn covers and between Kiba’s legs as he adds, “At least, I know you missed this. ”
The exhaustion that’s been plaguing Kiba since he arrived in the Sand is pushed to the back of his mind, taking a sabbatical while he tilts his head back and allows himself to relax. Kankuro’s hand rubs smoothly and slowly, searching for an outline that only grows more prominent as he goes back to kissing the side of Kiba’s neck.
Keeping in mind that Gaara and his attendants may very well be still walking around the manor, Kiba keeps himself from making more than a breathy noise while his hand curls around to rest on the back of Kankuro’s neck.
Kankuro’s hair is messy. His undercut is half grown in from the weeks he’s spent inside and the top isn’t much better. His hair is thin and light, sticking up pin straight at odd angles. It always looks like that after he’s washed it, Kiba remembers. It only curls when it’s hot.
They haven’t gotten a chance to be alone like this since Kiba got here. Sex had certainly been the last thing on his mind when he came to do whatever this is, checking in on Kankuro when he lives three days away. The busybody in Kiba wants to ask Kankuro a billion more questions, make sure he’s okay, make him eat a vegetable. But the lover in Kiba sees Kankuro smiling widely for a record time today, compared to when he was crying on the bathroom floor earlier, and Kiba decides that they’ll live in this moment for now.
Kiba lets another arm wind around Kankuro’s neck, urging him up so their lips can meet again. Kiba moves slowly and languidly, more than happy to let Kankuro take control of the kiss. Kiba’s hands move up to cup Kankuro’s face, holding his cheeks and letting a sigh fall from his parted lips.
The thing about Kiba’s mind is that it tends to wander, and his hands will follow suit. Slim fingers smooth down the rumpled front of Kankuro’s shirt, the one he’d thrown on when Gaara had called for him earlier. Kankuro’s chest and stomach are soft underneath his t-shirt. When Kiba’s hands slide down to his hips, he can feel where a few extra pounds are sitting.
“You’re handsome,” Kiba breathes simply, breaking from the kiss to look up at Kankuro where he’s braced himself over Kiba. Now poking under Kankuro’s shirt, Kiba’s hands are traveling to push it up. “And I did miss you.”
Kankuro leans back, a fleeting grin on his face before it’s hidden by his shirt coming up over his head. It subsequently hits the floor. When he’s reared on his knees like this, a little bit of his tummy hangs over the waistband of his pants, certainly a difference from the nearly-there abs Kiba had met a few months ago but charming all the same.
Kankuro stays like this for a moment, the goofy smile coming back to his face. In front of him, Kiba is laid out on his back with red cheeks and mussed hair, already shirtless. It’s a picture he’d like to remember.
“How did I land you, huh?” Kankuro asks incredulously.
For Kankuro, the act of even being aroused by whoever is in his bed is still new. He’s only been seeing Kiba for a few months, and this feeling is exciting , even now. He wonders if it’ll ever get old. He doesn’t think so.
“You know what? I’m not sure,” Kiba teases in return. One hand of his is outstretched, asking for Kankuro to come closer. “Somethin’ about ya. Maybe that cute face.”
One of Kiba’s favorite things about Kankuro is that whenever someone pays a sliver of attention to him- perhaps a compliment or a joke- he’ll turn bright red. This moment is no exception, and Kiba gets to watch the color flood to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
“Now you’re really talking too much,” says Kankuro.
“I wonder what else I could do with my mouth?” Kiba muses. His hand is still outstretched. He beckons again.
Kankuro laughs, hiking a leg over Kiba so he’s straddling him. “You’re not gonna be doing much of anything,” he says. While Kiba’s hand finds his bicep, one of Kankuro’s strokes the side of Kiba’s face, his cheekbones and the scruff that fades behind them. “You came a long way,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss Kiba again. “Let me take care of you.”
Kankuro is generally not a smooth talker, Kiba knows, but when it comes to this sort of thing, Kiba almost wonders if he rehearses it in his head beforehand for it to sound this good. But regardless of words, Kankuro can read his body better than anyone. It doesn’t even boil down to sex- Kankuro is good at reading someone’s body language in general.
And that certainly helps when he can map out every hitch of Kiba’s breath, or what will make his fingers dig into Kankuro’s skin. Kiba can relax into the sheets knowing that Kankuro thrives on a job well done, can tilt his head down to watch while Kankuro begins trailing kisses down his chest, can let his head fall back after when Kankuro’s lips ghost over one of his nipples and his tongue follows.
“And remember,” Kankuro says, as he moves down between Kiba’s legs with his hand taking down the waistband of Kiba’s pants- his pants- “...Gaara’s right upstairs.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Kiba breathes exasperatedly, irritably, eyes locked onto Kankuro as he’s slipping his pants and underwear down. Kiba’s half hard against his stomach, just barely leaving a wet spot over his tan skin.
“Shh,” Kankuro says playfully, all while his hand is coming down to wrap around Kiba’s length.
“You’re-- haah, ” Kiba moans out, because as soon as he speaks Kankuro’s hand is replaced with the warm, wet confine of his lips taking Kiba into his mouth.
What’s in front of him is what Kiba usually sees when he’s sleeping by himself and closes his eyes to fantasize. Kankuro is taking his time, sucking slowly and moving his hand in tandem. All he’s concerned with is watching the way Kiba’s eyebrows furrow, how his fang hangs over his lip as he tries not to make a sound.
Sharp nails are digging into Kankuro’s scalp as Kankuro takes him deeper. Kiba is sinking into Kankuro’s sheets, eyes fluttering shut. “Baby,” he breathes, “that feels so good.”
Kiba, aside from being the most handsome man Kankuro has ever laid his eyes on, is also immensely kind and patient with Kankuro. He always has been. First times hadn’t ever felt terrifying with Kiba, the same way nothing is ever intimidating with him now. He makes Kankuro feel so confident, telling him just what he likes.
And maybe not seeing Kankuro for weeks and weeks on end is getting to Kiba, because he finds himself turning his head to try and muffle noise into the pillow when Kankuro starts bobbing his head a little faster.
Kankuro’s lips are shiny and pink where they’re stretched around Kiba’s cock. His tongue is heavy on the underside, wet and hot against Kiba. Kankuro slows down, tantalizingly so, pulling off to look up at Kiba with hooded eyes and a smirk that Kiba would die for.
Kankuro’s hand is still lazily pumping Kiba’s dick, his thumb flicking over the head every so often. He thrives on watching Kiba enjoy himself, the way the muscles of his belly tense with pleasure, how his chest heaves with breaths that Kiba is trying to hold.
“God, I missed you,” Kankuro says, as one hand rests on Kiba’s thigh. He nudges it gently so as to part them, and Kiba almost loses his breath entirely when Kankuro’s tongue meets Kiba’s entrance, a soft lick that has Kiba turning his head into the sheets again.
A large hand makes its way over Kiba’s thigh, splayed out over the muscle as Kankuro goes back in with his tongue, licking slowly and carefully, just enough to make Kiba squirm under him.
Kankuro decides he wants to make this moment last, wants to feel more of Kiba yanking at his hair while Kankuro makes gentle swipes with his tongue.
Kiba’s breathing is quicker now, his breaths more shallow while he writhes against the sheets. He’s trying his best to keep quiet, knows that if he lets himself go now he’ll probably give them both away and he can’t handle a conversation with Gaara that’s even more awkward than usual.
Kankuro between his legs is insatiable, with strong hands bracing his thighs and a tongue that moves so gently it makes Kiba whine for more. But it’s also been weeks since they were together, and Kiba thinks that if Kankuro keeps him on edge anymore he might not last very long at all.
“C’mon, Kankuro,” he exhales weakly, though his jaw falls on the last syllable and stays open when Kankuro’s tongue just barely presses inside of him.
“What is it you want?” Kankuro asks smugly, still close enough to Kiba that he can feel Kankuro’s breath hot against his skin. Kankuro’s voice is low, careful to keep it down so it won’t carry up the stairs. Kankuro also has absolutely no sensory ability, so he’s entirely relying on Kiba to make sure there’s no one nearby.
“Oh, don’t start.”
“I love to start.”
An indignant hand curls in Kankuro’s scalp, and fingernails dig into his skin, enough to make Kankuro grimace. He doesn’t shy away from it, though. “Mm. Just tell me what you want. I like hearing you say it, I....” Kankuro’s hand trails between Kiba’s legs again, “I missed you.”
Who is Kiba to say no to a remark like that?
Kiba’s head falls back against the pillow with a huff, and he leans up again with the support of his elbow. “Look at me,” he says, his eyes hazy with arousal.
Brown eyes meet Kiba’s.
“I want you to make me wish that these walls were a lot thicker,” Kiba says, without a shadow of doubt, so confident that it almost makes Kankuro want to look away.
“You’re getting everything you want today,” Kankuro responds with a grin just as catlike. His eyes meet Kiba’s once more before he pushes himself back on his knees and then stands to dig through his bedside drawer for a bottle of lube. It’s mostly full. He’s used it maybe once or twice.
Kankuro has barely paid attention to himself the entire time, ignoring the way that Kiba can see the outline of his cock through his pants, hard and firm underneath the fabric. It’s straining against his boxers before he pulls it out, and he moves to start slicking his fingers up, but Kiba interrupts with, “No.”
“Won’t it--”
“I don’t care,” Kiba says, “ just fuck me. ”
These might be the only orders Kankuro will ever take from a Konoha shinobi.
Kiba makes a move to sit up on his elbows again, but instead Kankuro pushes him back down. “Turn over,” Kankuro says, and if Kiba looked hard enough, he would see a twinge of red on the tips of his ears.
But Kankuro is good at getting what he wants.
Kiba raises his eyebrows and turns, resting on his stomach, his cheek resting on his elbows. He’s expecting Kankuro to raise his hips up, pull him back, but instead he feels Kankuro flush against his back.
“You’ll want to muffle that mouth of yours into the pillow,” Kankuro murmurs in Kiba’s ear, as he slowly presses his cock inside of Kiba, “won’t you?”
A thick, stocky arm snakes underneath the base of Kiba’s chest and Kiba gasps, red and overwhelmed. Kankuro fills him up just right, and presses him down tight against the sheets, with a muscled forearm under him. Against his back, Kankuro’s chest is big and firm. Kiba can hear the soft groan under Kankuro’s breath in his ear as he buries himself inside of Kiba.
Kiba’s face is pressed against the pillow by choice, his mouth wide open and a cry disappearing into Sunan cotton. The stretch of Kankuro inside of him reminds him that they haven’t slept together in a while, and he twists a knobby hand into the sheets.
“Fuck, Kankuro,” Kiba pants against his pillowcase. Arousal pools in his belly when he feels just how close they are, and how heavy Kankuro is on top of him when he’s not even bearing his weight.
Kankuro has pressed his face into Kiba’s shoulder to suppress his own noise, giving a shaky grunt that buries itself into Kiba’s neck. “So fucking tight. God. ”
When Kiba’s hips start to press back against him, Kankuro knows that he can start to move. He squeezes Kiba closer to him, trapping him between the sheets and the surges of pleasure that come with each thrust. The arm that isn’t holding Kiba is supporting Kankuro on the mattress.
“Fuck-- fuck,” Kiba pants, his voice just a few notes higher than before. Kankuro can see the muscles of his forearm tightening while grabs at the sheets. His voice shakes with every smack of Kankuro’s hips against his ass, and his knuckles are nearly white. “Just like that. Just--”
“I know how you like it. How you like me on top of you, huh? Keeping you down just like this?” Kankuro whispers into his ear, his breath hitching between sentences.
Kiba moans in response, barely audible. Kankuro’s arm winds tighter around him, but the position of his wrist moves until his hand is wrapping around Kiba’s neck.
Kiba’s glad he doesn’t have enough air to make a sound, because otherwise he’d be crying out so loud the pillowcase wouldn’t be enough. Kankuro’s hand is firm around Kiba’s throat, squeezing the way he knows will drive Kiba insane, the way Kiba has said makes him feel like a total fuckin’ whore.
When Kankuro’s fingers release Kiba’s throat, his gasp for air is mixed with a gasp of pleasure. “Kankuro,” Kiba moans, perhaps a little too loud for either of their tastes. “Please. Fuck- just like that. Just like--”
Kankuro’s hand is cutting him off again, this time clamped tightly over his mouth, so tight that Kiba is whining behind it and Kankuro feels every cloud of his breath. His hips are moving faster now, with Kiba’s voice muffled against Kankuro’s palm.
“Listen to you. You can’t keep quiet,” Kankuro says through gritted teeth. “You feel good?”
The question is rhetorical but enough for Kiba to answer with a muffled hnnnnn, with his eyelids fluttering back in pleasure.
Kankuro suddenly pulls out of him with a gasp, and his arm only lets go of Kiba so that he can sit back and turn Kiba onto his back.
There is no poetry in the way Kankuro spreads Kiba’s legs again, how he pulls Kiba’s hips forward so he can press into him again, or how he smashes their lips together before Kiba can make another sound.
Kiba’s lips are flimsy and distracted under his, yet he kisses Kankuro desperately, like he’s begging for water in the desert. His arms wind tightly around Kankuro, his hands far up enough that his fingernails can dig into the flesh of Kankuro’s back.
Both of their moans are filling the air, soft huffs that don’t dare turn into anything else in case they’re heard.
“You’re so fucking hot. So fucking good for me,” Kankuro says against Kiba’s lips.
Kankuro’s hips shift ever so slightly when he braces himself more to one side,and suddenly Kiba cries out so loud that he digs his teeth into Kankuro’s shoulder.
Kankuro grits his teeth at the fangs in his skin, his cheeks flushing red as he continues fucking into Kiba.
Instead of words, Kiba’s been reduced to measures of huh and oh, choosing to keep his teeth sunk into Kankuro’s skin.
His voice is high when he speaks again, gasping while he throws his head back against the pillow. “ Kankuro.”
Kiba is writhing under him so beautifully Kankuro wishes he could stay here forever. But he knows how Kiba moves, how his mouth will drop open for seconds longer, and he knows Kiba’s close. “You gonna come, baby?”
“I’m-- fuck, I’m--” sharp nails are digging lines into Kankuro’s shoulderblades as white-hot pleasure pools in Kiba’s belly, seemingly travelling right up through his fingertips. “Kankuro, I’m gonna--”
“Yeah?” Kankuro is breathless, barely composed while he starts to pump Kiba’s cock. “Go ahead.”
“Fuck--”
“C’mon.”
Kiba comes with a shout that makes Kankuro’s hand fly up to keep him quiet with, but it topples Kankuro over the edge right after. He nearly doubles over into Kiba, his shoulders shuddering as he buries his face into Kiba’s neck, a clumsy hand still over his mouth while he pulls out and makes an even bigger mess of Kiba.
Splatters of off-white are dotted across Kiba’s stomach and inner thighs, bright against his sunkissed skin. Kankuro lingers on top of him for a moment as they both catch their breath, though presses a few incredibly breathy, lazy, sweet kisses to the sweaty side of Kiba’s neck.
“You are so--” Kankuro shakes his head, wordless.
“I love you,” Kiba says weakly, a blissful smile on his face, eyes closed. “ Fuck.”
With a grunt, Kankuro moves from on top of Kiba to next to him, collapsing onto his back. “I love you .”
“Missed you… fuckin’ me like that,” Kiba mumbles dazedly.
Kankuro’s breaths are shallow as he turns his head to press a chaste kiss to Kiba’s shoulder. “Told you I’d take care of you.”
Kiba hums affirmatively, nodding his head.
“You deserve more than that after coming all the way here.” Satisfied with his momentary break, Kankuro wearily pushes himself up to grab the t-shirt he’d worn earlier, and use it to clean off Kiba’s front. After this, Kankuro assumes they won’t be getting up again until morning, especially not Kiba.
“Thank you, doll,” Kiba laughs lightly, more to the t-shirt that moves over his stomach than anything else. He turns onto his side, reaching his hand up until Kankuro leans forward and Kiba can cup his face. “Mm. Gimme another kiss.”
The smack of their lips together is the only sound in those next few seconds, along with the rumple of sheets as Kankuro flops to lay back down next to him.
Kiba giggles next, as Kankuro winds a tight arm around his waist, pressing Kiba’s back to his front. “Missed holding you like this,” he says, pressing three playful kisses to the back of Kiba’s neck.
It’s Kiba’s turn to have rosy cheeks and a wide grin on his face, curling his legs up comfortably. Kankuro pulls up the thin, airy blankets that they use in Suna. They’re just warm enough to keep them comfortable, but cool enough that the morning desert sun won’t be a disturbance.
“Get some rest, now,” Kankuro urges against Kiba’s neck.
Kiba lets out a fond laugh at how Kankuro can instantly switch his attitude when he cares about somebody, how suddenly Kankuro isn’t focused on arguing about the events of the past week. He’s just focused on Kiba.
“Wake me up at a decent time. Don’t let me sleep all day,” Kiba says. He even looks over his shoulder expectantly. “Set an alarm.”
“We don’t need an alarm,” Kankuro rolls his eyes. “Pretend you’re on vacation for a moment, huh? Only thing you gotta worry about wakin’ up to is me.”