Constructive Possession

A/N: I’ll tell you what—this Kiba/Kabuto thing is a snarling beast that can not be sated! I’m posting this better late than never with a disclaimer that another Kiba/Kabuto chapter is en route and may not make it on schedule either. I’m trying, but the thing keeps re-writing itself! Gah!

Many thanks to all my reviewers. You’re the cat’s meow!

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Warning: unbeta’d; language; shameless self-love; humor

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Thursday, 6: 35 P.M.

The sound of several dogs barking could be heard in the hall as Kabuto opened the door of his apartment and walked inside. He closed the door, effectively muffling the sound, and then locked the four locks before tossing his keys on the counter.

Kabuto sighed. He was glad to be back in his tiny apartment. It had been a good day. He’d gone back to work ahead of schedule and against the advice of his doctors, but he’d spent the day being in the spotlight. It was a sick way to garner attention, even Kabuto had to admit; still, it made him feel good. Telling his story--or the portion thereof that he chose to reveal to increase its overall mystique—made him feel like everyone else. He felt…normal.

And he was in the mood to celebrate.

But first he needed a shower.

Kabuto walked into his small bedroom and, while kicking off his shoes, removed his wristwatch and set it on the dresser. He then pulled his light blue polo shirt over his head, tossing it onto the top of a basket containing dirty laundry. He emptied the pockets of the tan chinos he wore, depositing their contents on the dresser beside his wristwatch. Kabuto pulled a business card from among the contents and held it up. It was the card he’d found lying on the floor in front of his apartment door just before leaving to go to work that morning. On it was the name of a man: Kiba Inuzuka, a police officer for whom Kabuto had sacrificed two of his teeth and a bruise-free face in a successful attempt to befriend.

Kabuto carried that card in his pocket all day. For him it was a symbol of a major achievement. When he thought no one was looking, he’d pull it from his pocket and read it, much the way he was at that moment, and smile. Not too much—he had been playing martyr all day and didn’t want anyone to catch on. One of the brightest moments of the day came when a cop with whom he rarely spoke or worked volunteered to pay a visit to the bastard who’d beat up his face and teach him a lesson. Kabuto declined the man’s offer, of course, and then decided he would enjoy revealing that bit to Kiba the next time they saw each other.

Which, if Kabuto knew Kiba as well as he thought he did, would be soon.

Kabuto placed the card back on the dresser and finished undressing. Removing the tie from his thick hair, he walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower.

It was taking a few seconds more for the water to heat each time Kabuto needed to take a shower. He’d report the problem to building maintenance, except he knew that getting them to actually fix the heat would likely result in an increase in his rent. There was sad irony in the fact that he worked with law enforcement officials every day and still had to endure that kind of thinly-veiled extortion.

Kabuto stepped under the warm spray of the shower, feeling it saturate his hair and cover his body, and imagining it washing some less desirable aspect of himself down the drain.

He put on his exfoliating gloves and grabbed the C. O. Bigelow™ hair and body wash from the caddy. He squeezed the liquid from its tube into his palms, put it back in the caddy and set about the task of vigorously scrubbing away the lab residue from his body. During working hours Kabuto wore a lab coat and gloves, and at times, a mask over his mouth; still, in his line of work it never hurt to be extra careful. His skin reddened beneath the brisk strokes of his hands. The ‘Elixir Green’ scent of the wash brought images of success, sex appeal and pine trees to the man’s mind.

Once Kabuto was satisfied that he was thoroughly clean, he removed the gloves, grabbed the tube once more and squeezed a generous portion into one hand before replacing the tube in the caddy. Then he rubbed his hands together and reached up to lather his hair.

Deft hands worked the rich suds through thick gray tresses. Kabuto had grown his hair out from a funky punk haircut when he had first become an analyst and, after a particularly unpleasant experience with a barber, was reluctant to have it cut again. It was hard work to maintain—it was insane on warm days and it tangled easily. Still, he had become accustomed to its length and thickness, preferring to wear it bound at his nape rather than giving another overzealous barber a go at his head again.

Kabuto rinsed the mound of suds from his hair. He thought about Inuzuka as he reached for the bottle of conditioner in the caddy. He imagined the man’s naked athletic body standing behind him, working the conditioner through Kabuto’s wet hair. He imagined the man massaging his scalp with skilled, gentle fingers. Kabuto let out a tiny whimper as he slathered his hands with conditioner and ran them through his hair, closing his eyes to everything except the image of the Inuzuka in his mind and the feel of fingers threaded in his locks.

Kabuto could just hear the Inuzuka now, cooing into his ear in muted tones: this will have to be quick. We don’t want the water to get cold.

Kabuto removed his conditioner-slickened hands from his head to wrap them around his now-anxious cock. It wasn’t often he allowed himself to masturbate while thinking of his colleagues—it was a self-imposed boundary he was reluctant to cross--but in light of the day’s events he considered it a special occasion.

How does that feel? Kabuto could imagine the Inuzuka asking him in a sinful voice. He imagined that strong body behind him with his arms snaked around Kabuto’s body and his hands stroking Kabuto’s erection while the man’s own erection was pressed against Kabuto’s ass.

The Yakushi furrowed his brow, his eyes still closed, and those hands still moving.

What do you think, Yakushi? The Inuzuka in Kabuto’s mind questioned. How long after I shove my hard cock in your tight ass do you think it would take for you to shoot your load all over the tile in here?

Kabuto’s hands on his cock were frantic now. He began panting. His skin prickled under the spray of the shower that was no longer warm but his mind took no note of it.

That’s what you like, isn’t it Yakushi?

Kabuto could feel his orgasm building. He alternated arms in a manic attempt to maintain his pace. He could practically feel the warmth of the Inuzuka’s hard cock sliding between his ass cheeks.

That’s what you want?

Kabuto moaned, a sound amplified by the walls of the shower.

Then that’s what you’ll get, Yakushi. I’ll shove my cock in all the way until I’m balls deep and own you until your eyes are rolling back and then…

Kabuto’s moans were increasing in number. His arms were tired but he refused to stop before the impending orgasm crested.

When you’re done spraying the walls in here with that insane backup of lava-hot cum…

Kabuto was close. So close. It was coming. He folded his bottom lip between his top and bottom teeth, breathing heavily through his nose.

I’ll go lie on your bed on my stomach and let you bounce quarters off my award-winning ass.

“JACK-POT!” Kabuto screamed and his whole body stiffened as ribbon after ribbon of hot cum shot from his cock onto the tiled walls.

Kabuto didn’t know how long he stood there after his orgasm, holding himself up with one shaky arm braced against the wall, the other braced against his thigh to keep him from falling down. It was the cold water that brought him out of his haze. He stood upright then, rinsed the conditioner from hair that suddenly felt heavy as best he could and then reached up to adjust the shower head to rinse the cum from the wall in front of him.

“Son of a bitch”, Kabuto exclaimed aloud. That was some orgasm. He was still breathing heavily while he watched the white fluid being rinsed down the wall. There was so much of it.

Kabuto turned and turned off the faucets, his wet hair clinging to his back and shoulders. He stepped out of the shower carefully; his legs weren’t fully functional again yet.

He reached for a towel as he put the lid down on the toilet and sat down. He dried himself off while soothing his bottom lip with warm strokes of his tongue. The tiny bathroom reeked of his orgasm. Kabuto wondered if it could be smelled in his living room.

On legs still slightly shaky Kabuto got up a short time later. He walked over to the bathroom counter and stood, using his hands to support himself. There he was, in all his naked glory. With almond-shaped dark eyes, he assessed the mirror’s image that never seemed to change: a short, pale, scrawny body, with a mound of thick gray hair on top of his head. Kabuto looked at his hands. They were small hands, made for precision work. He looked at his feet. They could use a manicure—maybe he would groom them himself tonight. And, with a sigh, he stared at his penis. It too, was a small thing, and it never got much use. In fact, Kabuto was pretty sure that masturbation was the only reason the thing hadn’t just shriveled and fallen off his body.

And then there was that bruise, and the swelling. Kabuto looked up again at the image in the mirror. The bruise seemed much darker today than yesterday, giving it a more dramatic effect, particularly when paired with the swelling from having his broken teeth pulled. It still hurt, though not enough to warrant the dosage of painkillers he’d been prescribed for it. He’d endured that kind of pain and worse in high school, and on a near-daily basis; and he’d rarely been given any medication for it.

Smirking and then shrugging at his predicament, Kabuto grabbed his large-tooth comb and began detangling his hair in long strokes across his scalp. When he was satisfied with the results, he grabbed a hair band from the counter and, smoothing his hair down beneath his hands, bound it at his nape, feeling that damp, heavy ponytail fall down between his shoulder blades.

Kabuto grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste, making quick and careful work of brushing his teeth, humming the entire time despite the discomfort. He was spitting the foam into the sink before he realized he was humming Love Today¹. The thought made him smile. He really was in a great mood.

Kabuto grabbed a nearby cup, ran water into it and then drank from it. He swished the water around in his mouth to rinse away the mix of old blood and foamy residue. The muffled sound of dogs barking floated to his ears just as he spit into the sink and short moments before Kabuto heard a knock on his front door.

Kabuto placed the cup back on the counter. He looked toward the bathroom door, as if looking there would tell him who was knocking on the front door.

Kabuto pondered the knock. There were certain possibilities as to who was on the other side of his front door: a neighbor, a lost visitor or a delivery person.

Neighbors didn’t often visit anymore. Kabuto had successfully intimidated them from doing that with shop talk. Forensics was often a gory, gross and unsanitary business, the discussion of which was not for the squeamish.

Lost visitors to that building--to that neighborhood, for that matter--were few and far between. At least, the ones who had the courage to admit they were, in fact, lost.

Kabuto didn’t remember having ordered anything recently that anyone should be delivering.

There was another possibility. Kabuto hoped it was the Inuzuka.

In light of recent events it was entirely feasible. Not only had the Inuzuka called the lab to speak to him the day before, he’d figured out where Kabuto lived and paid a visit. Of course, Kabuto had been zonked out from the industrial-strength painkillers necessary after the extraction of two busted teeth, and missed his visit. It delighted Kabuto that the man had made such an effort to get back to him after what had occurred two nights before. It raised Kabuto’s hopes that the Inuzuka intended to honor the commitment he’d made to their friendship.

The mystery knocker struck again, with more force. This time the muffled sound of a voice calling out followed.

Kabuto grabbed a towel to wrap around his middle section and casually padded barefoot out of the bathroom, through his bedroom and to his front door.

He peered through the peephole in the door and gulped. Staring back at him was the fuzzy image of brown curls and tanned skin.

It was him.

He was back.

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Kabuto stepped back from the door, at once trying to rein in the girlish giddiness that had quickly saturated his every fiber. He took a deep breath then.

“Who is it?” Kabuto asked through the door.

“Yakushi, it’s Inuzuka, open up.”

The voice was muffled, but it was definitely Inuzuka’s. Kabuto bit his lip. “Are you friend, or are you foe?”

“Dammit Yakushi, open the fucking door!”

With a sigh, Kabuto walked back to the door and unlocked the four locks. He opened the door to find one Kiba Inuzuka standing there wearing a long-sleeved green polo shirt, blue jeans that hugged every contour of his legs and ass, and white sneakers. He carried a grocery bag in each arm.

It’s a mirage, Kabuto thought to himself. He met Kiba’s eyes with his own. “It was a legitimate question to ask under the circumstances.”

“Dude, move your pasty naked ass before I have to shoot one of your neighbors!”

Kabuto stood aside and allowed Kiba inside. He closed the door behind him and instantly locked the four locks. A tenant made the mistake of forgetting to lock the door in this building only once. Someone was always watching, always observing, always waiting.

And a guy like Kiba Inuzuka paying a visit to this building twice in two days wasn’t something that would go unnoticed.

He turned to find the Inuzuka placing the grocery bags on the counter in his kitchen, which wasn’t difficult to find. Kabuto’s apartment was even smaller than Kiba’s.

Kiba’s face was buried in one of the grocery bags. “I’ve got chips, buffalo wings and pizza.”

Kiba looked up then, as if suddenly remembering something, and found Kabuto standing there, his damp hair pulled back into its usual style, wearing nothing but a towel and staring at him. He took note of the man’s small skinny body and bruised and swollen face. This wasn’t the Yakushi that Kiba knew. The man’s frailty belied his demeanor—he’d always carried himself like a very powerful person. The impact of the image staring back at him left Kiba speechless for several moments.

It was Kabuto who broke the silence. “I’ll be all right to chew, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

Right. Chewing. “Good”, was all the Inuzuka could manage in response.

“There’s a…pizza tray in the drawer beneath the oven. The, uh, the big bowl is in the cabinet to the left above the sink.” Kabuto began to walk past Kiba and into his bedroom.

Kiba blinked. “Where are you going?” he asked, and instantly felt a sense of déjà-vu.

“To get dressed”, Kabuto responded over one shoulder. “Wouldn’t want my pasty naked ass to blind you. My eyes! My eyes!” Kabuto mimicked, gesturing with his hands for emphasis.

Kiba rolled his eyes as the door to Kabuto’s bedroom clicked shut behind him.

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Meanwhile, Kabuto leaned against the bedroom door on the other side, eyes closed. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself.

Don’t panic.

He mentally assessed the situation.

He’s here. Inuzuka’s here. In my apartment with me.

Alone with me.

Kabuto gulped. Theorizing that this day would ultimately come was one thing. Being in the gist of it was quite another.

Willingly.

Kabuto walked over and opened his underwear drawer to retrieve a clean pair of boxers. He looks so hot in green, he thought to himself.

Kabuto put on his boxers, and then opened a separate drawer to find a pair of heather gray sweatpants.

He’s wearing jeans. Kabuto slipped on his sweatpants. Do I have enough beer in my place to handle close proximity to Inuzuka in a pair of jeans?

Kabuto opened another drawer and pulled out a black tee-shirt bearing the image of two anime characters with menacing expressions posing in front of a giant apple².

He pulled the shirt on over his head. Shit, is there enough beer in Konoha for that?

Kabuto stepped into the slippers sitting next to his bed. Now he was completely dressed. Having masturbated in the shower earlier had relaxed him. He was ready to enjoy this visit from his new friend--the handsome, sexy, athletic, bisexual cop with a short fuse and a left hook that should be declared a lethal weapon.

Kabuto walked back to his bedroom door. He sighed once more before opening the door and walking out.

“So”, Kabuto spoke, announcing his entrance, “is there anything to drink in those bags?”

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A/N:

(1) Mika, a beautiful and talented androgyne, sings this! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tcn49zHLt0
(2) That would be the shirt bearing the images of L and Light, of the Death Note fame, for which I claim nothing. Cool shirt. http://www.tshirtgurus.com/death-note-light-l-apple.html

All right…Kabuto goes back to work and milks his latest development for all it’s worth. People are now taking notice of him! In the meantime, Kiba remains on his mission to make things right. How will he do? Part two of ‘movie date, the sequel’ is coming up soon. Stay tuned and please leave a review!