Getting Credit

Disclaimer: Mine? Not so much.

Warnings: Our duo has a scandalous moment, hence the chapter title. The rating just went up to T, so if you’re still reveling in your prepubescent glory, you might want to leave now.

A/N Beta’d by abnegation218. Thanks, chica! This is my personal favorite chapter in this fic. I’ve had it written and tucked away for weeks, just waiting to meet you.

But on a less-happy note, I’m losing inspiration for this fic. I mean, it’s fun to write and all, but the plot is shriveling up like…. I can’t think of a non-sexual reference. Ah, well, I was hoping to get some sexytime into this, so we’ll see what happens.

Getting Credit

Chapter 6 ~ The Internet is for Porn

Kiba comes for me after class. He’s leaning against his battered car, waiting in the parking lot. He brings me home with him again, this time for a few hours only – my mom needs help watching the twins.

We bang through his bedroom door and Kiba starts up the computer, looking pensive. “I want to see something,” he says as the machine finishes booting up, “It’ll be fun.” He grins up at me. “Grab a seat, Naru.”

I settle beside him, slightly puzzled, but trusting. I’m close. Our legs touch and I feel the heat of his skin through denim. It’s uncomfortable. I retreat into my own personal bubble.

Kiba sighs, sounding irritated. He is flicking through the Favorites on his web browser. Deciding on one, he selects it. I’m watching his face, the thoughtful frown, the worried lip. A loud moan shakes the speakers and I jump, whirling my head around to look at the screen. Kiba has turned to look at me, gauging my reaction. Our eyes catch for a second, before mine settle on Kiba’s ’fun.’

It’s porn. There is a girl, long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, and there is a man, tanned, handsome, taking her. I feel cold. I know Kiba is watching me. I feel his eyes on me, searching my face for something. A wash of nerves. What is he looking for? I feel sick.

I catch his eyes. He stares back, looking amused, aroused. I swallow. My gaze falls to his lap. I can practically feel him cracking a grin. He strokes himself through his pants, putting on a show. It’s like he’s egging me on, daring me to do the same. Daring me to like it. I tear my eyes away, nauseous, panicked, and they are unwillingly drawn back to the couple on the screen.

They’re really going at it. Kiba has turned down the volume, but I can still hear them, moaning, crying out in broken voices. I find that I’m not looking at the girl. My eyes are on the man, on his face, twisted with pleasure, on the way he moves. I realize that I’m picturing the girl with shorter hair, a flatter chest. The man runs a tongue over her shoulder blade and a phantom stripe burns hot on my back. I swallow again.

I’m hard. Oh, fuck, I’m hard.

Kiba shifts in his seat. He’s been watching me, glancing at the screen every now and again. He’s got that little half-smile, but there’s something sad, something resigned in his eye.

I clench my fists on my thighs. It’s like he’s testing me. Did I pass? Do I want to pass? It’s all jumbled. My head’s on fire and I’m shaking. This is all wrong.

I stand, shoving away my chair. “I’m going,” I say, my voice cold. “I have to babysit.” I lurch away, out of his room, out of his house. I’m running. I want to puke. I stop, leaning against a signpost to catch my breath. I’m still shaking. My legs are weak like they’re going to give. I begin to curse, damning Kiba, the man, the girl. That girl…

All I can see is that last moment. Kiba is half-standing, his torso twisted. He’s coming after me, his face a blend of surprise and confusion. Behind him, the man is coming, crying out, his hands digging into the girl’s hips. And the girl, lips parted, is looking up at the camera.

And all I can think is that she has my eyes.

I bend over and vomit onto the curbside.


A/N Denial is a bitch. Thanks for reading.