ANBU, We Have a Problem

Part VI: Ibiki’s Problem

It was the sweetest of tortures. Nothing could be further from the last time he’d had a cock in his ass. That had been rape, and this, this, was probably the closest thing to true lovemaking he’d ever experience. Why hadn’t he fallen in love with Shikamaru?

And with that question, Ibiki’s mind suddenly realized there was no reason not to if, no, when he got over Shu. God, Shu with his bright red hair and--no, to think of Shu now when Shikamaru was inside him, deep inside him, kissing him, caressing him, looking at him like he was something wonderful—no, even he wasn’t that cruel. “Shikamaru,” he said softly, smiling up into the face above him, a face he could never think of as expressionless ever again.

“Ibiki,” said Shikamaru, saying the word like it tasted good in his mouth.

A tremor ran over Ibiki’s body, and he marveled at it. Everything Shikamaru had done to him since he’d seen that love in the younger nin’s face had seemed so bizarrely different although it wasn’t anything that Shu hadn’t done—except for the cock in the ass part, of course. But Shu had been ordered to do everything, and now Shikamaru was calling the shots. And this tenderness, this softness, this love that seemed to radiate out of every soft word, every touch, every lick, every stroke of that cock inside him—oh, it was melting him!

Dear god, he had a cock inside him! The cock of a man that loved him—a man too smart to love him. Maybe he just loved the challenge Ibiki was. Yes, this was the love of the hunt, the game, the need to capture, to claim. But would such a love make a man be so tender? A tongue swiped over the longest scar on his face for the first time in his life, and Ibiki shivered and moaned, “Shikamaru.”

The tongue, the kisses, the licks . . . he was losing himself, being undone, slipping away . . . seduced by this dream . . .

When Shikamaru’s lithe body bent in two, and his hands and lips went to work on his scarred cock even as he still moved inside Ibiki, that was too much to resist. His cum flowed up into that tight throat, and he soon felt the wet heat of Shikamaru’s sperm spilling into him. When he’d emptied himself, he pulled the shadow nin’s loose hair, dragging his head off his cock and up to his mouth. But instead of the tongue that had been twisting all over his dick, he met with a passivity that was maddening.

Annoyed Ibiki raised his head to stare at Shikamaru—who smiled at him, then yawned, twisted, his cock sliding out of Ibiki’s ass with a wet squelch, and lay on his back. And then he fell asleep!

The emotions that ripped through Ibiki shocked him—he was hurt, furious, and admiring. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to throw Shikamaru across the room, and he wanted to just lay here and stare at him, at the man that he’d let fuck him, at the man that made him come with a cock inside him—something he’d never thought would ever happen. He wanted to fuck that mouth, that ass, wanted to make that lazy, sleeping body wake up and want him. He wanted those eyes to open and to look at him, seeing him, wanting him . . . making him feel even more stupid for having misread Shu. Damn! What the fuck did Shu see in Kotetsu? Ah, yes, something pretty!
Pretty! Ibiki smiled and leaned down to kiss Shikamaru softly on the forehead. He’d been given a gift tonight. His body was far from pretty, yet he’d felt like he was sexy, good-looking, hell, beautiful. This crazy kid was in love with him—ridiculous! It was not going to last, of course. How long would the game last? How long did he want it to last? Ibiki ran his fingers through Shikamaru’s loose hair—and the whimper that broke the silence made him want to wake up the sleeping jounin. But that would be a bad move in this stange unnamed game they were playing—a game that maybe had better be abandoned . . .

Really, there were simpler ways to fix the mess he’d made of Shu’s life—and did he really want to soften up own sadistic reputation? The ice, the iron, and the fear of his harshness—yes, that fear was a big part of what made him so effective. Ibiki drew on his chakra and transported to a secluded pool of water outside Konoha. The water was cold, and so was he when he emerged from it, clean and calm. He ran to the monument with the names of Konoha’s dead upon it. His senses were open to the night, and he moved through the trees like it was a mission.

He wasn’t alone in the woods—and no, not at the monument either. Kakashi, although his chakra was masked, was sitting there for once without a book in his hands. Ibiki stood by his side for a few moments, reading the names, remembering. He left as silently as he arrived, centered and grounded. The memories of the dead bodies, the tears, the funerals, the orphans . . .
Death was a lense that let you see life so sharply, so clearly.

His next stop was outside Shu’s apartment, to check on him. Panther materialized in front of him so quickly, Ibiki was a little unnerved before the sounds registered with him. Shu fucking Kotetsu! Ibiki listened, letting the proof that Shu had never loved him register in him fully. No, Shu’s voice had never had that note of joy in it with him, and he’d certainly not talked that way during their sex. Pretty, pretty, pretty . . . well, Shu was making clear what he liked about Kotetsu, but really what else did the chuunin have going for him? He was a cock tease with a red-hair fetish and a barely reformed whoremonger, a hetrosexual whoremonger . . . Ibiki snorted and transported to his kitchen, angry with himself for being so angry at something that should have made him happy. And angry because he had just found his peace, and it was gone. He jerked open the refrigerator, the cupboards, staring at their contents, not sure what he wanted to do.

Rice was the answer. It went with everything. And tea, of course, tea was the drink that was never unwelcome. He analyzed the impact of Shu fucking Kotetsu silly, not even using a jutsu to ensure his neighbors didn’t get the full x-rated soundtrack. Yet Panther was there to stand guard—at Shu’s request? On his own? Panther lived with Izumo in a relationship that was twisted by any standard. He kept his little chuunin lover, Izumo, with a collar on his neck, hickies on his body, and naked and in chains in their apartment. But the man Izumo loved next after Panther was Kotetsu, and making Kotetsu happy made Izumo happy, ergo made Panther happy.

Panther happy! There was proof of miracles. Ex-ROOT, ex-slave, ex-everything in a way—his real name was carved on the monument Ibiki had just visited. The mostly silent ANBU nin had been left for dead, mourned, and when he’d returned alive after killing the men that had enslaved him, he seemed more dead than deadly, any emotion in him extinguished. He’d become almost an animal, silent and inhuman. But now he was happy—purring, even laughing if you could call that odd half-chuckle half-pant chuffing noise he made when amused a laugh. And smiling that fucking lethal smile . . .

Ibiki headed to the bathroom, leaving the tea kettle heating on the stove and the rice cooking. His ass was reminding him it had been penetrated and filled. As Ibiki cleansed himself in the bathroom, memories of his time in Shikamaru’s apartment kept flashing into his mind, making his fury over Shu’s fucking fade. God, Shu, he was the pretty one! Shu—his Raccoon ANBU—with that long red tail of hair that should make him more vulnerable in a fight. But it was one of his best weapons—a fatal distraction and lure. Many ninjas had died with that red hair in their hands, making it redder with their blood. But that only made his long hair more beautiful to Ibiki. And his body . . . hardly a scar on him. Pierced, tattooed, and powerful, it had been his . . . no, it had never been his. It never should have been his . . . he’d made Shu less, got him in a state where he was breaking . . . Well, here was all his problems solved—Shu and Kotetsu together would mean he had a functioning ANBU nin and no more worries about Mr. Blow-hot-blow-cold-blow-cock, “Pretty,” AKA Hagane Kotetsu.

The tea kettle whistled, and Ibiki took a look at his naked body in the mirror before leaving the bathroom to take it from the stove top. The acid scars, the screw holes, the long scars from blades . . . the discolored skin, the burn marks, the mutilation . . . no, pretty he was not. And the thought of how Shu must have felt about his body when his ideal was evidently a slim build, perfect skin, slanty eyes warm with emotions, and hair, lots and lots of thick brown hair styled bizarrely . . . and clothes, sexy slutty stylish clothes . . . oh, those outfits of Kotetsu had been talked about by his ANBU ninja. . . and they’d talked about the chuunin’s pretty little mouth that was learning to suck ANBU cock . . .

Ibiki laughed as he was made the tea. He didn’t love Shu . . . he’d loved the idea of being loved and loving. Tenzou’s relationship with Iruka, Panther’s kinky but loving enslavement of Izumo, well, that had got all of ANBU a bit unsettled. Those two had found what they needed . . . and now Shu had too—really, he’d taken a heterosexual slut and got him begging him to be fucked . . . yes, there had certainly been some please-fuck-me’s yelled by Kotetsu in that bit of sex he’d listened to . . . that was pretty impressive. Hell, his boys had done themselves well. Who knew Iruka could be so demanding in the bedroom? And that shy Izumo got off on pain? And Kotetsu was a slut because he should have been fucking men?

Well, actually, there had been clues . . .

Ibiki dished himself some rice and poured himself more tea. He didn’t bother to dress. Eating naked in his kitchen, he tried to calculate the impact of Shu settling down. No more playing with Shu’s chuunin meant more ANBU after Chouji and Shikamaru—and he had no reason to pursue Shikamaru. Well, no more reason that any other ANBU shinobi to want to visit. No, he could go for the Shogi . . .

But should he? What about this infatuation of Shikamaru’s? Was it love or infatuation—he couldn’t misread another lover, that would be unacceptable stupidity after his fuck-up with Shu. Shikamaru loved him. Now that was another miracle! But how deep was that love? How long would it last? And what about his fucking cat bowl . . . would the shadow nin put out the red cat bowl signaling he was in the mood for sex? Would he open his door and let in masked ANBU nins to fuck him, to fist him, to work him over with just about every sex toy ever invented?

FUCK NO!

He was in Shika’s room so fast, he still had his tea cup in his hand. Shikamaru’s red cat bowl was in his other hand, and his fingers tightened on its smooth surface—until the clearing of a throat made him suddenly still.

The lights were still on in the room. It still smelled of their sex, of Shikamaru and Ibiki sweat and sperm . . .

Ibiki turned around to face Shikamaru with the bowl in one hand and his cup of tea in the other. The shadow user’s hair was back in that ponytail, but he was as naked as Ibiki—and one slim hand moved down to his crotch. His cock seemed to rise to meet it, and that hand—elegant and strong, stroked up his thickening erection. When Ibiki’s eyes could move back to Shikamaru’s face, it was smiling, no, smirking.

Oh, damn. He’d just made a fatal move in the game between them. Shikamaru could capture him at leisure now that his need, his vulnerability was clear to that amazing brain over there.

A shadow began to move across the floor to Ibiki. It reached his ankle and became a shadow hand that moved slowly up his leg. Another hand slid up the back of his other leg, and then there were more—cupping his balls, stroking his now stiff cock, squeezing his ass cheeks, gliding over his scars, flicking his nipples . . .

The cat bowl shattered, and Ibiki raise the tea cup to his mouth, his eyes holding Shikamaru’s. He drank the tea as shadow hands ran over his head, neck, over everything. One took the empty cup from his hand while another tugged on his cock, urging him forward. He didn’t need the guidance. He strode to the bed and his hands—big, scarred hands--seized those long pale legs of Shikamaru and spread them.

A shadow finger pushed inside him as one of Shikamaru’s actual hands lifted up his balls, letting Ibiki see his anus. It was winking, welcoming, hungry-looking. It was beautiful . . . Shikamaru was beautiful . . .

“You are the harbor after a long voyage, Shikamaru,” whispered Ibiki.

“Dock your cock now, Ibiki, then you can tell me you love me.”

Love Shikamaru? Love this? Yes, he was doomed or blessed, or, oh hell, he was owned.

His cock was there, feeling the fluttering of that pink anus against his sensitive slit. And then he was pushing inside, the shadow hands pushing him and more shadow fingers slipping into him even as he felt Shikamaru’s ass gripping at him, sucking his cock in.

“First one to come changes the sheets,” said Shikamaru, his real hands reaching up and pinching Ibiki’s nipples hard as those shadow fingers found his prostate.

With an incoherent bellow, Ibiki caught Shikamaru’s wrists with one hand and that ponytail with the other, lifting up the jounin against his body for a kiss that made the shadow hands vanish one by one. As Ibiki’s mouth ate at Shikamaru’s, he turned and sat with the shadow nin impaled on his cock. When he pulled his mouth away and using Shikamaru’s wrists and hair to raise and lower the slender body over his large one, the shadow nin moaned and convulsed at the pleasure of having his sensual weaknesses attacked at once—his wrists and hair.

“Ride me, show me you want me,” growled Ibiki pulling Shikamaru down on him and letting his right hand snap the band on Shika’s hair.

“Ibiki,” cried out Shikamaru, his body shaking again.

“You’re going to scream for me again, Sweet Shika, going to come so hard,” he said knowing he could make it true.

But even as he moaned, Shikamaru generated shadow hands that clawed at Ibiki’s back and traced the scars on Ibiki’s neck and arms.

Oh, this one was his equal, his match, maybe even his superior. He would never be one to take for granted, never boring, and never be tempted by a pretty face, a pretty body, or pretty words.

Shadow hands dragged Ibiki’s head forward, tightening around his neck, and Shikamaru’s tongue was invading him. Ibiki caught it in his teeth and pulled at the hair in his hand. The ass around his cock tightened and convulsed, pulsing around him, making Ibiki feel the need to take control before he came like a teenager who’d never had sex before.

But with Shikamaru beneath him, slamming into his ass as deep and hard as he could, he could see that face full of desire, full of love, full of pleasure. Those pink lips open, panting, saying what he wanted to hear—he could climax any moment, but, no, he would hold on, he would send Shika over the edge first.

“Fill me, breed me, Ibiki,” pleaded those pink lips.

Breed him?! Breed his bitch, plant his babies in his belly? Oh, fuck! The words awoke a desire in him he hadn’t know he had, and he could hardly hold back—but no, no—with a cry he pulled out and rose up over Shikamaru, pushing his cock into that open mouth.

“You’ll have to beg harder for my baby butter, little bitch,” he managed to say without coming, thrusting in that throat roughly, his hands jerking Shika’s hair so he could feed his whole cock to man beneath him. Cum splattered on his back, and he let himself go.

He pulled out slowly, lifting himself off the man beneath him, feeling a bit in shock. Shikamaru licked his lips, those lips that had made him come just saying his name only hours ago. Only hours—yet, he was a different man now, changed, transformed.

“Actually, I have a cousin that will make a good surrogate mother for us,” said Shikamaru.

For a moment, Ibiki lost it. He bound Shikamaru to the bed with pure chakra, holding his mouth shut. He’d never done that before, and he didn’t have enough chakra to hold it for even minute. But it was long enough to bring his calm back and, bizarrely, his erection.

And the expression of surprise on Shikamaru’s face made his own mouth curl into a smile.

He cracked his knuckles, licking his lips, feeling the scar that sliced over them. He could handle one little genius jounin; he absolutely could. And not only would he handle this problem, he was going to enjoy to doing it.

His problem named Shikamaru was going to involve a lot of handling . . .