D/s Naruto

Chapter 85 (Monday, 18 June 2007, night)

Gaara approached aftercare with an unsmiling intensity that might scare some subs, but Shikamaru found adorable. In his state of bliss, he enjoyed each gentle touch of Gaara’s hand pampering his abused body with assorted creams designed to moisturize his skin, protect against infection, and numb the pain. The riding crop and clips used on his body today had left him sensitive and sore, and where the two lashes from the whip had marked him he was also tender. His asshole was red and a little swollen from the long, hard fucking Gaara had given him, and his nipples were so tender that the lightest touch was a little painful. But the little bit of pain caused by Gaara’s tender aftercare only brought Shikamaru pleasure, exciting his exhausted body.

Gaara, frowning and silent, carefully brushed out Shikamaru’s hair, massaged his muscles, and feed him. Then he went to work with his tongue and lips, licking and kissing Shikamaru everywhere. Submissives rarely get rimmed by their masters, and the first touch of Gaara’s tongue on Shikamaru’s asshole stunned the brunette, making him break the silence of the last hour. “Gaara! God, Gaara! So good, oh god, so good! It’s never felt so good! Please, please don’t stop!” The last plea came out almost like a wail, for Gaara had jerked his head up when Shikamaru had said, “It’s never felt so good.” These words had made his heart leap, making him realize just how jealous he was of Shikamaru’s former doms and how much he was worried about his ability to pleasure his insatiable love slave.

“Master, Master, please, please,” begged Shikamaru, his voice plaintive. Gaara lowered his head and thrust his tongue in as deep as he could, making Shikamaru shriek out, “Yes! Fuck! Oh my god!” To Gaara’s delight, the more he moved his tongue around, the louder and more desperate Shikamaru became. He lifted his head once more to give Shika permission to come before descending again to seriously eat that sore little ass. Images from the day flooded his brain: Shikamaru begging to be fucked in his brother’s yard, bent over the sink in that ridiculously big bathroom of his, in the pool leaping for the volleyball, tied to the bench with his ass full of ice, crying in Gaara’s arms over enjoying having his cock whipped, lying on the bed with his body covered with clips pinching his skin, his nipples, his cock. But Gaara’s memories of Shikamaru couldn’t compete with the real thing—the taste of Shikamaru’s ass, the smell of his body, the way Gaara could feel him convulsing, hear his wild gasps for breath and erotic cries. And then Gaara’s tongue was squeezed as Shikamaru screamed, coming into the sheets.

Gaara was grinning as he began once more cleaning up Shikamaru, pampering him. He carried him outside to lay on the pillows in the garden and watch the stars as he changed the sheets and put them in the washer. He brushed Shikamaru’s teeth and held him as he went to the bathroom, then tucked him into the clean bedding before getting ready for bed himself and climbing in beside him. Shikamaru, already mostly asleep, rolled over and put his head on Gaara’s chest, mumbling softly the words that Gaara wanted to hear: “Love you.”

Lying in his bed with Shikamaru asleep in his arms, Gaara had the weird feeling like he was lying on a cloud. He tried to figure out how what he was feeling, what was making him have the oddly pleasurable feeling of drifting in the air. What he felt made no sense--he was both exhausted and energized, relaxed and excited. No wonder his brain was making him feel such a strange sensation. The phone ringing was a shock. Shikamaru stirred a little but didn’t wake. Gaara forced himself to hold still. He got few calls to begin with, but those at night didn’t tend to be good. The answering machine soon picked up, and an angry woman’s voice filled the air.

“Shikamaru, pick up the phone now! The pretty boy gave me this number; how could you not call us with your new number? You didn’t even go to work! What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t come home for father’s day, and you tell the man you’ve dumped you’re getting married? Married! I never liked that Hyuuga boy, but really, Shikamaru, having someone threaten him and claiming you’re getting married! And your poor father! You can’t come see him on father’s day? Pick up this phone, Shikamaru in one minute, or I’m going to drive down there and put you over my knee and beat that disrespectful ass of yours! Did you—“

Gaara was out of the bed and had the phone in his hand in a second. “Shikamaru’s ass is mine! I’ll kill anyone that touches him! He’s my slave! Don’t call here again!” Gaara slammed the phone down and stood there glaring at it, his nostrils flared and every muscle tense.

The phone immediately rang again.

Gaara picked it up and said calmly and coldly, “I warned you, woman. He’s mine. You’ll never hit him or fuck him ever again. If you so much—“

“I’m his mother, you, you, you—AHHHH! I’m going to come down there and beat you, you idiot! And I don’t care if he marries you or plays those stupid sex games with you, but he’s going to talk to his mother and father. Now get his ass up and put him on the phone now!”

“No,” said Gaara and hung up. His mother! That bitch was Shikamaru’s mother! It was painfully obvious if you thought about the comments about father’s day, so why had he thought that this was a female dom of Shikamaru’s? Fuck—his mother was a female dom, you could tell it from her voice—the worse kind, too, the kind that didn’t even let you get off and ruled your life. Would she try to steal Shikamaru from him?

“I love you, Gaara,” said Shikamaru in a voice that seemed full of awe. Gaara glanced over, startled as the phone began to ring again. Because his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room, he could see the naked expression of love and admiration on that face surrounded by a tousled mess of brown curls. His protective instincts aroused already, Shikamaru’s clear delight in him went right to his cock. He felt himself hardening as Shikamaru began to crawl across the bed to him, his eyes worshipping Gaara. Shikamaru looked like a big cat, his sleek, creamy brown body moving over the sheets, silently, pausing at the end of the bed on his hands and knees and looking up at Gaara.

Gaara picked up the ringing phone and put it to his ear, saying nothing, his eyes locked on Shikamaru’s. His other hand began to caress Shikamaru’s face, his thumb rubbing over Shikamaru’s lips. “Please,” said a male voice, “this is Shikamaru’s dad. Will you let Shikamaru talk to us for just a minute? His mother is worried about him. We love him very much.”

“I love Shikamaru,” said Gaara, watching his brown eyes as he sucked Gaara’s thumb into his mouth. The look that flashed over Shikamaru’s face at his words—oh, god, they both needed more of each other, right now. He pulled his thumb out of that sweet mouth and moved closer to the bed. That slender body slid down, and still gazing up, Shikamaru guided Gaara’s erection to his lips and began to lap at the curved head, his pink tongue teasing the slit, circling the flare of the head.

“Hmm, so you are going to collar my son, are you?”

“He has a collar on right now,” said Gaara, his free hand playing with the leather cord around Shikamaru’s neck, “but, yes, I’m going to collar him in a ceremony.” And the leather cord popped out of his fingers as Shikamaru swallowed down Gaara’s cock, pushing his pink lips into Gaara’s red curls. `Oh, god, Shikamaru—Shikamaru,’ thought Gaara and then there really wasn’t any need for words, for thinking. That feeling of complete connection was there—with each movement, each breath, each moment of eye looking at eye, they knew.

“Hmm, well, then I guess I better introduce myself. I’m Shikaku. My wife, Yoshino—“

Gaara heard no more, dropping the phone on the bed, saying, “Roll over.” And then he was crawling over Shikamaru, taking that cock he had struck with a crop today in his mouth, pushing his own face down to those soft brown curls, inhaling the scent of Shikamaru. He felt his lover shifting, and together as one they turned so each could lie on the bed. They sucked each other greedily as if it had been too long since they’d had sexual contact, and when Shikamaru thrust a finger into Gaara, he lost it and let his cum pour into Shikamaru’s throat. His hands tighted painfully on Shikamaru’s buttcheeks, and that was enough to bring his lover with a sharp sudden jerk of his body. They drank each other, shuddering together, and finally resting intertwined and quiet.

As Gaara lay there, his hands clinging to Shikamaru’s legs, Shika began to talk in a soft voice, gently fingering Gaara’s ass as he did so. “None of my doms have ever set a foot on the property, and not one of my lovers or boyfriends did so much as kiss me in the home I grew up in. A few were allowed in the downstairs, but not one saw my childhood room, my bed, my shower. I want you to fuck me in that shower, on that bed, on the rug, on the stairs, everywhere.”

Gaara just moaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of Shikamaru’s fingers inside him, by the words that told him how much Shikamaru wanted him, loved him, belonged to him. “Shikamaru,” was all he could say.

And Shikamaru was moving his body, getting the lube from the drawer, switching on the light, saying, “I want to ride up into the mountains and show you where I grew up, to take you to my favorite places, to watch the stars together, to swim naked in the lake with you, to caress this gorgeous body of yours by a crackling fire, to see which glows more--the red of your hair or the flickering flames.”

Gaara could only pant out, “Please,” as Shikamaru thrust three fingers in Gaara’s ass, spreading him. Gaara’s pale skin was flushed pink, and he once more was the vulnerable, innocent virgin that fascinated and flattered Shikamaru. No one, no one but he had ever seen Gaara like this—helpless in his desires, his green eyes dazed and full of wonder, pliant, whimpering, shivering.

“Pick up the phone,” ordered Shikamaru knowing his mother would have ordered his father to stay on the kitchen phone or keep calling back until he committed to a date to come see them. Then she’d go into their bedroom and listen on that extension. “Tell them when you are going to take me to see them, Gaara.” Gaara just moaned and arched his body up towards Shikamaru. “Do it now,” he added, pulling out his hand and lubing his cock.

Gaara squirmed, lifting his hips, but Shikamaru kept stroking his own erection, waiting. “The phone, say when,” he repeated.

The long fingered hand groped the bed, pulling the phone up to the pink, flushed face. “Ahhhh,” managed Gaara, and Shikamaru shook his head, his earring and curls flickering.

“A ride up the mountains, maybe an hour and a half, with great curves and views. Tell them the day. Say when.”

“When,” gasped out Gaara and then whimpered.

“Wednesday? This Wednesday?” demanded Shikamaru, pinching one of Gaara’s nipples hard.

Gaara cried out, bucking, and then managed to incoherently gasp out, “Wednesday, this Wednesday! Shikamaru! Please!”

Shikamaru grabbed the phone, saying, “We’ll be there unless you call again,” before hanging up and tossing the phone down. He thrust into Gaara, who screamed his name, writhing beneath him. “Oh, baby, pretty baby, you are such a good fuck, you can make a bottom like me willing to give it all up just to top your sweet ass.”

Gaara’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he shuddered violently. Shika jerked Gaara’s legs up over his shoulders, with a wicked laugh. “It’s a good thing you said Wednesday, love, cause I’m going to bang you until you can’t walk tomorrow, let alone ride your bike.”

“Please!”

“All for you, baby, everything for you, all of me, every bit,” promised Shikamaru, “That’s what you want, right?”

It didn’t matter that Gaara’s verbal reply was a sound half way between a whimper and a growl. They both knew exactly what the other wanted. Shikamaru remembered how Gaara had babbled incoherently and sobbed under him the first time he’d been fucked—he wouldn’t get to come tonight until he was screaming out and weeping like that. If he had to introduce this tight little ass to the joys of getting fucked with your ass on fire from a spanking to get that reaction, all the better. When he snapped the cockring around Gaara’s balls, he had to fasten Gaara’s wrists to keep him from pulling it off. It didn’t take much longer for Gaara to begin to cry and beg in earnest.

“That’s it, baby, let me see your tears, let me hear you beg. Let me hear how much you love me, how much you love this cock banging your tight little asshole.”

Gaara’s eyes, big, wet with tears, and red, glittered in that color that was so hard to classify, the most beautiful color in the world thought Shikamaru. That nearly virgin ass was gripping his cock with enough pressure to make him see stars, and the incoherent words he himself had wanted to hear started pouring out of Shikamaru, as passion swept away rational thought.

Some of Gaara’s neighbors considered calling the cops because of the screams they heard periodically through the night, but frankly, the thought of the frightening redhead finding out they had been the ones to make the call made them change their minds and simply turn the tv or fan up louder. After all, they rationalized, no one dying could scream that much.