There was only one explanation for it: Shikamaru was bad luck. This was only the second mission Kiba had had the misfortune to end up with Shikamaru as his team leader. The last one had been years ago, and not easily forgiven. In the interim, he had managed to avoid being on the same team as Shikamaru, but his good luck had finally come to an end. Someone was out to get him, and it was either the Hokage, who had an inflated opinion of Shikamaru's leadership skills, or Iruka-sensei, who was probably still pissed off about that time Akamaru had latched onto his leg, and ruined his favourite pants.
But just so long as this mission didn't end up like the first one, Kiba would be happy. Even if it was looking more and more likely that it would, because there were thirteen Sound ninjas lolling lazily about beneath them, and if they hadn't been so drunk, he and Shikamaru would have already been dead. Outclassed, again, by Sound. He hated Sound.
They were high enough in the trees that Kiba knew there was a good chance they would possibly get out of this alive, if neither of them moved, or breathed. Don’t attract attention, and live. It sounded easy enough, but it was hard, because the world obviously hated Shikamaru, and Kiba kept getting in the way. But he was grateful, too, because if Shikamaru hadn't grabbed him before he had leapt to another branch, he would have jumped into a group of Sound ninja and died or, at the very least, been mortally injured.
It had been two hours since then, and they hadn't moved at all. Akamaru was fast asleep, a warm little ball of fur and muscle under his arm, curled up in his coat. Shikamaru, likewise, was curled up -- around him. Because the world really, really hated them both.
I am a ninja, Kiba reminded himself, ignoring the fact that his legs were numb due to the fact Shikamaru had one heavy thigh draped over them, or that he was ravenously hungry, or that he had to pee. Ninja, especially Chuunin, had complete control over their bodies.
He blamed his erection on the fact he wasn't a jounin yet.
Shikamaru hadn't mentioned it (not that he could have in this particular situation), and Kiba doubted he would, because Kiba had never mentioned the fact that Shikamaru had almost gotten him and Akamaru killed a couple years ago. An inappropriate hard-on at the worst possible time couldn’t possibly be as bad as that. Close, but not quite.
And god, those Sound ninjas could drink. Not as well as his mother and sister, but there wasn't a ninja alive who could out-drink them. It was a source of familial pride. But still, Sound had been at it for hours, and the party was still going, though it was beginning to lag. He didn't even want to know what they were celebrating. Something evil, probably, like mass murder, or the ritual sacrifice of babies. Or maybe they knew they were there.
Nothing like an easy kill to get your spirits up, especially when you were evil.
His breath hitched, and Shikamaru looked over at him, frowning. Or frowning more than usual, anyway. Kiba lifted his eyebrows, trying to communicate his newest thought, but Shikamaru just looked at him like he was a moron. Which pretty much was the usual. Shikamaru was supposedly a genius, but Kiba wasn't sure about that. Of course, if someone had tried to tell him years ago that Shino wasn't a total bug-infested freak, he wouldn't have believed it either. At least, not in the way he would have meant it then.
Stupid Shino, for getting sick the day before the mission. Stupid Hinata, for getting sick that same morning. Stupid Iruka-sensei for thinking Shikamaru was a perfect one-for-two substitute. Stupid everyone else he'd ever met and liked for being away on missions. Stupid Sound, for stranding him in this tree, and being too powerful, and too damn evil.
But most of all, stupid Shikamaru, for not being able to read his mind. Wouldn't it figure, that Sound already knew about them, and that they were both going to die anyway? After all these wasted hours in a tree and embarrassing erections pressed up flush against Shikamaru's hip. It was the sort of psychological torture that a guy like Orochimaru would love and encourage in his horde of followers, Kiba had no doubt about that.
And far worse than anything else, it meant Kiba was going to die a virgin.
Maybe he was the bad luck charm.
Kiba didn't have to piss anymore, which was a good thing, but Shikamaru smelled wonderful, which was a bad thing. It was impossible not to sniff him with the way Kiba’s nose was pressed up against Shikamaru's cheek, by his ear. Kiba had never actually been this close to another human, and the more he thought about how surprisingly good it felt, the harder he got, and the warmer his skin became, until his face felt like it was burning.
Shikamaru was watching him now, eyes shifted over without moving his head, even slightly. He was better at staying absolutely still than Kiba was, but then, Kiba knew that already. Shikamaru was famous for his laziness, and even if Sound didn't move on for days, Shikamaru would probably be all right. Kiba, however, would die from boredom.
He shifted, a minuscule twitch, and Shikamaru blinked sharply at him. Kiba wasn't sure what had annoyed Shikamaru more: the fact that fidgeting would turn a camp of drunken Sound ninja onto them and result in their untimely death, or the fact that Kiba's cock was now nestled even more firmly against his thigh. Any thoughts Kiba had had of insisting he had a kunai in his pocket left him, because there was really no mistaking it now. He was impossibly, desperately hard, and his thin jacket (which he wore only in the summer, and only when he was sure his usual coat would kill him with heatstroke) couldn't hide it.
The urge to just hump away at Shikamaru's thigh was strong, and Kiba suddenly had the utmost sympathy for Akamaru, who he had always dismissed as a pervert dog. Obviously proving which one of them had matured first, because if Kiba had known how amazing this felt, he would have been the one ruining Iruka-sensei's pants instead.
Well, maybe not Iruka-sensei.
But Shikamaru was a definite possibility.
Kiba bit his lip, and closed his eyes, and tried to control his more primal urges. He was not an animal. He would not hump shamelessly at Shikamaru's muscular thigh, if only because they'd been too lucky up until this point, and with Shikamaru in charge, it was more likely to go to shit than not. So even if Shikamaru smelled unnaturally good, and even if this was more action than Kiba had gotten in his life, he wasn’t going to move.
He added more reasons for self-control: Shikamaru was a guy, and Kiba wasn't even sure that he was like that (though, the more he thought about it, the more he was willing to admit he was). Shikamaru was a boring guy who liked watching clouds, and playing old man games. Shikamaru was serious, and frowned too much, and had been a Chuunin much longer than he had, and that wasn't fair at all, because Shikamaru didn't really do anything, besides think a lot, and his special ninjutsu was useless in the dark, and ...
"Now," Shikamaru said, and then they were off, jumping from branch to branch, Akamaru squirming against his side. His legs were like jelly, and his cock was rubbing painfully against the zipper of his pants, but he managed to keep up, if only because he wanted to live long enough to have sex. That was the only motivator he could think of.
Eventually, the feeling came back, and by the time the sun began to rise, Shikamaru decided they were safe enough to rest for a bit. Kiba immediately collapsed into a heap on his back as Akamaru raced off to bite at butterflies. Lucky dog, Kiba thought, panting. He wished he'd spent the last few stressful hours, curled up in someone’s jacket, napping.
"How troublesome," Shikamaru murmured suddenly, standing by his head, ankle deep in grass.
"What?" Kiba asked, looking up. From this angle, Shikamaru's cock looked huge, obvious and thick and hard in his pants. Any stiffness Kiba's dick might have lost in the blissful euphoria of rest returned with a vengeance, and it was definitely troublesome that Shikamaru probably wouldn't let Kiba hump his leg like he wanted to.
Or maybe he would, if the bulge in his pants was any indication.
Maybe Kiba hadn’t been the only one suffering in that stupid tree.
"What?" Kiba asked again when Shikamaru didn't respond. It was difficult to remember he had even said anything. Almost impossible to focus on anything but the fact that Shikamaru smelled so good, obviously aroused, the musky scent of him coming in waves.
Kiba closed his eyes.
Another minute of this, and he was going to need Akamaru to cause a distraction (probably by humping the leg that was rightfully Kiba's) so he could dart off for a little privacy to take care of his aching cock. It definitely needed a little tender loving care after the night of abuse it had suffered. Sound really was the most evil of countries.
"Troublesome," Shikamaru repeated, closer now, and Kiba opened his eyes to see Shikamaru kneeling and leaning toward him. His spiky hair, pulled back in the familiar ponytail, blocked the glare of the rising sun, and he was frowning again, but the usual one, the one Kiba had grown used to. He wasn’t an unattractive guy. And his scent …
Kiba pinched his own nose.
“What are you doing?” Shikamaru asked, looking honestly baffled. Some genius.
Kiba looked up at the clouds. “I’m thanking my lucky stars,” he said, nasally. “I almost died a virgin.”
“How unfortunate,” Shikamaru said, a wry twist to his lips. “We haven’t completed the mission. You could still die one,” he pointed out, logical to a fault, and that was another reason not to hump him: he was too much like Shino in that regard, but without the bugs.
“Yeah, well.” Kiba squinted. That cloud looked bizarrely like Akamaru. “If you were an idiot like me, you’d be convinced that you could easily fix that.” He levelled a pointed look in Shikamaru’s direction, trusting him to be smart enough to understand.
“See what I mean,” Shikamaru said, “troublesome.”
Kiba smirked. “Like you aren’t hard as a rock. I have heightened senses, you know.”
To further illustrate this point, he let go of his nose and sniffed.
Shikamaru shrugged, eternally unbothered by everything. Life or death, it didn’t seem to matter with him, though Kiba suspected that was mostly an act. When you were as smart as Shikamaru supposedly was, you knew to hide the important stuff. “You started it.”
“Did not. You didn’t have to grab me like that.”
“You wouldn’t have stopped,” he said dismissively, “and you were already hard.”
"That was a kunai in my pocket, pervert," Kiba murmured, grinning, rubbing a hand over his belly, lifting his shirt enticingly, showing just the barest hint of skin. Kiba thanked his heightened senses for the fact that he could tell Shikamaru’s interest was peaked.
"Idiot," Shikamaru said, almost fondly.
"Lucky," Kiba corrected, and kissed him to prove his new theory right.
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