Series: Monoshizukanohi//Naruto AU
Pairing: Main pairing: Kiba/Gaara. Other pairings from the Monoshizukanohi series make appearances.
Word Count: 95,000 in Total
Warnings/Notes: THIS CHAPTER: Language, hand job, minor breath play, m/m sex, rimming.
Overall: Dark fiction. Bloodplay, angst, violence, abuse, gangs, D/s, bondage, impact play, other.
Spoilers: None whatsoever.
World and original characters belong to me.
Summary: The streets of Monoshizukanohi are not kind to youth, and Gaara is no exception. After running away from an abusive home, Gaara struggles to find meaning in life through violence, drugs, and anything he can manage to survive. Join him as Gaara and his ever-present friend Jody struggle from the streets to the top of the social strata. It's rags to riches, despair to hope, and everything in between.
Gaara stared at his reflection in the sliding glass door that led onto one of the many decks of the beach house. Bare feet in the rich carpeting, shaggy hair standing up, all the color of Gaara's form leeched by the dull surface and the light of the full moon shining into the bedroom.
He looked… different.
His nude body was slimmer than it was before the Dogs attacked, muscle mass lost from recovery, but Gaara was getting stronger despite the jutting hipbones and lines of ribs. The wound on his thigh from the vein havesting was an angry welt against Gaara's pale skin, but it was a straight, true cut. It'd make a good scar. The bullet wound in his shoulder was a messy mound of reforming tissue, shiny and pink. The other one in his side was smaller, cleaner, almost polite. His right arm complained when he raised it too high, but the rehabilitation people told him that was normal, even good. Gaara could make a fist, hold a pen, write his name, and wasn't bothered by what the rehab guy called, "Intense mobility therapy." Sure, it hurt, but Gaara just smiled through the pain.
It felt so damned good to be alive.
Tilting his head just to watch his twin mimic the movement, Gaara reached and unlatched the door. He slid it back on silent runners and was immediately inundated with the dull roar of the waters in the Sound. Chilly, winter air blasted his skin, but it was far, far kinder than the January winds Gaara was used to up north. The breeze was full of salt spray and the crunch of seashells against dunes. They were on a small island on the southern end of a long chain of islands, in what Jody was calling, "The sweet, sweet homeland." It'd been eight weeks since the shooting, and the journey south had been an interesting one.
The speed of Gaara's healing surprised everyone but Gaara, himself. He kept telling interested parties that he would be fine, that no, he didn't need another day in bed or, yes, he would start shooting people again, but an entire herd of humanity turned up to monitor and give input to Gaara's progress. The kids from the shop, Naruto, Sasuke, Kakashi, Iruka, Shikamaru, Kisuke, Ibiki, and God only knew who else swung through the ever-revolving door of Gaara's place once he'd settled into his own home again. Neji was true to form and got Gaara's house ready for the day Gaara was released from the hospital, and not only were Kiba's things moved in, some of them were even unpacked and integrated into Gaara's.
One of those possessions turned out to be a pony masquerading as a dog who answered to the name, Akamaru. The dog was a Great Pyrenees, was extremely affectionate, and, Gaara was grateful to discover, smart. Akamaru and Cat met, sized one another up, and shockingly, got along great. Cat used Akamaru as a pillow and a scratching post, and Akamaru endured the treatment with a loll of tongue and a doggy chuckle.
Gaara settled into life with Kiba without incident, and it was made easier, if somewhat aggravating, by Kiba's doting attention. The Inuzuka's unbridled zest was irritatingly infectious. He brought Gaara tea, food, snacks, and peppered Gaara with kisses despite Gaara's vociferous complaints. Kiba changed bandages, helped Gaara to the shower and the bathroom, and did it all like he'd been waiting a lifetime for the chance.
It proved impossible to remain irked by Kiba's affections, however, when night time fell and Kiba crawled into bed with Gaara. Held him, cradled him, spoke words in the shadows that Gaara would never dare repeat in daylight but that sank into his heart to take up permanent residence. Once Gaara was healed enough to seek physical release, Kiba would curl behind him, hold his wrists in a gentle, unforgiving clutch, sink teeth into yielding skin, and stroke Gaara until the pleasure spilled forth like some unrelenting tide released from its dammed walls.
When Gaara gained more strength, Kiba's mouth joined the midnight tour, and Kiba drank Gaara dry with undisguised lust. Slowly, slowly Kiba reintroduced their bodies to one another, adding fingers and tongue, requesting returned favors, and eventually claiming every piece of Gaara like a benevolent, conquering general reacquiring lost lands. Now, looking back on the progression, Gaara had to wonder if his speedy healing had more to do with Kiba's reward system and less to do with excellent medical care. For surely the first fed his soul as well or better as the second fed his corporal form.
Gaara wasn't the only one to benefit from the in-home treatment. Sakura, Gaara's surgeon and, as fateful connections would have it, Naruto and Neji's friend, came to see Gaara, herself. Gaara was certain that it was meant to be a one-time thing, but Jody's effusive gratitude convinced Sakura that coming back for dinner was only logical. One dinner turned into two, turned into movies, and finally morphed into Jody floating around like some idiot teenager, whistling through a swacked, well-fucked-man grin. Kiba teased Jody mercilessly, the two of them fast friends post the battle royale, and Gaara didn't begrudge his protector an inch of content. In fact, seeing Jody so happy allayed some piece of Gaara that he didn't even realize needed to be put to rest. Gaara had a lot of time lying on beds, couches, and while taking slow walks to contemplate sources of peace. He was quickly discovering that the joy of those whom he loved was often as great or greater than any he felt himself.
Two weeks of home and harmony later, and Gaara finally told Kiba about the beach, the boy, and the forgiveness. Words didn't do the experience justice, but Kiba wept all the same. Gaara understood the tears, gave some of his own in offering, and when Kiba asked if Gaara had meant the bit about going to see the ocean, Gaara had nodded. Kiba asked him where he wanted to go, and, in a sudden fit of impulsivity, Gaara charged Kiba with the task of planning their trip. Kiba took to the chore with giddy enthusiasm, and through a peaceful Christmas and uneventful New Year's spent with only their closest friends, Kiba plotted.
The same day that Jody finished piecing Kiba's Charger back together, Kiba showed up in the driveway steering an RV that was the size of some people's homes.
"Is that ours?" Gaara had asked.
"Nah, rental," Kiba replied, patting the thing's side.
"Ridiculous. We'll buy it."
Kiba had sputtered, and after Gaara calmly explained his financial situation, Kiba had sat in their kitchen looking strangely pale. Worried that money would become some sort of issue between them, Gaara told Kiba that he had no problem sharing his assets with the man who already shared everything else. Kiba laughed, kissed Gaara, and made some comment about rings being next that Gaara didn't quite follow.
"So, you don't mind that I added your name to my bank accounts?"
"Oh… I guess not, sweetheart. Whatever ya need t'do, just do."
That settled, time passed in a friendly manner while paperwork got sorted and arrangements were made. Gaara went to physical therapy, got instructions and made plans to see various clinics at points along their route. Sakura checked him over and gave Gaara the green light for travel. The Inuzuka sent out a blanket invitation to anyone and everyone in their circle who wanted to join them on their beach adventure, and Kiba even let Gaara do his own packing. A miracle, that, as Kiba still fussed and forced Gaara to rest at the most inconvenient intervals.
Naruto and Sasuke came along with Gaara, Kiba, Cat, and Akamaru on the first leg of the journey. Gaara's interaction with Sasuke was apparently the source of much amusement, and Gaara still didn't understand why finding Sasuke tied up in the RV bathroom was such a source of hilarity. Nor did he know why the fact that he went about his business in said bathroom was problematic. He did, at least, get that Sasuke's sarcasm and petulance rolled off Gaara's literal self like water on sealed concrete, and Naruto spent most of their time together howling over Sasuke's indignant mutterings.
After Naruto and Sasuke flew home, Gaara and Kiba stopped at a major port of call and spent some time with Itachi, Kimimaro, and Haku. The three men were touring the world's oceans and had a cruise ship condo on what amounted to a floating city. And while Gaara grew tired of Kimimaro's need to hug him, he definitely enjoyed playing cards and Othello with Haku. Kiba barely had patience for Go Fish, and Haku was devilishly excellent at strategy.
Gaara spent most of the travel time on the road between destinations curled up in the passenger seat in the RV, dozing while Kiba drove. On the nights not spent in hotels, he and Kiba shared the bed in the rather spacious rear bedroom. Never in his life had Gaara rested as well as he did now, and it was like he had to catch up on years and years of lost sleep. If he ever woke in the wee hours before dawn, Kiba would make love to him until slumber was once again the only option, and Gaara would doze off with Kiba crooning the Inuzuka's version of a lullaby in Gaara's ear.
Neji checked in and reassured Gaara that there was still no other DJ the Hyuuga would rather have in the clubs. They were making due with Gaara's bot program until Gaara returned. The Fetish Ball was canceled and rescheduled for Valentine's Day, and Neji told Gaara not to worry about anything but healing. Kiba did podcasts on the road, and his radio show mixed those in with older recordings. Listenership had actually gone up ever since Kiba made some live air announcement about his relationship with a man Kiba called, "Red." WKDS was thrilled, and Gaara found empowerment in Kiba's success.
Jody managed the shop until Gaara and Kiba got far enough south, and then Jody left Akasuna Auto in Sora's hands and flew down to join them at the beach house. Kiba had picked it out, and the thing was a sprawling manor full of every conceivable luxury. Jody and Kiba made use of and nearly destroyed some of the appliances, the espresso machine would never be the same, and Gaara lounged on a chaise while the men made a game of running from the heated pool to the sauna to the ocean.
And when Sakura arrived, she didn't stop the games, she made new ones. The woman could drink Kiba under the table, and Gaara got his first chance to tuck Kiba into bed after slipping the man aspirin and water.
Many minutes of most days, Gaara had to remind himself that this was real. Nothing was scary or overwhelming or impossible anymore. In the aftermath of near death, everything seemed simple. Sometimes he wondered if he had died, if this was some sort of heaven, but he dismissed the thought when his shoulder ached, when his stomach growled, when his ass was tender from Kiba's constant attention. He had yet another chance, and he was reminded of the time he spent planning after his father died. Gaara started keeping a journal, made a bucket list, and during the frightening minutes when the fear that everything would vanish plagued him, he found Kiba and kissed him. Found Cat and listened to the animal purr. Found Jody and asked the man to explain the differences between a V6 and a V8 engine.
He didn't take pills. He didn't overload on misunderstanding or anything from his past. He didn't worry that he'd failed all his online classes. He looked at new ones. He let his accountant take care of the books. He listened to music and made new sets. He worked to keep his peace, regain his health, and strengthen his body.
But sometimes he disentangled himself from Kiba's warmth and wandered around in the comfort of darkness, watchful, waiting. Old habits that didn't seem harmful when Gaara knew he could always return to bed. Time and sleep were friends these days, not arch enemies, and Gaara was even growing accustomed to the ceasefire.
The wind blew to shriek through wooden slats and alcoves, and Gaara shivered in the open doorway. A flicker caught his eye. There was a fire on the beach and two heads hovering above a square shape that Gaara identified as a blanket. Jody and Sakura, enjoying the moonlight. Gaara dropped his gaze, stepped to the right so he couldn't see them anymore, gave them the respect of privacy. Such niceties were new, but for Jody and Kiba, Gaara could learn.
A rustle of bedsheet and a soft grunt warned Gaara that his solitude was over, and instead of annoyance, he felt a burble of anticipation. He closed his eyes, cock stirring when heated skin pressed against him from shoulder to ass to leg. Strong arms encircled him, one perfect hand lying flat on Gaara's chest over his heart. A squeeze, a sigh, a kiss to Gaara's hair, and Kiba sent fingertips over Gaara's hipbone and into the curls above his cock, petting with a possessive familiarity.
Gaara's asshole clenched, its sensitivity insanely increased from persistent use. When they first arrived at the beach house, before Jody joined them, they'd made a game of fucking in every room but the ones that were to become Jody's suite. Kiba took Gaara over the dining room table, blew him on the living room couch. Kiba tied him immobile in the den with soft, cotton rope and forced a weeping cock down Gaara's throat. They conducted experiments amidst their games, discovered that if Gaara was gagged, blindfolded, clamped and ringed, he could survive hours of pleasure and could pass out with orgasm.
Kiba's patience knew no boundaries, and his thirst for Gaara wasn't confined to any role. Down or up, left or right, Kiba meant it when he said he liked sex any way it could be had. When they found the room with bunks and children's toys, Gaara tied Kiba flat on the top bed. Gaara made a study of the items nearby that Kiba's ass could take before finally filling him with Gaara's dick. Gaara discovered that Kiba's bellows when being screwed into the nearest available surface were second only in torridity to his grunts of exertion while getting Gaara off.
"I see yer up," Kiba murmured in Gaara's ear, the memories, the voice, and the tugs to Gaara's pubic hair making Gaara's cock swell.
"Mmhm," Gaara answered.
"Somethin' wake you, or did ya just want to freeze yer nuts off fer a while?"
Gaara rasped a lazy laugh, head back on Kiba's shoulder while Kiba toyed with one nipple, flicked the chilled, hardened nub until Gaara clasped Kiba's bare hip. "Had a dream," he said.
"Good or bad?" Kiba asked.
"Not sure," Gaara replied, opening his eyes to stare at the moon. Clouds rolled across the starry landscape, gossamer ghosts.
"Don't think I ever heard ya talk 'a dreams." Kiba's lips brushed Gaara's neck in the light, pinpoint kisses that drove Gaara mad.
"Don't have them," Gaara whispered, turning his head into Kiba's throat to answer Kiba's mouth with nips of his own. "Kiba? Stroke me."
"Tell me 'bout the dream, and maybe I will," Kiba replied, nails scraping Gaara's belly, digging at his navel.
Gaara shuddered. Waves crashed on the mostly empty beach, and Gaara let Kiba take more of his weight, leaning into the taller man. "I was in Leon's basement, sitting on an old couch next to Jody."
"Leon?" Kiba questioned. "Ya mean the head Saint guy?"
"Yes," Gaara confirmed. "Spent too much time in that room. Was exactly the same." Gaara formed fists, recalling the rasp of worn fabric, the way Jody looked at sixteen, ballcap on sideways. "I had on headphones, like the first ones I ever used to spin, and we were playing cards."
"You and Jody?"
Gaara nodded, squeezed Kiba's ass, and brought them impossibly closer. Kiba's breathing hitched against Gaara's face, stubble rough on his cheek. "And others. Sicko and Paint were there, too. And…"
"Yeah?" Kiba prompted.
"They were wearing these sheets. And wires strapped to their backs and in circles over their heads."
"Like angel costumes?"
"Four and twenty blackbirds…"
"Yeah. Angels," Gaara said, hushed and pushing his face to the space beneath Kiba's chin. Goosebumps broke out over Gaara's skin, and he inhaled the other man's essence, scent, very self. Kiba palmed Gaara's balls, and Gaara relaxed. "My father was there, too, in a suit, and Vince. Wearing devil horns with the tags from the Dollar Store still on them."
"Awesome," Kiba said with a throaty laugh. "What else?"
"We were playing poker, and Paint and Sicko were already out. I raised Father three petals--"
"Oh." Gaara licked his lips. "We were playing with our Saints' Medallions and rose petals. The fake kind."
"Right," Kiba said after a minute. He nudged Gaara's head to one side, bent to kiss Gaara's temple. "I get ya, baby. Go on."
Twisting, Gaara met Kiba for a closed-mouth caress. He switched his grip from hip to Kiba's cock, tugging at the skin and letting himself get lost in the way Kiba's breathing changed, the way Kiba pulled Gaara's nuts, the way they fit together. "I called and won. Cleaned Father and Vince out."
"Uh huh…" Kiba said on a quick sigh, and he teased Gaara's dick, just beneath the crown.
"And your voice was in my headset." Gaara sucked Kiba's tongue, pushed Kiba's cock down until it was trapped between Gaara's thighs, against his sac.
"What'd I say?" Kiba asked, breaking away to bite Gaara's ear. He scraped teeth and stroked Gaara base to tip.
Gaara groaned, didn't answer for several seconds, and Kiba stopped until Gaara began to speak. "Said… nnnh…Said if I didn't get my ass outside, you were going to drive Beast." He got his arms back and around Kiba, dipped fingertips between the Inuzuka's cheeks and nudged Kiba's entrance without penetration.
"Mmph…" Kiba swiveled his hips, hissed and clutched at Gaara. "That the end?"
Gaara shook his head, let Kiba's tongue tangle with his in a lingering exploration of soft pallet and muscle. "Jody and I got up, said good-bye--"
"Later guys. Got to go scrub Boss's back. Get 'im clean."
"--and Paint waved--"
"See ya, little dude."
"--and Sicko sounded almost normal--"
"Meet you later. Both of ya."
"Sure, Sicko. Sure."
"--and then we walked out the door into this bright light." Gaara swallowed. "And I woke up."
"Thank God," Kiba growled, turning Gaara in his arms. Hands grabbed and roamed, lips, mouths, teeth went everywhere, and Gaara dove into Kiba's taste, feel, sound. Kiba sucked Gaara's nipple until it hurt, stung with Kiba's incisors, and Gaara flailed to seize the doorway for balance when Kiba dropped to one knee.
"Oooh…" Gaara panted, broken, as Kiba lapped at his slit and sucked Gaara's cock with sloppy noises of greed. Gaara curled inward, watching and unresisting while Kiba's hands dictated the pattern of Gaara's thrusts into Kiba's throat. "Mmph… nngh--Kiba… no… want to…" Gaara trailed off, panting as sensation spiked, Kiba drove him closer to an edge he desperately wanted to find, and Gaara's single note of complaint was loud in the room when Kiba relinquished the seal of lips and the slide of tongue.
Kiba stood, the grip in Gaara's hair wonderfully painful, the pinch to his nipple perfect. "Yeah, I know what ya want," Kiba said, forcing Gaara's head back and biting along Gaara's jaw. "Bed. On your knees, baby." Kiba molded the term of endearment into invective, and Gaara barely registered the stumbling walk across the room.
A long, wide trunk stood at the foot of the king bed, and Gaara crawled onto it. He started to climb onto the mattress, but Kiba's hands stopped him. A heartbeat later, and Kiba wrenched Gaara's cheeks apart and started licking, suckling, nipping at Gaara's hole. Gaara shook with the effort to stifle the urge to demand more, buried his face in the rumpled comforter, and cried to heaven and angels, hell and demons. Damp heat, Kiba's muffled, continual moans, the slick-slip of tongue to Gaara's insides setting nerves alight, and Gaara shoved a hand between his legs to stroke himself, pre-cum smoothing the glide.
A smack to Gaara's backside cracked too loudly in the hazy halls of Gaara's mind. "Did I tell you to jerk off?" Kiba asked in a ferocious whisper.
Gaara tipped his chin to speak in a thready voice. "No," he replied, elongating the vowel when Kiba struck him again.
"Ya wanna come like this?" Another murmur, one more smack, and Gaara jerked. "Me eatin' yer red ass raw?"
Another hit, harder, and Gaara groaned through three more strikes before he could answer, "N-no…"
Kiba cupped Gaara's balls, rolled them while spanking Gaara in a quick burst of fiery pain that Gaara couldn't track or count. Gaara's flinch sent tingles of dangerous warning into his belly from his trapped nuts. "Ya want me to fuck ya, sweetheart?" Pull, squeeze, swat, and Gaara let go of his dick else he come. "That a 'yes'?" Kiba practically purred, palm inflaming the burn with a steady rhythm of impact. Gaara writhed, yanking sheets, nodding against the bed, and moaning an affirmative that he hoped Kiba would translate.
"Good, baby, good," Kiba rumbled, and he climbed past Gaara. Kiba spun and sat with his back to the headboard, legs spread, cock so hard it bounced against his stomach, and he held his arms out to Gaara. "C'mere and ride me."
Somehow Gaara scrambled to Kiba, who caught him and kissed him. A sweet, tender touch traced his spine, but when Gaara started to straddle Kiba, again the man stopped him.
"Other way," Kiba instructed over Gaara's flushed lips, and Kiba sucked the bottom one until it swelled. "Face yer moon and yer ocean."
Gaara knew whimpers spilled from him, poured into the room like weak requests for more and for less, and in gratitude. He resituated, halted while Kiba applied lube, and Gaara's mind whited out when Kiba entered him bare. Gaara loved the drag of flesh instead of frictionless latex, and he was moaning as Kiba drew him to Kiba's chest. Gaara was halfway to coming when Kiba started to move in short, shallow thrusts that were neither slow nor fast. And Gaara was lost by the time Kiba's hand gently closed over Gaara's throat, held with pressure that didn't suffocate, but certainly reminded.
"Fuckin' perfect, Gaara." Kiba's rough voice went straight to Gaara's center, dumped lighter fluid on the bonfire that drove him to raise and lower himself in counter rhythm to Kiba's. A sigh, a groan, and Gaara got his eyes open and focused enough to see ceiling, door, the silver shimmer of distant water. He rested on Kiba's shoulder, braced his skull, and reached up with his good arm to grapple the headboard for more leverage.
"Oooh." Gaara's breathless sob changed to a whine behind pressed lips, and he lost the control to move with Kiba's teeth in his neck and fist wrapped around his dick. Kiba pumped him furiously, the downward strokes shoving Gaara into the cradle of Kiba's pelvis to meet Kiba's drives with wet smacks, and the upward strokes twisting around the swollen cockhead.
"Kiba…" Gaara's desperate gasp shook, tremulous with the effort of bodies and the culminating heat. "Gonna, oh… nnnggh GOD!"
"Yeah," Kiba snarled, triumphant in Gaara's quaking ending and snapping hips faster through Gaara's aftershocks. Gaara went taut as high tension wire and cried out in earnest.
"Little more for me, baby?" Kiba asked, cruel and loud, and Gaara stiffened with a belated final wave of orgasm.
"Aaah, ya," Kiba breathed. "Sh-shit, Gaa--" Kiba cut off, wrapped his arms around Gaara and was silent in his own release, not even breathing, and Gaara covered one of Kiba's hands with a damp palm, holding it.
Kiba's exhausted exhale let them both sink to the bed in a loose mix of limbs and sweaty torsos. Gaara stayed still, listening to the ocean while their breathing slowed and synced, and Kiba softened within him. Existence was never so exquisite as when Kiba held Gaara close after they'd both gotten off, the connection almost tangible to Gaara's fingertips, almost a taste he could find by pressing tongue to the roof of his mouth.
"Ya a'right?" Kiba murmured, stirring and sighing against Gaara's hair. He covered one of Gaara's nearly-healed wounds, cupped it with care.
"Yeah," Gaara answered. "Tired."
"Here. Lemme…" Kiba slipped from Gaara, and Gaara sighed at the rush of liquid that followed. Kiba eased him down onto his side, tidied him up with something soft. A t-shirt, probably.
Drifting, Gaara let himself daydream and doze until Kiba spooned him, tucked them both in. "Did you--" Gaara began, sitting up to check the door.
"Left it open," Kiba answered, stroking Gaara's arm to encourage him to settle again. Kiba chuckled. "Thought you'd wanna listen to yer new favorite song."
"Cold?" Gaara whispered, eyelids falling shut.
"Never when yer here."
Gaara smiled at the name. He'd grown to like it. "Love you."
Kiba shivered, uttered a tiny sound of pure, tired delight. "Love you, too. Now rest. I got ya."
Gaara entwined their fingers, already half in dreamland. He was driving his old, trusty Caddy along the water's edge with Kiba laughing beside him. The radio was playing, and the windows were down. The tide was turning, the sun bright in the sky, and its warmth filled every crevice, every shadow, every dark place of the earth and every human's heart.
"Got you, too," Gaara whispered.
And together, Kiba and Gaara slept.
...and with that we leave our heroes to live, love, and grow. It's been a hell of a ride, and I thank everyone for taking it with me. Thank you for reading, commenting, messaging... for the music, the laughs, the recordings... the side stories, the support, the art...
Thank you for helping me see this one through.
For this story, in all sorts of ways...
Your rolling credits song is Big & Rich's Holy Water.
And Kiba would like to say that despite being shunned, slammed in doors, stabbed, thrown on his ass onto concrete, punched, bitten, fought, and threatened... despite the fact that he had to make a painful deal with Itachi and a complicated arrangement with Haku and Neji... that he made a Will, got his affairs in order, didn't expect to survive, that his car got destroyed, that his nose got broken, that he was shot at, and nearly lost everything in the world that mattered...
Love is worth it.
For ze love, you do anything.
Sincerely yours, as the curtain lowers, with a bow, with a smile, with a tip of the Tour Guide cap,
Much love forever always,