The Troublesome Bed | By : c0p13r Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 17411 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: i don't own 'Naruto' and don't make money off of this story you are now about to be reading at this time that is now |
A Troublesome Bed
~~~
It was honest fact that Temari was shocked she ever had Shikadai in the first place. Shikamaru was a good choice of a husband, compliant and willing to do anything she asked – so long as it kept her from getting mad – but while he was good out of the home, the bedroom faced scores of problems. His love of sleep oftentimes outweighed the passionate and frisky side of the Kazekage’s older sister. Each venture to each other’s body wound up with her on top, trying to provoke her husband to take charge. But taking charge was just something that Shikamaru did not like to do. On the field, he’d shoulder the responsibility…
“But why should I do it when you know what you like?” grumbled Shikamaru after sex one night, hands pillowing his head and a customary cigarette in his lips. Temari was sitting up, somewhat disheveled, but not nearly as much as she’d like to be.
She folded her arms under her breasts, which were covered only by the light blue – almost white – nightdress she normally wore to bed. His lack of enthusiasm infuriated her more than anything else in their marriage. While she may not have been curvy like the Fifth Hokage, and not make a show of her looks like his former teammate, she felt she could count herself as one of the more attractive kunoichi in Shikamaru’s life! Her scowl creased her face further, and she wanted nothing more than to seize her gigantic fan and clunk him on his head when he rolled over, already snoring after setting his cigarette in the ashtray at his bedside.
She’d be better off with a vibrator…
~~~Away from the troubles of marriage~~~
Kiba was enjoying his life. Not being tied down meant he could come and go as he pleased, and after Kakashi became the Sixth Hokage, the value of the Inuzuka was more appreciated. Leave it to a fellow canine trainer to see the truth of pairing dogs with ninja! Akamaru may have gone past his prime, content to lay about the house while Kiba ventured onward, but Kiba wasn’t alone.
He would pick up the occasional companion, though his keen eyes were set on the girl who surrounded herself with cats. And Tamaki must’ve known his obvious intentions, as subtlety was not Kiba’s strength. Still, she chided him along, playing hard-to-get with nonchalant reactions whenever he proposed an official relationship. Cats were fickle, and it seemed their masters were the same way.
Well, after so long, a rowdy heart like Kiba’s could not sit still. If she would not accept him – she’d not declined him, either – then he’d add some notches to her bedpost for her to regret later on!
Now Kiba was at the bar, drinking down heavy swigs of alcohol and cheering with the rest of his Konoha kin. Of the Rookie 9, he could proudly say that he was the luckiest of them all! A slew of tracking missions – courtesy of the previous Hokage’s dog-service decree – kept his wallet packed, his nose filled with exotic scent, and his life interesting. Heh! Let Naruto sit in a chair all day. He could have the title!
“I win!” roared Kiba, slamming down his emptied mug while the ninja visiting from Iwagakure toppled over, overcome by the amount of alcohol in his system. His compatriots caught him under his arms and dragged him out, whispering words of consolidation. The loser meant nothing to Kiba as he turned around with arms wide open for a challenge. There was the slightest hint of red in his cheeks, but he wasn’t drunk just yet. “Who’s next?! Who can I beat now?!”
The faces around him were interested, but no one volunteered. Not until a hand shot up towards the back, and a woman said, “Me! Since no one is man enough to put you in your place!”
Kiba arched an eyebrow and watched with some interest as a woman shoved her way through the crowd, her eyes golden and her slick hair fiery. And that exotic skin tone… The woman from the Kumo, Karui with the regrettable attachment to the Akimichi clan. Kiba leered at her as she stepped up to his table in challenge. She was a girl who’d gotten away, in his opinion, but maybe she needed a plush guy like Choji to boss around; she’d only find a stubborn wall if she tried that with Kiba. His fang poked out with his grin.
“Karui,” he mused, “shouldn’t you be at home making bentos for your kid… and husband?”
Karui snorted at his lame attempt at an insult and slammed her palm down on the table. “I’m challenging you, dog! And we’ll see who goes home afterward!”
Kiba wasn’t about to shirk from a challenge, least of all from her. He gestured for a round of beer. “I’m fine with that. But if I win, I say I get to take you out.” He snickered whilst the crowd murmured in shock as his audacity.
Karui’s sharp eyes narrowed accusingly. “I’m married.”
Ugh… don’t remind me… Kiba did not say that out loud, and it wasn’t easy to keep his eyes from rolling at her proclamation. “Just a night out, the two of us.” He cockily eased down into his chair, and leaned across with one elbow, flashing that cheeky grin that made men hate him and girls scoff at his attempts. “Or do all dates with you end up in the bedroom?”
The murmurs only grew louder. Kiba was truly the boldest among them to proposition a man’s wife in public. Dare he continue to bait her? Dare she answer his question truthfully?
“If I win,” Karui conditioned, accepting Kiba’s terms by doing so, and her own smirk tilted her mouth, “you’ll be the one making my family’s lunches… for the next three months.”
It might have seemed that Kiba had called the stronger bet, but anyone who knew the Akimichi – as Kiba did very well – they didn’t have box lunches with a scoop of rice, some veggies and fish. They had a full-course serving! Kiba remembered a time when Choji showed up to the academy with a traditional sack strapped to his back and was floored when he saw it was filled with several bentos, all for Choji himself.
But to retract his bet and make a better trade would make it seem like he wasn’t up for the challenge. Kiba couldn’t look weak to those who admired him; typical bar drunks were still fans, he told himself.
He grabbed his mug and waited for Karui to grab hers. She did so without hesitation. “I’ll let you pick where we go,” he jibed, and the contest began!
~~~In the Nara bedroom~~~
Temari chewed her bottom lip, holding back her reactions to the dance of her fingers. Shikamaru had gotten up and gone for a walk, a usual tactic of a tired husband who just could stand hearing his wife nag. Temari was strong enough that she didn’t use the word ‘divorce’ as a weapon to draw him back…
Copier: let’s take a moment right here… Husbands out there; you know exactly what I’m talking about.
… so she let him go. She’d fume in her own way, and while that could mean going off in the forest to train in the daytime, at night, in her bed, sexually frustrated, she saw no better way to relax than to finish the job Shikamaru couldn’t.
Not that he was always a slouch and never brought her to climax. When they were younger, just starting out, he’d actually analyze what she liked and employed it. And she was a girl who liked it rough. Shikamaru beat his hips against hers as hard as he could, yet, clutching the back of his neck and digging in with her nails, she told him to go harder and faster. He complied as best as he could, but when it became a usual thing, Shikamaru finally threw his hands up and griped “I can’t go any faster than that!” Did she expect his pelvis to blur as he rushed into her?
She, in a moment of uncharacteristic weakness, admitted that maybe she asked too much of him. The rest of that session was done with her on top, gentle sways and lulls that Shikamaru swore were the most relaxing moments he’d ever shared with her. He drifted off to a sound sleep afterward, and she was happy to have satisfied him. It was that particular coupling that saw to the birth of their son.
After that, they hit that rut. The baby was an interference, but as he grew older and more independent, Temari found there was more time to be intimate with her husband! But he was just happy for more time to take naps. He was older, true, and being a head advisor to the Hokage – particularly one as dimwitted as Naruto – wasn’t exactly stress free, but he could’ve made more time for her. She didn’t need the attention 24/7 like Sakura – who seemed just lost and withering now, now that she had Sasuke’s name, but never his attention – but a night a week! Was that too much?!
Temari cringed and closed her eyes, her fingers finding the mark and strumming against it. A vibrator or some kind of sex toy would have been a useful tool, but right now, she settled on her skillful hands and wasn’t regretting it. The nice blonde fur that surrounded her sex felt smooth and wet against her slick palm as she alternated stimulation between her clit and the tunnel below. One hand down there, and the other on her breasts. Busty blonde, she was not, but she saw that to her advantage; weight and time would make them sag, but she was of a tight package, curves where there should be, but not weight. Childbearing had upsized her bust, but diligent training and diet kept more weight from accumulating.
Men wanted her, she thought while chasing her own pleasure. She could see their desire when she walked past! Again she cringed, though her noise was stifled; this was not a response to pleasure. Perhaps it was an exaggeration to say they all watched her. The soft-petal men of Konoha were intimidated by her cactus attitude.
That’s enough! No more evaluating herself and other’s opinion of her! In Suna, she was a rose in the desert; in Konoha, they wanted something softer, weaker. She would not be that woman for their approval. Emboldened by her own confidence and self-value, Temari’s hands played more eagerly with her body. Her thighs split wide in an indecent showing to the other side of the room, her knees bent up and out, the only visual obstruction of her pussy being her hand as she thumbed her clit and dug into her snatch with her fingers. Her nightgown had almost been bunched entirely at her midsection if not for the shoulder straps. She’d yanked the collar down at one side to free a plump breast, which she molested in a grip Shikamaru was perhaps too careful to do.
Don’t think of him! Don’t think of anything but this!
Temari’s hips pushed in rhythm to her pumping fingers. The wet, sticky sounds of her plugging herself matched the rise of her voice, and when she came, the unusual slip of a squeal was drawn from her lips. She rarely came like this, vocally and excitedly and frenziedly. Her tight butt lifted off the sheets and was caught in that moment. All muscles squeezed, her hand stilled, and from her came the gush of climactic bliss.
It was hard not to cry out; the sounds coming from her opening and closing mouth made it seem like she’d stubbed her toe and was dealing with the pain. “Ha~! Tsss…! Ah~! Tss…!” She went on like that until the proud arch of her release faltered to a drizzle and the embarrassment of soiling hers and Shikamaru’s bed sheet (without him) set in after the orgasm receded.
She let herself slacken, head full of fuzz and body pulsating. Without the fog of repressed sex, her dignity returned, and she felt no pride when the slick slide of her fingers withdrawing came to her ears. She almost didn’t want to look at the mess she’d made of her digits, yet she did and saw the glistening shame stringing between her fingers.
No doubt Shikamaru would guess what she was up to while he was away – and it never bothered him – but she should change the sheets; she never favored the wet spot, but her husband refused to lie on it, preferring the floor to bed when she forced him to take the side that had seen sex. His attitude was worse when he didn’t get a good night’s sleep.
Groaning and getting off the comfort of their bed, Temari slipped the nightie back over her breasts, straightened it out, and prepared to change the sheets. It was bad enough to have to waste time doing this, but it was even worse when Shikadai, finally setting down his game, came knocking to ask if she was alright.
“Sounded like you hurt your toe again, Kaasan,” he said from the other side of the door.
~~~Three drinking contests later~~~
“How about…” Kiba stumbled, his feet struggling underneath him to keep his elusive balance. “I can make three lunches.” He held up a finger. “And I’ll take you out when Choji can’t?”
Karui steadied him, for if he lost his balance and fell, she’d fall without his support. The two drinking combatants staggered out of the bar, leaning against one another, arms over each other’s shoulders, for four legs were more stable than two. Both of them drank too ambitiously and competitively; no clear winner could be decided in the end, for the moment Kiba’s face smacked flat on the surface of the table, Karui was already falling back in her chair. Neither was capable of catching a beer mug’s handle after that; it was in their best interests that they leave.
“I won’t,” Karui said, shaking her head. “No! No.” She slurred and sucked like she was catching spit before it could turn into drool. “I… I won.”
“No, it’s not,” Kiba blabbered. “I win too.” He held up two fingers, but Karui didn’t argue. She groaned and regretted it already; a hangover no doubt was pending, and Chocho was not going to be merciful.
They walked and staggered, and at one point paused; Kiba had to puke amongst a collection of trash bags, which Karui berated, but she had to brace against a wall until he was capable of helping her again. They were almost at her home by the time they were able to start talking in a more coherent conversation. And of course, Kiba steered immediately to her involvement with Choji, asking if her keenness to the drink was to make it easier to crawl into bed with him; her response was an elbow to his gut. Kiba confessed – though maybe halfheartedly – that he was joking.
“We should spend some more time together. We’ll need to break the tie, so we should go out more,” he teased her at her doorstep. “As friends.” They’d yet to separate.
Karui shook her head, touching her forehead as the buzz of alcohol continued its assault. Drinking was the last thing on her mind, but would be the first come the headache in the morning. “I don’t have time to go out like this,” she grumbled. “Some of us have families… and integrity!” She reached up and yanked hard at the first finger that crept sneakily on her breast.
“YEOW!” Kiba recoiled and squeezed his nearly-snapped finger. Karui, in stuck-up fashion, walked forward, all of her focus put into a beeline stride. She bid him goodnight, and slammed the door. From within the house, while still reeling from his finger injury, he heard Chocho shout and complain about slamming doors.
Kiba turned away, and though his finger throbbed, he grinned up at the moon, feeling that the night, even if it was ending alone, was well-spent.
He did not notice the pair of eyes watching him from the rooftops several homes away. The dark eyes gleamed thoughtfully when the end of his cigarette flared with an inhale on the stick.
~~~
Copier: aside from the obvious pairing of Kiba/Temari, I’ll admit I’ve no direction as to where this particular story will head...
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