Chap VI – Olive oil
"Soooooooo…"
"So?" The blue-skinned male sat on a straight chair turned toward the door, which he stared at, as if it had just insulted the mother he had never known.
They'd finally found the empty, equipped bedroom and were now sitting in awkward silence. Chant on the edge of the huge bed, Kisame in front of a heavy desk.
"Soooooooo, what now?"
"What are talking about?!" Kisame turned his face, to glare at Chant, and wanted to pull his hair and scream to the darkening sky at the sight of Chant's huge, unreadable eyes. He just couldn't take it anymore. This frustration that had just built up and up. What now? WHAT NOW? How the hell should he know?!
Common sense didn't apply to this child. Kisame took pride in his own unyielding self-control and handling of issues. The calming feeling of being in control. But this was nothing like the situations he usually dealt with. The thought, 'maybe it's only scary, because it's new', grazed his mind, but was wiped away by his boiling anger, before he could get a grasp of it.
But two things were for sure: Chant took away that element of control, and that knowledge scared him - mainly because he could think of no counterattack, and his pride forbid him to coward off. He was stuck in this mess, tied to the situation by the heavy chains of his own dignity. The one thing he would rather die than give up.
"Well, I'm talking about the fact, that we didn't go through all the trouble of getting here, just so you grumpily could sit and stare into the bloody–" Chant cut himself off with a resigned grimace.
Seducing a person so clueless and inexperienced as Kisame had shown to be a task filled with new and completely unprecedented difficulties. Especially because the target was a grown man with tremendous pride and (most likely) biased opinion on homoerotic relationships.
He didn't know enough about Kisame to come up with a bulletproof seducing strategy. Like, why did he join the Akatsuki? Cat or dog? PlayStation or Xbox? All those vital information needed for a sufficient profile.
Sadly, the Akatsuki had shown to be extremely stingy with their secrets. To get one of them to spill their worries would be like getting Kakuzu to by someone a b-day present.
Incredibly unlikely.
He sucked on his lip, planning his next move. Whip or carrot? A glance at the muscular man had him giggling. Kisame sat bolt upright with crossed arms and an expression as dark as a thundercloud. A muscle in his jaw was working at full stretch, as his eyes burned holes in the wall.
Carrot. Definitely carrot.
Chant jumped off the bed, and all but danced through the room, all fired up once again.
The chamber was small, a queen size bed with pillows on top and covered by a patchwork quilt in autumn colors, taking up of third of the space. Beside the headboard, on the floor, stood a withered, looming plant in a huge, chipped pot. Somebody had placed a timeworn rug beside it. Both the pot and the rug were in a dull orange.
Before-mentioned desk was places against the opposite wall of the bed, with a dusty, circular mirror hanging above the desktop, on which a few ragged books were stacked. Deidara's cloth was dumbed beside them. For obvious reasons did the room not have any windows, only a ventilations shaft near the roof, refreshing the air every few minute.
The moment he was near enough, he brushed Kisame's cheek with his fingertips, as he straddled him. He intertwined his fingers behind the Kisame's neck. Their eyes locked.
"Kisame-san." Chant said in a soft, sexy voice. That kind of voice you would use to sooth a distressed animal. In case you wanted to have sex with the animal… which would be weird. Like, really weird… "I'm sorry if I made you angry..." No I'm not… you're cute when you're mad! "I was under the impression that you liked it, when I touched you… you know…" he looked away with a childish, but sad pout, shifting a little in Kisame's big lap to create friction.
Pulling the innocence-cart never failed. Never.
.~.
Kisame was conflicted. A part of him wanted to slap the kid and stomp on his corpse. Still… Chant looked so innocent, as he was sitting there in his lap. Even like this, the brat barely reached his chin.
So tiny… had Chant really been unknowing about the hell he had put him through in the living room? After all, he had felt good on that toilet…
Something inside him, was screaming to him that he should walk away now. Retreat while time was. But he couldn't… he just couldn't make himself to do that.
No one had ever touched that place, but himself. He could've bought a hooker, he knew that, but it would have been odd. Strange. Wrong. He wasn't going to force himself on a woman – regardless of her standards.
Once, he thought, only this once, I will let him have his way with me!
"Bite me," he growled, "do as you like."
.~.
Fuck. Yeah.
Chant untangled his fingers behind Kisame's neck and used his thumbs to push the modified forehead up over the latter's head. It hit the floor with a soft 'clang'.
He cupped Kisame's stern face with his hand, studied it, memorizing his unique features with curiosity. The blue-grey skin. The distinctive eyes with white irises and black sclera. The unique gill-marks under his eyes. The sharp nose and protruding cheekbones, giving his face a mature look.
Yes. Kisame was handsome. Alien, but nonetheless handsome. And for now, all his.
"Close your eyes." Chant whispered.
Kisame tensed. "Why?"
By that question, two thought emerged in Chant's mind simultaneously. 1) I really need this man to relax… he responses like a predator driven into a corner. And 2) Oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god Kisame really is like olive oil – extra virgin!
"Because that is the way you usually kiss," Chant told him patiently.
Inner Kisame was freaking out. Big time.
.~.
Kisame was a horrible kisser. Like, traumatizingly bad.
Chant had been this close to inform the man that a dead flatfish could have done a better job, but was thoughtful enough to keep it shut. Instinct of self-preservation played a role too.
And Kisame's reaction had been so worth.
His pointy teeth had been some experience, and Chant decided on the spot, that this face was going nowhere near his penis. He nearly got his tongue cut off, when he brushed the other's palate, earning a muffled moan.
Doing stuff like this with Kisame made him wanna purr like a cat.
It was interesting to observe how virgins fell into two main categories: the ones who didn't feel a thing and the ones who had developed extreme sensitivity.
But Kisame's lips were not his weak spot.
Chant wriggled out of Kisame's lap and got the other on his feet too. Kisame didn't complain, as he gently was pushed back, onto the bed covers. Sitting, Kisame cautiously watched Chant, as the latter took off his shirt. The torso being uncovered was skinny, though a little training couldn't hurt.
For the first time, Kisame noticed a necklace hanging around the boy's neck. From the thin silver chain hang a little metal plate engraved with symbols he couldn't decipher. It didn't look like any kanji, katakana or hiragana he had seen before.
"Kisame?" Chant called quietly.
His gaze moved upwards till their eyes met. In the green orbs, he saw the silent ask for permission. He gave it, with a surrendering nod. He saw something lit up in the youngster's eyes. A look of gratefulness, as if he had been granted something precious and fragile.
He closed his eyes and kept them that way, as four fingertips reached his chest and encouraged him to lie down. Relaxing his muscle, his upper body fell back and hit the bed with a dull sound.
The madras squeaked as Chant crawled onto it placing his hands on both sides of Kisame's head. Three slender fingers drew the line of his jaw, then followed a vein down his neck, until the high collar of his Akatsuki-cloak hindered it.
Chant leaned back, with a funny feeling. Much to his amazement, he discovered that he suddenly (and in direct opposition to his original intention) wanted to make this into something more and else than just a quickie.
Watching Kisame's lidded eyes and seemingly vulnerable expression, just "fucking" seemed so… vulgar. Brute-ish.
Chant wasn't one to philosophy very deeply over his own actions and feelings. He believed that impulses were the way to go, the one leading to the most fun – and right now, his impulses told him to handle Kisame with care, consideration and tenderness.
With that coming naturally to him, he planted his butt on Kisame's crotch, a knee on each side of the man's firm torso.
He zipped down the cloak, exposing more and more of Kisame's chest. The latter swallowed. The air grazing his skin was not cold as that in the hallways, but this time Chant's gaze laid heavy on him.
It didn't shake him. He was confident in his body. Or was he?
How did his body look in Chant's eyes? Was it too big and compact? Too blue?
Suddenly, he wanted to look good for the boy with the silky, brown hair and foreign accent. Wanted to make his eye go wide and breath stop.
Kisame had a feeling of drowning. Feeling the need to please another human-being was an icky feeling. He hadn't had it since his early academy days back in Kiri, and never this spontaneously and groundlessly.
Nonetheless, they were there. Strong and persistent.
Chant somehow managed to open the cloak all the way down. As expected, Kisame was wearing nothing underneath. Chant's breath was taken away, and the muscles in his loins tensed. Ick. Auto-erection. Couldn't control the junk. Down there was living its own life.
He swallowed. Kisame so had his type of body.
With quivering fingertips, he touched the muscles; the muscles flexing underneath the smooth, blue skin as he brushed it. Traced the protruding contures of Kisame's chest and abs. Ending on his hips, Chant's thumbs brushed the V. Kisame jerked underneath him. Uttered a short bark.
No. Way.
o^_^o
Hey guys,
sorry about being this bad at updating, but I haven't really been feeling like this story lately, and I believe I might drop it altogether. I will however give you, what I have already written - smut... I will be uploading the next two chapter over the next week... Enjoy ~
~ NekoRainbow