Chapter Four - Open Invitation

"Sakura," Kiba repeated, voice dripping with something Sakura couldn't quite define but was inevitably effective.

"I-I-I just want to see your leg, Kiba." Somehow, she'd managed to spit the words out, even if they weren't necessarily true to her thoughts.

"'Kay," Kiba replied in a suddenly nonchalant tone, much to her annoyance. How could he just turn it on and then off so damned quickly? That was something Sakura meant to find out… eventually. But right now, she just wanted to fix his leg, eat, and then take a nap before nightfall and inevitably more running.

Without a moments hesitation, Kiba had divested himself of his pants, leaving him in only a pair of almost tight boxers which Sakura had been subjected to many times as Naruto called them "the perfect shinobi underwear" as they didn't hinder movement and were convenient to wear when outer clothing got wet or dirty. At least that was his argument every time she caught him sporting his ramen patterned pair.

"I need you to sit down," Sakura commanded, rolling her eyes as most "patients" knew that, at least, was required. "But don't sit in the dirt, it's not that sanitary. Pick one of those big rocks over there while I get something."

Sakura moved to grab her medic hip-holster from inside her shelter and then made her way over to Kiba, who now sat, rather carelessly, on a fairly flat boulder. Squatting down and placing herself at eyelevel with Kiba's thigh, Sakura could have punched him. For a man, he had some nice skin. Lightly tanned, even located where it was, and covering lean, well-toned muscles that jumped at her initial touch.

It was already obvious what had happened. Kunai wounds were quite common among shinobi and usually were easily repaired but this one looked bad even after someone had apparently tried to heal it, most likely a student medic, who often just didn't have the chakra control necessary yet. It looked painful and for some odd reason, Sakura hated it. Hated that it marred the skin there and the red tint it lent to Kiba's flesh.

Whoever had given him the wound certainly took care to cause him agony; just by looking Sakura could tell the kunai had been viciously twisted in Kiba's muscle, tearing, cutting the taunt ligaments and tendons. She wondered if she could handle an injury like that so well. He'd been running all night, and the few times they'd stopped he'd only taken enough time to hydrate himself then they'd pressed on.

"Well?" Kiba spoke above her, voice interrupting her train of thought.

"Hmm? Well, whoever this handiwork belongs to should rethink their talent as a medic unless they just started training." Sakura mumbled, still annoyed at the wound.

Kiba scoffed. "Doesn't matter; they stopped the bleeding, that's all I needed."

Rolling her eyes at his manly display, Sakura set to work, sending chakra to her fingertips and into Kiba's thigh. Firstly, she needed to undo a good portion of what had been healed improperly; muscle reconnected to muscle, tendon with tendon. She weaved her chakra among his flesh, lacing pieces back together painlessly and working towards his skin. She certainly wouldn't leave it to scar like it surely would have before her effort. Double checking her work before declaring everything finished, as she didn't figure this was going to become a common occurrence between the two of them, Sakura finally wove Kiba's skin back together. Smoothing one finger over the previously mottled skin a smile graced Sakura's face.

"See? Not so bad, eh?"

Kiba had to admit, it was damned impressive. Not only had all the burning stopped, but there was no sign of his leg having ever been injured. It was just smooth, undamaged skin and one very feminine hand still lingering on his thigh.

On some strange whim, Kiba, quite unlike himself, placed his own rougher hand on top of Sakura's, grasping it and lightly squeezing before he smirked, crimson markings prominent on his cheeks and quietly said, "Thanks."

Wide-eyed and still crouched down beside Kiba, Sakura wasn't sure what to make of this odd display of… what could she call it? Gratitude? Affection? Either way, it was definitely not something Kiba would normally do, and she had to wonder if he hadn't hit his head on the rock he was sitting on.

Nodding slowly, Sakura turned her head upwards, fully intent on telling him it was no problem and that she, in fact, felt better now, but instead she was met with something not altogether unexpected.

His mouth was on hers before she had a chance to speak, his hands in her hair before she could move. And Sakura couldn't quite bring herself to dislike this attention, this desire even if she knew she should. Unfortunately for that desire, Kiba had no intentions of taking it any further at that moment. If he was going to prove he wasn't a dog to Sakura, half raping her after she'd done him a favor certainly wouldn't leave a good impression on her.

Pulling back sharply and sliding his tongue over one sharp incisor, Kiba, eyes shut, drank in her scent that trailed after him as he moved away.

Unknowingly, Sakura tried to follow his mouth as he moved away from her, although, with his abrupt movements, her effort to maintain the tenuous kiss was wasted; he was on his feet before she even had a chance to grab him and drag him back to her. Her common sense was telling her it was for the better, that she'd be an idiot to want to kiss Inuzuka Kiba, but the woman in her was screaming for him to get his ass back over there and kiss her properly.

"The ramen's gonna get cold," Kiba said blithely, jerking on his loose-fitting black pants, and then grabbing one of the two bowls and a set of chopsticks Sakura had set out earlier. Now, Kiba wasn't one to be intentionally rude, but nor was he intentionally kind, but at that moment he found himself serving Sakura; he ladled her bowl full of noodles and broth then jabbed the chopsticks into the food and carried it over to the kunoichi, now settled on the same rock he'd just been on. Grabbing the remaining bowl, he filled it as well, before walking back towards her and setting down a foot or so from her on another rock. He then proceeded to feed himself, much to Sakura's relief, with manners a large fraction better than Naruto's.

"Kiba," Sakura haltingly said chopsticks and noodles poised below her mouth.

"Hmm?" As always, he seemed so relaxed and unconcerned that whatever Sakura had been hesitant to say sunk right to the pit of her stomach.

"Does it smell like rain to you?"

Kiba bit his tongue. Of course it smelled like rain, once he stopped focusing on her scent it was an easily distinguished fact. "Yeah, guess I was too busy smelling the food," he laughed nervously causing Sakura to snicker for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, she'd just thought he was never nervous, now, obviously not true; secondly, it was ramen, ramen was not that incredible, even if she and Naruto found it quite satisfying; lastly and most amusing, she could think of something else he might have been busy sniffing.

"Oi! What's so funny? I can't be hungry?" He was embarrassed, that much she could tell, even with his angry façade.

"I suppose…" Sakura smiled widely and busied herself with her ramen.

They sat quietly eating their ramen for a few minutes and listened as the rain clouds approached, hearing the rumble of the clouds colliding in their frenzy to get where they were going. Sakura sighed; shinobi's would never have lives like storm clouds. Silence and stealth were their saving grace. If they barreled in somewhere making such noise, they'd be dead in an instant. Of course, that was a fact Sakura had resigned herself to. She'd seen too many shinobi losses to be unaware of such things. There was glory and pride and there was simply despair that came with the life of a shinobi. Sakura felt like she'd lost her chance at love by becoming a shinobi, she couldn't be what a man wanted, she could never just stay still, could never watch as the one she loved went off to fight and she cowered in a corner. She would never be that girl again. But her heart still yearned for it; still wanted love, still wanted to give it. It needed…

"Sakura… I suggest if you don't want to get wet that you get out of the open," Kiba offered, taking her empty ramen bowl from her hands and placing his own inside it. Grabbing one of her now-free hands in his own, he pulled Sakura to her feet and tugged her along behind him. For some reason, she seemed dazed, almost sad, something that Kiba wanted to remedy but didn't know how, so he did the only thing he knew how to do. He took charge.

Pausing for a second to set the bowls beside the empty cooking pot and dwindling fire, Kiba continued on towards Sakura's small stone shelter, guiding her inside and onto her blankets where she finally seemed to come back to herself, eyes clearing, focusing on his worried face hovering over her.

"I like these," Sakura commented, fingertip tapping against Kiba's cheek. Feeling the heat creeping over his face, Kiba swallowed hard, before leaning back on his knees.

"Thanks." No one had ever commented on his markings before and he certainly wouldn't think anyone would really like them outside of the Inuzuka clan. After all, outsiders never understood the importance of the marks, never understood that to have them meant you were a part of something, part of their tightly woven family.

Her gaze, before focused on the blood red streaks on his cheeks, now met his. "Do you like the rain?"

"Yeah, it's nice," he didn't know what to say to her, didn't know how to tell her he could care less about the rain right then, her words resounding in his mind consumed him.

"Do you want to go out in it?"

"Huh?" Kiba simply wasn't following her logic on this one.

"Do you want to go to your own bedroll?"

His spirits flattened. She wanted him out.

"'Cause, I have extra blankets. And that way you wouldn't have to get wet or anything. It sounds like it's coming down pretty hard. I wouldn't mind. I'd like the company."

Kiba wasn't sure if that meant she would tolerate any company at that moment or if it was just his she sought; either way, he wasn't about to complain, although he feared her scent might overcome him again. But it didn't compare with his need to be close to her.

Sitting up, Sakura scooted off her sleeping bag, unzipping the thickly padded item and flipping it open, creating two sleeping spots rather than her single one. She then grabbed her pack and pulled out two woolen blankets.

"Um… they aren't the warmest by themselves. We might have to share." Sakura could feel her cheeks flush and almost ruined her composure when Kiba's mouth fell open. If she didn't do this now… well, she might never have the courage to do so again. If even for a moment, she wanted to be something to someone, more than just a teammate, more than a friend, more than a medic.

Kiba now found himself being guided… straight onto her sleeping mat. He lay stiffly on his back, catching each of her movements, not with his eyes, but with his nose. Every time she twisted, a fresh wave of her scent greeted his nose, every time she shook a blanket loose, it assaulted him. But soon enough, she too was lying flat on her back, mere inches separating them in the dimly lit shelter, the clouds blocking out the sunlight and fire squelched long ago from the onslaught of rainwater.

He reveled in the feel of her body heat soaking into his left side and shifted closer, brushing his bare arm against hers. Kiba still couldn't believe how soft her skin was, he'd love to touch it leisurely, rather than in "accidental" brushes, and intoxicated and incoherent outbursts. Through sheer willpower he kept himself from running his fingers down the length of her arm, from lacing his fingers through hers and dragging her wrist to his face. Whether he wanted to taste her skin again or simply get another inebriating inhalation he didn't know.

"Kiba… I-I don't mind," Sakura uttered quietly.

Was he so obvious? He certainly didn't think Sakura had some unique ability to read minds.

"What?" Kiba had to ask. He didn't want to assume things, didn't want to let his hopes get the better of him.

"That you like the way I smell… b-but do you mind if I ask what it is exactly that I smell like?"

Kiba nearly groaned. How could he explain to her something he couldn't even explain to himself?

"I wouldn't have a problem telling you if I knew," Kiba said, somewhat anxious. He didn't want to upset her.

"Hmm," was Sakura's only response before she grew quiet, thinking intently. "What… what if I let you smell me?"

His previously contained groan now spilled from his lips. Did she really just say she'd let him smell her. Not as if he couldn't smell Sakura just fine from the few inches he was from her, but to put his nose to her flesh and inhale… his hand flew to his forehead as another groan slipped past his clinched teeth.

A single brow of Sakura's arched, which Kiba missed due to the lack of light. "Does that mean you don't want to?" she giggled, slowly and inadvertently lowering her front, letting her inner self out of hiding.

Her amusement ended abruptly when Kiba, not about to miss out on such a chance by a mere misunderstanding, rolled atop her, pinning her to the ground, nose pressed to the warm skin of her throat.

No wonder she'd never heard of Kiba being involved with any women. What he'd just done would scare the shit out of most of them. His feral movements and noises were enough to cause her own heart to flutter nervously, like a mouse at the mercy of an ornery cat. If she held still long enough, maybe it'd leave her for dead. Except Kiba was no cat; he was a man, an attractive, enticing, exciting man. Most men couldn't temper her anger, couldn't hold their own against her, but, she didn't figure Kiba would have a problem with that at this rate.

Sakura's hands fisted in her sleeping bag as he nuzzled behind her ear, moist breath splaying across the back of her neck. And then she felt the rough slide of his tongue on her earlobe, a sharp incisor's scrape and her hands were on his shoulders, fingers digging into his netted shirt and skin. She couldn't stop this, didn't want to stop this. She didn't want to be alone her whole life, so, if for a short period of time, even one day, even one hour she could be with him, with feral, intense, desirable Kiba, she would.

Even though his mouth was now busy placing wet sloppy kisses over the side of her neck, Kiba's hands were immobile where they were now. Surprisingly sweet of him, he was holding his weight off of her, hands planted on either side of her head. But she wanted his hands free, movable. So, looping her legs behind his knees and then moving her arms to pull downwards on his locked elbows, his brace faltered. Before he could collapse onto her, Sakura rolled the two of them over, now hovering above Kiba, whose eyes seemed to glow up at her. Feral was definitely a good word to describe those eyes at that moment. And Sakura loved it.

Exhilarated by his desire for her, Sakura leaned her chest onto his, mouth inches from Kiba's before she whispered, "So, what do I smell like, Kiba?"

His hands were erratically squeezing her thighs and he grinned, two sharp fangs bared. "Right now, Sakura, you smell like you're enjoying yourself."

Sakura rolled her eyes slightly. "That's not a smell, Kiba."

"Then, maybe I just can't explain how you smell. But tell me, does it really matter? You already know I love it."

Somehow, Sakura would get an answer before the end of this mission, but for now, she had to admit he had a point. Pressing her lips to his, Sakura felt his hands slide around to the backs of her thighs and grip her flesh tightly, causing her to gasp into his mouth, much to his approval, as she could tell by the low growl in his throat that drove her crazy. Her hands, moving of their own accord, found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the short strands as best they could, blunt nails pressed to his scalp.

Kiba couldn't believe this was happening. His fingertips dug into her well-rounded rear while her own scratched his scalp, something he'd been quite envious of Akamaru for the other day. He could prove he wasn't a dog this way, he mused. He might be a little eager, but he certainly wouldn't treat her like Akamaru did his bitches.

She couldn't breathe; their mouths were locked together, his hands were grinding her into him and she simply couldn't form a coherent thought. She was going to die; she couldn't handle the sensations that were coursing through her body, every jolt that hit her when he bucked his hips into hers, every time his tongue tapped against her own had her torn before sheer agony and a complete euphoria.

If she'd know she was this pent up, she would have done something about it before this mission. But as it was, she hadn't, and now she was stuck with this surprising attraction for Inuzuka Kiba, who she was now pressing wholly into, rocking her hips with his own frantic motions. This was the most intimate she'd been with anyone at any point in her life… and it was someone she barely knew. It hurt, but it was exhilarating at the same time.

Kiba had traded sucking on her bottom lip for nibbling on her earlobe, where she felt his soft pants that sent shivers down her back and his hands were pulling at the hem of her shirt, successfully revealing a small patch of pale skin on her lower back that he proceeded to palm. She felt like silk; it made him want to drag his tongue across her skin, every inch of it. But, if she let him, he'd be doing this to her quite often after their mission was complete. And if she didn't let him? Well, he'd simply have to deal with that when the time came, because there was absolutely no way Kiba would be able to avoid her after this. Her scent clung to him; it was a part of the netted fabric of his shirt now; it clutched at each and every strand of his hair. But the thing that made him grin most, that made a low and possessive growl issue from his throat was the fact that his scent was attaching itself to her. Her throat, where he'd so diligently been working now held a touch of his own muskier aroma.

Somehow, in some odd and unexpected way, he'd lost himself in her. Maybe it was only in her scent, maybe it was the cute little way she tilted her head when she smiled, maybe it was her intellect that drew him, so unlike himself, or maybe it was a little bit of everything, but he'd certainly never been this content, never been so sure of what he wanted. He wanted her scent, he wanted his scent covering her, he wanted the two to mingle and intertwine; it was the only thing he ever wanted to tickle his acute sense of smell in his lifetime.

Kiba wasn't against the idea, itself, but more of what came with it. Especially since he had no idea what Sakura was really like. He'd seen her enough to know she was an amazing kunoichi, heard enough from Naruto and everyone else who'd come into contact with her anger that she was a bit hotheaded. But he certainly couldn't complain when he himself got snappy. The idea of being with Haruno Sakura for the rest of his life was, quite honestly, a bit terrifying to Kiba.

He took enough wisecracks on "mating" to think Sakura would see it any other way. Inuzuka couples did stay together until death, but it wasn't due to the reason others pinpointed. "Mating" wasn't the issue, Inuzuka's could fuck as many men or women as they wanted, it was merely an issue of loyalty. Much like their canine companions, the clan members, once a bond was formed, were never going to break it. And Kiba could all too quickly feel himself latching onto Sakura.

She was kind, as she'd shown when she'd healed his wound, not too mention the affection she showed Akamaru, even if he wasn't partial to that fact. She was strong, intelligent, pretty, much to Kiba's delight, and, of course, her scent was entrancing. He'd never smelled anything so appealing before, and during his teen years, Kiba's father had often told him of the Inuzuka way of finding a spouse. "It's all in the nose," he'd said while fondly eyeing Kiba's mother across the room. "Someday, you'll find a girl whose scent is unbearably nice and then you'll know. It may happen unexpectedly, you may be tormented by it for years and years and you won't even realize it, but when you do, well, when you do, you'll find your own way of handling things." His father had just laughed at the face Kiba made then, obviously finding distaste in the idea of his father smelling his mother, but now, now he completely understood.

He understood all too well at that moment, with Sakura hovering over him, his tongue gliding over the tendon in her neck, tasting that same delicious scent on his tongue, engulfing his senses. He saw pink and pale flesh; he heard soft pants and slight, high-pitched gasps; felt her toned and smooth flesh under his fingertips, pressed against him; he smelled.

Her hands were tugging at his shirt now, fingers tangling in the mesh fabric, while his own callused fingers skimmed under her short's waistband. She paused in her ministrations much to his dismay, and he was about to move his hands away when he heard a gruff bark outside in the quickly depleting and dreary daylight. He pulled Sakura's shirt downwards, covering her lower back before turning his head to look outside.

Akamaru, once again, sat with, what Kiba would call, an evil grin on his face. But it was quickly replaced with a slightly worried expression.

"Someone's coming."

Wow... I just realized that this is like, the only chapter I've ever EVER not had a break in... excluding the one after the chapter name and before this note :P And, can I just say... although, I think I might have said it once before... FINDING A WORD OTHER THAN SMELL or SNIFF or SCENT or I'M OUT OF WORDS sucksssss... Also, I believe someone last chapter asked me for any fics I've read for KibaSaku, and, I actually can't suggest any. Not that I think there aren't any good ones out there (if you are writing one tell me :P I want to read it) but that I haven't found them; that's part of the whole reason I'm writing my own, cause I want some tasty KibaSaku, haha. Anyways, enjoy... and be surprised, haha, it didn't take me as long to write this one up as the last two... -coughjustonemonththistimehahasorrycough-