Naruto One Shots

Cats and Dogs #5 (Kiba Inuzuka)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to tdmmt_r]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,684

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:
- I lean heavily into the racial divide between the Inuzuka Clan and the Izuno Clan this chapter so just a heads up on that
- Name Calling: Kitty, Puppy, Dog, Mutt, Cat
- Choking
- Kiba gets slapped
- Collar

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Kiba is huffy and flustered as he stumbles back into the room, eyes set on me. "Come here, Pretty Kitty," he mutters, quickly moving towards me. His hands settle under my arms, lifting me. "It'll be easier to care for you in my bathroom," he mumbles, settling my sore legs around his waist, and resting my arms on his shoulders.
The dog nuzzles up to me, rubbing his nose against my cheek as his hands rub up and down my back. "Pretty kitty. My pretty kitty. Mine, mine, mine," he mutters against me, helping the leftover buzz from our very lustful moments melt away.
"I'm not yours," I grumble, loosening my legs a bit.
"Of course, you are," he mutters, his hands sliding down to cup my thighs. "You're littered in me," Kiba says, shoving his nose into my neck to further his point. "Don't worry, I'll fix you up all nice," he tells me, gently setting me on the countertop.
Kisses are stamped across my neck, making the marks sting a bit before he pulls away from me. My eyes jump around after him, watching as he pulls out a cloth, a first aid kit, and then a bottle of liquid from under his sink. "You're so beautiful," he sighs, toying with my hair. He slides it backward, cupping the strands behind my ears, and carefully unsticking pieces from my neck before he pulls away. "A sexy Siamese."
I roll my eyes at him, a smile teasing the corner of my mouth. "Dumb dog," I mutter, watching him turn on the sink.
"Your dumb dog," he chuckles, a huge smile on his face as he soaks the cloth. I swear, if he had a tail it would be wagging right now. Kiba snaps the sink off, ringing the rag before he turns back towards me. "I've been thinking about what my mom said."
"Oh, great. The dumb mutt was thinking about his mom while he was balls deep," I grumble, trying to keep the smirk off my face.
"Not like that," he groans, his left hand resting against my neck lightly, thumb under my chin to tip it up. "I just meant I've been thinking about taking you... out to hang out for a while," he tells me, patting my neck with the cloth.
"How long is a while? Two minutes?"
"Since you strolled into the restaurant. It ticked me off to see Lee toying with your ears," Kiba mutters, his hand jumping up for a moment to tug on one of my ears. "You're too pretty for Lee."
"Lee is fine."
"No, he's not," Kiba grumbles, the soft smile on his face falling. He lets me go, leaving me long enough to soak the rag and ring it again. The dog settles down on his knees, snug between my thighs to pawing the rest of my wounds with the cloth. "Do you like Lee?"
"Is Lee cleaning up the bite wounds he left me?" Kiba stays silent, continuing to clean my wounds. Kisses are littered every few wipes, my little puppy slowly getting his groove back. "We've hung out most of the week though."
"I meant hanging out with you. Alone. Somewhere. Without... doing things like we just did," he yaps, springing up to his feet. His hands cling to the top of my legs, tipping me off to just how big they are. Kiba is a mangy mutt. "Maybe we could go for a walk in the woods," he recommends, smashing his lips against my shoulders before leaving his spot between my legs.
"That sounds exhausting," I groan, letting out a sigh as I watch him deck down again, pulling out a different rag, and repeating the steps from before. Once again, he settles between my thighs, a bit of space between us this time.
"Or we could go to the puppy barn again after everyone leaves. Go play and cuddle with them," he tries again, using the rag to clean himself out of me, more kisses being littered across the exposed parts of my chest.
"Or we could go play at the cat nursery in my clan territory."
Kiba's nose curls up at the idea, a huff being pushed out. "Ya, maybe not," he mutters, plopping the cloth on top of the other before settling pressed against me again. "Do I need to... you know... get you a... a - uh... no baby pill?"
That successfully tugs a smirk on my lips, a chuckle brewing in my throat. "No, I'm on birth control," I giggle out, enjoying the embarrassed look on his face.
"Good," he cheers, plopping a kiss on my forehead before tugging away again. Kiba stays secure between my legs, leaning over to snap open the medical kit. "We could go to the deck of one of the lakes. Bring a picnic with us."
"Are you trying to take me on a date?"
Kiba stays silent, tugging out a heap of cotton pads. "No," he whispers, snapping open the bottle he pulled out before coating the cotton pads with the liquid. "I just want to hang out. Alone," he adds, slowly patting at the bite marks again. This time he moves slower, being more precise as he cares for each wound.
     Having them recleaned stings a bit, adding to the heap of pain I'm in. Each wound gets its pad, gently cleaned, and drowned in kisses before Kiba shifts to the next one. "Promise not to throw me in the lake if I agree to your stupid picnic?"
His head shoots up, puppy-dog eyes blown out on his face as he looks at me with a weary smile. Once again, if he had a tail it would be wagging. "I promise," he answers, his smile growing the longer he looks at me.
"I'm free tomorrow after two," I mutter, tugging back when he tries to cover my cheeks in sloppy kisses. "I'm serious though. If you throw me in the lake I'm going to scratch your eyes out."
"I won't, and you already tried too," he chuckles, sinking again to pay attention to the war scene he painted my thighs into.
I glance over his face, claw marks littering his cheeks. Slowly, my eyes drop down, rolling over him. Long and deep red streaks, dotted in blood cover his chest, crisscrossing every which way. They look bad, so bad that I feel the sting of them just by looking at them. "Do you want me to clean you up too?" I murmur, reaching forward to tap my fingertips against his chest.
"No, I have it under control, baby," he mutters, snatching my hand. He presses a few kisses over my knuckles before setting it back down on his chest. I leave my hand resting against him, rolling over the new nickname as Kiba works away.
A couple more kisses are pressed into my thighs before they start crawling up the rest of me. They twirl up, rounding over my hips, making a twisting path up my stomach, climbing between my breasts, before settling in their usual territory of my neck.
The dog stays settled between my thighs again, rubbing himself against me as he starts cleaning the scratches across his face and decorating his chest. He nuzzles against my neck, dropping down to my shoulders to slide against me. "What in the world are you doing?"
"Trying to make you smell like me," he whispers, continuing to nuzzle any inch of skin he can get into contact with, barely paying attention to cleaning his wounds. "I want you to smell like me."
I roll my eyes at the dog, shrugging him off of me. "Clean yourself up first, then I'll let you do your weird rubbing thing."
"You're acting like you don't do it too. I've seen you rub up on your teammates," Kiba chuckles, pulling back just a bit so he can focus on himself again. Again, I roll my eyes at his comment but leave it hanging in the space.
     My eyes trail around, watching him repeat his steps, leaving the counter covered in bloody and soaked cotton pads. "Alright, baby," he calls when he's done, a hand jumping up to loosely cling to my throat. "This," he starts, lifting the half-full bottle of liquid he was using. "Is disinfectant. I'm going to send you home with the bottle."
     "Okay."
     "In the morning and every night clean your wounds and wipe them down with this. Before a mission, wrap your wounds. After a mission clean your wounds and wipe them down with the disinfectant."
     "Alright," I hum, shaking my head at the worry wort.
     "If they start bleeding again, clean them, and add pressure to them, then you should probably wrap them too. If the ones on your thighs sting from your clothes and from rubbing together you should also - "
     "Kiba," I interpret his rant, slinging my arms around his shoulders and tightening my legs on his hips. The dog settles down, eyes stuck on me as his hands drop down to my thighs, gently squeezing them. "I know how to take care of a wound. I'll be fine, Puppy Dog."
     Another tail wag moment. Kiba perks up, nose nuzzling mine as his free hand shifts up to bury into my hair. The hand around my throat tightens a bit, the dog drowning himself in me. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad hanging out with the dumb Mutt.
     Slowly, Kiba leans forward, adding pressure to my neck and sliding his hand further into my locks. "If I kiss you what would you do?" He whispers, stalling just a breath away from my lips.
     "Slap you, maybe," I whisper back, sliding my arms down so my hands can cling to his shoulders.
     "Worth it, maybe," he whispers back, closing the gap between us. His lips are surprisingly soft. They're salty from our sweat and a little tangy flavor left over from Kiba being buried between my thighs. His tongues me for a second, sliding over my bottom lip before he pulls back. When he starts pulling back, my hand shoots forward, smacking him upside the head. "Totally worth it," he chuckles, letting his head hang low, slobbering kisses across my shoulders.