Found You

A/N: AT LAST! It’s bothered me that I don’t play Kakashi in a lot of the Yahoo rp realm, and yet this story had pretty much revolved around his interpretation of everything going by. I think this chapter, I’ll crawl around in Sasuke’s head for a little while. I also noticed that Naruto is practically the only person to ever think back on Haku, even though Sasuke was affected just as severely. So, there’ll be some tribute thinking.

Originally, I had it that Sasuke went on like, a 1000 word soliloquy about Itachi and his role as the Avenger. However, at this point in the story I concluded that it was too early, and not nearly the direction I wanted to go just yet. I’ll save it for like, one of their resting chapters.

Blisblop: I explained it for NSU already, back when the Kakashi x Iruka chapters took place. It’s not supposed to fit, or be perfect at all. In fact, it was very destructive for their ‘relationship’. You have to understand, Kakashi really does have a self-mutilating personality. He even confessed that, back at the Hokage’s funeral – an event that I will be covering along the canon timeline.

It’s why we love him. Hatake!Angst is one of a kind. And how do you know it’s not really in-character? We have very little insight on the moments Kakashi is allowed to be with himself. And everyone through the series has made a vague mention that no one really knows anything about him.

XD You weren’t on crack when you wrote this review too were you?

/Blisblop

CELEBRATING 3000 hits~! Enjoy the citrus.

Lemon: More masturbating. But now there are two new people that have become infatuated by our little Uchiha-bastard. Some Itachi/Sasuke shounen-ai, if you read in to it hard enough. WARNING: explicit mention of foreskin – because there’s just not enough of it in a world of fangirlish ideals.
Spoilers: For those watching the dub – YES.
Quota: No longer in effect – but feel free to tell me how great I am.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the foreskin of any Uchiha. It’s just my plaything. Kishimoto-sensei owns that. The lucky fuck.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Desperate

Sasuke could feel his heel connect with the shinobi’s jaw, sending him and that dorky straw hat flying in to the dirt.

Then, so casually he released a hnph as hands settled in his pockets. “Don’t bother me with this kind of crap. I’m taking the exam.” That was the end of it. The sun went down, feigning to be uninterested in the goings on of the ninja world in the trees. It’s only tradition was to follow the heels of the walking and urge the birds to croon and settle for the evening.

Iruka in his guise swiped blood off his chin, behind the Henge at nothing but a loss. It was disappointing to find out that his students had indeed grown so much. Enough that he couldn’t land a hit on any of them.

As their teacher, it was easy for him to say that he cared about all his students. But aside a once-a-month bowl of ramen with Konoha’s Kyuubi-super-ball, he could not account for any sincere attempt at checking up on his students once they left his classroom.

All of them – even Chouji, and Ino, had become… respectable members of ninja society. It wasn’t fair to call them mere genin.

And it had taken less than four minutes for Shikamaru to confront him with his identity and telling him everything he had been planning to do before teamwork trounced him.

Of anything, that had been one of the most frustrating. Now, having tried to spare Team Seven for last and perhaps spare the four of them some humility, he was left staring at the fan sigil on the Top Rookie’s back.

It was going to be embarrassing, telling Kakashi that he was right.

For a while after the jutsu dispelled he sat there, bringing a hand up regularly to swipe at the agonizing cut in his cheek.

That boy… really didn’t care if he hurt anyone. Anyone who got in his way.

He was already something close to chuunin material.

And Naruto’s tactics had improved so much. As a prankster, he had evolved his troublesome skills in to something that came in so much handy.

But they still had a very real chance of dying. Anyone who went there did…

Solemnly he faded on to the rooftop, meeting the jounin at their designated point. He knew he was a bit late, but he had needed a few moments to himself, and it had made the sun go down.

“So, how did they do?”

He had already reported to the other two jounin that had submitted their candidates, and now he felt… stupid. Coffee eyes drifted to the tiles of the roof. “All nine rookies passed…”

“Then I guess I can go home, now. Early day and all that.” To add to the skit, Kakashi threw his arms up over his head and roared out a yawn.

From the street he had seen the Uchiha taking, he wasn’t going back to his district.

Kakashi had a long night ahead of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A long night and an unreal sight, he discovered when he closed the door behind him. Down the hall he could hear the rustle of plastic, and the fridge door opening.

And there was… a smell, in his house.

It didn’t smell like anything that should be in this place.

With a sniff, he confirmed it. It smelled edible.

In all his ninja stealthiness Kakashi made his way to the entrance of the kitchen and peeked in.

Scurrying about his kitchen was a five-foot, sapphire-crested menace moving groceries to different places, and pots on the stove.

…Kakashi didn’t remember owning any pots.

Then again, with how rarely he actually cooked…

Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he cooked.

“You really like acting like you own the place don’t you?” With the flat-browed look he gave the boy who didn’t even give him a glance, he didn’t sound very amused.

Sasuke only hoisted up a bag of vegetables and took it with him to the sink.

It had never crossed the man’s mind that Sasuke… knew how to cook. Sure, he knew the boy fended for himself; but it was never something he had actually sat down and thought about.

Now that he knew, he felt bad for not exploiting that sooner. Fingers drummed on the threshold, almost waiting for permission to come in.

It might have been an old habit from the days his mother would thwap him or his father with a wooden spoon if they set foot on her battleground while she was waging war. If it had ever happened.

That brat. And here he had treated them to ramen so many times when the boy was no doubt the last resource of some forbidden, super-tasty Uchiha recipe.

Maybe this was a thank-you dinner?

A sweatdrop trickled down his temple when he spotted the large knife in his student’s grasp.

Unable to take being ignored any longer he slid up behind the tiny chef, tilting his head observe the way…

…Sasuke washed a zucchini. Turning it over in his expert hands and making sure it was positively clean.

Just before taking the knife from the bottom of the sink and whittling in to it, long slivers of green flesh falling in to the disposal.

“Don’t stand over my shoulder. It’s annoying.”

Easily the jounin took the demand and stepped back, holding a hand over his masked nose.

And keeping it pinched shut as he looked around.

“What’s with all this?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking after the exam.”

“You could always get take-out,” the older man offered as he slid to the pots, observing a tastefully white slop in one of them and udon steaming in an iced bowl nearby.

He didn’t get in to how Sasuke was treating this like their genin exam. It was natural for him to compare what he didn’t know to something he did. A napkin was claimed from the countertop, dabbing at his mask and inspecting it to find no blood. Not yet, anyway.

“They make it too bitter.”

“You don’t like bitter white stuff…? I always thought it was kind of sweet…” For security he kept the napkin shoved under his nose.

“I don’t like sweets, either.”

There wasn’t a doubt in his perverse, silver head that they were having two completely different conversations. “Is that so…” That didn’t keep him from picturing the way an Uchiha!Neko would lap cream out of his hands if he bent him over the counter and—

Damn. Couldn’t he come up with his own ideas? Not that it was such a bad one… He simply came to a very desperate conclusion, staring out to nothing over the working boy’s head.

“…I need a shower.”

Sasuke only grunted at the annoyance of being told about every little thing his teacher bothered to tell him, the beautifully vicious knife in his grasp making quick work of some celery and potatoes.

This time, Kakashi stopped in the foyer long enough to get out of his shoes. He was on auto-pilot all the way to the bathroom, progressively stripping and leaving a trail of green and blue until his toes curled on the shabby little rug. Hands planted on the sink, keeping him upright as he wheezed through the mask chafing his face.

This had to stop.

He was growing inured to this wanting. He’d like to think so, anyway. Looking at himself, in the mirror, he was seriously contemplating the engagement of some kind of relationship with his student...

They already had a relationship! As a teacher, it was Kakashi’s job to keep his pupils safe. Even if their greatest threat was him.

…If Sasuke became a chuunin, as unlikely as it would be to do so on his first try, then at the very least they wouldn’t have every mission together. So… he had done himself a favor, letting them take the exam! Yeah…

…Did Sasuke even have his Sharingan yet? It hadn’t occurred to him lately to ask. A sweatdrop, head falling. He must be… a really bad teacher.

Maybe it was like puberty, and one just kind of grew in to it, until it ‘went off’ one morning in the shower. His head fell.

A really bad teacher. Through berating himself and hating himself and trying to turn the Uchiha back in to something untouchable and innocent, he was still less than presentable.

Now he was questioning his own opinion of the younger shinobi. Was he really so innocent? Unable to be touched? Oblivious, even, to know what effect he had on a grown man when they were in the same bed?

Sasuke must still be suffering from his big brother complex. That brat. How attached did a boy like him have to be to a guy like Itachi that he had not outgrown clinging to someone like that?

…Picturing what kind of brother the guy must have been did not improve his mood.

Now he was just mocking his student’s ambitions. Not that he really approved of revenge as a reason to stay as spoiled in his superiority as the Uchiha seemed to be.

Oh, God. When he stepped in to the tub he flashed the temperature knob to the coldest before pulling it on, banishing his thoughts under the freezing water.

It was going to be a long night. Apparently he could be turned on by thinking about anything involving the vengeful heir.

He could add disabusing young Uchihas to his list of kinks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sasuke continued to dwell downstairs, arms folded as he leaned his back to the doorjamb leading to the kitchen. It gave him the chance to both keep an eye on his food and a lookout of the second floor. That guy was strange, from the first day he had met him. But it seemed since then, progressively, Kakashi had gotten stranger.

Every time he did something of his own accord and conclusively spontaneous, outside of the range of an Avenger’s capabilities, Kakashi always did something like this. Vanished from him and needed a private moment to collect himself. It was kind of upsetting, that he could do hardly anything in this apartment without triggering that reaction.

And at the same time, he was confident with himself for having some kind of control over the jounin, even if he didn’t know why it happened.

With a smirk the boy stalked back in to the kitchen when he heard the bathroom door open.

“You know, fixing dinner on the third date is the sign of something serious,” the jounin drawled as he continued to towel through his hair.

Besides that bright yellow thing eating his head he was in another set of navy pajamas, his scarred lid and bandaged forehead out of sight under its fluff.

When the genin didn’t respond he stopped moving his hands around, watching as the boy took an oversized bowl with him to the living room.

“Stop saying stupid things like that.”

Kakashi deadpanned, somehow depressed. “You’re using my kitchen, my shower, and my bed and you still think you don’t live here?”

The Uchiha only took a forkful of his spaghetti concoction, giving it a cooling puff. “I said so, didn’t I?”

Arms crossed as he leaned himself in the doorway, watching the way the other nibbled at his dinner. It wasn’t like back in the Wave when he had inhaled it, competing with Naruto.

He could only guess that giant bowl wasn’t going to be shared, if there was only one fork.

“Then maybe you should go home tonight.”

Unwilling to sacrifice his appetite just to argue with the man he made sure to finish what was in his mouth, readying another roll of his noodles. “Your place is closer. I don’t want to be late.”

“There’s still two days,” he pointed out, voice grating with the first signs of irritation at the boy’s refusal to just go. He didn’t need to be tempted all night again.

“And your place is still closer to the training fields, the supply stores, and—“

“—Sasuke.” Kakashi cut him off, walking in to the living room. “Finish that, and go home. You’re being inconvenient.”

His silver brow twitched at hearing the arrogance lacing the younger voice. “Am I really?”

“You are,” he found himself huffing with the weight of aggravation.

Sasuke placed the fork in to his meal to free both of his hands. Knowingly, he meshed them and rested his lower face behind his knuckles. “You had plans tonight?”

It had completely slipped his mind that the boy had seen what he and Iruka had been up to. How suspicious it had to look, trying to kick his student out of his apartment when they had nothing but free time until the exam ended. Forfeiting the conversation, Kakashi gave a sigh and sat himself at the table. He folded his arms on it and staring over to the Uchiha that had such an intent look on him.

And a glint of victory somewhere in his serious, demanding little glare. Victory, and offense.

“Yare yare, it’s not like that…”

“So, is Iruka-sensei your girlfriend or something?”

Kakashi inflated with nervous laughter as he scratched at a cheek itching from the rash of blushing he contracted. “Now, now, I said it’s not like that! Not at all!”

Clicking his tongue, Sasuke hands pulled apart and he took another bite of his noodles.

“…Besides. We’re not really seeing each other anymore, so…” Disclosing his lack of a romantic life to a boy he had some inclination to be romantic with. How depressing.

In hanging his own head he was unaware of how pink the other’s ears turned at hearing that.

“That dead-last didn’t pass because you guys were…”

“No! Aha, haha, hm!! No! What a serious question, Sasuke-kun! Come on, just enjoy your dinner!” Peeking his eye open, he waited until the boy had a mouthful of his food before adding calmly, “…No, actually he brought over some leftovers and we kinda took it from there. So you can see the similarities!!”

And, as he predicted, the Uchiha spat out his food, shrieking, “Don’t tell me about stuff like that!”

Kakashi smiled with pure amusement while his company fumed and continued to take down his meal. “Well you asked…”

Snorting, the boy was reduced to ignoring him so he could eat.

Assuring him he wouldn’t say anything further obscene, the older man got up and made his way to the kitchen, investigating what all the other had brought. He returned to the table with a pair of juice cans, setting one down for the Uchiha that interrupted himself to pop it open and take a sip.

“…I’m not your girlfriend.” He just thought he should make that clear.

Kakashi mused over how insecure the boy was over it all through a mouthful of pear juice, smiling with his crinkled eye at him. “Of course.”

Neither sounded like they were really buying it, but while Sasuke tried to get another bite of his food down the jounin only rested his cheek in a hand and watched.

The younger boy grimaced as Kakashi thought out loud to the ceiling, scratching his masked cheek. “After all, girlfriends sleep in the same bed, use the same shower, eat dinner together…” And before the boy could stumble in to the one-way conversation with pure rage, a cute pink heart popped when his pale eye crinkled shut in smiling. “And give lots of kisses, saying ‘I love you’ all the time.”

His eye fell open with a critical evaluation of the boy. Sasuke had gone silent over his noodles, numbly eating through a thick cape of his own hair obscuring his features. All the man really knew was that the food had to be going somewhere. And he had to be really enjoying it to eat it so fast. …Or really desperate to not have the chance of saying anything.

“…I guess that’s just not your thing, though.”

This was a one-sided conversation. To the extreme.

Slightly irritated, the jounin gave a sigh and let his gaze wander back to the kitchen. “But, you know… If you’re serious about reviving your clan, you’ll need a wife. And wives usually start off as girlfriends… Unless you don’t mind arranged marriages I suppose…?” The idea that his top rookie would go off and wed a girl – a girl like Sakura – really depressed him.

“…You talk too much,” the smaller grumbled out. He was exhausted from all of the blood rushing in to his face.

Sasuke had to be the only creature he had ever met that could say the likes of him talked too much. The idea made his eyelid heavy, even more at a loss than when he had started.

“Maybe,” he agreed quietly, disappointed that he didn’t have the same brilliantly stupid knack of riling the Uchiha as Naruto.

Then again, it could be for the best. With no dinner rolls nearby the only things left in the boy’s immediate range was his fork, and the bowl. He really didn’t want to be pelted by either right now.

A brief time later, after Sasuke had washed the dishes and finished another can of juice, Kakashi found himself staring at the fan blazoned on the boy’s back while the genin put on his shoes.

“I was kidding, about you going home tonight. It’s kind of late anyway…” His weight fell against the stairwell, arms folded across his chest.

Sasuke only tapped his heels on the floor to make sure the sandals were snug before he rose to his feet. “Whatever.”

This had to be the most irksome thing with his student. Unless he wanted you to get close, it was always a learning process of one step forward, two steps back. Here, a couple months ago, the angsting urchin was making every excuse to wheedle in to his apartment. Now, for the life of him, he didn’t want to stay.

Kakashi could blame only himself, for that.

Somewhere deep down, he wondered if the boy had caught on to all his distress as of late.

Or maybe his spying on what happened back with Iruka had gotten to him at last.

That in itself made his expression turn grave as Sasuke pulled the door open. Before he could help himself he was staring down at the mildly shocked pair of black eyes that turned up to him in the wake of a much longer arm stretched over his head and imprisoning him by forcing the door shut. His scriptless pale blue eye drifted from one inky reflection of himself to the other as he struggled for an excuse.

“…Sasuke…” If he could just keep his attention, for a little while, he could think of something. Yeah. He wasn’t this village’s number one strategist because he could blank-out over what could be absolutely nothing.

Nails grated the door when he was only met with an impatient scowl.

The genin blinked when a hand flattened atop his silky crest, falling from the door in to his hair. “...That attitude isn’t going to help you, during the exam.” Kakashi’s insides tingled with his own words, about ready to puke a colorful spectrum of butterflies as he forced a smile in to his eye.

It was easier to smile than to brace himself against whatever expression the Uchiha bestowed on him before his hair evaporated from long fingers and the door once again creaked open.

Kakashi closed up behind him, sighing as his headband thumped the door. “So stupid…” he sighed bitterly. The rest of his apartment silently agreed. With a deep breath he pulled off the door, confirming the sound of a lock in the turn of his wrist and then lead himself up the stairs.

With how dirty he felt, it wouldn’t matter if he showered.

And he had been in dire need of a good reason to wash the aroma of floral green, honeysuckle, and lemon out of his sheets. It had been there for a while, now.

Sandals shuffled along the packed earth road as he made his way up the gradual slope that lead past stores long since closed for the night and towards his home district. Not so much home, as where he chose to retire. Easily, Sasuke could have rented an apartment or purchased a building that could take him away from the lingering specters that roamed under the banners and littering artifacts of his clansake. Been taken in by some family that could bring him to adulthood in love and trust and rainbows.

If he had been forced to stay with some family, he just might’ve killed himself.

Deep down, he was ashamed by the entire village’s stupidity. The most humiliating part was that the Hokage had only corrected the shinobi-class. To this day, the civilians, and even his nitwit peers were convinced on rumors and notions, self-conclusions from how little evidence they had.

Kakashi, though… Hands found their way in to his pockets as he brooded. Streetlamps flickered to life and gave him the only company of his own shadow. Even then, it was bound to the soles of his feet. Otherwise, it too might have run away from detecting his thoughts. Crickets in the niches of the village laid pestilence to his processes, daring him to come after them in hunting for his own quiet piece of mind.

That man was always strange, Sasuke knew. Still, he could not reason away their peculiar goodbye on that alone. There had been… something, in that eye of his. Usually it was something he could identify with. A loneliness and perpetual sense of abandon, reckless from both others and their own generated towards others. He was convinced that, sometimes, Kakashi was the only one that had the vaguest clue of what went through his head.

He was also convinced that there was no way he could identify with that look that had fallen over him as he had wanted to leave.

A hand surfaced from its pocket to knead away the sensation of calloused fingers that had crossed through his hair on his way out.

And tickled all the unholy hell out of his ear.

His insides still prickled and were giddy from the sensation as he slid the front door open and made his way to the inner stoop. Now with his sandals removed he was free to stalk his way along the outer pathways of the house, debating whether he wanted to shower and rest up, or wear himself to the bone at the family training grounds first.

Even now he could feel the chakra that must have been lacing the man’s fingers, matching the hum of that had gone by his ear in their passing.

It was not as if he would be able to fall asleep soon, anyway.

First things first, a shower was definitely in order. Shadows clung to him as he made his way through the unlit hallways and headed towards the back of the convoluted house, a manor amidst shacks and common-wall duplexes with tiny, cramped living rooms and dingy kitchens. And ‘scarecrow’ wall scrolls in the bathroom with flea shampoo next to the q-tips.

And tiny, manilla lily pad rugs on cheap linoleum floors.

In this place it was difficult to find the will to arouse himself and easy away the foreign jitter in his nerves. Besides. If he had time for that, he had time to train. Train, and be prepared for the potential to face that guy they had crossed earlier in the day.

The short one. With the bright red hair. “Sabaku no… Gaara,” drifted from him as he trooped his way up the stairs. It was possible, that the exams were a multi-village event.

He should have asked Kakashi about the kids from the Sand when he had owned the chance. Or at least, about the exams. He was confident that he would pass. But he was not very fond of surprises. Itachi was two, nearly three years his junior when he had passed the exam on his first try.

Why not after he had graduated from the academy, though? Being registered so fresh after their graduation, Team Seven certainly had to be… below par, didn’t they? The thoughts stopped him at the entryway to his room, glancing over his shoulder to the barren one behind him. Lashes twitched around angry black disks as he continued in to his room and went to his drawers. Sunshine, strawberries, and olive green in a captured moment behind a glass screen watched him as he set his headband beside the picture frame, then scrounged for a pair of pajama pants and fresh shorts.

There were too many questions he had, and Kakashi was still refusing to cooperate for the answers. It infuriated him that there were people in this village that knew more about his brother’s past than he himself did. He, who had lived with the bastard and was the last person to see him in the village. Had Itachi been assigned to a three-man cel like himself? Who had been his instructor?

--What had he displayed during his own chuunin exam that had needed to wait three years? Sasuke had seen him practice, with his Sharingan. Practice, but never truly seen him in combat. Had never seen him use a single jutsu. None, even when Sasuke would plead and beg to be shown what his brother had learned on one of his far-away super-secret missions, something new captured by the Sharingan.

…Is that why he hadn’t taken the exam immediately? It made sense, that his brother may have actively chosen to not participate until he was sure he would pass. It wasn’t so much an ambition of his to bring pride to their father, so much as he may have been waiting for his Sharingan, and then after waiting for an inventory of abilities to fall in to his grasp.

Genin level missions could entertain such an ability only so long.

He understood that with an acutely painful acceptance.

So then, even Itachi had not left the village as little more than a genin. There would be nothing to compare their abilities if Sasuke tried to find him, now, at the level he was.

The youngest Uchiha sat himself on the edge of the bed, staring over to the stupid faces in their mandatory photograph as his selected nightclothes sat in his lap under limp hands.

This exam would allow him to see if he was anything close to that. If he was any closer to killing that man.

If he left too soon, as much as he wanted to, he would merely run in to more people like those two from the Mist. It was bad enough he was shamed by the other boy’s conceit, that he had enough power to spare in which he could make the world only think Sasuke was dead. He knew his brother would not be nearly so considerate.

I will fight for my dreams. And you will fight for yours. Please, bear me no ill will.

That was a real shinobi, and still, he had pitied their little genin team. Itachi was not a person to think on such lines. Things still didn’t add up about that night. But right now was not the time to dwell on it. If he did, he would be up most of the night and still have made no progress. Even worse, he would throw his body out of whack for the exam.

Thinking was the last thing he needed to be doing. But he was too tired to sleep. He didn’t feel soiled enough to shower, and he had already eaten tonight. Angry, confused, and most of all at a loss of what to do with himself, he fell back on the bed and splayed himself out and glared up to the ceiling light.

He pulled a hand in and rested it on the flat of his stomach. Well, there was one thing… But ever since he had gotten a view in to their teacher’s private life, he had refrained from it.

Before then, he had induced climax as a way to clear his mind and tire himself enough to sleep when he didn’t have time for hours at the grounds. Often, he pulled at himself in anger and worked viciously in order to blot his mind of everything but the sensation.

It had been a flawless routine, even if he had needed to enact it several times on rare occasions. Now, after witnessing the fornication of two grown men…

He was torn between thinking less of his teacher, for the man taking out his own aggressions on someone other than himself… Or wondering if he had been gravely mistaken.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~

As his mind wandered the hazy line between those thoughts, his fingers made lazy circles that briefly engraved the threading of his shirt in to the smooth plains around his naval. It wasn’t something he personally identified with as pleasure. More, for him, it was an escape. One that had conveniently dropped in on him months after he had been left the sole inheritor of his new, expansive, isolation.

After training his muscles would be too rigid, and it was one of the only ways he could force them to unwind. It was either that or hire a private masseuse. The idea of someone touching his back while it was exposed to them was unbearable.

And yet, he had let Kakashi do that with ease. In clear memory he recited the gestures the jounin always passed on his skin when he thought the boy was asleep. It tickled, the way the fine hairs on his belly were stirred or the way fingers tracked his ribcage. More than that though, it felt inviting to the rest of him. Those touches weren’t any form of hostility.

Fingers tapped the brim of his shorts as his eyes narrowed on the dead ceiling light. So, if those gestures had not been made in some sort of guile, had Sasuke been misusing them all of this time? Making it out like that, he might never be able to use those motions for his own necessity again. Eyes fell shut as he reproduced the way foreign fingers would drift under his shirt, tracing the bottom most part of his breastbone, or settle there on top of his shirt, right over his heartbeat and pull him closer.

It wasn’t any different than some of the times Itachi would hold him in bed. Yet more evidence against the idea those gestures were made on him kindly. It wasn’t the same though. Angrily he tossed on to his side.

He wasn’t going to think about Itachi for one night in the last four years. Certainly he could do that. Sasuke could immerse himself in the way warmth had always consumed his back and sheltered it. The way fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled and made him shiver whenever a stray breath washed across them. He sent a hand to the protruding bone of his hip, digging the flesh of his thumb in to it for that inviting way his groin stirred.

His ears warmed as his spine chilled. It would be much easier to imagine someone else’s heat on his backside if he were in the shower. He bit his lip to hold down a sickeningly delighted moan, at the idea Kakashi could have drawn the same conclusion. Heat rang in his ears and flared in his cheekbones as he considered it. Fevered eyes stared out to the nothing of his darkened room, feeling the need to interrupt it all just to kick himself.

I need a shower. …Even before then. When he had been manhandled in the covers. Kakashi locked his bathroom door before the genin could even ask what was wrong.

Rough pads of his digits kneaded in to his waking arousal as he buried his face in to the blanket. No wonder he was always running off…

The man was never ignoring him. In the shower, he was doing something like this. Though, undeniably, with far less on. Panting in to the thin bed sheets, he fumbled to pop the button of his shorts and gain a bit of freedom for his movements. With a whole new vastness for his hand to move he could secure it firmly around himself, growling at the fact it wasn’t going by fast enough. His hand’s heightened pulse was irradiating in to his length, a knuckle of his forefinger and the breadth of his thumb pursing around his hood. Bitterly he chewed the inside of his lip, pulling his hand out of his briefs to pull them from his hips and collect his breath.

It had gotten hotter in his room since the last time he had breathed out of his covers, gasping and welcoming the humidity in the night air on his exposed need. Almost like someone else, the breeze drifting through his curtains found something new to flirt with and made his breath ragged as it sighed a hello upon him.

Uchiha Sasuke didn’t need anyone else. In a bout of selfish preservation he rolled on to his side, letting the night have his back. Taking himself in hand, his eyes closed tightly from the sensation of cool slick peeling back from his sensitized head, only wet enough to seal against himself.

Sometimes, if he thought far enough in advance he could bring the lotion from his bathroom. But other times, just like this, he started slow and collected every bit of moisture he could manage. The first times, there had been so much friction from his rush that he was tender for days on end.

Now, the way his flesh argued with him he had developed a tolerance; it wasn’t the same kind of pain as being punched. This one burned in his lungs and made him groan, huddling in to his own grip as it fluctuated. When he squeezed at his bruise-colored tip, his root screamed and he was reduced to acknowledging it or suffering more than in the delicious way he was invoking. Each time his gut was a tide, teetering in to his swelling sack, and swiftly retracting back in to his Coils only to tumble again. What shreds of his coherence were left devoted to the reminder that he couldn’t risk scalding himself just before the exam. So every time his tendons curled and delivered a sharp pleasure up his bowed spine he sobbed.

The restraint was thwarting him. Release would not bestow itself upon him so long as his mind sailed through warm static that prickled from the back of his eyelids to the bottom of his spine. So long as it he was stuck in the now of his lacking fruition, he couldn’t get there. And he had already promised he would not delve in to his usual, dark corners where his brother’s eyes still watched him in menace.

His growl was furious when he purged his hand, trembling from the fatigue all down his arm and the numbness in his sticky fingers. Grudgingly he wiped them on the shorts riding his thighs, scowling with wet-angry eyes. For a while he simply lay there, jaw gnashing in the fury of not reaching completion.

There had to be an easier way to do this…

He was desperate.