Blood Orange

A/N : There's gonna be a brief hiatus on this while I work on the prequel. Please sit tight. There might be some one-shots in between this, like YouXDeidara and or YouXNarutoXSasuke.

Rates and Reviews are almost as helpful as energy drinks, Monster and Full Throttle specifically, so if you'd send along some internet energy, that'd be nice.

Enjoy.


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You're not sure how long you lie there in a disheveled heap, sobbing into his lap. Sobbing like the pathetic creature that you've become. You've been reduced to seeking comfort from the primary reason you needed it.


If he'd never hurt you, you wouldn't have defected. Never been unceremoniously rescued by Jiraiya. Never have met Jiraiya. Or Naruto. Never would've fallen pregnant in the first place.


When it came down to it, Kakashi was the cause of your suffering, or at least that's what you wanted to think. But minutes turn to hours as your tears gradually stop and you dry your red-rimmed eyes. And when you look up at the only man in the entire village willing and able to comfort you, you realize you need him.


Be it guilt, familiarity, or a sense of duty, for whatever reason he chose to stay by you, you're eternally thankful.


Weary and giving fuck-all about your surroundings, you hardly notice as he slips his hands underneath the small of your back, and between your shoulder-blades and lifts you off the ground, holding you bridal style as he cautiously picks his way through the room and out into the cold, late winter air. It's enough to make your eyes water and your nose sting, and you bury your face into his jounin vest. Despite a severely muffled voice you manage to ask him where he's taking you.


He pauses for a moment.


“Home.”

It's awkward and hesitant, as if he tried to say one thing but stopped himself. Obviously, he didn't bring people back to his place frequently, and certainly never for indefinite periods of time.

But the thought is there. It's considerate, and he's trying his best to make you feel welcome. Not exactly the Kakashi you were used to. But god knows it's been a while since you'd seen each other, let alone spent any time together.


Or spent the night together.


Along with most of Konoha's architecture, his apartment complex had been rebuilt. There's no elevator, and the trip up five flights of stairs is uncomfortable to say the least, but it offers some sense of familiarity, it's the same floor and room number as his previous one, and sure enough, despite being an entirely rebuilt building, it was set up exactly the same as it was nearly ten years ago. A single bed, odd assortment of dead plants, a framed picture of team seven leaning against the window sill, along with a similar picture of him with Minato, Obito, and Rin. You smile inwardly.


It's a one-room apartment, and he takes to you the bed-mat and carefully attempts to detach you from his arms. It's only when he starts to get to his feet, you latch your hand out, as if on impulse, and grab his hand.


For tonight, just tonight, you needed him.


You wanted him.


“Don't.”


Veiled surprise shows in his visible eye. He doesn't resist your hold, or turn away, but a sigh escapes him. With his free hand he undoes his hitai-ate and lets it fall, revealing the deep red and black iris that you instinctually avoid staring into. He fixes you with an expression that despite your best efforts you can't decipher, before closing his eyes.


“Are you sure you're ready for this?” He asks, leveling his gaze with yours. “The last thing you need is more emotional baggage.”


You prepare to refute his statement, but you stop, putting far more thought into his question then you planned. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a small bookshelf, housing every single volume of Icha Icha, and you silently curse Kakashi for having such a vivid reminder so close. You swallow hard, feeling tears threatening at the corners of your eyes, but with every once of willpower you reel your emotions in.


You don't respond verbally, but reach out with your other hand, cupping his face and pulling it level with yours. You hesitate, and surprisingly feel your face heating up as you force yourself to look straight into his eyes.


There was pain. He wasn't hurting in the same way as you, or for the same reason, but the primal, primitive, human emotion was there. And that you shared.


That was enough.


You press your lips against his covered ones, experience telling you it was more than useless to convince him to take it off. He doesn't resist, but doesn't immediately react either, and for a moment you falter, relinquishing your grip on his arm and pulling away. Just as your about to resign yourself to another night alone, he wraps his arms around you, one hand on the small of your back, the other on the back of your head, pushing your lips back to his, and confusion turns to pure awe as you feel your lips making contact with not cloth, but bare skin.


His tongue pries at your lips, slipping between them as he leans in, pressing you back down onto the bed, now above you, and when he comes up for air, drawing in a sharp breath, you tentatively open your eyes.


And your heart stops dead in it's tracks.


The mask is off.


You want to focus on his face, his lips his nose, everything you'd been denied seeing for so long. You really did. But he wouldn't let you, nestling his face between your shoulder and collarbone he bites down gently, and ignoring your wanton protests begins dipping his hips into yours, coaxing your body into grinding against his, his hands firmly gripping your sides and pushing your body into the rhythm he's started.


Mind racing, still managing to come up with thousands of reasons not to do this, you utter a small cry when he pushes too hard against you, leg placed all too conveniently between your thighs, rubbing against your still clothed pussy. And even your small amounts of clothing begin to seem like far too much, and you struggle to undo your shirt while still grinding feverishly against his leg. He notices, and moves his hands farther down your waist, letting his thumbs catch on your shorts, tugging them down past your knees.


You notice he's still fully clothed, and decide it's not fair, and it's everything you can manage with your poor eyesight and the darkness for your hands to find the zipper for his vest, and pull his shirt up over his head. You stop at the pants, having considerable trouble undoing the snaps and zipper, but once you do, you slide them off his waist, freeing his erection.


He makes a noise through closed lips, probably in reaction to the sudden cold air, and on impulse you lower your head to his cock, ready to take it into your mouth, but he stops you, pulling you away and confusion turns to surprise as he maneuvers you onto your back, now above you, cock pressing in between your legs.


He's still for a moment, regarding you silently with mismatched eyes, and you hope to god he doesn't ask you if you're sure, or if you really wanted this, because in all honesty you didn't know, didn't want to think about it, just to act on it. You can see the wheels turning in his head, for once having absolutely no insight as to what he might be thinking.


He moves quickly, as if to capture you, as if he were afraid allowing you a second more to consider the situation might have you running away. His lips on yours again, a heavy, more demanding kiss, but also to stifle your cries as he pushes into you.


It's sudden, there's a brief flash of pain, and you jerk suddenly in reaction to it, gripping his shoulders painfully tight and digging your nails into his back. He feels it, and stops cold, allowing you to adjust to his size.


Surprisingly enough, he doesn't resume the pace like earlier. He's still, but lowers his head down to your chest, still inside you, taking a nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth, using his free hand to massage your other breast. You shut your eyes. Fuck it feels good, and a needy mewl escaping your lips tells him this as he slowly begins to move within you again, switching places with the other breast, and quick, light thrusts in time with his suckling drives you over the edge as your sight goes fuzzy and you feel your entire body ignite.


He comes up for air, balances on his knees and hands as he picks up his speed and changes pace, longer, deeper, slower, and when you buck you hips in time with his movements he audibly groans, a deep, guttural growl as he leans his head against yous, mouth finding your shoulder and biting down softly.

You let you hands travel down his back to his waist, aiding your movements and ultimately finding his rhythm against your own, dipping your hips in time with his, arching your back and pace turns faster, harder, his entire body stiffening, breaths short and harsh but he denies himself release until you find your own,


And you're close. Close. So close.


It just takes a moment for you to lock eyes with him, and the determination, the need so clearly conveyed is too much, ”Fuck” the heat pooling underneath your stomach bursts, sending electric pinpricks up and down your entire body, Oh god Kakashi. and you cry out his name breathlessly as you ride out your orgasm.


His breath hitches, and he grips you painfully hard as his hips jerk one last time and he comes hard, hissing your name through clenched teeth as he spills himself inside you.


It's quite, save your both your raspy breathing as you both lay there, clinging to strands of the afterglow as it quickly faded away, leaving only the inevitable awkwardness, and hopefully nothing else.


Hopefully not guilt.


As you lay there, side by side, both denying yourselves the physical embrace you desperately wanted, you feel sleep beginning to creep over you, and just as you close your eyes, you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning you to look at him, silver hair, sharingan, scars and all, and you suddenly feel a familiar pang in your chest, one that you hadn't felt for years. One that came with the knowledge that this was as close as your cold get, and that this man would never be yours.


“There's something I meant to give you, the day you left.” he begins, holding his gaze steady with yours as he shuffles in search of something. “I know now might not be the best time, but I'm not taking any chances. God knows I made enough mistakes back then.”


You feel the familiar ball forming in your throat, and you quietly try to swallow around it, blinking back frustrated tears.


The day you'd left, when you'd known for certain that he'd never feel the same, that you were just a petty replacement, someone for him to slake his guilt onto.


The memory was still fresh, the day you stormed out of this very apartment, crying, inconsolable, and handed in your ninja headband.


The day you realized you'd never replace Rin.


“I was going to give this to you, that night.” he pauses, procuring a small, lacquered box and pressing it into your hands, and fixes his eyes to yours, unblinking.


“It has the same meaning it did back then, and I'm asking the same question.”


Initial confusion turns to your mind all out blowing a fuse when you pry open the box to reveal a ring.


His much larger hand takes yours, holding as he looks you dead in the eyes.


“Don't leave this time.” he says exhaling sharply.


”Marry me.