D/s Naruto

Chapter 51 (Monday 18 June 2007, early A.M. hours)

Kakashi was happy. Iruka could tell. He could feel it through his feet without even looking down, could hear it in the sound of Kakashi’s lapping at the soup and wine. He gestured for Kakashi to put his head in his lap and asked him to try to speak. Kakashi’s voice came out a nearly silent rasp, and Iruka ordered him to get back under the table. He called over the waiter and asked for him to bring ice cream and ice water for Kakashi when he was done with the soup and wine. He ordered a coffee for himself. It was amazing how you could keep functioning with a broken heart.

For Iruka was devastated, falling into a crippling depression. He’d yelled at Sasuke just this afternoon for the same thing. He thought Sasuke was letting himself get too emotional over Naruto’s letting Lee blow him and the whole business with Itachi. And then he’d returned to find Sasuke sucking on Kakashi. Never, never had anyone ever sucked on anything of Kakashi’s but him since the moment he’d put that collar on Kakashi. And no one but Naruto had even touched an intimate part of Kakashi since then. That had been a mistake, a big mistake. Sure, when Naruto was living with them, it was ok to have the two of them touch each other. But to bring Naruto over and let him put his hand to Kakashi’s naked asscheeks—that was wrong of him.

Because surely that must be why Kakashi felt he could let Sasuke suck him—or so Iruka hoped. Because the alternative—that he just wanted to dom, to be sucked by someone younger, sexier than Iruka, was too horrible to endure. But that was likely the truth. He’d enjoyed it. In that brief second before the door opening had registered with him, Iruka had seen how much he was enjoying himself. Iruka almost never blew Kakashi—was that the problem? He didn’t let his slave get a little oral action? But if Kakashi was so bad, did it mean he didn’t want to be a slave anymore? Did he now want to be a master?

Iruka knew Kakashi loved him, but now he doubted that Kakashi really was capable of love like Iruka was. How could he love me, love me like I want to be loved, and do that? What an ass I was, telling Sasuke and Naruto to deal with it, to solve their problems! They are better off apart, better off never feeling this feeling. If Iruka had felt shocked and upset before they’d gone to Manda’s, now he was despondent and despairing.

What the hell was I thinking? I thought that maybe if I just had him experience lots of meaningless, degrading, maybe even painful oral sex with strangers, he wouldn’t want to have oral sex with anyone but me. He would regret it. He would be scared to do it again. But he loved that punishment. Yes, he struggled, but he loves sucking cock. Hell, sometimes I think he likes sucking cock more than being fucked. What the fuck was I thinking? He was rock hard the whole time. His mouth, his hands were all over those cocks. He’s happy. He might just do it again to get punished again. I’m not enough anymore.

And I can’t live with this. I can’t forget his cock in Sasuke’s mouth. And that mouth and hands of his—god when he kisses my foot now, I want to pull it away. I never felt that way before. The thought of kissing his lips makes me feel sick. I don’t want to be his dom now, tonight. I just want to be alone. And I can’t. I’m as much a slave as he. This is worse than being married. You can’t get a divorce. There’s no divorce in the D/s scene. Neither of us can move on, both of us are stuck with each other. How can I dom him, be his master? I want to hurt him, really hurt him, because I’m hurt, and that’s evil and wrong. I can’t punish him till I don’t feel this way. And how can I have sex with him or order him around knowing he wants other men to suck him, that I’m not enough? How can I pretend? I’m responsible; I’m supposed to care. I have to make all sorts of decisions—where he is to sleep, what he is to sleep in—and all I want to do is throw him out or run away myself.

But there’s no running away—I can’t afford it, and there’s nothing to run to. I work a job I sometimes like, but so often is just an agonizing, painful thing. The kids hate me, hate school, hate learning. The administration just wants me to pass them and keep them and the parents happy. No one cares about really teaching them but me. And the thing that keeps me going when I despair about my job, the thing that keeps me sacrificing for it, is knowing I can go home to Kakashi who appreciates, who loves all I teach him. He listens, he obeys, he wants me to teach him, to guide him, to discipline him. But I don’t believe that anymore. Is he dreaming of Sasuke sucking him, of fucking Sasuke, of Sasuke serving him?

And how do I leave him? We own a condo together. He can ruin me easily. I’d lose my job and everything. He can afford lawyers, a new home, whatever, and I can’t. He could easily kill me anyway; he’s stronger than me and deadly. He’s already killed someone. Maybe he just can’t really love. Maybe he’s one of those sociopaths. No, no, he isn’t, but still, what is he doing with me? He has money, looks, talent. Even if it came out he was gay and kinky, people would still come to him to learn judo. Maybe not as many, but a lot people wouldn’t care—they just want to learn and win. I’m nothing, I’m nobody.

Iruka nodded as the waiter took Kakashi’s empty soup plate and wine bowl and served him the ice cream and ice water. Kakashi kissed his feet, and Iruka bit his lip not to shout out, “Get those fucking filthy lips off of my foot.” His hand came up, and he felt the slight bump of the faint scar that ran across his nose. It wasn’t very visible, but you could feel it under your fingers. He had a habit of stroking it when he was worried. For just a moment, he wished the accident that had given him the scar had been worse, that he had died. God, the very thing he had been so enraged at Sasuke for feeling, and now he was wishing it himself. What a hypocrite I am, thought Iruka, and a tear slid out of his eye.

There were two men at the bar and two other couples in the dining room. Iruka struggled not to make any noise, to stop the tears from running down his face. Just this morning he had been so happy, so incredibly happy. And now, now, why couldn’t he just drop dead? No, that’s pathetic, immature, stupid. It would make things worse. I have to be adult. I have to just accept that life isn’t perfect. That there is no perfect love. That I have more than most people. That love, that feeling of complete love and trust, doesn’t last. And then life goes on. I’m going to just pretend my heart isn’t broken. I’ll go through the motions, and eventually it won’t hurt any more. Or he’ll leave me. Or I won’t care as much. Or I’ll forget it. The tears were now running down his cheeks steadily, heavily. But Iruka didn’t make a sound, just sat there, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.

The waiter panicked. He’d never seen a dom, especially a dom like Iruka (what a show of dominance he’d put on yesterday night!) cry. He didn’t know what to do. He went out to the front desk. Genma had decided to work the night shift. He wanted to be there when Raidou left Room 1, just in case he fell apart. He would be sick with worry and not sleep if he went home anyway, so he might as well just stay and work. It was a good thing, too, since neither Kisame or Itachi had shown their faces. Genma listened to the waiter’s story and agreed this wasn’t good. He ordered the younger man to stay at the front desk and beg anyone who came in to wait a moment, then notify him.

He went into the dining room. Kakashi was oblivious under the table, licking up the last bit of his ice cream, looking positively joyous. And Iruka was dripping tears and looking like he was ready to slit his wrists. What the hell had happened? Yesterday they were the perfect couple, the envy of everyone. Genma went up to the table and just put his hand on Iruka’s shoulder. Frighteningly, Iruka turned and looked up at him and lost it. He started to sob loudly and put his arms around Genma’s waist and clung to him. Kakashi immediately responded, crawling out from under that table. He tried to comfort Iruka, grabbing his legs, hugging them, trying to talk although nothing audible or comprehensible came out of his mouth.

Everything seemed to slow down for Genma. He could feel Iruka loosening his hold on him, see him trying to push away Kakashi. He saw Kakashi go from sub to something else; he watched and didn’t seem able to stop as Kakashi jerked Iruka into his arms, struggling. And then Kakashi was restraining Iruka, still struggling, still sobbing. Genma’s cinnamon stick flew out of his mouth and hit the floor. He started to raise his hand to grab Iruka, and Kakashi’s arm swung. He leaped back, and the hand smashed into Iruka’s chair and split the wooden bar of the chair back neatly like some martial arts video. Fuck! That wasn’t judo, and Kakashi was focused on holding Iruka, not even trying to break the chair. He put up his arms, indicating he wouldn’t interfere, and Kakashi manhandled a now incoherently screaming and sobbing Iruka who was punching and slapping at him. The tall blonde in the yukata, finally, thank god, went through the front doors and the sounds dimmed. Oh, fuck! Genma raced for the doors himself. This was so exactly the wrong thing for Uchiha’s—two men fighting and screaming on a quiet Sunday night. But when he reached the outside, he could see them heading into the parking garage, and the noises Iruka was making weren’t loud. Kakashi must be muffling him or have somehow gagged him. Christ, I’m going to have to call Itachi and Kisame.


Kakashi’s world had fallen apart. He’d thought he’d pleased his master, had endured his punishment. Master was being kind, loving—and now he hated him. Sasuke had been right—Iruka wanted to kill him. And Kakashi saw years of love vanishing in front of his eyes, and his fighting instinct took over. He had to get Iruka home, home where he could explain. But how? He couldn’t talk! But he couldn’t let Iruka leave him, distance himself, cry like that. But now, now, they’d actually fought—if it could be called a fight when Iruka punched and struggled, and he just carried him off, in a sort of moving pin that his master couldn’t escape from. Of course he could hold Iruka, restrain Iruka against his will—that was pretty much what he did for a living, not to mention he was taller, bigger, faster, fitter.

But how to get this struggling mass of crying brunette home? He tore a sleeve off the thin cotton yukata and gagged Iruka. There was pair of handcuffs in the glove box, and the other sleeve secured his ankles together. Jesus God, he could seriously get arrested for this. He put Iruka in the back seat and used the bungee cords in the car to secure him to the underside of the car seats. That would have to do; it wasn’t a long trip to their apartment.

Oh, god, he’d really, really, really fucked up. He could end up in jail tomorrow night. What the fuck had he been thinking? He had been thinking Sasuke sucking cock would calm down Sasuke and put Naruto in his place. He’d been feeling so sure Iruka loved him, was so happy with him, he thought he could just let someone suck his cock for a bit and be forgiven. After all, he wasn’t going to come. And it was for Naruto, Iruka’s beloved Naruto who was allowed to spank him. He had been being Kakashi the judo master, not Kakashi the slave. After all subs cuddled and kissed and touched—but he wasn’t a sub, he was a slave. And they did that with permission. Now, he’d done so much that was completely unforgivable, what could be done? No slave kidnaps and ties up his master. Oh god, I love Iruka, love him so much, and now I’ve made him hate me and think I’m a psychopath. What have I done?

But events just seemed to be out of control. He couldn’t let Iruka go—he had to hold him until he could talk again, so he could explain or try to. Once he made Iruka listen, then, then he would let him go, let himself be arrested, his career ruined if that was what Iruka wanted. Yea, I’ll be the murdering, kidnapping, gay pervert rapist judo master. Yea, just who I want to train my kids. But fuck, it didn’t matter. What was the point of living if he didn’t have Iruka? He could work at a car wash, work security, whatever.

Oh god, here we are. Now, to get us up to our apartment—I’ll have to put him in a light chokehold and undo his legs, forcing him to walk to the elevator or stairwell. Or should I just risk it and haul him in there as is? But Kakashi had to do neither. When he went to undo the bungee cords, Iruka had managed to pull out the gag and said in a calm voice, “I’ll walk to the apartment. There’s no need to be violent, Kakashi.”

Dear god, what does this calmness, this coldness mean? Is it a trick? Is his spirit broken? Is he going to be reasonable? And he called me Kakashi—not what you call a slave. Is he throwing me away?

With a mind full of frantic thoughts like that, Kakashi helped Iruka out of the car and untied his legs. The handcuffs—hell, their neighbors expected that sort of thing from them. And then amazingly, surprisingly they were home. Home. Kakashi out of habit pulled off his yukata, but he didn’t kneel, didn’t submit. He wanted to be in a position to catch Iruka if he fled or started to hurt either one of them. He put his hand on Iruka’s neck and steered him into the living room, where there was a desk with pens and paper. He sat down and pulled Iruka on to his lap, reaching around him to start writing on the paper:

I’m sorry. I love you. I don’t want to suck or be sucked by anyone but you. Please forgive me.

But Iruka just said in a voice full of pain and resignation, full of heartbreak, “You liked it. You think you love me, but you like it. You know you did. I’m a failure as a master. I’m not enough. You’re ready to be a dom now, Kakashi. You’ve acted like a dom with everyone but me, and now I’m no different from anybody."

Kakashi didn’t know what to write since some of what Iruka said was true, so he just stuck with what he knew. He wrote:

I love you. I can’t live without you. Please, I need you. Please, don’t be sad. If we love each other, can’t we work it out?

But Iruka just said, “It’s over, Kakashi. Yes, I love you; I’ll always love you. But I can’t be your master anymore. You don’t respect me, how can you? You can easily tie me up, control me, you proved that tonight. You do what you want. You let who you want suck you. There’s no way I could ever trust you, believe you would submit or want to submit.”

Kakashi wrote down:

But I’ve always been able to physically control you, and it doesn’t matter. D/s isn’t about who is physically strong. I choose to give up control to you because I love you, because it excites me, it’s how I get sexual pleasure. The pleasure from Sasuke wasn’t from him but from the thought of you punishing me. I was greedy. I was being bad because I thought you would know I love you, and I don’t give a fuck about Sasuke.

But Iruka just started crying. Kakashi pulled him closer into a hug, trying to kiss him, his hands soothing over his body. Iruka’s tears just seemed to come harder, faster. Kakashi picked him up and carried him into their bedroom. He set him on the bed, removed the handcuffs, and undressed him. Then he did all the things that Iruka did for him when he was overwhelmed, when he “crashed.” He ran Iruka a bath, washed him like a baby, washed his hair, brushing his teeth. Iruka's tears gradually stilled, but he was just limp, lifeless. Kakashi tucked him in bed and then went and washed himself, brushed his teeth. He went and made them both cocoa. He found Iruka crying again in the bed. He set the cocoa down and pulled him into his arms, cuddling him. When that didn’t help, he tried kissing him, licking at his tears. Then he went for Iruka’s soft cock, licking at it, sucking. His mouth was tired from all the oral sex, but it didn’t matter. This was for Iruka.

Iruka stopped crying and just lay there silent on his back in the semi-dark of the bedroom. Kakashi kept at it, and Iruka’s cock stiffened in his mouth. But then Iruka was pulling at his hair, saying, “No, I don’t want to be just one more tonight. I don’t want you to hurt your mouth more. If you want sex, just take it. I don’t care. Go ahead, fuck me or ride me or jerk me off, whatever you want. You’re the one in charge.”

For a second, Kakashi pictured himself slapping Iruka. Did Iruka really think this sullen, insulting apathy was submission? His tears were better than his indifference. But Kakashi knew that Iruka was goading him. `We love each other, we love each other,’ he mentally reminded himself. He remembered how giving, how loving, how amazingly Iruka had made love to him yesterday night. Well, he could do the same, only he couldn’t say the words.

Kakashi felt himself calming. Iruka and he were in bed; Iruka wasn’t crying and through some miracle actually had an erection. Even after feeling so hurt because of his stupidity, he still wanted him. All of a sudden, it hit him: he could do whatever he wanted to Iruka, anything. He hadn’t had this sort of sexual freedom in well over a decade, and when he’d had it, he kept flashing back to Rin’s rape. He was free, free to love Iruka anyway he wanted. He’d realized that nothing he could do physically to Iruka would ever hurt as much as an emotional betrayal. All his years of being afraid to let go in the bedroom, afraid he’d either rape or kill like what had happened with Rin, all that seemed sort of silly now.

He didn’t have to be afraid of himself. He could submit, but not because it was the only way he thought he could have sex. He could dom, too, and not lose it. He would prove it, well, not really prove it since he couldn’t give any orders. But he would control this, he would decide what happened sexually. He would make sure Iruka was aroused, was pleased, was satisfied. This might very well be the most important night of his life—he could lose the love of his life or win him back. He could shape the future of their relationship. It would change, but maybe he could coax Iruka into seeing that a little change might make them even a stronger couple, a couple that wasn’t afraid to switch roles. Iruka didn’t want to dom tonight, couldn’t dom tonight. But he didn’t have to because Kakashi could take care of them both tonight. And that didn’t mean Iruka couldn’t dom again. They couldn’t have had some of the best sex of their lives this weekend and lose that—no way. Surely, he could be tempted to dom again if they could just get over this, this “Sasuke-gate” disaster!

He got up and turned on one of the lights. He wanted to see Iruka, see what he was going to do to him, see what he was making him feel. He was so used to having to not look Iruka in the eye like a good slave, to just feast his eyes on him was a treat. And what a gorgeous, adorable thing Iruka was, like a giant piece of chocolate, his chocolate, all for him. His soft brown eyes, his long eyelashes, his soft brown hair, that faint scar on his face. Those lips, those lips he didn’t get to feast on, to lick, to study. He just held Iruka in his arms and let him see him looking, enjoying his masculine beauty. His nipples, pink against all that warm brown, erect for him. His cock, hard just for Kakashi. He was starting to blush in his arms. How fragile, how sweet, his Iruka looked right now. Oh, he had to taste. And Kakashi licked Iruka’s flushed cheeks, tracing his cheekbones, taking away every trace of a tear. He licked that scar, that adorable scar. Then those soft lips. Ah! To kiss, to lick, to delve, to suck, to master the kiss, to feel Iruka responding under his kiss, his tongue. Kakashi felt all the excitement he felt in a judo match surging up in him.

Oh, they were already at the ground phase of this match, and he was winning. His tongue went lower, tasting those nipples, those innocent, unpierced nipples. Virgin nipples, thought Kakashi with a grin even as he realized that made no sense. But Iruka’s nipples hadn’t been clamped, bit, pierced, tormented. Ah, but they should be. As he licked and nipped, Iruka moaned and twitched in his arms. His baby, his love was getting horny, getting needy from getting his nipples teased. Kakashi bit harder and pinched more sharply, and Iruka’s back arched and he cried out for the first time, “Ahhhhh!” And Kakashi felt like he scored now in this match, at least a koka, perhaps even a yuko. In his mind a scream of pleasure would score him a waza-ari while incoherent begging and cries would be the win, the ippon.

He let his tongue start moving down Iruka’s body while his hands kept playing with Iruka’s nipples. But no, no oral sex as that would bring bad memories. Here, here along this hip, he would set a hickey, his mark. And he drew another cry from Iruka. Now, now, the inner thighs—oh, oh, Iruka liked that. He was squirming a bit, mewling, so ready to slide over the edge, so ready to let passion take him.

Kakashi suddenly flipped Iruka over on to his stomach, liking his little shocked cry. He pulled out the lube and dribbled it on Iruka’s shoulders, spine, lower back, and ass crack. Each splatter produced a little shifting, a little sound. He straddled Iruka and began to rub his shoulders, massaging them, but soon lowered his mouth, biting and kissing. He massaged, rubbing the lube over Iruka’s skin, getting his hands wet. He let his hands trail down Iruka’s back, but stop above his ass. He want to see Iruka push that ass in the air, offer it to him. He kissed his way down Iruka’s spine, rubbed his legs, kissed and teased the back of his knees. He worshipped Iruka’s back and legs, ignoring his ass. Then he finally let one hand trail down on a buttcheek, and Iruka moaned loudly and pushed up just a little into his hand. He raised his hand and brought it down on Iruka’s ass in a loud, sharp slap.

Iruka screamed a short little scream of surprise with just a note of pain in it, and his head and shoulders rose up from the bed a little. Kakashi’s hand returned to Iruka’s ass, but now Iruka whimpered and shook under it, not sure if he was going to feel pleasure or pain. The red print of Kakashi’s hand fascinated him, and he brought his hand down again on the other cheek. Then he rubbed the lube into each handprint. Iruka was now whimpering and moaning. Time to get serious. He lay down beside him, kissing and licking at his ear and let his fingers trail down the crack of Iruka’s ass. His love flinched and whimpered. His index finger found Iruka’s anus, that little starburst and began to push in.

To his surprise, Iruka bucked up, pushing his ass onto his finger, crying out, “Ohhhhhhh!” He pushed in and out for a while, then added another finger, slowly fingering Iruka. The few times he’d been allowed to fuck Iruka, he not been able to take it slow, to tease, to set the pace. He circled his finger around, exploring. He moved back down, wanting to watch himself finger Iruka, to watch those fingers slide in and out. He lowered his mouth to Iruka’s ass and bit down, just as he forced a third finger in.

Iruka screamed and his back arched. Waza-ari! Now to make him incoherent, to spill out those words that lovers do, those little murmurs of oh god, oh yes, etc. That was what he wanted to hear. His finger explored and found that bundle of nerves, Iruka’s prostate, and he was rewarded with more cries. He worked the three fingers in and out. But by now, he was feeling needy, wanted to feel this tight, hot ass around his cock. He slicked himself and moved into position. Iruka tilted up his ass, helping him, and he smiled, feeling a rush of pride that he had turned him from tears to desire. He was careful as he pushed in the tip of his cock to make sure the ring passed in smoothly and didn’t hurt Iruka. Iruka usually ordered him to be fast, hard. Now, he would be slow, devastatingly slow.

He slid in, pausing, kissing Iruka’s back and neck. Ah, this way you could savour it, feel it everywhere on your cock, feel each wiggle, each tightening of the muscles. He coaxed Iruka up on to his hands and knees, letting his hands slid around and tug at Iruka’s nipples. And Iruka cried out, “Oh, god!” He pulled out slowly, letting his hands caress Iruka’s hips. Then he slammed forward hard, pulling those hips back. Iruka screamed out, “Yes, oh, god, yes!” And then he was all his, begging, pleading as Kakashi thrust in and out. Oh, he had to see Iruka’s face. He pulled out totally and flipped Iruka over, now sliding his arms under Iruka’s legs, pulling them apart, thrusting in and watching that adorable face. Iruka blushed bright red and threw one arm over his face, trying to hide it.

Kakashi pushed one leg up on his shoulder, freeing his arm to pull Iruka’s from his face, raising it to his mouth, kissing it, licking it. He mouthed, “I love you,” knowing even if he couldn’t make the sounds, Iruka would understand. And Iruka flushed even redder and looked like he wanted to cry. Kakashi pushed in, slowly, trying to show Iruka how sexy he found him, how beautiful, and how much he loved him. He thrust in as deep as he could and let his fingers find Iruka’s nipples and pinch. And Iruka spasmed and began to once more cry out. He had shut his eyes with those long eyelashes and was tossing his head back and forth. His body was exposed, his legs up over Kakashi’s shoulders, his erect cock and nipples there to watch, to tease.

Kakashi began to pick up the pace, wanting to see Iruka’s face contort, wanting to hear him cry out more, to see that body shake. Slam! Slam! Slam! “Yes! Oh, god! Fuck! Kakashi! Oh, god! Yes! Fuck me!” And Iruka, now shameless began to fist his cock and pinch his own nipple. The sight drove Kakashi mad, and he went faster, pushed harder. His athlete’s body that could push down and pin a larger man strained itself, trying to hold on just a little longer at this pace, at this edge. He reached down and squeezed hard around Iruka’s hand, and then, at last, Iruka came with a shout, and he could let his own orgasm take him even as he tried to memorize the look on Iruka’s face, that incredible look of pure ecstasy.

Oh, yes, that was an ippon, full point, match over, winner Kakashi. But Kakashi was used to advancing in competitions, fighting several matches a day. He would lick Iruka’s cum off his body, lick those sensitive nipples and suck on that cock a bit. And then he would start all over.

He was fighting for Iruka, for their love, for their relationship. This was no time to hold back anything.