Warlord

A/N mizukiruhoh - I like Ibiki too, very much . . . but he seemed the best choice to challenge 'kashi's strength. I didn't originally plan for him to die (if it makes you feel better) but . . . things changed. I promise I'll be nice to him in my next fic!!


Chapter Nine

Iruka woke to an empty bed. He levered himself up on one elbow with a groan and looked around, spotting Genma lounging in a chair near the door. “Good morning.” the courier said cheerfully when he saw he was being watched, “I hope you’re feeling better, the commander’s gone to morning muster, he’ll be back soon.” He looked the slender man over before adding, “Do you need anything?”

“Water.” Iruka croaked hoarsely as he attempted to slide out of bed.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Genma intercepted him, ushering him neatly back in bed before handing him a cup.

“I have to stop him.” Iruka said desperately, “He’s going to ruin his life . . . he can’t punish those men for attacking a slave.”

“Well,” Genma said thoughtfully, “you may be a slave but you’re also a human being. You didn’t deserve what was done to you, and you couldn’t fight back. Trust the commander to make the right decision, he usually does. Now you,” he said as he carefully tucked the scribe back in, “are supposed to be resting. Can you eat something?”

“I can try.” Iruka said, dropping his head to stare silently at the covers while the courier heated some broth for him. He sipped at it listlessly, but finished before curling up on his side under the covers, finally falling into a restless sleep.

The warlord strode into the tent after muster, eyes blank and covered in blood. “Dismissed.” was the single word to the courier before he headed into the bath to clean up. Genma took no time vacating the premises, whatever had happened he didn’t want to be involved. Treason was dirty business and it had a way of rubbing off on people.

Kakashi sighed as he stripped off his soiled garments. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, he berated himself, now it will be much harder to figure out who’s really behind all this. He knew he had overreacted, but the thought of someone sneaking around and spying on him with his slave made his blood boil. He knew Ibiki wasn’t smart or well liked enough to swing a power shift on his own . . . someone was supporting him, whispering in his ear about how much more worthy he was. One of the noble families perhaps? It would make sense, they have lost power under my rule . . . now, how to find out which one dares to aspire to my position.

So lost in contemplation was he, that he didn’t hear the scribe entering the room behind him. “Master,” he began in a soft voice, placing a hand on the warlord’s shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts, “what did you do?”

Kakashi didn’t answer right away, when he did his voice was barely audible “I upheld my rule, I punished a traitor . . . I killed a man I thought I knew.” He looked the scribe in the eyes and said sadly “Have I disappointed you?”

“Master,” Iruka began slowly, “it’s not my place to judge you. You are a fair and wise man, a good ruler, much loved by your men. Why does the opinion of a slave matter?”

“I’ve said it before, you are not just my slave ‘ruka, you’re my companion. Your opinion is the only one that does matter. I trust you to tell me the truth, regardless of whether it angers me.” Here the warlord paused for a long moment before hesitantly continuing, “Do I need to free you to prove it? Will you stay with me if I do, or will you leave me like everyone else?”

“Master you need to relax.” Iruka said as he coaxed the taller man into the tub, reaching for a cloth to begin scrubbing off the blood.

“You didn’t answer my question ‘ruka. I need to know . . . would you stay with me?” He turned his mismatched gaze on the scribe, patiently waiting for his answer even as he feared that, at this moment, it might break him.

“The truth is . . . I don’t know. You are so good to me but, it’s been so long since I’ve been free, and would I be truly free if I stayed? I won’t lie to make you happy, I’m just not sure. I do know you’ve done more for me than anyone since my parents died. I enjoy being with you and I love it when I make you smile, you don’t smile enough.” The scribe smiled widely down at the warlord before bending to kiss the scar over his eye, stroking through ragged silver locks tenderly. “I’m here now, so just lean back and relax for me.”

Kakashi shook his head, “Not unless you get in with me, the soak will do you good.”

Iruka quickly stripped and climbed in, settling himself between long legs. He was wrapped in strong arms and pulled back to rest against a broad chest. The warlord nuzzled the dark satin locks, allowing himself to truly relax for the first time since he’d gotten word of the attack.

Iruka squirmed when he felt the warlord’s erection rubbing the cleft of his ass, making Kakashi moan and clutch him tighter. He squeaked in surprise when a strong hand wrapped around his erection and began to stroke him firmly, making him arch into the touch.

“Relax ‘ruka, let me make you feel good, let me watch your face while I pleasure you.” came the smooth sultry voice, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” The scribe moaned and squirmed, his head falling to rest on a strong shoulder, the husky whisper making him harden even more.

Soon the two were writhing together, Iruka’s movements driving the warlord mad, causing his throbbing erection to slide temptingly between firm bronze cheeks. Finally the scribe came with a strangled shriek, spilling his seed over the pale hand, his shudders of completion driving Kakashi to thrust hard against him several times before releasing with a roar, dropping his head to pant against the scribe’s bronze shoulder.

The two sat slumped in the now cooling water, too sated to even consider moving. Eventually though the warlord stood, scooping the smaller man up in his arms and striding to the bed, sliding him between the covers before turning to dress.

“Stay with me?” Iruka asked, pulling back the cover and patting the bed, much as the warlord had done to him their first night together.

“As much as I would love that,” Kakashi said with a small genuine smile, “I need to know what people are saying about this morning. But, don’t worry, I’ll post a guard outside, you can sleep in peace. I need you back on your feet.” he continued soberly, “I’ll be back for supper, rest now and heal.” He laid his hand against Iruka’s face for a moment before turning and heading out.

The scribe lay quietly for a long time, pondering what Kakashi had said earlier. Although he hadn’t admitted it, Iruka was afraid it was already too late for him to consider leaving the warlord, no matter how wrong such thoughts were. He had to hope that his answer would prevent him from being freed . . . the commander might not see the problems inherent in what he wished for, but the slave did. Even free their relationship would always have started like this, and would never be accepted.

The warlord headed for Raidou’s tent, he needed to know how his punishment had been accepted by the men, and he counted on his general to have the information. “Rai, are you here?” he called as he stepped into the tent. He stopped to consider the sight that met his eyes. His courier, Genma, was bent over the table, naked from the waist down, with the general pounding into him.

Raidou looked up at the call of his name and met the eyes of the man who had first caught his interest. Their gazes locked and he came hard, biting his lip to keep from screaming the commander’s name. “When you have a chance, Rai.” Kakashi said before turning and striding out.

The general ran a hand over his face, and shook his head. It seems he was fated to continually embarrass himself in front of the warlord. He petted the smooth back in front of him absently as he pulled out. “Sorry about that,” he whispered “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He pressed a rough kiss to the nape of Genma’s neck before yanking up his pants and heading outside, hoping against hope Kakashi would let what he’d just seen lie and concentrate on more pressing matters, but being practical and steeling himself for yet another awkward conversation.