The Trick Is Not Minding

Chapter One

It was an average day at the mission desk, boring and frustrating by turns. Iruka bowed his head and rubbed his temples, coupled with a long day full of hyperactive pre-genin trying to decipher the chicken scratch most jounin (and jounin wanna-be’s) tried to pass off as mission reports was making his head throb. He understood the rigors of field work, really he did, he reminded himself for the hundredth time as he stared at the example before him - scorched, sodden and scrawled in what looked suspiciously like blood. He sighed again, then looked up when he heard the room grow silent. It was then he was reminded of why he kept this job. Striding across the room was one of Konoha’s finest, and fiercest, soldiers. Genin at 5, chuunin at 6, jounin at 13, 15 years as an ANBU captain, sharingan wielder, master of a thousand jutsu, the infamous copy-nin, Hatake Kakashi. This man was the epitome of shinobi, a swift and deadly shadow who appeared to exist merely to fulfill the needs of their village.

Iruka sighed again. He wondered for the thousandth time what it was about the elusive copy-nin that captivated him so completely. Apart from a few soft-spoken words passed across the mission desk the man was a total mystery. He couldn’t even really say he knew what the jounin looked like - body completely concealed by his uniform, hands covered with protective gloves, a mask over most of his face and the infamous sharingan eye hidden behind his hitai-ate . . . all Iruka could really tell was that he had silver hair and one solemn, steely, grey eye. A solemn steely grey eye that Iruka suddenly noticed was only inches away and studying him quizzically.

“. . . right, Iruka-sensei?”

Iruka then realized that the object of his long-time crush was actually speaking to him, and he had no idea what had just been said. “Excuse me?” He replied, trying, and failing, to keep the violent blush from searing across his cheeks.

“I asked if the report was alright, but now I feel like I should ask if you are alright sensei. It’s not like you to daydream on duty, and you are very red, are you ill?” Iruka shivered under the jounin’s fierce study, and lost himself yet again in the depths of that single compelling eye. “ . . . ka-sensei?”

“Gomen nasai Hatake-sama, I’m just a little tired, it’s been a long day. The report is fine, thank you for your hard work.” Iruka forced out as he lost another battle to a fierce round of blushes as his mind vigorously supplied him with thoughts of that soft whiskey voice calling his name in the throes of passion. By the time he jerked himself from his reverie yet again the jounin had vanished in a swirl of leaves.

Iruka slumped back to the desk in frustration. Oh that was just brilliant. He mentally berated himself. Now he thinks I’m spacey . . . and possibly even contagious. He shook his head to clear it of that depressing train of thought. I don’t know why I even bother, it’s not like he’d notice a desk-jockey chuunin like me . . . not to mention he’s straight, argggg! Iruka’s thoughts continued to tumble futilely along the same track of regret and self-deprecation.

“. . . Iruka-kun, what ya thinking about?” Yet again he was jolted from his thoughts by a concerned voice. Turning his head to the right he saw Genma peering at him closely, “I said, what are you thinking about Iruka?” the senbon-sucking shinobi queried. Iruka turned an even darker shade of red when he remembered what he had been thinking about - long pale limbs, soft silver hair and a low husky voice growling his name. “No... nothing Shiranui-san, nothing at all.” He managed to stammer out his denial even while his face threatened to combust under the amount of blushing embarrassment he was experiencing.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me Iruka-kun.” Genma replied, “I’d say you seem awfully heated over nothing . . . or should I say no one?” The tokubetsu jounin smirked as the chuunin turned an impossibly bright shade of red as he fought to maintain his composure. “Anything I can help you with sensei? I’m sure I could make you forget your troubling thoughts.” Genma smirked, then realized the chuunin had gone from embarrassed blushing to white knuckled fury.

“Shiranui-san, I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t speak to me so familiarly. And no, I’m certain there’s nothing you can do to help me.” As if, his inner voice echoed, there’s no way he could ever measure up to Kakashi, so strong, so confident, so . . .perfect. Once again Iruka was swept away by his thoughts as his subconscious continued to list all the ways Kakashi was perfect, in the process once again completely shutting out his curious coworker.

Thus the evening slowly passed, and finally his shift ended. Iruka gathered his papers and stuffed them in his bag, then blushed brightly once again when he realized that his daydreams had left him with a very noticeable ‘problem’. Clutching his bag awkwardly in front of his groin he opted for speed and quickly made the hand signs to jutsu himself straight to his apartment.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get anything done while he was in this state, Iruka huffed softly. Giving in to the inevitable he quickly stripped and headed to the bathroom, deciding he might as well take a cold shower so he could get on with dinner and grading. Glancing in the mirror, Iruka surveyed his reflection critically. His hair was looking a bit limp, he might as well wash it now. That decided he adjusted the temperature of the shower to pleasantly warm instead and stepped inside.

The tired chuunin almost moaned out loud when he stepped into the shower. The warmth instantly relaxing his neck and shoulder muscles and allowing the tension to seep out of his frame. As he began to massage shampoo into his long chestnut locks, his thoughts drifted back to the copy-nin, and he pictured long pale fingers taking the place of his own, gently scratching and massaging his scalp.

As he slipped further into his daydream he could almost hear that soft husky voice whispering in his ear “So hot, touch yourself, show me how much you want me to take you.” Iruka bit back a whimper, one soap slicked hand stroking his rock hard need, thumb sweeping over the slit, slicking it with his pearly precum. At the same time he gently circled his entrance with a bold finger, softly probing and swirling before finally slipping inside, stroking and massaging sensitive tissue. “Careful sensei,” the voice in his head continued “I don’t want you to come until I give you permission.” Iruka whimpered a bit louder and added a second finger, followed quickly by a third. “Please, I need you, please.” he whispered, and pulled his fingers from his quivering passage. “As you wish.” his phantom lover replied as Iruka roughly slammed four fingers into himself, hitting his prostate dead on, causing him to moan loudly and precum to drip steadily from his now-neglected member. Faster and faster he slammed his fingers in and out, shaking with the waves of pleasure. Finally he wrapped his other hand around his straining erection and gave one firm stroke, slamming his fingers hard into his prostate at the same time. Stars exploded across his vision as he screamed a garbled “Kakashi” and streams of cum exploded out of him, spattering across his face and chest.

Slumping to the bottom of the shower Iruka panted, trying to catch his breath as water continued to stream over his crumpled form. The aftermath of his orgasm, as usual, a mixture of loneliness, sorrow and self-loathing. I need to stop fixating on someone who could never want me and get a life, he thought, although he knew that no one else could ever take the copy-nin’s place. He was the jounin - the strongest, fastest, fiercest warrior in the village - and having set his sights so high, Iruka couldn’t imagine ever letting any lesser being take him. And he did want to be taken, claimed, swept away by the force of another, dominated, desired, owned.

Forcing his thoughts back to the here and now, Iruka made quick work of cleaning himself up and soon was standing in his small kitchen, pondering his dinner choices. Not feeling up to the effort of cooking he glanced at the clock. Seeing that it was still relatively early he decided to just go to Ichiraku’s and grab some take-out ramen to eat while he finished his grading. That decided he toed on his sandals, pulled on his vest, grabbed his keys and headed out.