Initiation

A/N: I took a little break from writing my multi-chapter works in progress to write this oneshot, because I wanted to see if I was capable of writing things that aren't full of doom and gloom and heavy-duty angst. I succeeded only partially, I think, because dark stuff managed to sneak its way in it too, but it's not as overwhelming as usual. I didn't expect that writing this oneshot would take this much time, but now that it's complete, I am glad that I wrote it. I hope you like it too.

INITIATION

Shikaku watched his son preen in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time with amused curiosity.

“If I didn’t know you better, son, I’d say that you’re actually worked up about going to that party.” He mused.

Shikamaru sent him a sour look over his shoulder:

“Asuma-sensei said that now that I have been promoted to a Jounin, I can attend the annual gathering too. This is the first time I am going, I do want to make a good impression, as troublesome as that is.” His son muttered with annoyance.

“Hmmm.” Shikaku made a noncommittal sound but chose not to comment further as he watched his son smooth over imaginary wrinkles over his indigo shirt and tug the hem over the dark dress pants.

“Maybe I should put on the uniform…”

“Why? They all know you’re a Jounin, Shikamaru. You’ve earned your rank, son, no need to remind them, believe me. And besides, you’re going to a party, not a combat mission.”

“How come you’re not coming?” the younger man grumbled.

“Because your mom would kill me if I come back drunk in the wee hours of the morning.” He explained breezily. ‘And because she knows very well what happens on all the parties that Jiraiya throws.’ He added mentally but refrained from saying so. Nothing wrong with his son having some fun, and besides, he was sure that Asuma would make sure he didn’t get himself into too much trouble. “Go on, now, have fun.”

Shikamaru sent him a dubious look but bowed and bid him goodbye, then headed out of the house.

“Ahh, youth.” Shikaku muttered.

Shikamaru wasn’t worked up about the party. No, really, he wasn’t. Or at least he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t. Still, he couldn’t help but feel at least a small flutter of trepidation and apprehension as he neared Jiraiya-sensei’s ancestral house. Despite the fact that he had earned his rank a few months ago, it had begun to sink in only recently that he was now part of what was considered the elite – those with great power and even greater responsibility. Ever since the failed mission of Sasuke’s retrieval more than six years ago he felt unworthy, constantly needing to prove himself to be equal to his peers, no longer a child but a grown warrior who could be relied upon to do his job. Funny that an invitation to a party, rather than an earning his rank, made him feel included in that special, elite caste of Konoha’s society.

When he reached Jiraiya’s estate it was already dark, but the full moon on the clear sky illuminated his path down his garden and to his front door. For the last time he checked if his clothes were in order, eyed the label on the bottle of sake he carried as a gift for the host and knocked on the door. He could feel music and voices drifting through the hard wood from the inside, only to become much louder when the door finally opened and a grinning Genma stood before him, dressed in knee-length wide bright green pants and a gaudy, flowery islander shirt, the damn toothpick sticking out from the corner of his generous mouth.

“Ah, Shikamaru-kun, come in, come in, we’ve just begun to gather.” And he grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him inside.

Jiraiya’s house was spacious decorated with a surprising amount of taste, considering the owner’s personality. Polished wooden floors, high ceilings, elegant draperies on the walls telling of epic battles – it flaunted old money and style in a way that the man himself had never even tried to do, at least not in Shikamaru’s presence.

When they finally entered one of the large rooms where the party hosted Shikamaru saw that some of the people had already arrived – Ibiki stood in a corner dressed in dour black pants and a grey sweater, the ever present bandanna hiding the hideous scars on his scalp. He was quietly nursing a cup of the darker, stronger alcohol imported from the far west, speaking with Neji of all people; Kurenai was sitting on a spacious sofa speaking to another female Jounin Shikamaru had only seen but had never spoken to; Akimichi Choza was, naturally, standing by the large table covered with various dishes, already chewing on a piece of grilled fish, laughing at whatever Inoichi was talking about. They all seemed relaxed, at peace, contentedly mingling together. He almost jumped when a strong hand slapped his back and he turned to meet Jiraiya-sama’s laughing dark eyes.

“Ah, Shikamaru-kun, welcome!”

He grabbed the bottle of sake from his hands and eyed the label, his grin getting even wider:

“I shouldn’t be surprised that someone as smart as you has such good taste. My thanks.”

He nodded a little stiffly and tried to fall back into his usual laid back personality:

“Thank you for inviting me, Jiraiya-sama.” He said casually, giving him a crooked little smile.

“Of course I would, Shikamaru-kun. You’re one of us now. Now, I suggest that you go over the food table and get something to eat before Choza shovels it all down that black hole he calls a mouth.” Jiraiya patted him again on the shoulder and wandered off to greet his next guest.

Shikamaru followed the advice and walked up to the table, greeting his father’s teammates and receiving their warm greeting in return, as well as their lamentation about the absence of his father, along with a few jokes about him being henpecked. He laughed uncomfortably at those and rubbed the back of his neck until they took pity on him and stopped, though their eyes twinkled in a decidedly good-natured but amused manner. He excused himself and grabbed his plate, walking up to one of the loveseats and after eyeing it for any suspicious white spots – considering Jiraiya’s reputation – he settled himself on it.

After a few minutes, he began to feel quite lonely – he knew all of these people, had worked with them on various missions, but they had always been his teachers and superiors – he couldn’t just walk up to them and start a conversation without feeling odd or as if he was intruding. The young man gave his plate a self-deprecating smile – who would’ve thought that Nara Shikamaru would be put in the role of a wall-flower.

“Ah, Asuma!”

He looked up to see Jiraiya greeting his Sensei and his eyes lit up with delight – finally someone to talk to. Of course, Asuma noticed him immediately and smiled at him, then slowly made his way to him. Shikamaru got up and bowed when his mentor finally reached him.

“Asuma-sensei.” He greeted, trying to sound unconcerned and nonchalant and certainly not to give away his relief that he was finally here. Of course, he had never been able to hide things from him, because his teacher’s lips were tugged in a warm smile.

“I see you’ve discovered the Newbie’s Seat.” He said and pointed to Shikamaru’s loveseat.

“Newbie’s Seat?”

“Well, yes. Seems like all the newly promoted ones always sit there, sweating in their starched clothes and wondering how to approach their former superiors.”

Shikamaru looked down at himself, then at the people across the room and finally at his Sensei, dressed in casual dark-blue jeans and tobacco green shirt, its first three buttons undone, partially revealing his muscled, hairy chest. He looked away, flushing.

“I do seem a bit overdressed.”

“Well, at least you’re nor in a black tie and suit, like I was.” Asuma told him.

He gawked for a second, then laughed, trying to imagine his Sensei dressed THAT formally.

“See? Nothing to worry about, believe me.”

“What about Kakashi-san? How was he dressed when he came?”

“Oh, he didn’t come the first few times. Thank goodness’ that Jiraiya-sama was a friend of his father’s and didn’t stop inviting him.”

“Ah.”

“And he’s fashionably late, as usual.” Asuma noted as he met Gai’s eyes from across the room. The man waved and moved towards them and Shikamaru absently noticed that he was still in his usual green jumpsuit.

“No Kakashi?” Asuma asked when the other joined them. Gai took a swig from his glass and shrugged.

“He promised he would come.”

“He’s done so before.”
“Ah, but he lost a competition, and that was the price. He’ll come.”

“What was the competition about?” Shikamaru asked curiously.

“Who’d spend most time in the Academy’s first floor latrine without feeling sick.” Gai deadpanned and both Shikamaru and Asuma went green. After a prank pulled by a certain member of the Akimichi clan, that latrine was no longer in use, but it kept overflowing, much to the horror of both students and staff. Cleaning it was a punishment only for the worst of the worst breakers of discipline. “I think that his sensitive nose didn’t do him much good this time.” The man added cheerfully. Shikamaru put away his plate and dutifully tried to forget that he was eating only until a few minutes ago.

“Ah, there he is.”

Indeed, there he was, casually strolling through the room as if he owned the place, still dressed in his uniform sans the vest, hands in his pockets, a bored look in his uncovered eye.

“Yo, Kakashi!” Gai beckoned him and the man turned to look at them slowly, then headed towards them, though he didn’t look too enthusiastic about it.

When he finally reached them, he greeted them with a sullen “Yo.” and lapsed into another bored silence while Gai and Asuma engaged in a fascinating discussion about the new treaty soon to be forged between Konoha and Iwa, finally ending decades of hostilities. Naruto was doing a good job as a Hokage.

Shikamaru listened to them for a few minutes until his eyes drifted away to Kakashi’s form – slender and wiry, sprawled next to them on the sofa, his single eye droopy with boredom. He spoke occasionally, mostly to express his approval of Naruto’s decisions but otherwise remained silent. If Shikamaru didn’t know better, he would’ve thought that the man was almost asleep. He was certain though that Kakashi was absolutely aware of everything that was being said and done around him, much like a slumbering wolf, ready to spring into action in a moment’s notice.

Kakashi met his curious gaze and held it, his eye still seemingly sleepy and disinterested. The younger man offered him a friendly smile and got no response in return.

“Well, I’ll go and say hi to Raido over there.” Suddenly Gai was saying and walking off and Shikamaru realized that he had been so fascinated with the other man that he had missed the end of the conversation.

“And I’ll go to get something else to drink.” Asuma added. “Do any of you want something?”

“No, Sensei, thank you.”

“Something strong.” Kakashi drawled and watched Asuma walked off.

Their gazes met again.

“So, for how long did you sit in the Newbie’s Chair?” he asked suddenly.

“Uh…” Shikamaru resisted the urge to squirm. “Until Asuma-sensei appeared.”

“Ahh.”

Shikamaru disliked being made fun of, even if the one doing it was technically his superior because of his longer experience as a Ninja.

“And you? Asuma-sensei said that you didn’t bother to turn up the first few years.”

“I wouldn’t have been allowed in anyway.” He waved vaguely towards the table. “Too much alcohol around what was considered an unstable minor.”

Of course, the other reason, the more important reason, had been that at the time he had been a total pariah in the village, despite his genius. The stain of his father’s transgression hadn’t been washed away yet in the eyes of his colleagues and he wouldn’t have been really all that welcome, Jounin rank or not. It had taken him many years to begin wearing that stain as a badge of honour. Of course, the young man sitting across him didn’t need to know that.

“Do you know why you’re here, Shikamaru-kun?” Kakashi asked mildly.

“Jiraiya-sama invited me.” Shikamaru answered a little defensively. Surely Kakashi wouldn’t dare to question openly his presence here?

“That’s not what I meant. I do apologize. What I meant is, do you know why Jiraiya throws this party twice a year?”

Shikamaru wondered if the popular opinion in the Village regarding the party would offend Kakashi and decided to take a risk:

“Because it’s a way to show the rest of the Ninja in the village who is at the top of the feeding chain?”

Kakashi actually laughed at that, bursting into a fit of giggles.

“It’s good that you’re so honest, Shikamaru-kun. It’s a flaw you should strive to preserve.”

Shikamaru frowned at him and wondered when Asuma would return with the drinks. He had always admired the Jounin across him for his abilities on the battlefield, but the man was socially constipated, or in other words, a complete jerk. Shikamaru noticed with disappointment that Genma had accosted his mentor and was animatedly talking to him.

“It seems you’ve made great efforts to preserve that flaw in yourself as well.” He fired back.

Kakashi didn’t get angry. He just smiled again:

“Don’t be offended, Shikamaru-kun. I’ve simply decided to tell you something that no one else here would, since they all seem to believe it’s a big, fat secret.”

Shikamaru cocked his head to one side.

“Tell me what exactly?”

“You see, Jiraiya organizes these parties and people come here” he gestured around the room “out of uniform, drinking, talking, they’ll be singing soon too, you should see Ibiki when he starts his striptease one of the tables…” he caught Shikamaru’s shocked look and coughed “Sorry, I am rambling. These people do all that I described, and more, because they want to feel normal.”

“Normal? What do you mean?”

Kakashi leaned towards him and spoke conspiratolly:

“You’ve just been promoted to Jounin, have you? Have they sent you on one of the Jounin-only missions yet? All by yourself?”

He shook his head. What did that have to do with everything?

“Ah. That makes sense.” Kakashi leaned a little further. “Up to now, you’ve led a team, fought valiantly Konoha’s enemies, retrieved stolen secrets, apprehended criminals, and generally speaking, you’ve been a Samurai in a shining armor.”

“I am hardly a Samurai, Kakashi-sensei.” Shikamaru told him indignantly.

“It’s just a phrase, Shikamaru-kun. What I meant to say is that up to now, you’ve been a warrior, as honorable and pure as you could manage to be, and in your case, I’d say that would be pretty much.”

Shikamaru wasn’t sure if he should take this as a compliment or an insult but didn’t have time to ponder on it because Kakashi pressed on.

“You see, there is one very major difference between Chuunin and Jounin, other than the level of skill and experience in some cases.” He leaned even further, his mouth against Shikamaru’s ear: “A Chuunin, Shikamaru-kun, is a warrior, as I already said. A Jounin, on the other hand, is a killer. A cold-blooded, ruthless mercenary. And these people come here twice a year in an attempt to wash the blood on their hands with alcohol and games. You’ll have your ghosts of slain innocents to haunt you by the time the next party comes, don’t worry.”

Shikamaru stared at him, speechless for a moment but quickly shaking off the shock of his words.

“And why do I have the feeling that you’ve already ingested quite a lot of alcohol before you even came here? Your breath certainly smells of it.”

“Mmm. I drink before coming here, that is, in the occasions when Gai manages to bully me into coming, to drown out the hypocrisy of it all.” Kakashi freely admitted.

Asuma chose that moment to return with a pair of glasses and handed one of them to Kakashi who thanked him politely and pulled down his mask to drink.

Shikamaru stared at him, a tiny childish part of him delighted to finally become privy to the secret of Kakashi’s face. The man, he decided, was pretty. He wasn’t fey the way Sasuke was or the way his brother had been, but he was still pretty. His skin was pale and smooth, almost lily white under the mask, unmarred other than the scar that peeked from under his hitai-ate. Straight nose, full lips, elegant chin, high cheekbones and a dreamy dark eye – it was all a very nice package.

Shikamaru rarely admired people that way because he was feeling far too lazy to make the effort to get laid most of the time. Asuma was an exception he didn’t really want to dwell on – he had admired his powerful, almost bear-like physique for months now in a way that was definitely inappropriate. He hadn’t expect that Kakashi, as different he was from Asuma, to cause a similar reaction.

His mentor was focused on the other Jounin as well, looking at his flushed cheeks with disapproval.

“You’ve had some before you even came here, didn’t you?” he asked, making an effort not to make it sound like an accusation.

“Mmm. I was just telling your former student here that I need it to be able to put up with this so-called party. You know me, Asuma, I am not one for social gatherings.”

Asuma eyed Shikamaru’s thoughtful expression and replied:

“Yes, I know you. Too well, I’m afraid.”

“If you say so.” He got up. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll go outside for a little while. I think I need a little fresh air.”

Asuma watched him go with a deepening frown. Finally he turned to Shikamaru and asked:

“What did he say to you to make you look like a deer in the headlights, Shikamaru?”

Hesitantly, he repeated Kakashi’s words and watched the frown deepen even further.

“I had hoped to have a similar if more tactful conversation with you later tonight. I am sorry that Kakashi got there first.”

Shikamaru shook his head.

“I am not a child anymore to be coddled and shielded, Sensei.” He reminded him. “I have been on missions with other Jounin, and I’ve seen the ugliest side of people. I am not afraid.”

“I know. But still… it wasn’t his place to talk to you about it. He’s not your teacher.” He cast another angry look in the direction where Kakashi went. “Anyway, I’ll deal with him later.” He turned back to Shikamaru: “Since he already spoke with you though, I’ll just add that since the first six months of your promotion are a trial period, you can request to be demoted back to a Chuunin should you so desire. There’s nothing shameful about it. I know your father wouldn’t mind either. Some people don’t even try for a Jounin, despite having the suitable qualifications – Iruka-san, for example.”

“I have never been one to back up from a challenge I thought I could win, Sensei.” He told him carefully. “And besides, now Naruto needs capable subordinates more than ever. We’re on the verge of a new era, Sensei. I have to help him lead us into it.” He reached and covered Asuma’s hand with his. “Iruka-sensei is very wise, because he knows what he wants, and knows his own heart enough to be aware that he could no longer work with children if he plunged himself in that world. That is how a well-oiled machine works, Sensei – there’s a place for everyone and everyone are in their place.”

“Well, if you decided to change your place you would still be free to do it, for the time being, at least.” Asuma told him and took his hand in his. Shikamaru couldn’t help but notice how large and warm they were, dwarfing his by far. Warmth spread up his arms and to his shoulders and he tried not to lean forward to soak more of it, more of the familiar feeling of safety that always washed over him when his Sensei was close.

No, it was certainly inappropriate to feel that way towards one’s teacher and mentor, but he couldn’t help it. Asuma-sensei had always been there for him, showing him the way, freely imparting knowledge and experience – and plenty of free lunches, much to Choji’s delight – and Shikamaru knew that his Sensei always had his back.

Asuma’s weapon-callused thumbs were caressing the sensitive skin of his hands, and each touch was electrifying. He took a deep breath and looked up, straight in warm mocha eyes. The music and conversations of the party gradually faded around him as they stared at each other. Shikamaru could hear his own breathing, deep and peaceful, even if his heart was hammering in his chest. He leaned forward, suddenly feeling ridiculously brave, his lips brushing against his, tasting his tobacco-scented breath when someone plopped himself so hard on the sofa that they almost fell over.

The noise, the voices, the music, the light, it all returned, immediately jarring his nerves. The moment was broken and Asuma was already pulling away when Shikamaru turned to see who dared to ruin his one chance to express his feelings for his Sensei, only to be given a drunken, happy smile by Genma. The older man wiggled his fingers at him in a greeting. Shikamaru wondered if it’d be considered a show of bad taste if he started a brawl in Jiraiya-sama’s house.

“I should go and make sure Kakashi doesn’t get so plastered that he’d suffocate on his own vomit in a few hours.” Asuma excused himself wand disappeared into the ever increasing crowd.

Shikamaru became witness of many things that night, things he had never thought he would see and things he never wished to see again. Indeed, after a drinking contest against Kurenai – which he lost – Ibiki got so drunk that he climbed on a table and made a passable – if swaying – attempt at seductive striptease. The image, Shikamaru was sure, would be burned at the back of his eyelids forever and he would be subjected to it every time he closed his eyes. That, of course, didn’t hold a candle to the level of wrongness of seeing and hearing Neji, of all people, singing a baudy little song about Sai and Danzo – a performance met with great amusement and approval other than from the aforementioned former Root member, who was looking at Neji with a disturbingly cheerful smile. In his case, Shikamaru knew, that facial expression was an indication that Sai was planning an especially twisted and sadistic revenge against the poor Hyuuga. They all remembered the time when he put live rats in Ino’s underwear bag for calling him Danzo’s little slut.

And although he was privately amused at the antics of his former superiors, he couldn’t help but wonder where Asuma-sensei had disappeared to after he went to search for Kakashi. Neither of them appeared again and he decided that if they didn’t come back in the next half an hour, he’d go looking for them.

Asuma scoured the whole garden of Jiraiya’s house before he concluded that Kakashi simply wasn’t there. That meant that he had either gone home or he was hiding in one of the many rooms the house possessed. He decided that the latter option was viable enough to warrant another search, so he went back inside.

Asuma quietly searched the house for his wayward colleague, grateful that it was still early enough for there to be very few people who had decided that they need a private backroom, so he didn’t have to get into too many embarrassing situations when he peeked in and found people in various states of inebriation and undress.

He found Kakashi in one of the guestrooms on the second floor, half lying on the large bed on his back, his feet still on the ground, absently looking at the ceiling. He raised his head and looked at Asuma when the other man slipped in the room.

“There you are.” Asuma said with slight annoyance. Sighing quietly, he walked up to him, then sat on the bed next to the Jounin, who turned to look at him without getting up.

“Worried about me, Asuma?”

“No. I told Shikamaru that I was worried about you and I would look for you, but that’s not why I am here. I know that you can take care of yourself, Kakashi, and that you have too much pride left to allow to drink yourself to death.”

Kakashi’s eye narrowed:

“I am not that drunk.”

“You’re drunk enough on encroach on other people’s territory.” Asuma pointed out.

“You’re talking about Shikamaru-kun?”

“Who else could I be talking about, Kakashi!” he snapped, temper bubbling over. “Your talk with him was completely inappropriate. It’s not your place to talk to him about this!”

Kakashi shrugged:

“It didn’t look like you were going to do it any time soon. He was promoted, what, two months ago?” Kakashi answered, looking completely unapologetic.

“I was looking for a suitable time to talk to him about it.” Asuma pointed out angrily. “And even if I chose to never talk about it, it still wouldn’t be your place to have such a conversation with him, especially in the way you did it.”

“I haven’t lied to him about anything.” Kakashi said, his own anger slowly rising.

“But you were deliberately nasty about it. What were you trying to achieve?”

Kakashi remained stubbornly silent, despite Asuma’s intense scrutiny. Suddenly, it dawned on the older man.

“You were trying to scare him into quitting, weren’t you? Just like you scare your Genin candidates. Team 7 was your one failure to do so, weren’t they?”

Kakashi’s anger dissipated. He looked sad, defeated.

“And look where it got them. Shikamaru-kun is a good boy, Asuma. And he’s doing excellent work as a Chuunin, both in the field and here in Konoha. There is no need for him to lose whatever innocence he has left, if he becomes like you and me.”

Asuma sighed and rubbed his forehead. He really needed a cigarette now, but Jiraiya would kill him if he smoked in the guestrooms. For a man so decadent, he was quite conservative when it came to his home. He lied back down on the bed next to Kakashi.

“It brought Naruto to the Hokage position, if you haven’t forgotten.” He pointed out and added. “You’re a good man too, Kakashi. I just wish sometimes that you chose a different way to show it.”

“You mean, not to act like an asshat?”

Asuma snickered and turned to look at him.

“You really must’ve hit the bottle before you came here to talk like that.”

Kakashi turned on his side to look at him too.

“I didn’t have that much.”

Suddenly, there was a graceful hand on Asuma’s knee, rubbing gentle circles around it.

“Well, you certainly seem to know what you want.”

The two of them weren’t lovers. At least, not in the conventional sense of the word. Few Jounin considered sexual partners with whom they relieved their tension during or after a mission to be their lovers, and Asuma and Kakashi were no different in that regard. Still, they certainly were friends, as much as Kakashi allowed anyone to become his friend, and Asuma felt a certain amount of affection for him, even if he didn’t love him like that.

Kakashi scooted closer to him, laying his head on his broad shoulder, his hand sliding up and kneading his inner thigh, slowly, gently, sensually. Asuma reached and carefully pulled down his mask to reveal the pretty face again, his callused thumb running over soft, warm lips. A tongue slid out and licked the pad of his thumb, hot and wet, and he shuddered. Kakashi kept caressing his thigh as he sucked his thumb into his mouth, a soft purr rumbling in his chest. Asuma’s other hand came to wrap itself around his shoulders and then up to caress soft silver hair.

“You make it really hard to stay angry at you for long.”

Kakashi’s hand finally slid high enough to cup his hardening organ through his jeans.

“I seem to make other things hard too.” He said and smiled at his own cheesy line.

He kissed him then, tasting the alcohol he had drank earlier, both at his home and at the party, aware that Kakashi could smell the tobacco on his breath. He knew that if the man wasn’t drunk and depressed, he would complain about his nasty habit, but now Kakashi just sucked in his tongue in his mouth, another purr rumbling in his chest. The hand on his crotch tightened almost painfully and Asuma growled in warning, his fingers tightening in Kakashi’s hair. He knew that the man liked rough, almost violent play, and although he had always been more the romantic type, he was willing to oblige him from time to time. Kakashi moaned happily in his mouth when he handled him roughly and sneaked his other hand around Asuma to try and unbutton his green shirt, sliding his fingers over his hairy chest, drawing his nails over the sensitive flesh, pinching and rolling his tawny nipples between his fingers. Yes, he was definitely in the mood for a rough ride tonight.

It occurred to Asuma that he might’ve spoken with Shikamaru the way he did not only because he was worried about the younger man – and he had no doubt that Kakashi was noble enough to be worried – but also because he had wanted to get Asuma angry enough, territorial enough to make him lose control. That thought gave him a pause and he relaxed the grip on Kakashi’s hair, turning it into a caress. Indulging his friend’s fantasies didn’t mean that he liked to be manipulated, or that he would allow Kakashi turn him into an instrument of his self-flaggelation whenever he pleased.

When he eased his pressure on the kiss and his touch became gentle, Kakashi said nothing but dragged his fingers over his chest again, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to cause enough discomfort to make him grab his wrists and keep him in place.

“Enough, Kakashi.” He told him and the Jounin pulled away from him unhappily. He looked down at Asuma for a moment, then pulled himself up and began to fix his disheveled clothes.

“I apologize if I imposed on you.” He said stiffly. Asuma reached and grabbed his wrist as he turned to go.

“You didn’t impose.” He tried to sound gentle. The hand in his remained stiff and unmoving. He pulled Kakashi towards himself and after a short resistance, the other Jounin allowed himself to be pulled down to sit in Asuma’s lap. Strong, capable hands back to run up and down his back, the way one soothes a skittish animal.

“What’s wrong, Kakashi?”

The other man frowned at him and said nothing for a while.

“What’s bothering you?” Asuma insisted.

Kakashi had an expressive face. It showed his every emotion – joy, anger, fear, worry, anxiety, annoyance – with utmost detail. In the society they lived in, that was a fatal flaw. His mask had been instrumental in keeping that weakness from getting him killed, but now that he was without it, Asuma could see the anguish written all over his expression. He reached and gently cupped his cheek, fingers brushing against his temple.

“What’s wrong, Kakashi?” he asked again, willing him to speak.

“This morning Naruto got a letter from our agents in Suna.” He said carefully, deliberately sounding calm, although his face was nowhere near calm. “Sasuke was killed by Kirigakure Hunter Nins a week ago. They sent his eyes as a proof.”

Asuma paused, digesting the news. Finally he understood Kakashi’s behaviour earlier this evening – from his attitude towards Shikamaru, to his deliberate attempts raise his ire enough for Asuma to become rough and careless towards him. Whatever anger he harboured towards his friend until a few minutes ago dissipated completely.

“You have to stop blaming yourself about Sasuke.” He said, but he knew it’d fall on deaf ears. He’d already lost the count of how many times he had told the same thing to Kakashi. His friend was just looking at him sadly now.

“I wish I could do that, Asuma.”

“That is why you tried to make me hurt you.” The other said. Kakashi nodded.

“Yes. I apologize. It wasn’t fair to try to manipulate you.”

“Shhh.” He soothed him again and gave him another kiss, slow and gentle this time, almost sweet in its tenderness. Kakashi responded eagerly, sagging against his broad chest.

“None of this is your fault, okay? None.” He repeated, trying to make Kakashi finally understand. He never did, but it didn’t stop him from trying. Kakashi melted in his arms as he continued kissing the soft, eager mouth, pausing only undress him and pull him back, naked this time, in his arms.

He had always loved touching Kakashi, Asuma thought, as he lowered him on the bed, naked and pliant under him. His skin was so soft, so silken under his callused fingertips, so different than his own. There were scars of course – doing what Kakashi did for a living made acquiring those unavoidable, but they only enhanced and showed off the silky, lily-white smoothness of the rest of his skin that wasn’t marred. Asuma liked exploring his scars – cuts and burns and puncture wounds, even those he knew were from self-inflicted wounds, a destructive pastime of his friend that they didn’t talk about, no matter the circumstances. Asuma had tried to press the issue only once and he had been stonewalled for months afterwards. The scars were a proof that Kakashi was real, human, fallible, vulnerable, rather than the man of legend, someone everyone knew about but no one knew personally.

Kakashi moaned softly when he swept his tongue over the scar of a long gash on his ribs that went almost all the way down to his hip – a little memento he had received from a missing Nin determined to keep the head on his shoulders attached to his body. He worried the discolored skin between his teeth, knowing how sensitive it was, enjoying the way Kakashi’s toned body writhed under his ministration. Strong hands were grabbing at his shirt, pulling, pushing, insistently trying to get him naked as well. He cooperated eagerly, carelessly dropping his clothes on the floor by the bed, lying beside Kakashi and returning to his previous occupation of tracing the map of scars on his torso with his tongue. He found a long, pinkish line on his hip, the flesh there still fresh and new. It ran almost all the way down to his crotch.

“A new acquisition, I see.” He murmured as he swirled his tongue at the base of Kakashi’s insistent erection. The man moaned and buried his fingers in Asuma’s coarse dark hair.

“Almost neutered me, the bastard.” He muttered unhappily.

“I am glad that he didn’t.”

An amused pause.

“Me too.”

Pleased that Kakashi’s mood seemed to be lifting a little, he renewed his efforts, suckling the swollen head of his erection into his mouth, his fingers splayed over his flat stomach, tracing the strong, chiseled muscles. Kakashi kept his body completely free of hair, a habit most Nin, regardless of gender, adopted to help hygiene during long missions in the wilderness. Even Asuma had attempted it in his youth, but had quickly discovered that the roots got terribly infected, which in turn made him itchy and uncomfortable and distracted, and he made do with cleaning jutsus he designed himself. Still, he couldn’t help but secretly feel amused at the sheer fascination his hairy chest invoked every time he undressed before a lover, Kakashi included.

The younger man was running his hands up and down his pectorals, his pale skin a stark contrast with his own tanned complexion and the dark, coarse chest hair. Kakashi gave him a small, playful smirk as he pushed him to lie back down on the bed and straddled his thighs, peppering small kisses down to his navel, and pausing there to dip his tongue inside before he continued to follow the line down to his well trimmed pubic hair, his elegant fingers finally wrapping around the reddened, turgid organ. It was almost purple with blood by now, large and throbbing in Kakashi’s gentle grasp and Asuma growled as the agile tongue swirled around his head and dipped in his slit. Kakashi looked up with his single uncovered eye, his gaze smouldering as he gave him a long, teasing lick from base to swollen tip. Asuma gasped and sucked in his breath, reaching to tangle his fingers in Kakashi’s hair again, closing his eyes when the eager mouth swallowed him whole.

Shikamaru slowly grew more and more bored as the night progressed. The antics of his fellow Jounin were quite amusing at first, but the drunker they got, they weirder they became, and eventually most of them were too sleepy or felt too sick with be particularly entertaining, so they remained sprawled on the nearest flat surfaces, either passed out or talking drunkenly amongst themselves.

He himself had had a few glasses, but ever the sensible young man, he had made sure he didn’t get too drunk – after all, a hangover in the morning was a most troublesome thing.

Finally got too fed up with the atmosphere in the main hall and quietly slipped away, searching for his Sensei and their colleague.

He wasn’t surprised to find some of the rooms of the house occupied by drunken and amorous people – Shikamaru was no stranger to parties such as this, even if the guests had been of lower rank. In fact, he found it quite amusing that both teenaged Genin and experienced Jounin behaved in quite a similar way after a few glasses of alcohol. Well, maybe the Jounin were a bit more experienced and eager to engage in odd sexual positions – despite his occupation, Shikamaru hadn’t been aware that the human body was capable of contorting in such a way.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to find his former teacher and Kakashi of all people locked in a similar embrace. He stood behind the barely opened door and stared through the crack into the room in mild shock as his Sensei’s large, swollen, moist cock disappeared between Kakashi’s reddened lips. The younger man lay scooting between Asuma’s powerful thighs, his silver hair wild around his flushed face, head bobbing up and down on the massive erection.

He stared at them both, so different and yet so alike. Kakashi was pale, smooth and lithe, as graceful as any dancer, almost shimmering when pressed to Asuma-sensei’s dark skin. Shikamaru’s eyes slid over Asuma’s form. He had seen him naked before, of course – they had been to onsen and had bathed together during missions plenty of times, but it had never been in such a setting. Where Kakashi was smooth and slender, Asuma-sensei was dark and stocky, heavier-set than the other man, and yet his body too, like most Nin’s – the Akimichis’ excluded – was a work of art – bulging muscles, perfectly chiseled after decades of rigorous training, long limbs, large, yet gentle hands. Saliva filled his mouth as he imagined himself in Kakashi’s place, laying between those powerful thighs and taking in the heavy cock in his mouth.

He looked away, ashamed that he was intruding on such a private moment, his own feelings for Asuma churning in his stomach at the thought of another having what he coveted the most. And yet he was rational enough, smart enough to know that he couldn’t blame Kakashi for it. Best that he leave now, before either of them figured out that he was here.

He was already turning away when he heard a deep, guttural moan.

“Yes, Kakashi, like that…”

Despite his best intentions, he turned away and looked through the crack of the door again to see the younger Jounin lapping Asuma-sensei’s glistening tip like a kitten, his single eye focused up on him with quiet, fiery determination. Asuma’s hand slid to his face, petting gently, tenderly encouraging him to continue.

Shikamaru had spent a lot of time daydreaming about the kind of lover Asuma would be – rough, passionate, gentle, slow, and everything in between – but no fantasy could measure up to the reality of it. Despite his bearish appearance he handled his lover gently, clearly concerned about his comfort and pleasure. Given his mentor’s quiet, introspective nature, Shikamaru decided that he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

In the room, Asuma bent over Kakashi’s bobbing hair to caress the muscles of his back, rubbing soothing circles over his waist before he let go for a moment to bring his fingers to his own mouth to wet them and then gently slid them between the cheeks of Kakashi’s perfect little ass. They both gasped – Shikamaru and Kakashi – and both paused when they did, Shikamaru in fear, Kakashi in mild curiosity. He pulled away from Asuma’s erection and turned to look at the door along with his bedpartner.

“Shikamaru-kun?” he said, voice carefully neutral.

He didn’t know what to do. Run? What was the point? They knew that it was him out there, that it was him watching them. If he didn’t face them now, he would have to do it tomorrow, and that would probably be even more awkward. That and despite his self-proclaimed cowardice, Nara Shikamaru didn’t run from a challenge. He opened the door quietly and entered the room, meeting their eyes head on even if he wished the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

“Shikamaru.” Asuma said, and thankfully there was no rebuke in his voice. “You’ve been there for a while.”

He nodded, trying to find his voice. The older men kept looking at him, expressions unreadable despite their passion-flushed faces.

“You will be more comfortable if you’re sitting in here.” Kakashi said finally. Asuma looked like he would protest but Kakashi gave him a look. “You would lie if you say that you don’t want him to stay.”

Shikamaru thought of the intimate moment they had experienced earlier during the party. Asuma appeared to think about the same, because he looked pensive. Finally, he looked up to Shikamaru.

“Come here.” He said with quiet authority.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, he approached the broad bed and stood at its foot. Kakashi wiggled between Asuma’s spread thighs and turned around, crawling up to Shikamaru.

“The moment you say no, we’ll stop.” He promised him gently. Behind him, Asuma nodded quietly.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He added, then asked hesitantly: “Have you before…?”

“Of course, Sensei.” He answered, perhaps a little sharper than he should’ve. “I have not been a child for a long time now.”

Asuma looked like he wanted to ask who it had been but thought better of it. Kakashi’s twinkling eye told Shikamaru that he had an inkling about the identity of his past lovers – the man always seemed to know everything about everyone, even if Shikamaru had never seen him engage in any gossiping.

He looked at Asuma and then down at Kakashi and slowly nodded, giving them both permission to proceed with whatever they had planned. Asuma grinned and Kakashi gave him a little smile, then reached for Shikamaru’s clothes, quickly divesting him of them. Once they joined the other garments on the floor the younger man crawled on the bed next to them, suddenly feeling self-conscious and unsure what to do next. Asuma, ever the instructor, easily took charge as Kakashi relaxed on the soft mattress between them.

“Do you want to touch him, Shikamaru?” he asked softly, his dark eyes watching both of them intently. ‘It’s you I want to touch.” Shikamaru thought but didn’t dare voice that thought. Not yet, anyway. He nodded and reached for Kakashi-sensei, cupping his cheek and tracing his soft lips, marveling at how smooth and soft the skin usually protected by the mask was. It was yet another strange contrast, that the flesh around the uncovered eye was a little darker, a little rougher, tiny crow’s feet branching at the corner of his eye when he smiled, while the part of his face that had been protected by the elements was white and soft and smooth as a flower’s petal. He was about to comment jokingly that Kakashi maybe should to take to wearing a goggle to prevent furthering that difference, but something on Asuma’s expression stopped him – it was as if the man anticipated the joke and prevented him from uttering it for some unknown reason. Deciding to dwell on that further later, Shikamaru focused on Kakashi again, on exploring his smooth, strong body, carefully listening to Asuma’s instructions about the man’s likes and dislikes. It was almost like having yet another lesson with him, even if the subject was most unusual this time. The smooth skin under his fingers, Kakashi’s sweet little moans when he found a sensitive spot, and most of all, Asuma-sensei’s gravelly voice helped him relax enough so that he didn’t jump when a callused hand gently cupped his balls and rolled them between its fingers before moving onto his growing erection.

He looked up to see that it was Asuma doing that and he flushed, feeling self-conscious all over again but his mentor just smiled soothingly and kissed him, just like Shikamaru had hoped they would do earlier in the main hall. He tasted of tobacco and alcohol and the sweet bean paste he had eaten earlier and the younger man hungrily deepened the kiss to get more of that taste, that scent, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders and pressing himself closer to the furry chest. Someone was kissing his shoulders and he realized that Kakashi was behind him, their heat suffusing his entire being. Asuma broke the kiss to mouth the soft, tender flesh of his neck, his hand undoing the elastic around his hair to let it fall in gentle waves around his face.

Shikamaru sagged between the two of them as they touched and caressed and kissed his mentor, body singing with heat and pleasure.

“Shikamaru?” Asuma whispered in his ear and he had to make a conscious effort to focus on his voice. “I want you to take Kakashi. I want to watch. And when you’re done, I will take you.” That was followed by another wet, hot kiss under his jaw and then behind his ear and he mewled as his cock throbbed at the mental images that Asuma’s words provoked in his mind.

Asuma let go of him and Shikamaru blinked, feeling dazed for a moment before he turned around to see Kakashi crawling on his hands and knees, presenting him a delectable pale backside, taut and perfectly shaped.

This certainly wasn’t Shikamaru’s first time, nor was it his first time taking another man, but it was the first time when his partner was much older than him, not to mention a living legend. His self-confidence began to wane again. As if sensing that, Asuma pressed a small he fished from the bedside drawer bottle in his hand - Shikamaru decided that it was just like Jiraiya to pack lube in the guestrooms – and gave him a slow, wet kiss.

“You’ll do fine.” He encouraged him. “Kakashi-kun is very submissive in bed, he likes being taken hard and fast, don’t hold back.” Feeling a little better, he nodded and looked down at Kakashi’s raised bottom, a sharp spike of arousal at the sight of it making his own cock twitch between his thighs.

It didn’t take too long to prepare Kakashi – the man was clearly experienced and knew how to relax around his questing fingers, wiggling his bottom and impaling himself further, apparently liking the sting of the hurried preparation. When he was sure that he could enter him without hurting him, the younger man carefully arranged the Jounin under him, his knees spread wide, ass high in the air. He felt Asuma kissing his shoulders again and paused, turning around to look at him, receiving another gentle kiss as his Sensei’s large hands gripped his erection, smearing more oil on it and slowly guiding it to Kakashi’s glistening hole. He slid in easily and gasped when he finally settled in. The hot, tight sheath around his erection was throbbing in time with his own pulse. He hesitated for a moment before he remembered Asuma-sensei’s words about Kakashi liking it rough and began to thrust. Under him Kakashi went wild, writhing and greedily rocking back and forth, moaning like a bitch in heat.

Shikamaru was torn between watching him practically fuck himself on his organ and looking at Asuma, who was reclining on the pillows at the head of the bed and was slowly fisting his own turgid organ as he watched. Their eyes met and locked over Kakashi’s heaving shoulders and Shikamaru growled, suddenly determined to impress his Sensei. He grabbed the Jounin’s left hip tightly and used his other hand to press his face down to the bed, his hand tightening in the hair on his nape. Kakashi stilled obediently and mewled eagerly when Shikamaru did that, obviously liking the sudden change. Still holding Asuma’s gaze, he began to thrust again, fast and hard but also carefully measured and calculated this time, delighting in the way Asuma’s eyes darkened as he watched them.

Kakashi was shuddering under him with each measured thrust, his shoulders pressed against the bed and his hands under him, undeniably rubbing and milking his own erection in time with Shikamaru’s rocking. When he finally came the younger man finished with him, unable to contain his orgasm as his lover’s body spasmed and tightened around him. They sagged together on the bed, Shikamaru licking at his trembling, heaving shoulders. He withdrew in a few moments and Kakashi stayed where he was, just curled himself on his side.

Shikamaru felt as exhausted as Kakashi looked, but when Asuma crawled up to him he couldn’t help but smile and try to turn around, to eagerly present him his own bottom. His mentor’s strong hands stopped him and turned him on his back, then carefully lifted him until his ass was resting on Asuma’s folded knees. A thick, slick finger teasingly circled around his exposed hole and he shuddered again, lifting his thighs to his chest in an effort to present himself more fully to Asuma, long chocolate hair spread in shiny waves around his flushed face. He saw Asuma lick his lips hungrily at the sight of him and flushed further, turning his face away in a sudden boy of shyness. The large, warm hand came to rest on his cheek again and slid down to his chest, plucking at his tender nipples before it stopped between his thighs to fondle his balls and spent cock with utmost gentleness. Heat and arousal pooled low in his belly again and Shikamaru felt silent gratitude that he was barely nineteen and his body recuperated so quickly. The hand returned to his ass again and played with it, running up and down between his cheeks until Asuma finally inserted a single well-oiled finger in his body.

He moaned softly at the familiar feeling of being stretched and looked to the other side, meeting Kakashi’s sleepy, sated gaze. The Jounin smiled softly to him while Asuma took his time to prepare him using his fingers and his mouth until he finally brought him back to full arousal. He was taken out of his reverie when he felt the hot, blunt tip of Asuma-sensei’s cock pressing against his slick entrance. Looking up, their eyes locked together and his mentor held his gaze as he slowly slid into him, watching every sensation and emotion playing on Shikamaru’s expressive face.

“Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely when he was fully seated inside of him, his large hands on Shikamaru’s hips. The younger man nodded and licked his lips before he could utter a soft “Yes.”

Asuma began to move, slowly and carefully, in a way very different than the way Shikamaru had taken Kakashi earlier. He leaned forward and covered his body with his, the younger man’s thighs locking together around his back as he rocked back and forth into his student.

“Asuma… Asuma… Sensei…oh…” Shikamaru moaned with each gentle thrust, the tip of the thick cock brushing against his prostate. Since the larger man was holding his weight on his elbows he wasn’t completely crushed under his body, instead he felt that same feeling of safety he had come to associate with Asuma, only much stronger now than ever before. The heat, the pleasure, the passion built between the two of them until it finally bubbled over. Wave after wave of ecstasy passed through him, electric pleasure shooting up his spine and exploding in his mind as he finished, faintly aware of Asuma finishing above him, growling like a bear in his ear, his own large body shaking and rocking forcefully.

Shikamaru fell asleep shortly afterwards, sandwiched between the two Jounin, wondering if Jiraiya would make them foot the bill for the cleaning of the sheets. He would ask Asuma-sensei tomorrow. He had finally gotten what he wanted and such trivial matters didn’t even seem bothersome now.