Safely Home

A gentleman (*cough*) named Tom Lerher (I might be spelling that wrong) once wrote a song called "Smut." One version of the chorus went,
Give me smut and nothing but!
A dirty novel I can't shut!
If it's uncut! And un-sub! -tle!"

...Yes, well, I think he and I would get along quite well.

Actually, I read something interesting in a story (a different way of doing things) and wanted to see if it would work throughout a whole story. So, this is a story of smut. Hooray for smut!

Set in The Kakashi Mission world, though if you haven't read that, just assume Kakashi and Iruka are an Item, and go from there. ;)

Disclaimer: I hope I used 'henge' correctly. Also, there is NO REASON for this story (well, I mean, aside from trying a new technique) and it has absolutely NO PLOT. It doesn't even deserve the term PWP because that implies there might, at some point, have been a brief thought that there should be a plot. This doesn't even that THAT. There is sex. Then, more sex. And, finally, to finish things up, sex. That's all. Finally, if you are MacDougal or I know you're under 18--maaaaaan, don't respond. It'll totally twitch me. *grins*

He didn't go to his apartment after his mission.

He slipped past the village guards, vaulting from shadow to rooftop, whisking along through the moonless night.

He could announce himself safely returned home in the morning. Now, there was only one person who really needed to know.

Iruka's door was locked, the window closed and warded. None of that stopped Kakashi, and wouldn't have even if he hadn't known how to disable the wards. As it was, he slipped past them, leaving them all intact. Too tiring to re-set them.

The tripwire, carefully concealed with a henge, was a new one. Konohamaru must have been giving Iruka trouble.

The bedroom was empty. Silent and deadly, he slipped into the living room.

A candle had burned low, was guttering on the table, casting the Chuunin teacher in shadows and half light.

Kakashi padded up, blending with the noise the candle cast. He was tired and sore. He'd killed three people on the last mission. It had been their fault; they attacked his client. Still, he'd known two of them--both missing ninja, gone AWOL when peace was declared. Neither were good enough to be listed in the bingo book. Neither had given him much trouble. Both reminded him of the wars.

They were dead now. One with a kunai through the eye, the other's neck snapped when he got too close. The third, the one Kakashi didn't know, had died by shuriken.

He hadn't slept properly in several days. He was pretty sure he had bruises, and his joints felt stiff.

He slid, flawless and graceful, up to the Chuunin sensei asleep at the table, head cradled on his arms, legs folded as he sat on the floor.

Iruka breathed heavily, almost a snore, rubbed his face sleepily on his arm, and settled back into his dreams.

Kakashi watched, soundless. Papers were spread around the man, half graded. A red pen was inching closer and closer to Iruka's face with each microscopic shift of position.

Kakashi couldn't move too fast, or the papers would rustle, giving his position away. He couldn't assume the teacher was really sleeping; it could be a trap.

He stepped into the small circle of flickering light, so close a bend of his knee would have brushed Iruka's vest.

Iruka continued to sleep. Flame made his face look warmer, turning tanned skin to gold, sparkling light through black hair.

Something inside Kakashi started to loosen. He took a breath, exhaled. Exhaustion made itself felt, but the bone-crushing weariness began to fall away. Here was light, and warmth, and life.

He crouched silently, hovering behind the lax body, millimeters away from touching. He felt the shift the instant Iruka woke, though to give the Chuunin credit most people wouldn't have.

Kakashi wasn't most people.

Fingers, shorter than his and not quite as quick, closed on the red pen. Iruka twisted, one elbow coming up with the strength of his torso, rising to smash into Kakashi's temple, the other hand following with the pointy end of the pen.

At least, Kakashi guessed that was the intent. He stopped the elbow before it struck, other hand whipping around to grab wrist and pen before Iruka could hurt either of them on accident. "It's me," he said, feeling chakra gather as the Chuunin prepared to fight.

Tension and energy drained out of muscles, leaving tendons to relax in the neck in front of Kakashi's face.

"You scared me," Iruka breathed on a rueful laugh.

Kakashi didn't say anything; there was nothing to say. He leaned forward, inhaling the scent of his lover--crayons and spice, an aftertaste of ink.

"Kakashi--" Iruka began, turning.

Kakashi stopped him, grip tightening on shoulder and arm. Not enough to hurt, but enough to hold. He didn't want Iruka to see him right now. Battered and bruised, uniform bloody. Iruka belonged to candles and sleeping on floors, not killing and dark, arterial blood.

When the Chuunin didn't move Kakashi let go of him, hands smoothing up his arms to his shoulders.

"Kakashi, are you--?"

He nodded, then realized Iruka couldn't see him. "Fine," he said softly. He shifted, his knees landing on either side of Iruka's hips, his body so close he could feel heat radiating from the other man. "Just--let me--" he stopped, fingers flexing in the muscles of Iruka's shoulders.

Iruka remained still, understanding what Kakashi hadn't asked. He leaned back a bit, connecting them spine to chest, making things real. Solid.

Kakashi let his nose drift behind Iruka's ear, close enough to see the corner of the man's eye, lashes thick and dark. He rubbed carefully, softly, cloth against skin, and watched Iruka's eyes shutter closed.

"Relax," Kakashi said, more to himself than to Iruka. The Chuunin leaned against him, hands landing on Kakashi's thighs and staying there when Kakashi held them in place for a moment. Don't move, he didn't need to say.

The Chuunin remained still, eyes closed, trusting. The candle flickered and nearly died, but roused at the last moment, spilling light over Iruka's body.

Kakashi pulled his hitai-ate off, dropping it to the ground. He nuzzled the sensitive flesh behind Iruka's ear again, watched a shiver run through the man before him. Kakashi's hands rose, sliding up the open vest, tugging it off broad shoulders. The men had to separate for a moment, and he didn't miss the frown that flittered over Iruka's face when they did. Then Kakashi pulled the vest off and tossed it to one side, his other hand wrapping around a muscular chest and tugging Iruka back against him.

He brushed his cheek over the Chuunin's neck, encouraging the man to lift his head. Iruka obliged, baring his throat, the back of his skull resting against Kakashi's shoulder. Kakashi heard a catch in the man's breath as he nuzzled where throat met body, biting through cloth on delicate collarbones. He felt Iruka shiver again, fingers tense against his thighs for just an instant before relaxing.

That was nice, Iruka said, quite clearly.

Kakashi unbuttoned the first on the Chuunin's shirt, buttons slipping through holes easily, exposing tanned flesh with every flick of talented fingers. With one hand he kept going, with the fingertips of his other he traced the center line down Iruka's body, pausing here and there to dance over well known sensitive areas, watching the twitch and tremble of muscles as he passed. Iruka breathed in sharply, chest expanding before collapsing once more.

The hands on his thighs started to move again, sliding upward. Kakashi stopped to grab them, put them back near his knees, hold them there. "Trust me," he murmured.

Iruka's eyes were open, his head up. He watched Kakashi for a long moment, as if trying to read through the masks--physical and emotional.

Kakashi's hands slid, up and around, over Iruka's knees, fingers tickling the wrinkle of cloth where calf folded against thigh. He saw the Chuunin lick his lips as Kakashi's hands moved higher, palms pressing on the inside of Iruka's legs, fingers reaching around. He got as high as he could and cupped the flesh there, watched Iruka catch his lower lip with his teeth, lids falling slightly. Kakashi rubbed with his thumb, gently, cloth against skin.

"Trust me," he said again, dipping his head to whisper breath over Iruka's jugular, pressing the man's head back once more.

I do, Iruka didn't need to say.

He could feel flesh hardening under cloth, and rubbed again. Iruka's breath caught. His hips shifted, pushing upward ever so slightly.

Kakashi gloried in the shiver that ran through Iruka's body. The Chuunin's head relaxed completely, resting against the other man's shoulder. He swallowed, and Kakashi could feel it in his bones. He petted, relishing the feel of trust, surrender, the willingness of the other man to just let him touch.

One hand stayed where it was, rubbing softly down the length of inside thigh and back again, following the curve of body to the seam of Iruka's pants, dragging his thumb over covered testicles. He watched the man's legs twitch and tense, relax and start all over again. Iruka made a noise in the back of his throat, part catch of breath, part breathy moan. It prickled against Kakashi like shards of white hot ice dappling his skin.

With his other hand he unbuttoned the last two buttons on Iruka's shirt, pulling it aside to bare a muscled chest, a ribbed stomach. His hand slid over the abdominal ridges, across pectoral muscles, fingertips skimming a dark nipple. Iruka's breathing hitched, eyelids--not quite closed--inching downward. His fingers tightened--

Good, that's good--

--on Kakashi's thighs, then relaxed again.

There was a gasp of breath, a tiny noise--


--and nothing else. A sharp intake when Kakashi bit gently on Iruka's shoulder, teeth blunted by mask and shirt. Iruka's hands twitched, but didn't move.

His whole body was trembling and shuddering, drawn tight under Kakashi's careful onslaught.

Move for me, Kakashi didn't say, using hands that had killed hours before to bring pleasure and sharp tension to his lover. Break softly for me.

Iruka pressed his head back against Kakashi's shoulder, exposing the line of a fragile neck, breath coming fast and sharp.

Ribs, stretched taut with the flex of Iruka's spine, shuddered when Kakashi stroked them. Muscle tightened, then relaxed purposefully. Kakashi heard the other man swallow, heard a barely-whispered noise. Not a moan, not a whimper. Somewhere in between.

He tugged at the belt Iruka wore, watching the man's stomach jump and tremble with every little lightning touch of fingers. He brushed his nails over nearly scar-less skin, listening to the irregular hitches in breathing it caused.

"Ah--Kakashi--" Iruka said, the words less than a whisper. His eyes closed, skin flushing. Not embarrassment; arousal, sharp and heady.

Kakashi pressed with one hand against hardened flesh, fingers curling around a cloth-covered erection. He rubbed hard with his palm once, twice, then stopped, holding the pressure there, other arm wrapped around a shivering chest.

Iruka panted, quivering. His hips strained to move, to thrust against Kakashi's palm. Kakashi held him still with a feather-light touch, feeling the tremors running through the tense body. His lover trusted him enough to stop moving when Kakashi asked, despite what his body was already screaming for.

Not yet, he didn't say.

Iruka licked his lips, swallowed, breath coming irregularly. He shuddered, drawn like an instrument tuned to Kakashi's hands. Slowly, slowly, he relaxed.

Kakashi kissed him through the mask, a gentle press of lips against cloth-skin. Under Iruka's jaw, tense with desire. Along his throat, bared unquestioningly, as if he didn't know it could be so easily crushed. As if he was unaware that Kakashi's hands could snap his neck before he moved. Or knowing, and trusting none of that would happen. Believing Kakashi would treat him carefully, keep him safe. Kakashi kissed, soothing, careful.

"Kakashi--" Iruka began again.

"Shhh," he answered, arm tightening fractionally as the man against him began to move.

Iruka relaxed back again, giving his body over. He was shivering. Strong muscles trembled, goosebumps rising on tanned flesh.

Kakashi's hand drifted to the button and zipper on Iruka's pants, tugging at them slowly. Iruka's breath caught at the sound, loud in the nearly silent room, then broke over parted lips. Kakashi nuzzled his jaw, soothing.

When his hand slid in under cloth, along smooth skin, Iruka arched into it.

"Ka--" he began, breathing ragged.

With one hand on Iruka's chest he pressed him back again. "Let me . . ." let him finish this. Let him breathe pleasure in his world of death.

The Chuunin swallowed and relaxed. His eyes closed, the skin around them releasing tension.

All right, his expression said, trust and compliance sliding over his features.

It went against his nature, Kakashi knew. What the Jounin was asking, Iruka didn't like to give. He didn't want to be still and let this happen; he moved, he always moved, petting and caressing. An active partner, which was good, but right now . . .

Tonight, let me, Kakashi thought.

Kakashi's hand slid beneath the waistband of briefs, feeling silky flesh, skin sliding over skin. Iruka's fingers against Kakashi's thighs tightened. Kakashi watched the body against him arc, fingers stuttering, breath coming in short gasps through parted lips.

Iruka started to shift, and Kakashi stopped him, held him for a moment with a hand pressed to breastbone and hips. Not demanding. Asking. Please, Iruka, just stay here.

Iruka went still, pink tongue flashing out to lick dry lips. Kakashi almost groaned--almost. He rubbed his masked face against the neck offered to him, feeling the body against his tremble and tense. His legs were spread around Iruka's hips, and he could feel the heat from the other man prickling along the insides of his thighs.

Kakashi shifted his hand down, once more sliding along a rapidly hardening erection. Iruka's breathing hitched, growing more ragged. He shivered, hands clenching and relaxing.

Iruka's legs were open, feet tucked under his thighs, crossed as they had been when Kakashi entered. It was oddly vulnerable, highly sensual. His shirt, unbuttoned, whispered against Kakashi's arms, his throat a long line of pale skin. Kakashi smoothed his masked cheek over it, hand again sliding up along Iruka's erection, thumb rubbing over the head, spreading liquid.

Iruka groaned softly, hands curling into fists. His body arced, trembling and shaking, every line and muscle standing out. "Oh, gods," he whispered, a look somewhere between pain and pleasure crossing his face.

Kakashi pulled his mask down with his free hand, then returned to petting, stroking along ribs and stomach, fingers brushing over a dark nipple. He felt Iruka jump at that and did it again, thumb of the opposite hand rubbing against hardened flesh, sliding up and down in a steady rhythm. He felt the delicate skin of testicles and rubbed his fingers along them, carefully.

Iruka whimpered, deep in his throat, eyes screwed shut.

Kakashi did it again, listening for the breaking of damp breath, for that tiny noise, almost begging. He could have listened to that forever, felt the heat from Iruka's body, kept the man trembling in his arms, shirt and legs open, skin exposed in all the most vulnerable places. He stroked along silky flesh, thumb circling the head, slid down again.

Iruka's stomach clenched and he panted harshly, pushing back into Kakashi in a motion as fundamental as the earth. His face was twisted, mouth opening and closing, something akin to pain crossing his features.

Kakashi kissed the flesh of shoulder and neck, nibbling along the strong jaw, the tendon standing out along Iruka's neck. The body against him arched, muscles drawing ever tighter. Iruka groaned, whimpered, caught his lip between dull teeth and bit down. "Ah--Kakashi--" He was shaking, delicate tremors running through his body like flashes of electricity, burning and irresistible.

Long fingers dipped down to rub at the base of Iruka's erection, at the top of testicles drawn close with impending orgasm. Iruka's hands tightened again, muscles in his forearms cording and releasing, tightening and relaxing, fingernails scratching against heavy cloth and heavier muscles. He made a sound in the back of his throat, a mewling noise as his eyes clenched. "Oh--please--"

Iruka's head dug into Kakashi's shoulder as he stroked again, up and down the length of flesh, watching it move and slide in candlelight. At the broken plea he increased his speed, pain and pleasure mixing on his lover's face, eyes closed and mouth open as he panted for air.

The Chuunin gasped, body taut. He breathed, shattered, started to say something-- "Ah--K-ka--" and then his hands scrabbled for purchase as orgasm rocked through him.

Kakashi waited, stroking slowly, carefully, smearing semen as it pulsed wet and slick. He kissed the joint of shoulder and neck, feeling tremors wring his lover's body, listening to half-broken whimpers. Iruka shook, first from orgasm, then from aftershocks as Kakashi kept petting, slower and slower, drawing everything out as long as he could. Fingers against his thigh twitched and shivered, and black eyebrows were drawn low over eyes, Iruka's bottom lip caught between his teeth. Each small shudder made his lover's breath catch, break, tremble, until finally his body was too exhausted even for that.

Kakashi was going to need new gloves.

He kissed Iruka's throat again, the man melting slowly against him in post-coital bonelessness. A shaking hand rose from Kakashi's thigh to rest in his hair, fingers threading through.

"Are you all right?" Iruka asked softly, on a voice that still trembled.

Kakashi turned his head to kiss the man's palm. "Better now," he said simply. The ice was gone, melted away in candlelight and soft cries, in trust given without question.

Iruka's hand--the one still on his thigh--started to edge upward. Kakashi caught it firmly and put it back, feeling the reluctance in the other man. "Tired," he said, hoping the monosyllables would get through.

He *was* tired. Too tired to be more than mildly aroused by the whole thing. Calmed, yes. Soothed, certainly. But too bone-weary, too heart-sore, to be able to think about much else.

Iruka didn't push. Insecurity flashed through him, through the set of his shoulders and the shift of his knees, though he was too good a ninja to let it show on his face. When he started to close his legs protectively, Kakashi stopped him there, too, a hand on one knee. "I'm enjoying," Kakashi said against Iruka's skin.

He felt the heat from a blush. "Pervert," the Chuunin said, though he stopped moving. Stopped closing in. He was quiet a moment, then, "Are you sure?"

Kakashi thought about what they'd talked of. "I'm sure I'm enjoying this." He was too tired to add the expected leer. "I'm sure I'm not hurt in any important way," he said, head resting against Iruka's. "I'm sure I don't want the favor returned." He paused, then corrected, "Not tonight, anyway."

He felt, more than saw, Iruka smile. The hand in his hair tightened a bit, pulling gently, scratching along his scalp, itching areas he hadn't realized were itchy. "Bad mission?"

"Long mission," Kakashi sighed. He put another lazy kiss on Iruka's skin, tasting salt and musk.


"Bed," Kakashi said, making an extra effort to roll his head and peer back at the bedroom doorway.

"I need to shower," Iruka said sadly, "and from the smell of it, you do, too. *Then* bed."

Kakashi sighed. "Promise?" he asked mournfully.

"Promise," Iruka said. But the Chuunin didn't move. They sat in companionable silence, Kakashi with his feet under his hips, Iruka leaning against him. The younger man breathed slowly, with the contentedness of someone well sated. Kakashi kissed his shoulder again, taking comfort in Iruka's heavy-limbed tranquility.

"Tired?" Kakashi guessed, remembering finding him asleep at his table.

"Very. And now my muscles feel like mush."

"Pleasant mush, I hope," Kakashi said, lips again on Iruka's skin, leaving careful, relaxed kisses. The Chuunin's flesh was still warm, almost damp.

"Very pleasant mush," Iruka said on a tired laugh.

Kakashi smiled, and made a mental note to gloat in the morning. It was too much effort to gloat now. The candle guttered again, and finally went out. Neither man moved to replace it, and they were left with only the stars shining through the window.

Iruka turned, fingers curling in Kakahsi's hair as if to hold him still. The Chuunin's head, still resting on his shoulder, rocked against his skin. "I'm glad you're home safe."

Kakashi hmm'ed against flesh. "Me too," he mumbled finally, too tired to lift his head. 'Safe' was relative, but all in all, he thought he was doing all right.

Then he smiled slightly. "Saw the new tripwire. You having problem with your students?"

Iruka groaned. "I don't want to talk about it. I will never look at paper dolls the same way again."

Kakashi laughed into skin, inhaling deeply.

Crayon and spice and ink. It was starting to feel like being home. Safe.


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