Warnings: For the love of GOD do NOT read this if you are under the age of 18. Contains graphic scenes of a sexual nature and sweaing. I'm warning you!
A Question of Taste
by: o0-Constance-0o
Despite popular belief, Kakashi was a decidedly ravenous person when it came to him and a table of food. He could destroy a whole restaurant in under an hour and still feel like seconds and dessert (which he made sure there was always room for) without slowing down. Being a shinobi didn’t leave time to savour every meal, not when you have forty ninja breathing down your neck and a weapon to your throat.
But it’s not like he ever actually went to restaurants much before he met his wonderful little bast- students. Not unless he wanted to pull down his mask and eat until there was no wood left on the surface of the table.
He had a reputation to keep, after all.
Though he did feel far more comfortable out in the open and around his peers with his mask, it had its downsides. Especially around fruit stands, and Ichiraku Ramen… and that little café down the street-
Around fruit trees-
During parties-
And of course, around Asuma’s godforsaken student, Chouji, who always innocently offered him a mouthful of whatever snack he may be holding at the time.
Like the little bastard could sense his mouth watering at the notion of food.
After training is the worst, when all he wants is something – anything, his anonymity be damned!
But, like he said, he had a reputation to keep.
Only his trusted ninken and a small few jounin truly knew how much Kakashi could eat – mostly because a lot of Konoha men were much the same and his ninken would take bets to see how fast he could devour his meal time around – a game which got many of them the punishment of eating vegetables for a week.
How he hated eating around other people. It was bad enough that they saw his face but the one thing that would actually physically put-him-off his delicious beloved food would be they way they stare at him.
Kakashi shivered at the thought.
Nothing made him feel more uncomfortable or exposed.
He would politely refuse their offers to go out to eat or for a homemade meal – no matter how tempting the offer was – being rather dastardly at cooking. Despite his love of all things edible, Kakashi could not and absolutely would not cook. Making toast was a sheer nightmare.
He could burn cereal.
Take-out was his knight in shining armour. His great defender and lord and saviour! As soon as Kakashi learned how to use a telephone, the sooner he learned how to put Ichiraku Ramen and Muyo’s Sushi on speed-dial.
It was very rare for him to eat out without using some sort of genjutsu to hide his face, and thanks to Naruto being his student – his rather poor and orphaned student – it became more frequent for him to buy and eat ramen outside. He worried about the day Naruto would eat him out of house and home. How the hell did Iruka afford it?
Could Kakashi afford take-out and Naruto forever?
Would he really go hungry?
But that one faithful day, starving and out of cash, Asuma politely offered for Kakashi to be his guinea pig for a recipe he was trying to re-create.
And it didn’t help that Sarutobi Asuma was a notoriously good cook.
Kakashi felt like he was wasting away, and nearly hugged the larger man’s ankles in sheer gratitude.
It also didn’t help that Asuma made notoriously large portions.
“Wow,” he said, when the fourth plate was placed in front of him along with various other colourful and equally delicious looking meals, “no wonder Kurenai’s been gaining weight…”
The older man laughed – a deep rumble in the bottom of his chest – and took another drag from his smoke as he poured the contents from a big pot into a bowl beside him.
“Kurenai actually doesn’t like my cooking,” he said, putting the pot down and stirring whatever was steaming in the dish – and God it smelled amazing.
The Copy-Ninja pondered how anyone could be insane enough to think ill of the Sarutobi’s amazing feats of culinary skill.
Asuma’s apartment was rather homely, all things considered. Shinobi don’t usually keep too many personal items because there really wasn’t any point, not when you could be killed at any moment. It smelled deliciously of food and the décor was mainly just pictures of his students and a large tapestry of the Sarutobi crest adorned the right wall. He was sitting cross-legged at a kotatsu situated between two very comfy plush canvas couches, watching over the counter as the darker man cooked.
Still chuckling, he bent to pull something out of the oven and Kakashi could barely hear him over the sizzling of roasted vegetables inside; “Don’t tell me you’re another person that thinks me and Kurenai are an item.”
“Well, you two do spend a lot of time together…”
“Oh yeah,” he muttered sarcastically, scooping out the roasted peppers and onions into another bowl, “that’s an obvious giveaway that I’m boning her,”
“Ass…” Kakashi smirked, folding his arms.
He watched as the darker man straightened up, bowl in his hand, the other wiping the sweat and grease that had hazed onto his brow line with a tea-towel. The sleeves of the black t-shit he was wearing were rolled up to his large forearms, cooking oil and splatters of different sauces and food decorated the dark skin and clever fingers. He deftly removed the black apron over his head and sat down heavily, crossing his legs, placing the food on the table and picking up a pair of chopsticks.
“I told you, there’s nothing going on between me and Kurenai.”
It was but a few short seconds before Asuma already had a dumpling half-raised towards his mouth, before casting his deep brown eyes on the man before him and sighing, lowering his food.
“You can take the stupid mask off, Kakashi,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, “I’m not going to stare at you; it’s not like I’ve never seen your face before.”
Scratching the back of his head uncomfortably, the Copy-Ninja hesitantly pulled down the edge of his mask – all the while glaring at the darker man, daring him to look – before letting the soft black cotton fall around his neck and hang loosely there, and picked up a pair of chopsticks beside him with a gleeful smile.
The Sarutobi really was the most amazing cook. Kakashi felt spoiled for choice at the steaming bowls in front of him; thick chicken dumplings with a home-made leek-sauce filling made his first choice, and he sighed through a mouthful of food in delight at the warm, rich taste; as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
It was only half-way through, after happily chewing through an amazing rice dish with bamboo-sauce and beef-strips with cayenne peppers did he realise that Asuma didn’t once look up at him, too engrossed in the meal before him, left to his own thoughts.
He supposed one of the highlights of bi-sexuality meant that he could find the beauty in either gender, and Kakashi was nothing if not a very visual person. He would be the first to admit, Asuma was probably one of the best looking men in Konoha; with his strong features and muscled body coupled with his don’t-really-give-two-shits bad boy attitude and smoking habit.
But when a man is just that good looking, and is also a genuinely nice and funny person and a great cook? Some people just had it made.
It wasn’t really fair. Especially since he’d been ogling and worshiping the man since his late teens while managing to still seem grossly ineffectual.
Lesser men and women and women would have stripped off at the point and begged the man to fuck them senseless, after being seduced by such food and sexy company, but not Kakashi. He could lust from afar, just as everyone else.
Besides, he knew Asuma didn’t swing that way. Shame.
“You’re staring,” the darker jounin stated, not looking up from his food.
“I’m trying to see what Kurenai sees in you, after all, you said she doesn’t like your food and I can’t see what else you have to offer,” Liar.
“Will you quit sayin’ that,” he cried, pointing his chopsticks at the slighter jounin for emphasis, “Kurenai and I have a mutual friendship, that’s all.”
“You mean the kind of mutual friendship where you’re both naked, right?”
Mmmm… naked Asuma… Kakashi innocently put another mouthful of noodles in his mouth as said wished-nude man glared at him.
Sighing, Asuma picked up the bowl of roasted vegetables and added some into his rice, “If you must know,” he said quietly, “she’s been discreetly going out with Iruka for a few months now.”
Shock sent the food in his mouth straight to the back of his throat and Kakashi started choking, a stray noodle trying to make its merry way down his windpipe. Thumping himself in the chest for a second he managed to painfully swallow the delicious food, bringing tears to his eye. It didn’t taste as good when it was being forced down, unfortunately.
“Ir-Iruka?” He rasped, squinting through the tears, “You’ve got to be kidding me! Do you really think I’m stupid enough to believe that?”
“It’s the truth,” he shrugged, grains of rice falling from between his chopsticks back into the bowl as he raised it to his mouth.
“Come off it. Iruka’s not even confident enough to lightly-brush-against-that let alone hit-that.”
“Not a fucking word,” the man warned through a mouthful of food, “I’m real serious about this, Kakashi. You know if word about that gets out no one will ever let it go.”
Savouring the taste of another amazingly tasty dumpling, the Copy-Ninja swallowed it and shook his head, “Yeah, because I want nothing more than to run behind the waterfalls and gossip to all my kunoichi friends,” he deadpanned.
“Well, you have a tendency to be a real bitch when you want to be-“
Asuma coughed a little on his food as the dumpling Kakashi threw at him hit him squarely in the nose.
This is nice, he thought to himself at the time. Talking to Asuma, annoying Asuma, making fun of Asuma, eating Asuma’s food, throwing said food at Asuma. It almost seemed… normal.
And normality was something every shinobi both hated and needed at the same time.
Kakashi didn’t have many “nice” things in his life, so for once, he was incredibly grateful for the moment, of watching one of the men that plagued his dreams for years grinning, smirking, genuinely enjoying his company. He was still Asuma’s friend even if he did fancy every nook and cranny of his incredible body and it was… nice… to just share a meal with someone once in a while. Be comfortable enough around them that they didn’t stare at his face just because he had his mask off. Not be judged for a little while.
Because Asuma wasn’t like that, not openly at least.
Earlier starvation slightly quelled, Kakashi’s shoulders slumped after realising all the food was gone. Asuma leaned back with a sigh, licking the corners of his mouth clean with a pointed tongue (he couldn’t help but follow the action) and scratching his bearded jaw.
A smirk crawled over his tan lips as the Copy-Ninja scraped the inside of one of the bowls with his finger and licked off the sauce, “I presume you like my cooking then.”
“You are… a fucking… God,” was the reply between trying to devour the pale digit, and he couldn’t help but notice the slight grimace on the taller man’s face as he licked his finger clean. Maybe he thought it was disgusting…?
“C’mon,” he stretched as he stood up, “you can help God clean if you promise not to break anything.”
“I might be a monster when it comes to cooking, but cleaning I can do. And since God wants me to help…”
Following the older man into the kitchen with bowls in hand, he contemplated how many people Asuma did this for; invited into his home and cooked for them, spent time with them. How many people had he graced with his company like this?
A little, evil part of him hoped it wasn’t many, because he felt kind of… special. It was selfish, sure, but he knew Asuma didn’t warm up to people easily. The man was nice for niceness-sake, funny and social and easy to get along with, but there were very few he actually wanted to spend time with. Kurenai was one of them. And… was Kakashi another?
The kitchen was roasting hot and the grease and condensation made the surfaces slippery. The Copy-Ninja removed his flak-vest and under-armour after he put the bowls on the counter, throwing his clothes over the counter onto the couch – and was that a pair of eyes on his back…?
The Sarutobi was nonchalantly washing dishes in the sink, turning to throw a cloth and a bottle of washing-up liquid at the jounin who caught them with ease.
“Since I fed you, you can wash down the counters,” he chimed happily, placing the soaped bowl on the draining-board, “and tell me if the food was okay.”
“I think we’ve already established the fact that you’re God,” he chuckled, squeezing the cloth until it foamed and slapped it on the counter with a messy whap.
“Seriously, I wanna know. I’m thinkin’ about cookin’ for Ino, Chouji and Shikamaru before we go on our next mission, and being God doesn’t take away from the fact that somethin’ needs changing, right?”
“I was starving, I would have eaten anything at that point,” he retorted, watching as the man lit up a smoke and held it between his lips as he continued scrubbing a frustrating stain on the side of one dish, “and that being said, I still thought it was amazing.”
“You’re really not a picky eater, are you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Dammit, thought I was making a good choice for a guinea pig.”
“Maybe you should pick Iruka next time; I’m sure you could seduce some info out of him with a good meal-“
“I swear to God, Hatake, if you don’t stop with the whole Kurenai thing-“
But he was cut off as the soapy cloth Kakashi was previously using caught him in the neck, splattering soap and water everywhere. Fuming, the man flung it onto the counter beside him and continued scrubbing, silent. Whoops… guess I’m getting the silent treatment.
“Look,” he sighed, sitting on the counter beside the draining-board, “if you really want my advice, I’d say Chouji will be eternally grateful to his beloved chef-sensei, Ino will only eat half a salad anyway, and Shikamaru will probably gain even more respect for you because at this point, you can pretty much do anything in his eyes and cooking is definitely one of them.”
“… Noted on the salad for Ino,” he laughed.
“There was just one thing missing…”
Asuma looked up at him, placing another item of crockery to dry on his side, “Oh, and what’s that?”
Kakashi tilted his head, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, “Dessert, of course.”
The edges of his mouth pulled upwards as he took a moment to take the smoke out of his mouth, holding it between two long, soapy fingers, puffing the smoke out of his nose in a fashion that was purely draconic, and for a moment he looked a little sinister.
“… And… what kind of dessert do you like?”
Oh Asuma, I’d cover you in chocolate and ice-cream if I could, his thoughts exuded, that’s the kind of dessert I’d like. The slow, deep way his voice rumbled around the sentence didn’t help either, and something tensed inside the younger jounin as the tension in the kitchen grew a little.
No… impossible… isn’t it?
Hopping down off the counter, he grabbed a tea-towel off the rack to his left and took a sodden bowl from the draining-board, drying the dish with the thin cloth.
“You know me; I’m not a picky eater,” he replied easily, smiling and reaching up to place the bowl on a shelf above him.
He had to keep it light-hearted, otherwise he would start feeling things and feeling things about Asuma when the man had little to no interest sexually in him was a very bad idea. After all, they were totally secluded in the apartment… alone… anything could-no! Bad! Stop that, stupid genius brain! He couldn’t – could absolutely NOT repeat that time he walked Ayame-chan home after a night of drinking and she accidently blurted out the she’d never seen a better looking man since that day she saw his face… I didn’t help that he really liked Ayame-chan too, but the emotional ties were too much on her part.
The sex was great though, but he may have taken her statement a little too literally. That was one hell of a mix-up he never wanted to re-create.
The man hummed, “I think I know what you might like… maybe I’ll make some dessert for you someday…”
It was friendly as compared to the previously deep tone he adopted, and Kakashi merely stayed silent, smiling as he was handed a pot, and Asuma directed him where to put it. Perhaps he was just imagining the previous statement… or the tone of said statement. It’s not like Asuma was…
The silence then was comfortable, and the simple act of washing dishes and cleaning counters felt so strange to the Copy-Ninja, mostly because he never really shared in the simple chore with someone – for someone before. He leaned against the counter as the Sarutobi continued on the last few items of cutlery.
“… You gonna tell me what you’d like or not?” The darker jounin asked, picking the cutlery out of the sink and drying them with a towel.
“I thought you knew?”
Damn him for having such a devilishly handsome smirk, he thought avidly as Asuma shook his head, throwing the items in his hand into a drawer.
“Can’t blame me for askin’,” he said, drying his soapy hands with the material, “I have a knack for telling what people have tastes for, but you can be a little confusing... when you want to be.”
Kakashi met his bronze eyes evenly, leaning further against the counter as Asuma threw the towel beside him, “Oh? And what do you think my tastes are…?”
He didn’t intentionally mean for the sentence to sound as bad or come out as suggestive as it did, but the burning way the taller man was looking at him made him question the man’s sexuality. There was a smirk, then, his eyelids lowered suggestively in a way that made Kakashi instinctually cross his legs.
Keep it… keep it light-hearted. Don’t let him know…
“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out,” he replied smoothly, scratching his beard, his head tilted to the side and blowing the last of his smoke out of the corner of his mouth. He crushed the butt in an ashtray next to him, “then again, you’re not a picky person. I’m sure you’d eat everything out of my fridge given half the chance.”
“I dunno,” he grinned, noticing the double entendre, “I wouldn’t want to steal all your food in-case you need to seduce Kurenai with your amazing cooking.”
Something in his eyes flashed dangerously then, and it barely registered in him before Asuma chose to close the short gap between them by pressing forward slowly, his eyes glinting a fierce bronze when he pinned his larger hands on either side of Kakashi’s hips against the counter.
“I told you,” he breathed, that sexy smirk still in place, “there’s nothing going on between myself and Kurenai. There never has been…”
He was sure his heart battering against his rib-cage was audible, and the smell of smoke, home-cooking and smooth aftershave immediately filled his senses as his breathing picked up erratically. Suddenly, he was all too aware of the silence; the sound of the water draining in the sink, the steady click as the heat in the oven slowly dissipated, letting the metal interior shrink to its original size.
And the rush of air in and out of the darker man’s nose as he breathed him in deep.
It was with a jolt that he realised he hadn’t fixed his mask back up yet, feeling the fluttering heat against his chin and collar when Asuma moved closer, his large hands flanking either sides of Kakashi’s waist, thumbs pressing into the corners of his hip-bones.
Did he really let himself get so comfortable around the jounin that he didn’t even bother to fix it back in place? What the hell was wrong with him? He must have been out of his mind.
Wide shoulders, an unshaven taut neck and those burning eyes blocked out the rest of his vision, gulping audibly as the darker man slid his eyes down the length of the Copy-Ninja’s face, and inched closer until they were mere centimetres away.
Oh God, he thought, it looks like he’s… he’s going to…
“D-dessert?” He suggested shakily just before Asuma moved in for the kill, his hands shaking and his heart beating a tattoo against chest. He couldn’t properly detach his fingers from the edge of the counter. The man pulled back slightly, but still managing to keep a very uncomfortable distance; breath whispering against his lips and collar every few seconds.
Kakashi’s heart seemed to stop beating entirely when an evil (and sexy – why dammit?!) smile curled the upper edges of his dark, angular lips and he spoke, sending shivers down the paler man’s spine.
“I think I know what you might like…”
This… this has to be a dream, he mind yelled at him. There was no way in hell Sarutobi Asuma, THE Sarutobi Asuma was doing this, looking at him like he wanted all his clothes to melt off when he was very clearly straight. Right up against him like he wanted nothing more than to be inside him, and strangely calm, all things considered. Eerily calm.
That meant he had the upper hand, because Kakashi felt faint, and increasingly nervous.
Without breaking eye contact, the man reached up and pulled open the door of a cupboard next to the silvery head, reaching inside and rummaging around for a second, before his hand finally grasped what he was looking for and he slowly brought it down to the counter.
“A-Asuma… what are you doing?” He hated the horribly croaky way he was speaking, but the dryness that overcame his mouth wouldn’t go away and his eyes widened when he finally realised what the man had taken from the shelf.
Two dark fingers dipped slowly into a jar half-full of golden honey, and the graceful way he took them out, the tips coated in the sticky liquid sugar leaving a thin tendril trail on the just-washed counter, Kakashi felt his knees start to shake.
There were very, very few things in his life that ever frightened or intimidated him; a seductive, lusty Sarutobi Asuma was one of them.
And he felt so very intimidated.
Watching as the fingers rubbed against each-other, spreading the sticky substance along the clever digits, he backed up as far as he could being pressed between the counter and the thickly muscled man as they rose to chin level and hung teasingly in front of his face, dripping gold between them. He knew what the man wanted him to do; he wasn’t an idiot…
And God did he want to do it…
But it was so much so fast. Two minutes ago, he wouldn’t have even guessed he would be in this position with one of the best looking, strongest men in Konoha who ruled a lot of his midnight-dreaming. The man he silently lusted after for years. The ridiculously naturally sexy Asuma… and he wanted him to suck honey off his fingers.
What if it was all just some stupid joke? What if it was all just a dream, and he was bound to wake-up at any moment? What if this was some fucked up hallucination and he was really having an epileptic fit or in a coma?
“Come on, open your mouth,” the taller jounin said smoothly, his slicked fingers a hair’s breadth from Kakashi’s lips, the sticky-sweetness running down his chin.
The colour of Asuma’s eyes wasn’t a far cry the honey either, and as his lone grey flickered to two eager bronze and then back to the fingers in front of him (making him a little cross-eyed in the process, which in it’s own way was a little odd; having only one visible eye), he didn’t think he could keep denying it any longer.
He had to close his eye as he took Asuma’s wrist gently with his hand; the sheer intensity of the darker man’s gaze alone felt like it was melting his skin. He heard the man’s breath catch in his throat when he obediently parted his lips and tentatively wrapped his tongue around the warm digits.
Dessert indeed, the bittery-sweet taste easing the dryness in his mouth for a moment, he relished how the man leaned further into him, the fingers in his mouth twitched when his tongue parted them briefly and rolled along the sides. A quiet moan, then, when he swallowed and the honey coated the back of his throat but he continued licking; the sound of Asuma’s breath going shallow made his pulse quicken.
A thumb was against his chin, pressing into the paler flesh as if to stop himself from pushing his fingers in further when he sucked them, rolling his tongue along the tips, and the deeply aroused groan that came from the action brought goose-bumps to the surface of Kakashi’s skin.
Gently, the fingers were pulled from his mouth, wet and sticky against his bottom lip as they smoothed out the flushed skin there. Looking up, he saw the fascination in the Sarutobi’s face as he stared, transfixed with the Copy-Ninja’s lips, and for the first time in his life, the way he was staring didn’t make him feel uncomfortable. He wanted Asuma to look at him.
Breathing harshly as the man leaned forwards to lick the trail of honey from his chin up, he had a bare second to whine; “Oh God, Asuma…” before his lips were crushed against the other’s; his hand tangling in the hair at the nape of Kakashi’s neck.
It was… so incredibly desperate. Like they’ve been pining after each other for years, like every waking moment either of them had was spent lusting after the other. He reached up to grab the material on either strong, tanned shoulders, grazing over the heart fiercely beating against a pair of larger ribs and felt suddenly faint when a tongue brushed past his lips and thrust into his mouth. Asuma moaned; he presumed it was because of the taste of the honey still lingering.
Hot, and wet, and deep. He’d never felt so taken in his life, and he didn’t believe it was humanly possible for someone to kiss like that; with tongues rolling and fighting against each other, teeth grazing his bottom lip and that tanned mouth massaging his own. The hand on the back of his neck was pulling him in closer, crushing them together; the other was cupping his jaw possessively; his beard scratched against his contrastingly smooth skin.
And God, he tasted just like liquorice. Smokey and cool and bitter; he always thought kissing someone who smoked would be as unpleasant as licking an ashtray, but that obviously wasn’t the case.
The world slowly came back to him as the darker man pulled away, sucking gently on his lip. Breathing seemed laboured as though they had both momentarily forgotten the sweet substance of air.
“Mmm, it was good,” Asuma breathed, “but it still needs something.”
Languidly opening his eye, Kakashi was greeted with the sight of his flushed lips moistened with saliva and swollen from that oh-so-passionate kiss and felt a thrill run through him.
This definitely wasn’t some stupid dream, and considering the look on the older man’s face (that look that made him feel very undressed) he didn’t think it was a joke either.
Asuma left him momentarily to pull out a bottle of red wine from the modest rack on his left, un-corking the bottle with a soft pop and hastily discarding the corkscrew.
“I can make it taste a hundred times sweeter,” he said, gesturing with the bottle, “if you let me.”
There was a moment of… hesitance after that offer. Mainly because that’s just what it was; an offer. An offer for something probably filthy and perverted and tempting and Kakashi felt he would be doing himself an absolute disservice if he didn’t accept it.
It was cheap, and possibly only used for cooking, he thought, as he took the bottle and swallowed a mouthful, the darker jounin watching him as though he was doing something far sexier than just drinking alcohol. Not one for liking the bitter, sour taste of red wine, he made a face and placed the bottle beside him with a wry smile, the Sarutobi by him in an instant, his fingers dipping again into the honey-jar by the Copy-Ninja’s hip.
This time he didn’t hesitate, and it was with a soft, deep moan of satisfaction when the older man pressed his honey-coated fingers into his mouth.
God, he was right. They liquid sugar almost seemed a little bitter before hand, now the sweetness exploded in his mouth, over-riding the sourness left behind by the wine and he eagerly licked the digits in his mouth clean, needing more of that saccharine taste of human skin and gold sugar.
Asuma took the bottle of wine and swallowed a decent measure, grimacing at the bitter taste and removing his fingers once again, not bothering to waste time by pressing his lips to the smaller man’s, who had only just barely consumed the honey in his mouth before a tongue was roughly shoved in to steal it back.
It was like a little slice of heaven all on its own, the satisfied “Mmmh…” the older man exuded when he got to taste the contrast of sour with sudden sweet, the heat of his large body pressed up just so against him, and the fact that it was really happening without any prior warning at all.
And then there was a warm wetness on the side of his neck, spreading what could have only been the honey across his skin and the kiss was ended abruptly.
Eyelids lowered as his head was tilted back by a large hand, he leaned against the counter for something to support himself. Anything to stop him from fainting dead away when the golden trail was slowly licked off his skin, gasping when the patch of skin was sucked and the tight hardness in his lower half dulled to a slow throb.
The almost insatiable need to pull him close was fulfilled when Asuma’s free hand came from around his waist and cupped roughly around his clothed erection. His head jerked back, hitting against the cupboard behind him at the sudden hunger that spiked, and started panting heavily over the man’s shoulder, his feet digging into the floor and slipping against the linoleum.
“A-Asuma, wait…” He tried to reason, regardless of the heated entanglement he was in, the sudden rush of this-is-a-bad-idea vibes overcame him when he realised – everyone thought Asuma was straight and doing this with Kakashi (who was known vaguely for having very loose preferences) didn’t seem at all heterosexual.
“God, I just want you so bad,” the Sarutobi exuded harshly, his hand still massaging him and his mouth still pressing hot kisses against the side of the Copy-Ninja’s throat.
That was enough of a confirmation in Kakashi’s book, and the realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks.
Asuma was going to fuck him. And there was absolutely no way he was getting away unscathed.
The sweet reality couldn’t have been any more delicious.
Fingers previously massaging his already painfully hard erection slipped beneath the waistband of his sweats, treading through the coarse silver hair there and he bucked and fell against the man when that strong hand circled around him and gripped warmly. Holding him up was proving a little difficult, it wasn’t long before Asuma pushed his head back against the cupboard with a hasty, laboured kiss, hand gripping and pumping and the other holding a long leg against his hip-bone.
Disorientated from lack of oxygen and the numbing pleasure from the hand wrapped around his cock; he barely even realised when he pulled back out of the kiss and grabbed the jar with the hand that was once holding up the younger jounin’s leg.
No amount of pleasure however, could have possibly stopped him from noticing when his sweats were pulled down to the tops of his thighs and the hand so wrapped around him dipped three warmed fingers into the jar of honey.
Breath caught, fingers tightened on the counter behind him and his heart stopped beating entirely when, making no effort to hurry at all, the honey coated fingers wrapped around his arousal and spread the sticky substance. Around the length, across the top and a thumb pressed deliberately into the slit, making a horribly choked noise escape his lungs completely without his consent.
And Asuma smiled; a devilishly handsome smirk at his obvious wanton state.
Watching through an eye heavily lidded, the Sarutobi picked up the bottle of wine again and drank a measure before setting it down and kissing him hard. He knew what he was going to do, it was a little obvious due to previous circumstances and he wasn’t entirely sure he was going to be able to keep his head screwed on for the moment he’d been wishing for ever since his teens.
Kakashi couldn’t bring himself to protest when he watched the man sink to his knees, not once tearing his fiery brown eyes away from a very embarrassed, wide-eyed grey. He willed himself not to come on the spot when that mouth he’d been worshiping for so long parted and that tongue that had been shoved down his throat started to lick the liquid-sugar off the tip and oh God he thought he was going to die right there and then because everything felt complete. Nothing in him wanted it to stop.
Living meant more pleasure, and he was nothing if not bereft of pleasure.
He had to lean back, had to grip the counter with enough force to splinter the wood when that mouth slowly took more of him in, the man’s tongue rubbing off a spot that made him ache all over and twitch and shake uncontrollably, his heart speeding up erratically. And God he couldn’t believe it was happening, that this man, this gorgeous, incredibly sexy man was on his knees and sucking him off and ah…
“Oh fuck… fuck…”
There was no way in Hell Asuma was straight, not with the way that mouth worked and fuck why did he have to choose of all times to suck like that? It was all he could do not to move his hips for fear he would choke the darker man and it would all stop. He jerked when a low note was hummed around him, obviously at the sweeter taste of the honey.
It couldn’t stop, not now, when he was so far beyond even comprehending the sheer gravity of what was really happening.
Kakashi’s head fell against the door of the cupboard behind him, his jaw open and panting for air, eyes tightly closed in toe-curling, dizzying pleasure. He had to run a hand through his hair when that mouth drove him in an inch deeper, if just to somehow control the urge to move against the heat around him.
It was too much, he felt too close, and he couldn’t let it end, not when there was so much more they could do. So much more he wanted to do to the older man he’s been dreaming about for years.
“Wait, Asuma-ah! Oh fuck, wait… stop!” He panted, tangling his fingers in the slate-coloured locks and pulling, urging him up off the floor.
The older man released him reluctantly, and it was very lucky he did because Kakashi didn’t think he could have held it off much longer. He pressed his brow against the darker male’s, his chest heaving, Asuma licking the honey off his bottom lip seductively.
“Why did you tell me to stop,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to the slighter man’s mouth, “I nearly got you off. That’s not very nice.”
“Because I… do you… want to take this somewhere more comfortable?”
Kakashi wasn’t the kind of person to willingly suggest sex, but his brain wasn’t exactly working properly and he almost ended up saying “Because I want you to fuck me” and he knew he would never live it down afterwards.
His heart sank like a stone when Asuma pulled back a little; eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. Great, he immediately thought, I just fucked that one up. Perhaps the man just didn’t want to have sex with him, though he wasn’t exactly going the best way about avoiding the subject. Not when his mouth was doing that.
An easy smile slid across the smooth contours of his lips, his dark eyes darkening even further and he bit his bottom lip before chuckling lowly.
“And if we did go somewhere more comfortable… what would we do?”
The man pressed further against him, holding him by the waist, deliberately pressing his erection against the other’s and earning a shaky gasp.
“D-don’t make me say it,” he warned, hating the shudder in his voice, “you know what I mean…”
It really didn’t help that his sweats had already been pulled down to the tops of his thighs, freeing his painfully hard arousal, but the small circles Asuma was making against him with his hips was incredibly distracting, and the slow, hazy way he drew out his words only fuelled the fire.
“I know what you mean,” the Sarutobi chuckled, “but you could mean a lot of things, am I right? Lookin’ mighty breathless there, Kakashi.”
Said Copy-Ninja moaned at the way the he said his name, as if he fucking loved saying it and nothing tasted sweeter. It was but a few more minutes of torture before he gently pulled Kakashi’s sweats up (obviously ignoring his pained grunt) and took his hand, pulling him by the wrist and thumb forwards on shaken feet. The younger man grabbed the bottle of wine and brought it with him, gulping down a large measure – anything to somehow calm the nerves jerking his stomach around.
It was a very short and hasty walk to Asuma’s bedroom; the bottle of wine was wrenched out of his hand and he watched the man drink it before pushing him back onto sheets that smelled of smoke, and that wonderful subtle aftershave the taller man used. Kakashi took a moment to revel in the scent before his hips were straddled and his shirt pulled up past his ribs and over his head by long, clever fingers.
“Oh, do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?” The Sarutobi asked breathlessly, pulling his own shirt off in the process and moaning when their skin pressed together, “How long I’ve wanted this?”
His heart was aching from the pressure it had been put under and the things Asuma was saying… confessing his long-awaited fulfilment of his desires… it couldn’t be? The ability to answer the man properly had been long gone, he was far too into it to even think let alone form a coherent sentence.
His sweats and boxers were quickly wrenched off, and his fingers fumbled when he pushed the other man’s trousers down, watching him kick them off. The Copy-Ninja shouldn’t have looked down, down at that gloriously cut body, rippling with muscle and dark skin that was now naked and wanting him and God it was almost too much.
“You just had to take your mask off,” Asuma breathed into his ear, running his tongue along the side of his neck and gasping when Kakashi’s short nails scraped down his chest, “you just had to make those noises when you eat. I can’t stop…”
“Don’t stop,” he breathed in reply before pulling him and kissing him hard, all thought lost then when hips came down to meet his and a large hand wrapped around their arousals, pressing them together and massaging.
Through throaty moans and gasps of pleasure, he didn’t think any of his late-night (and often early morning) entourages compared to this… this urgency, like if they didn’t get off with each other and fast, either of them would explode.
Kakashi didn’t necessarily want to fight for domination, not when he needed the man as desperately. So he didn’t even bother protesting when his hips were grabbed, the man sitting upwards to roughly turn him over, the slighter man’s chest hitting the bed. Usually, he didn’t really take it per-say, but for Asuma…
For Asuma he could make an exception.
A hard, unbearably aroused shudder passed through him when he head him un-cork a bottle of lubricant and it wasn’t long before two lube-slicked fingers sank into him, slowly, stretching him and teasing him, crooking to find his prostate. He gritted his teeth, his knees shaking and a low, guttural moan echoing out of his mouth when something inside him pulsed suddenly, and he jerked.
That was all the information the older man needed, with a hand around his waist, his chest pressed against a paler back and his lips fluttering random kisses across his neck, the other hand was still inside the younger male, guiding himself into the small body so willingly giving himself up.
The sharp, hot groan on the back of his neck shot straight down to his groin, he gritted his teeth, twisting the sheets between one hand and digging his fingers into Asuma’s arm with the other as the man pushed, stretching him, burning, filling him inch by agonising inch.
And then the arm he was clutching desperately moved up to his face, those long clever fingers going under his neck and pulling his chin up, into a kiss that was-
So impossibly sweet-
God, it fucking hurt. He forgot how much it did hurt, not since that time he and Gai were lost in the mountains of Lightening and were both so fucking cold and would have done anything to keep warm. And Gai wasn’t a far cry from Asuma either.
Frome his angle, he could see the older man’s pinched expression, the sweat that started to break out over his skin, the intensity of his incredible eyes. All too used to the pain, he urged the man to move, feeling the darker hand rest against his shoulder and using his body for leverage as he pushed – oh God rolled his hips against the other’s, his hand still slick with lubricant cold against the top of his thigh as his legs were pulled further apart.
Every ragged moan, pant and choked cry only served to fuel the need that came roaring back through the pain, and he found himself bucking back against the darker man, crying out breathlessly when he pressed against something deep within him that made him go weak and funny at the knees.
He couldn’t have asked for anything more, the heavy moans against his neck and how the man held him by the shoulder and hip, angling him to take it deeper, steady, urgent, rhythmic-
Kakashi bent his leg, bracing himself against the bed, willing the older man to hit against that spot again and it wasn’t long before they were both moaning in reply to each other. And knowing that Asuma was doing this to him, filling him again and again as he gradually picked up his pace, whispering filth in Kakashi’s ear when he pushed back, it was enough to reassure him it definitely wasn’t a dream.
“F-fuck – Asuma,” he cried out, when his pace increased considerably, feeling the first waves of his orgasm starting to turn his skin to ice, increasing the throb in his arousal rubbing against the soft bed-linen, moaning brokenly at the jerky thrusts the man had suddenly taken on.
He was close, and having him like that, crying out Kakashi’s name desperately, it felt far greater to have him raw and full of pleasure like that than the actual sex.
“Kakashi… fuck you feel too good, I’m-“
“Don’t,” and of course, he had been forced to beg, “please… fuck I’m so close…”
Breathily hot against the back of his neck, a tanned hand reached in between him and the bed, lifting his hips and the slam sent him face-first into the bed-sheets with a shaky moan. That hand that suddenly wrapped around his cock served to push him further and he was brokenly moaning Asuma’s name, crying it out like a desperate prayer when the jerky-thrusts behind him sent him spiralling towards his orgasm.
And to think… just earlier he was making fun of Asuma around his kotatsu and breaking bread with him, now he was-
Digging crescent shapes with his fingernails into the man’s forearm when he let go of his shoulder to brace himself against the bed, his free hand grabbing a hold of one of the wooden bars on the man’s headboard and squeezing it with such force it splintered and cracked in his palm and-
For a glorious moment-
Listening to Asuma breathlessly moan his name in his ear when he jerked into him, shuddering as he gave his body up to pleasure and sent Kakashi seeing stars blur out his vision when orgasm finally overtook him.
Everything went white as every muscle clenched, his nails drawing blood in Asuma’s forearm with a harsh groan, stifled somewhat by the bed-sheets his face had taken refuge in. Tense, for so long as wave after wave of pure pleasure rippled through his body-
And then slumped, the older man spent against him, sprawled out on top of him, warm and sweating and wonderfully alive.
God… nothing could compare.
Then there was silence; nothing but the laboured breathing that had grown in sync and the rustling of sheets as the larger man managed, by some feat of incredible dexterity, to climb off him and wrap an arm around the Copy-Ninja’s shoulders, turning him over to rest his silvery head against the darker chest.
It… really happened… didn’t it? He knew he wasn’t that crazy to dream or imagine something that felt so intense, so wonderful. And to think, just earlier, he thought the man was in love with Kurenai.
“… You’re not straight,” he stated simply after sometime, watching with vague interest as the man lit up a smoke, his eyes closing in bliss as he took the first drag and blew it out, watching the cloud billow and disperse.
“Wow, no wonder they call you a genius,” he deadpanned, letting the smoke hang out of the corner of his mouth.
Kakashi decided Asuma looked just as amazing after sex as he did during it, with his hair all messed up, his beard even coarser looking than usual and his skin flushed and relaxed.
The older man sighed, looking pensive, “… I haven’t been straight, not for a damn long time.”
The younger jounin simply nodded, understanding. Not many people like to openly confess their preferences to the public, and he supposed the Sarutobi was absolutely no exception, especially being the 3th Hokage’s son. But did that really matter? After all, his confession of wanting Kakashi for a long time had been truthful, as are many things cried out during states of carnal lust and drunkenness, so what did it matter what orientation he was anyway?
But he knew the man didn’t want to say it, not openly, not yet. So he didn’t bother pressing him for information, content to lie in his arms. A change of subject was in order.
“… I hate daikons…” It wasn’t like him to say something without it really having any value, but the silence was just a little uncomfortable; the last thing he wanted was for Asuma to feel Kakashi was waiting for a confession.
“… What?”
The Copy-Ninja sat up a little, brushing the silver hair that had fallen into his face back with a hand, “You asked me earlier what my tastes are. I’d eat anything except daikons, because the texture of them when they’re cooked reminds me of puke.”
The Sarutobi merely stared and shook his head, taking another drag from his smoke, urging Kakashi to lie back down and relax, “That wasn’t what I really meant, Kakashi…”
It took him a little while to figure out the meaning of the sentence, but when he did, he fit himself a little more snugly against the larger man. After all, he couldn’t have just politely asked him over to try out something he wanted to cook because really…
That question about tastes… it was never really about the food.
Author's Notes: I know some of you under 18s read this! *shakefist*
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