Title:Staying Focused

Pairing:Kakashi/Iruka

Rating:R

Warnings:All the warnings you'd expect of R-rated yaoi.

Disclaimer:I do not own Naruto.

A/N: This is written for the prompt "Record, Rewind, Play" ( Basic prompt: Kakashi spends a lot of time watching Iruka. And when he's feeling lonely, spends a lot of time thinking of Iruka.) over at the KakaIru Kink meme...don't know if I was supposed to ask to have it..? If so, I'll change/remove it. Like anything I do, this was rushed. Thank you, and enjoy ( or at least pretend to ).

A/N 2: This was written two years ago for the above prompt. I only posted it on LJ and never here, so, in attempt to revive my account, here it is.

~xXx~

He watches without realizing he's doing it; not until he notices his blood beginning to settle at his waist and the discomfort caused by a half-hardened phallus straining against the confines of his pants. He's glad the missions room is empty.

He looks at the little whisps of hair-hair the color of rain-soaked tree bark in spring-slip out of the confines of a rubber band and rest languidly against sculpted brows, and his mouth goes dry. He sees the man make quick, delicate movements with his pen as he corrects simple mistakes on a mission report, and Kakashi wants to press a little kiss on the underside of the chuunin's wrist, right against the slight flutter of his pulse. He catches a glimpse of a pink, serpentine muscle slid out from behind plush lips, and he wants to feel it on his mouth; taste the faint traces of stale coffee and mint on Iruka's breath.

The teacher looks up at him with bistre eyes speckled with amber and emerald, and speaks in a patient, mellifluous tone and he wants to reply "I do," like some dizzy, love-sick virgin bride. Maybe it's because he's just a little obsessed, or maybe because he listens a little too well, but Iruka's common-place voice is subtle and velvety with barely noticeable undertones of breathlessness; like the voice of a man always on the verge of some sort of delicious sensation.

"Kakashi-san?"

He blinks, and wobbles a little as the pain in his left leg comes back to life. "Hm?"

"Thank you for your hard work, your report was near flawless this time." He handles the report delicately, careful of the blood stained corners. "You should...go home and get some rest now."

Iruka rolls his 'R''s the way a foreigner does. Kakashi nods, then turns away with a brief wave because its all he can do to keep himself from leaning forward asking him to say that again, only slower, and with his tongue down the brunettes throat.

~xXx~

Sometimes he's certain that he's putting himself into these uncomfortable situations-setting himself up for a hard-on.

The Umino's were well known for their charms, all pretty in one way or another and cunning to no end. He'd heard the stories of Umino Kamome, Iruka's mother; a rare beauty who exuded an aura of class and breed. She managed to always keep the Sandaime more than a little intrigued, and Kakashi always wondered if that factored into the kage's reasoning for taking such a special interest in the chuunin. Though Iruka looked a bit more like his father with his dark hair and deep skin, the subconscious allure and command he held over others made it certain that he was his mothers' son.

Kakashi knows this and still, he finds reasons to be in the presence of the man who wears down his iron will and makes every inch of him ache with a longing that threatens to split him in two. Curls of rich, sunny laughter pulls his attentions back to the lake, where Iruka and Naruto jump about in child-like exuberance. Water careens down Iruka's legs, and the man crouches down briefly to pick out a smooth rock from just beneath the surface. Kakashi lets his eye move over the wet body; the loose, tousled and wet locks sticking to his face and water-slick mouth, how the muscles in his thighs flex just so as he bends. Thighs, Kakashi imagines, that would part open under his touch and tighten around his neck as the head of a dusky cock slammed into the back of his throat. Maybe they would tighten on his hips, helping to keep the rhythm of well-timed thrusts.

Before he knows it, he's pushing up the hita-ate uncovering the red mirror that is his namesake. A pale lid cracks open to reveal a slit of ruby, and the tomoe in his eye circles his pupil lazily as he takes in the sight. Iruka's plain knit shirt sticks to his torso, becoming water-logged and transculecent. He isn't built or hardened, but his body is lean, limber and belies the true extent of his raw physical strength. Naruto says something that triggers a mirthful response from the chuunin, who throws his back and laughs brightly. His hair whips back in an arch above his head, spraying droplets of lake water all around. He doesn't get this man. He doesn't understand him. How can he love so freely, so truly, in a world built on fundamental lessons of blood and destruction? How dare he laugh so loudly, smile so boldly when his little make-shift family can all be slaughtered right before his eyes for no other reasons than "power" or "vengeance"? He's already lost one family, yet he dared to carve out another; saving Naruto from a life of shadows and Sakura from the ghosts of her misplaced affections.

Iruka kneels down to show Naruto something on the waters surface, his spine forming a deep curve from his neck to the beginning of his ass-firm and tight with the promise of muscles that would loosen enough allow him to sank deeply and fully inside the chuunin, yet remain snug enough to sear the memory of every thrust into his mind forever.

This is foolish and a complete waste of chakra he'll wish he had when he leaves for his next mission. But it would be nice, very nice, to have something like this to look back on after his next kill. The muscles in Naruto's neck grow taut as he prepares to turn his head; Kakashi notices just in time and lowers his hita-ate quickly, looking back down at the tattered orange book in his grasp.

"Kakashi-sensei!" The blond shouts. "Don't forget, after this you're taking AND PAYING for lunch just like you promised! And Iruka-sensei is coming too, so don't try to stick us with the bill like that old pervert!"

"Naruto-kun, I-I don't think you need me to go with you and Kakashi-sensei, it's alright if you-"

"Maa," he snaps his book shut then tucks it into the leather puch at his side. "It's fine, I don't mind letting the both of you mooch of me for a day."

Iruka flushes with indignation as he and the younger shinobi walk toward him. "No, it's fine," the chuunin explains, wringing out water from his shirt. Kakashi gets a peek of his bare abdomen and notes, with a tiny smirk beneath his mask, that the chuunin has a small 'outie' belly-button.

"I insist."

"Besides, he OWES me, Iruka-sensei." Naruto crosses his arms over his bare chest, looking more than a little smug.

Kakashi ruffles his hair, knowing such childish treatment offends him if it be by any hand other than his beloved sensei's. "If it bothers you so much, Iruka-sensei, you can just repay me when I get back. Fair enough?"

He arches a dark brow and looks at the copy-nin incredulously. "Get back?"

Kakashi shrugs and answers simply, "Mission tomorrow."

"But your leg isn't even fully healed!"

"Maa...it's not fully injured either. Besides, it won't be long, I'll be back in four days." He allows his eye to curve happily, ignoring the flutter in his stomach caused by Iruka's concern.

He sucks the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles the firm skin between two rows of off-white teeth. "Well...alright. I'll repay you. When you get back." And with that, he gives Kakashi a brilliant smile that reaches the corners of his cacao eyes.

Kakashi is almost sad he couldn't have recorded it.

~xXx~

He's reminded of why he hates ANBU.

A small group of white-faced killers run through the dense forest; leading the way is the dog-faced mask. The wind whistles in his ears, twigs and branches leave red welts along his fair skin. Another mans blood is drying to a cakey residue along his forearm and his entire body aches. He touches the pouch tied to his right calf, double-checking for the imprint of scrolls and tries not to think about the family they had to dispose of in order to get them.

He doesn't want to be reminded of how much the younger son resembled Iruka, with bright eyes and feathery hair that fell over his shoulders in one dark curtain. He certainly doesn't want to remember how one of his subordinates-the possible sadist in the monkey mask-drew out the young boys death.

He's glad when they come to the forest clearing promised in the map. Immediately, he gets down to the task of patching up his teammates ( being especially cruel to Monkey's wounds ), mapping out their location and estimating their return to Konoha, setting up camp and preparing the first draft of the mission report. It's enough to take his mind off everything for the time being, so he immerses himself in the work, even going so far as scouting the area a third time. Anything to keep his mind going, to keep from thinking. Only when he crawls into the quiet solitude of his tent does he release a breath he doesn't remember taking; letting his muscles go lax as he stares unblinkingly at the grey fabric of the tent walls. He hears Monkey's indignant grumbles at being chosen for first watch, but it's easily drowned out by the slow pitter-patter as an unexpected rain storm begins. He's tired, but is nearly too afraid to close his eyes for fear of what he might see. He was a murderer, yes, but he wasn't a monster, at least not yet. Any more recalls to ANBU, and he may as well just chuck his conscience out the window.

In weary defeat, he rubs at his face with his eyes, shutting his eyes tight against the throbbing pain in his leg. Iruka was right, it hadn't healed fully enough for such rigorous activity. Kakashi wonders if its raining back in Konoha. He wonders if Iruka is still at in the mission room, carefully reading through piles of reports. Or maybe he's home, sitting in bed and correcting students' homework by the weak, flickering glow of candlelight. His eyebrows would knit together when he came across a wrong answer, and he'd shake his head and give a delicate sigh before marking it with a red X. And if he were really upset, he'd run a hand through his hair in frustration, long fingers tangling in a mess of brown hair. Then he'd lick his lips, pretty lips with a sheer, natural berry tint. Kakashi bit back a groan, but didn't drop his fascination with the subject of his current thoughts. He remembered the chuunin at play in the lake, carefree and beautiful. Wet and dripping and-

He could feel the familiar tightness as he hardened, straining against the fabric of his pants as the tomoe of his sharingan wheeled slowly; remembering.

Iruka would be shy, nervous, but willing all the same. Kakashi knew the chuunin would turn all shades of red when he parted his ass with a firm, removing his mask and lowering his mouth to a puckered entrance. He knew Iruka would be a little bothered at the feel of a tongue pressing into him; licking its way inside him with barely suppressed eagerness. Iruka would fret and stammer out excuses and then shiver at the sheer indecency of it. But it wouldn't take long for him to start enjoying the feel of the hot mouth pressed against him, and soon he'd tweak his hips against the tongue lapping his muscles and reach a hand back to grip a handful of Kakashi's hair in approval.

The jounin exhales slowly, undoing the fastenings of his combat pants and tugging the hem of his boxers downward. The sizeable erection springs forth, engorged and resting upright against his abdomen, the bulbous head bright pink and slick.

He knows Iruka has never been taken before, knew even before he sent Gai out on a 'Secret, All-Important Mission to Unlock the Inner Secrets of Konoha's Most Youthful and Charming Steel Rose.' He imagined Iruka wouldn't tire too quickly of his tongue, but his body would soon demand harder use, use that Kakashi would be all too willing to give him-only after he made him beg.

He grips the base of his erection, then drags his hand upward in a slow, deliberate stroke. Pinpricks of pleasure start at the base of his spine, stretching out and enveloping him in a foggy haze.

He's nothing near a sadist, but he has his quirks. He would want to make the chuunin beg to the point of tears and describe-in vivid detail-exactly what he wants and where. It would embarrass Iruka to be put in such a position, but the need would overthrow his reason. He'd start out telling Kakashi in a stammering, uncertain tone; and then the words would fall from his lips freely, each word coated thick with the school teachers encompassing desire. Then, and only then, would Kakashi kiss away the crystalline droplets forming a bouquet beneath his chin, slipping a finger into the moist opening and relishing the way Iruka tensed around him. The chuunin's mouth would be hot and pliant beneath his own and he'd marvel at the clumsy, sweet way he kissed; like someone not used to the act. And when he leaned his head back to groan at the pressure of a second digit, Kakashi would devour every inch of dark, sleek skin he could get his mouth around-and it still wouldn't be enough. He'd feel like a starving man at an open feast; tasting everything and anything and still left unsated.

His thumb rubs against the tip of his phallus, smearing the build-up of clear fluid around the slit. A moan is growing in the back of his throat, but he knows better. The apple in his throat bobs violent as he swallows, clenching the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He curls one leg up slightly, resting the sole of his foot against his sleep mat to stabilize himself; because even though he's lying flat, somehow, he feels like he's falling. He strokes himself a little faster, the skin at the base of his cock being stretched taut as he tugged harshly at the swollen organ.

He imagines that by this point, Iruka would be shaking against him, tremors induced by equal parts fear and longing. He wouldn't even attempt to get the brunette to believe it wouldn't hurt; but he'd give him the option of how hard and how fast he'd like to be taken. And little school-teacher Iruka would look up at with wide, doe-like eyes and ask for sweet and slow. It would nearly kill him to oblige-to not thrash away inside the unbearably tight, moist heat squeezing down on him in a vice grip, but he would kiss the innocent face beneath his and agree with a murmured promise. Nonetheless, he'd be careful, extremely careful and he pushed forward into the body below him, perversely fascinated at the sight of the chuunin's body stretching wide to accommodate him. He'd hold his breath in anticipation, shaking as his muscles tensed in response to the sudden, enveloping heat, and he wouldn't exhale until he felt his balls pressed against the round ass.

The rhythmic pants become erratic, shallow gasps for breath. A burning sensation settles in his lower abdomen, and against his better judgment he lets a low, husky groan slip past his lips. He arches a little off his sleeping mat; free hand clutching the side of the nylon fabric in a white-knuckled grip.

Resting on his elbows, he'd kiss away the rivulets of tears slipping down the corners of tightly shut eyes. It would be a hellish test of his will to wait patiently for Iruka to signal his comfort. And when the moment finally came, and Iruka released a sound more like a moan and less like a pained sigh, he would pull out slowly, sliding a hand down to press a palm against the teachers lower back. It would take time for Iruka to get used to something easing in and out of him, but Kakashi was sure he'd be pleased with the talented mouth along his shoulder and collarbone. When Iruka finally clutched at his shoulders, thighs tight against his hips and begged for more, he'd drive into him with all the force he could muster, shocked, but not surprised at how prim little Iruka growled and opened his legs wider for a deeper penetration. If by chance he's feeling a little bold ( and he's always a little bold ) he'll slid out just before Iruka comes, flipping them over so that the darker shinobi straddles him. He'll keep both eyes open as the brunette rides him, shamelessly using Obito's sacrifice for his own desires a-

He tastes blood as his teeth snap down on his tongue, and the pain only proves to be a stimulus to the hot, tingling sensation gathering at his loins. He wishes he could cry out. His hand moves faster, squeezes harder, until he can hardly stand the tide of pleasure threatening to drown him if he doesn't give in soon-but he does, with one last stroke, globules of warm, viscous liquid shoots into his palm, tendrils of the white fluid seeping through his fingertips and following the contours of his knuckles as it dripped over his hand. A small puddle of it forms just below his navel, and he winces a little as a thread of cold air creeps into the confines of his tent, turning the warm wetness into cold spots against his overheated skin. When he opens his eyes, he half expects to see a sated, pink-cheeked Iruka starring back at him with deep eyes and a warm smile.

But when he does look, its only to the cold and damp darkness of a nylon tent, with the perpetual grumbles of a sadist lingering just outside the entrance.

~xXx~

He returns to Konoha two and a half weeks later.

He splits with his team at the gates and spares a few moments at his home to change out of his ANBU attire. It's late, but he knows Iruka is still in the missions room, organizing files or adjusting reports with a red-tipped pen. He clutched the brown envelope labeled 'Classified' and stuffed it into his flak-jacket. Such reports were to be handed into to the missions desk personnel, but could only be opened and accessed by the Hokage. There is no reason it can't wait until daylight. But he wants to see the chuunin. Wants a fresh reservoir of memories of the brunette, and it wouldn't be odd for him to show up with it so late. His entire reputation had been built upon lateness.

He strolls ( or, more or less, limps ) down the streets of Konoha, following the straight path from the Jounin district to the missions office. It doesn't take too much time; less time than it takes when he has his head in Ichi Ichi, more time than if he had the strength to run the distance. As he expects, the lights to the office are still on, and he knows Iruka is alone, working to the sound of the clock hanging over the entrance. He assumes the teacher will smile politely, asks how he's doing, then thank him for his hard work with a brief bow and soft smile before taking the report from his hands.

What he doesn't expect is to see the man hunched over at his desk, sobbing quietly and pale as death.

He blinks. "...uh...Iruka-sensei?"

The teacher freezes at the sound of his name. His head snaps upward, wide-eyed and leery. "Ka..Kakashi..?" He says his name as if he doesn't believe the man is standing before him, as if he doesn't dare believe he's looking right at the copy-nin. Despite the skepticism in his tone, there is a glimmer of hope in his bistre eyes. He stands to his feet shakily, stepping from behind his desk.

The dead look in the chuunin's gaze terrifies him-he's never seen such an emptiness looking back at him. He closes the distance between them in no time, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his leg at the sudden rush.

Iruka lifts a shaky hand to his face, outlining the shape of his jaw through the mask. "...You...they said...I thought.."

On instinct, he clutches the hand at his face. "Iruka..? What is it? Why are y-"

"I thought you wouldn't come back.." He shakes his head, burying his face into Kakashi's shoulder. "You said four days...four days and I'd repay you wh-when you got back.."

Understanding settles in, and he doesn't even have time to be shocked as Iruka's arms wrap around him. Instead, he returns the gesture, holding the man into his body, smoothing down strands of dark hair with a careful touch. "Did Tsunade tell you I was...?"

"No, she wouldn't tell me anything, she just...kept saying to wait and wait and wait.." His voice trailed off into a low, muffled sob. Quietly, he added, "..I thought I'd die of waiting."

"I'm sorry," he whispered against Iruka's temple, nuzzling the mass of hair.

He steps back a little, looking up at the jounin. "Don't apologize for coming back alive." His mouth curls upward a little, and Kakashi can tell its been far too long since the chuunin smiled. He becomes painfully aware of their close proximity and makes a move to step back. "I'm sorry," he mutters, looking flustered and embarrassed.

"Don't." He pulls Iruka into him again, snaking his arms along his back and waist into a hard embrace. "Don't apologize for giving me a reason to come back.."

"Kakashi, I-"

"I thought about you," he admits, moving one hand from Iruka's back and hooking a finger onto his mask. "The whole time. Only of you."

Iruka's eyes widen, and Kakashi isn't sure if its because of his confession or the shedding of his mask, but he doesn't care all that much either way. "Did...did you really?"

He nods. "You have no idea," he whispered, drawing Iruka's body closer to his and leaning down toward the pliant mouth. "No idea at all.."

-Fin-