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Tenzō’s eyes scanned over the last paragraph of the report one final time, but he wasn’t taking much in. The hour was late, they’d been over the document three times already, and the bottle of sake on Kakashi’s kitchen counter behind him was three quarters empty.
“I think it’s good to go,” he said before his eyes even made it to the bottom of the page. There was only so much effort he was willing to put into a report that the Fifth was unlikely to even read. Chances were, The Hokage’s assistant would read through it and give her the highlights, and by Tenzō’s estimation it was good enough for that.
“Good,” Kakashi replied from across the table. He sounded relieved. As long as Tenzō had known him, which was quite a long time even with the four year gap since he’d left ANBU, Kakashi had never particularly enjoyed the task of writing up mission reports. Tenzō suspected that his recommendation that the two of them get takeout on his dime and complete the report at his apartment had in fact been a strategic move to ensure that Tenzō would do the bulk of the writing.
It had worked, of course. Tenzō wasn’t the type to turn down a free meal and the invitation to see Kakashi’s home had been an unexpected and intriguing one. Even after a grueling day under the hot sun, straining to keep the Kyuubi’s chakra in check, Tenzō had been too curious to decline.
He was enjoying spending time with Kakashi again, these past few days. When he’d been asked to assist with Naruto’s training after the Tenchi Bridge mission, he’d thought it might be a bit like old times, working alongside Kakashi. But it had been very different than he’d expected.
The Kakashi he had been getting to know over the past few days seemed quite a ways removed from the serious, quiet captain he’d served under in ANBU. Sure, he was still committed rigorously to his work, and his demonstration of the Yellow Flash’s Rasengan in front of Naruto was proof enough that he’d only advanced in skill since Tenzō had worked with him last. But his demeanor had changed.
There was something soft, for example, in the patient way he’d explained the changes in chakra nature to Naruto. There was an unhurried quality to his supervision of his student’s progress. There was a generosity in his silence about the taste of Sakura’s frequently delivered food pills. An understanding in his conversations with Sai. A trace of affection in his late night dinner and report-writing invitation to Tenzō.
Maybe training up a team of students had mellowed him out, or maybe this was how he was always meant to be and it was ANBU that had wound him up all those years. Either way, Tenzō couldn’t deny that he liked the change. On Team Ro, Tenzō had wanted to be close with Kakashi, but he’d never seemed to be able to get to know him properly. He’d always felt like he was being held at arms’ length. This new Kakashi, though, seemed approachable.
Generous, too, Tenzō thought as he drained the last of his most recent cup of sake. Not only had Kakashi paid for their takeout dinner as promised, but he’d let Tenzō shower at his place and borrow a T-shirt and sweatpants before they’d sat down to eat andn write. Indeed, Tenzō had been given full, unfettered access to Kakashi’s private space, and it had taken a bit of restraint to only glance around casually and not gawk at everything as if it were a museum. Did Kakashi invite people over often, Tenzō wondered, or was this as rare an opportunity as it felt to him?
Kakashi’s apartment was small, but it certainly showed more character than any ANBU dorm Tenzō had ever seen. There were pictures of his teams in frames on the walls. A potted plant in good-looking health rested on a window sill. A few bookshelves contained worn-looking novels and scrolls. A copy of Icha Icha was splayed spine up on a small writing desk.
It was comfortable here, Tenzō decided as he popped the last slice of pork from his bowl into his mouth and settled back into his chair. Here in Kakashi’s kitchen, wearing his soft clothes, stomach full of greasy food and sake, the half open window letting in the white noise of the summer cicadas, Tenzō was comfortable. It was a nice feeling.
Carefully, Tenzō glanced up at his table mate to gauge Kakashi’s own progress on his meal. If he, too, had finished, it was probably time for Tenzō to make his way home. As comfortable as he was, the weight of a long, hard day was beginning to drag his eyelids down, and he knew there was another one just like it on the other side of the black nightfall outside.
Kakashi had never explicitly told Tenzō not to look when he didn’t have his mask on, and throughout the many years they’d spent running missions alongside one another, it would have been impossible not to have seen Kakashi without it at least a few times. Still, Kakashi did little without reason, and so Tenzō had always done his best to respect his senpai’s desire for privacy and avert his gaze whenever Kakashi removed his mask to eat.
Out in the village, Kakashi was lightning quick when eating, lowering his mask and shoveling down his food so fast that even those who were trying in earnest to sneak a peek were sorely out of luck. But out on missions, when there were fewer prying eyes and the darkness of the forest for protection, he’d been known to eat more leisurely, if still efficiently.
Tonight, though, it seemed he was really taking his time, because through the dark fan of his eyelashes Tenzō could see that Kakashi’s bowl was still mostly full and his face was a pale blur, no black fabric to be seen. Perhaps he simply wasn’t very hungry, although Tenzō could hear the telltale sounds of noodle slurping that indicated that he was, in fact, still eating.
Maybe he didn’t care for the food, though Tenzō would be surprised if that was the case. By the time they’d finished up training, their only option had been late-night takeout. Fortunately, coming home late in the night and famished was a regular occurrence for ANBU operatives, and so Tenzō had recommended a reliable option, and his own food had been plenty tasty.
Tenzō returned his gaze to his empty bowl and stood up, bringing it with him to deposit it into the sink and pouring himself another cup of sake for good measure while he was at it. It was unwise, probably, for the two of them to have already worked their way through most of a bottle of sake when they had another long day of training ahead of them tomorrow, but Tenzō had only followed Kakashi’s lead, and the warmth in his cheeks and hum in his ears was pleasant.
The linoleum in Kakashi’s kitchen was cool under Tenzō’s feet and the sweatpants he’d borrowed from Kakashi gathered around his ankles as he walked, too long for him. He’d head home, he decided, after this last drink.
Tenzō kept his eyes on the drink in his hand on his walk back to the table. As he took his seat again he occupied himself by glancing over the cover page of the report again. He swirled the sake in his cup.
“You don’t have to look away, Tenzō ,” came Kakashi’s drawl from across the table. He spoke slowly and he drew out the end of Tenzō’s name playfully.
Tenzō felt his face get warmer despite himself. It had been years since he’d been on the receiving end of Kakashi’s teasing. He was a well-respected ANBU captain and no one within the ranks ever spoke to him with anything in their tone but respect these days. Although his eyes were still downcast, he could picture Kakashi’s tilted head and the mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“I’m trying to respect your privacy,” Tenzō told his sake, doing his best not to give Kakashi the satisfaction of a reaction. “And it’s Yamato now.”
“It’s Yamato for the mission, ” Kakashi retorted. “I don’t believe dinner in my apartment constitutes official shinobi business. This is pleasure. And I’m telling you, Tenzō , that I don’t need any privacy.”
Tenzō listened to the clink of Kakashi’s chopsticks against his bowl for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. If Kakashi had no issue with Tenzō looking at his face, then who was Tenzō to disagree? Still, something about the way Kakashi had said that this dinner they were sharing was ‘pleasure’ had had the effect of upping the ante. The fatigue that had been weighing down his body moments ago began to dissipate and Tenzō felt more alert.
It seemed to Tenzō that this moment, which Kakashi was passing off as inconsequential, was actually quite momentous. That maybe right now, Tenzō was about to cross the threshold from being Kakashi’s kohai to being his friend. An equal. Worthy of access to his personal life. A few butterflies fluttered around in Tenzō’s stomach at the thought. What had been so elusive during all their years together in ANBU suddenly seemed as if it were being handed right to him.
Making as small a deal out of it as possible, despite the fact that his heart rate was picking up without his permission, Tenzō glanced up again as he brought his cup of sake to his lips, this time letting his eyes focus on Kakashi’s face properly. Kakashi met his gaze, chopsticks hovering over his bowl gripping a few limp udon noodles.
He was as Tenzō remembered him from the few times he’d seen his face before. Devilishly handsome with a tall, thin nose, a razor sharp jawline, and rose lips that gave Tenzō an encouraging, crooked grin. With no hitai-ate to hold his hair back, it fell over his left eye. He sat hunched over with his chin in the palm of his free hand, apparently enjoying his meal lazily.
“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Kakashi said, finally taking his bite and slurping the noodles between his lips. A drop of sauce lept from the end of the longest noodle and landed on his chin.
Tenzō’s mouth felt dry even though he’d just had a sip of his drink.
Surely there were other reasons, but the thought flitted through Tenzō’s mind that perhaps the only purpose Kakashi’s mask served was to keep the public from being distracted by his looks. As it was, women were after him enough already with three quarters of it covered.
Tenzō had never been very romantically inclined, but he could appreciate good looks when he saw them. And, of course, he’d idolized Kakashi since he’d been a kid. It was hard not to be at least a little smitten at the sight of him now, eyes closed in appreciation as he savored the bite of food he was eating. Any thoughts of Kakashi not caring for his meal were banished from Tenzō’s mind by the sight of Kakashi’s small, satisfied smile as he swallowed.
Tenzō watched him return his chopsticks to his bowl and dig around for a moment before producing a choice slice of pork. Tenzō tried not to stare, letting his eyes settle on the open window behind Kakashi’s right shoulder instead. The night outside was black and it made the room feel small. The setting suddenly didn’t just feel comfortable. It felt intimate.
The room was quiet, too, and the sake had Tenzō worrying that Kakashi was somehow able to hear his heart, which was now inexplicably thumping in his chest. Tenzō returned his eyes to Kakashi, deciding to make conversation to fill the silence.
“You like the food, then?” he asked, shifting in his seat and thrumming his fingertips along the outside of his cup of sake.
“I do,” Kakashi replied, bringing a solitary noodle to his lips. “Good choice.”
Tenzō watched the noodle disappear between Kakashi’s lips and swallowed around a lump in his throat. The man really was too good looking for anyone’s wellbeing.
“I’ve never seen you eat this slow,” Tenzō commented, tilting his head toward his own empty bowl.
The day had been a slog, and when Tenzō had placed the order at the takeout place, his eyes had been a bit bigger than his stomach, it seemed. Even after he’d eaten his fill of everything, there still remained three gyoza, half a bowl of edamame, and most of a carton of pork yaki udon. Not to mention the impulse-purchased pint of ice cream in the freezer. Kakashi had barely made a dent in his udon despite the fact that they’d been seated at the table for at least a half hour.
Kakashi let out a dry laugh in response to this. “No, I guess you wouldn’t have,” he said, abandoning his chopsticks for a moment to take a long, slow sip of his sake. “I do like to enjoy my food, though, when I can. If you only got to really taste your food on rare occasions, you’d eat slowly, too.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Tenzō said quickly, worried that he’d already ruined this chance at becoming closer to Kakashi by insulting him.
“Relax,” Kakashi countered, voice low and unbothered. “I’m not offended.”
Obediently, Tenzō’s shoulders fell down from his ears as he internally chastised himself for being so inexplicably nervous. Kakashi was still Kakashi, masked or not. He was still Tenzō’s longtime colleague, even if there was something foreign about the way his eyelid was heavy over his gray iris as he bit into this most recently selected slice of pork.
“I usually cook,” Kakashi said around his bite, a canine tooth glinting in the light from the lamp overhead. “I like to think I’m pretty good at it, but this meal is really giving me a run for my money.”
Tenzō felt a small surge of pride at having chosen well and he scratched at his arm awkwardly. “You haven’t even tried the gyoza yet. They’re the best in town,” he said. They really were something else, in his opinion. Just fried enough for the wrapper to have a bite to it while still being soft and tender on the inside. They’d go cold at this rate if Kakashi didn’t pick up his pace.
Kakashi raised his eyebrows. “My apologies. Pass one here, by all means,” he said, a twinkle in his eye making Tenzō swallow thickly.
The plate was situated in the middle of the table beyond Tenzō’s reach. He stood, feeling a little lightheaded from the sake as he did, and rounded the table until he was perpendicular to Kakashi. Using the chopsticks resting on the plate, he selected a gyoza for Kakashi and held it out toward him for him to take.
The script Tenzō had been trying to follow, two friends sharing a casual dinner, had already been tested by the indulgent way Kakashi had been enjoying his food, the lateness of the hour, and the rate of his own pulse, but what happened next shattered the illusion completely.
Rather than accepting the gyoza with his own chopsticks, Kakashi leant forward, taking a bite out of the gyoza right from Tenzō’s chopsticks before leaning back in his seat and closing his eye again as he evaluated it.
While Kakashi tilted his head back and forth in consideration, chewing slowly, Tenzō stood frozen, chopsticks still aloft with the other half of the savory fried appetizer in their grasp. He had not at all been intending to feed Kakashi directly.
Had it seemed like that was what he’d been trying to do?
Had that been what Kakashi was expecting him to do?
Surely there was nothing to think of it. Surely Kakashi, too, had had a little too much to drink and had simply acted out of impulse. Surely there was no need to worry about the way the shock of it was giving way to something warmer spreading through Tenzō’s veins.
Tenzō had yet to recover from the surprise of it by the time Kakashi looked at him again. His eye was a little wider now, as if he, too, had just realized the strangeness of own actions.
There was a pause, then, the two of them sharing baffled looks. Tenzō had the feeling that they had inadvertently crossed a line that neither of them had even been aware of.
Then, though, Kakashi relaxed his demeanor in a decidedly intentional way, letting his eyelid droop back down. “Delicious,” he said. “Needs sauce, though.”
Tenzō felt as though his brain was malfunctioning. Kakashi’s lips were shiny from the grease and Tenzō could see a small beauty mark he’d never noticed before on his chin. Something was stirring in Tenzō’s stomach.
Kakashi seemed so nonplussed that Tenzō might have been tricked into thinking he’d imagined what had just happened moments before if not for the way the other man’s eye was shifting between Tenzō’s own and the remaining gyoza half, still clutched, probably too tightly now, within his chopsticks.
Hesitantly, partially because it seemed like it was what Kakashi wanted him to do, but largely because something new and burgeoning inside Tenzō wanted to see what would happen, Tenzō retracted his arm and reached for the center of the table again, gingerly dipping the half-consumed gyoza in the small ramekin of sauce. Then, experimentally, with the kind of boldness only alcohol could afford, he held it out to Kakashi again.
Kakashi caught his eye and something behind his gray iris roiled momentarily before he turned his attention back to Tenzō’s chopsticks and leaned forward, more slowly this time, and took the rest of the gyoza from him, eyelids heavy in apparent bliss as he chewed and swallowed.
Whatever this thing being awakened inside Tenzō was, it seemed to purr in satisfaction, leaving Tenzō equal parts excited and uneasy.
“Better?” Tenzō said, finding his voice. It sounded inexplicably hoarse.
“Much,” Kakashi agreed, timbre soft.
Kakashi’s own chopsticks, up until this point, had still been resting unused in his hand, but now he laid them down gently on the table beside his bowl. He placed his hands in his lap and looked at Tenzō expectantly. “How about another?”
The request sent a chill down Tenzō’s spine. Something in the room was shifting. Even too much sake couldn’t explain the heat suddenly burning in his cheeks.
For an eternal moment, Tenzō stayed standing, teetering on the fulcrum between the way things had always been, and whatever might they might become. Kakashi waited patiently. Perhaps he hadn’t expected the night to take this turn either, but it appeared that he was willing to see where it might take them. Was Tenzō?
Tenzō stared as Kakashi’s pink tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip.
Then, slowly, Tenzō lowered himself into the chair next to Kakashi’s, effectively joining him in his decision. Tenzō had hoped for friendship tonight, but it seemed there was more being offered, even though he wasn’t quite sure what that ‘more’ entailed. He’d be foolish to decline.
It was possible that Tenzō imagined it, but he thought he saw the corners of Kakashi’s lips twitch upwards, pleased with his decision.
Now, with Tenzō seated, they were eye to eye, only a few feet from one another. And as Tenzō reached to pluck another gyoza off the plate, turning back around to face Kakashi again, he was struck immediately with how much more intimate the gesture seemed from this distance. As strange of a sensation as it had been the first two times, watching Kakashi eat something directly from Tenzō’s chopsticks, it was decidedly ten times more strange from this vantage point.
He was close enough now to see the silver splay of Kakashi’s eyelashes as he ducked his head toward the chopsticks. Tenzō only realized he’d been holding his breath when he was forced to exhale by the sensation that ran up the length of his arm, created when Kakashi’s teeth scraped along the length of the chopsticks as he pulled half the gyoza from Tenzō’s grasp.
The sound didn’t go unnoticed by Kakashi, it seemed, and Tenzō saw his eyes flit up, lips quirking in intrigue as he swallowed and leaned forward again. This time, Kakashi bit down hard on the porcelain chopsticks and Tenzō had to grip tightly to hold them in place and not lose them as Kakashi pulled off with the last bite, the rasping of his clenched teeth somehow radiating up Tenzō’s arm and down deep into his belly.
Whatever had been stirring and shaking off the effects of a lifetime of sleep inside of him was fully awake now, and the moment Tenzō’s chopsticks were empty again he plunged them into the bowl of yaki udon that was still between them, clumsily clasping a few noodles and thrusting them in Kakashi’s direction, the thing inside him desperate to watch Kakashi take what Tenzō was offering him again. The noodles swung from the quickness of his movement, and his forearm was smattered with thick droplets of sauce. Tenzō couldn’t have cared less.
Kakashi, expression having transformed from intrigued to mischievous, used his tongue to sweep the dangling noodles into his mouth, slurping them out of Tenzō’s grasp. Then, before Tenzō could go back for more, Kakashi lunged further forward, his tongue darting out again, this time to lick up the length of Tenzō’s forearm, mopping up the spilled sauce.
Tenzō’s breath caught in his throat. As hot and stuffy as the room had gotten in just the past ten minutes, Kakashi’s tongue had been scalding on his skin. The air in the room cooled the place where kakashi had licked him as the other man sat back to gauge his reaction, lips parted, visible eye glassy and unfocused.
The thing inside of Tenzō roared , and he recognized it for what it was. Not intrigue or fascination, but arousal .
Tenzō dropped the chopsticks onto the table and they clattered against the edge of a plate. He groped behind him on the table, eyes never leaving Kakashi’s lest he break the spell. Finally, his searching fingers clasped around the edge of the ceramic bowl he’d been looking for, and he brought the bowl of edamame between them, hand only shaking slightly as he set it down.
Kakashi looked at the bowl and then back at Tenzō, and there was something positively carnal in his eye. Something that went straight to Tenzō’s groin and forced him to adjust his seat on the chair to make room for the growing bulge between his legs.
Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Tenzō selected a pod and held it between his thumb and forefinger, thrusting it toward Kakashi.
The apples of Kakashi’s cheeks were a deep scarlet, now, and Tenzō wondered if it was from the drink or if he, too, was experiencing this strange new thrill. Was this new to Kakashi, too? Tenzō wondered as his senpai’s velvet soft lips grazed the tips of his fingers. Kakashi bit down tightly and slid off the pod, staying close to Tenzō’s hand as he chewed and swallowed the soybeans.
Tenzō let the empty pod drop to the table and quickly produced another, floored by the experience of having Kakashi eat directly from his hand. Four more times, Tenzō held out a pod and Kakashi accepted it, each time his lips closing around more of Tenzō’s fingers. Each time his teeth scraping more slowly down the length of the pod. Each time Tenzō’s now undeniable erection throbbing between his legs, trapped by the fabric of Kakashi’s sweatpants.
Tenzō made to go back for a fifth. He wanted nothing more than to keep playing this game, entranced by the way his fingers ended up deeper and deeper in Kakashi’s warm, wet mouth each time. He wondered how many more until he could press the pads of his fingers against Kakashi’s tongue. His molars. The back of his throat?
Kakashi’s hand, lightning quick as it darted out from under the table, stopped Tenzō, though, wrapping around his wrist tightly before Tenzō’s fingers made it back into the bowl.
Tenzō froze, worried through the haze of the alcohol and the arousal that he’d somehow made a wrong move in this unfamiliar landscape. Worried that the game was over when he was only just learning how to play.
He wasn’t left worrying for long, though, because Kakashi used his grip on Tenzō’s wrist to pull his hand toward himself, and began thoroughly licking the salt off of Tenzō’s fingers.
Tenzō let out an involuntary sound at this, a whine that he would have been embarrassed by in any other circumstance. But there was no room for embarrassment when Kakashi had his index and middle fingers tight between his lips, his tongue gliding languidly over them.
Tenzō’s left hand was like a vice on his knee, and he released it, flexing his sore fingers and wondering how long he’d been gripping it like that. As he watched kakashi work over his fingers slowly and thoroughly, Tenzō became suddenly aware of the movement of Kakashi’s left shoulder. It was lifting and dropping in slow, repetitive motions.
All at once, Tenzō realized that Kakashi was touching himself under the table. This discovery set Tenzō’s groin on fire. He felt his own cock throb in arousal and he could hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He wanted to touch himself, too. Would that be allowed? What were the rules here?
When Kakashi had finally finished collecting every grain of salt off of Tenzō’s fingers, he sat back, lips parted, panting softly, arm continuing its slow, repetitive motions under the table. His half lidded eye looked Tenzō over agonizingly slowly, tracing over his face, down his neck and torso, and halting where the corner of the table between them obstructed his view.
“You look warm,” Kakashi said, voice low and gravelly. He used his free hand to push his still half-full sake cup toward Tenzō. “Have a drink.”
Tenzō swallowed around a thick lump in his throat. He was thirsty. His hand was trembling even more than previously as he lifted the glass. Not out of fear, though. Out of excitement . Tenzō’s whole body felt abuzz, exhilarated by the evening’s turn of events and this strange new activity he and Kakashi were engaging in. He brought the cup to his lips, but the shake in his fingers made the sake slosh out over its rim, splashing down onto his throat and the neck of his borrowed T-shirt.
Tenzō only had a split second to register the satisfied grin that appeared on Kakashi’s face before Kakashi lunged forward, palms of his hands landing on Tenzō’s shoulders as he licked a white-hot stripe up the column of Tenzō’s throat.
Kakashi’s pounce, whether intentionally or not, was forceful, and the alcohol Tenzō had consumed made him too slow to rebalance himself as his chair tipped backward, sliding across the floor beneath and away from him. Tenzō began to fall backward, hands grasping for the table’s edge to prevent a hard landing.
Kakashi fell with him, hands now clutching Tenzō’s shoulders rather than pushing on them. His elbow cracked loudly against the tabletop’s sharp corner on their descent at the same time that Tenzō’s flailing hand managed to latch onto the bowl of yaki udon rather than anything to stabilize himself.
Tenzō’s ass hit the floor hard , Kakashi’s knee colliding sharply with his hip bone as he landed on top of him, followed instantaneously by the heavy ceramic bowl landing on Tenzō’s chest, tipping over sideways and depositing a mess of now-cold noodles and pork onto his collarbone as it toppled over, landing noisily on the linoleum beside him.
As the bowl finished wobbling and came to a halt, the two of them were left in a silent kitchen, Kakashi half straddling him, one leg between Tenzō’s two, and one pork slice, slimy and cold, trailing lazily over Tenzō’s Adam’s apple.
They stared at each other, both of them breathing hard, Tenzō’s cock still straining in his sweatpants and Kakashi’s own more than visible through his. Had their tumble ended the game? Tenzō didn’t want it to be over.
Taking a chance, Tenzō reached for his own neck, grabbing hold of the pork slice that had now settled into the notch in his collarbone, and lifted it to his own mouth, placing it halfway in and letting the other half protrude from between his lips. He tried to ask without asking, ‘Do you still want to play?’
Kakashi, whose chest had been rising and falling as he’d watched Tenzō’s movements with hawk-like precision, accepted the invitation wordlessly, diving forward and crashing his lips into Tenzō’s.
Tenzō let out a moan at the contact, his hands finding Kakashi’s hips as he pressed up into the pressure of the other man’s weight on him. Kakashi took the opportunity to let his tongue delve deep into Tenzō’s mouth, the pork slice getting lost somewhere along the way, maybe swallowed by someone, as he explored the recesses of Tenzō’s mouth.
Kakashi tasted like soy sauce and green onion and the hand he was using to cup Tenzō’s jaw had brought with it a few of the spilled udon noodles. The sticky sauce was spreading as they continued to kiss, soaking through Tenzō’s T-shirt, falling onto the floor and into his hair.
The kiss lasted ages, it seemed, Kakashi’s teeth digging into Tenzō’s bottom lip and his hips grinding down onto Tenzō’s. He was no longer hovering over Tenzō, having laid down to press their bodies flat together, making a further mess of the spilled food which now squished between their chests, coating Kakashi’s shirt too.
It should have been gross, Tenzō thought absently, or at least unpleasant. It wasn’t though. If anything, it only added to Tenzō’s arousal. Kakashi writhing against him, the both of them getting stickier and greasier by the second, it was making all of Tenzō’s blood rush to his cock. He arched his back, lifting his hips involuntarily to follow Kakashi’s weight as the kiss finally broke and Kakashi rolled off of him, landing directly in a pile of wet udon noodles and not seeming bothered by it in the least.
Urgently, Kakashi tugged the hem of Tenzō’s T-shirt upwards, pulling it over Tenzō’s head with his help and then making quick work of his own. This act got rid of the bulk of the mess, though Tenzō could see where the fine silver hairs on Kakashi’s chest were smoothed down with sauce.
Tenzō had sparred shirtless with Kakashi before, but never had he been in a position to appreciate the sculpted, pale expanse of his abdomen. Like Kakashi’s face, it was hard not to stare at, and even harder not to touch. Tenzō let himself, sitting up, fingers tracing over a million scars, tiny and large, as he ran his hands up the sides of Kakashi’s ribcage.
Kakashi stared down at him, panting heavily, his kiss-swollen lips nearly as scarlet as his flushed cheeks. “What about dessert?”
The question sent a jolt of arousal through Tenzō’s body. He rose onto his knees.
“I thought you didn’t like desserts,” he said between his own deep breaths.
Kakashi grinned ruefully, making Tenzō’s heart clench in his chest. “I think it’s only fair that I give them a second chance.”
Needing no further convincing, Tenzō rose to standing, his feet only sliding twice on the spilled food as he stumbled his way to the refrigerator. He pulled open the freezer hastily and grabbed for the small pint of matcha ice cream, ripping off its lid as the freezer door closed loudly. Briefly, he glanced around the small kitchen, wondering where to find a spoon.
“We don’t need a spoon,” Kakashi said from where he was still sitting beside the fallen kitchen table chair.
Tenzō looked up at him and saw that he was now on his knees in the remains of the spilled yaki udon, sat back on his heels. The waistband of his sweatpants was pulled down to his thighs, and one hand was slowly working his hard, swollen cock. The sight of this eliminated any willpower Tenzō had left.
Still clutching the pint of ice cream in his left hand, Tenzō let his right hand drop down to grasp himself through his sweatpants, bucking up into his own hand and closing his eyes for just a moment, breath hitching on an inhale at the relief of the touch.
“Come do that over here,” Kakashi suggested, and Tenzō’s eyes fluttered open. He wondered if the ice cream was beginning to melt already from how high the temperature of his skin must be.
All trepidation gone, Tenzō made his way back over to Kakashi, setting the open pint of ice cream on the table and plunging two fingers into it, scooping out about a tablespoon’s worth. Kakashi stayed where he was, head now tilted up, mouth open, and tongue out, ready to receive.
At the same time as he pressed his fingers onto Kakashi’s tongue, Tenzō let his free hand slip into his sweatpants and grasp his erection properly, grunting in satisfaction as he wrapped his hand around it and Kakashi’s tongue slid between his index and middle finger.
Even with Tenzō’s fingers all the way inside of his mouth now, Kakashi managed to swallow most of the ice cream, only a small amount instead dribbling down his chin.
“Do you like it?” Tenzō asked breathlessly, stroking himself faster.
“Yes,” Kakashi said around his fingers, and it made Tenzō thrust up into his own hand.
He pulled his fingers from Kakashi’s mouth and let them trail over his lips and jaw, leaving a sticky path in their wake. Kakashi’s breath was coming in fast pants as he continued to stroke himself. The hair covering his left eye was beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat.
Tenzō released Kakashi’s face and slid his thumbs into his waistband and pulled his sweatpants down, letting them fall to his knees. His cock, rigid and already glistening at the tip, sprung free and slapped against his low belly. Tenzō reached for the pint of ice cream again, this time scooping out a larger amount and, before he let himself think better of it, smeared it up the length of the underside of his cock.
The shock of the cold made him wince and inhale sharply. But the decision paid off quickly as Kakashi shuffled forward on his knees, ducking his head and catching a drop of melted ice cream with his tongue as it made an ice trail down Tenzō’s balls. The heat of Kakashi’s tongue in contrast with the frigid ice cream was a sensation unlike anything Tenzō had ever known before, and he tilted his head back in pleasure.
Kakashi’s tongue continued its way up, flat and wide against Tenzō’s cock, licking up some of the ice cream as he went. Much of it, though, dripped elsewhere. Onto his nose. Onto his chin. Onto the floor. Kakashi’s tongue was cold by the time it reached Tenzō’s cock and swirled once around it, making Tenzō shiver and his knees nearly buckle.
But when Kakashi wrapped his lips around Tenzō’s erection and swallowed him deep, the back of his throat was hot and tight and the sensation was euphoric.
Tenzō dropped the ice cream container back onto the table, not even caring that it landed sideways, and thrust his hands into Kakashi’s hair, unable to stop himself from bucking forward and pushing his cock even further down Kakashi’s throat. Kakashi made a sound of surprise around it and the vibrations sent waves of pleasure through Tenzō’s veins.
Tenzō couldn’t stop himself now. He was thrusting in and out of Kakashi’s mouth. His chest was heaving. He could feel cold udon sliding between his toes. He looked down. Kakashi was looking back up at him, eye watery. His hair was stained green where Tenzō had unwittingly smeared ice cream in it. His hand made a wet sound as it slid rapidly up and down over his own cock and Tenzō’ realized that the ice cream container he’d put down sideways was dripping melted matcha ice cream directly onto Kakashi’s lap. He was using it to lubricate his motion.
This realization, for whatever reason, was what put Tenzō over the edge. With one last snap of his hips against Kakashi’s face, he came, spilling out into Kakashi’s mouth with a guttural moan. Kakashi swallowed around him, making Tenzō’s legs tremble, as he, too, reached his high. He let out a strangled sound around Tenzō’s still stiff cock as he coated the floor with yet another sticky mess before finally pulling off of Tenzō, and falling back into a seated position on the floor.
Fighting full-body tremors, Tenzō sank down onto his knees. His brain struggling to come down from the euphoria, struggling to make sense of what had just happened.
For a while, neither of them said anything. They caught their breath. They looked at each other. They sat in their mess.
The cicadas outside continued to shriek, indifferent to the alternate universe the two of them just created inside of Kakashi’s kitchen.
Finally, Tenzō broke the silence, feeling guilty for having knocked the first bowl of food onto the floor. Maybe it was his fault things had escalated so quickly. Maybe Kakashi was regretting it now. “Sorry about the mess. Please let me clean this up for you before I go home,” he said, surprising himself with how casual he sounded after everything that had just occurred.
Kakashi glanced around at the kitchen floor and then met Tenzō’s eye again. “We’ll clean it up together. And why don’t you stay the night? I make a mean breakfast, you know.”