torch, flambeau@strangeplaces.net
August 6, 2011

Disclaimer: not intended to represent actual ninja behavior on actual ninja missions. Written for porn battle XII. The request was Kakashi/Iruka, and the prompts I chose this time were snow, mission, hidden. Do not archive without permission.

floated on heat

"Don't make a sound," Kakashi breathed in Iruka's ear, and that was the serious voice, the flat and commanding voice. So Iruka kept silent, and also still.

He could hear them for himself now, their followers, coming through the snow and not quite as quiet as they could have been. Iruka wondered if he and Kakashi had really managed to erase their own tracks, if the snow they'd left behind looked natural or arranged. He imagined messy footprints leading directly to their hideout, even though he knew there'd be no such thing.

Four men passed by, three of them wearing scratched-out Wind forehead protectors and the fourth with a knitted hat pulled so low over his eyes, he could probably only see his own toes. They'd be even less used to snow than Iruka and Kakashi. They certainly didn't look very happy. Iruka would have laughed, but he didn't make a sound. He could feel Kakashi's laughter, just as soundless, against his back. They were pressed very close. This was a good hiding place, but not a very large one.

The men passed by, then stopped. Iruka didn't breathe. They exchanged a few low words, and then, to Iruka's utter disbelief, they passed around strips of something dried and repulsive-looking, and started to eat. They had the whole forest to stop and refresh themselves in, and they'd chosen this particular spot, so close Iruka could have spit on them.

Kakashi's hand was on Iruka's chest, as if holding him still. Then that hand slid sideways, in under the cloak, in under the open tac vest, and stopped flat on Irukas chest again. Iruka could feel the warmth of Kakashi's fingertips; the palm, covered with the usual glove, was mostly just pressure. Maybe Kakashi needed to warm his hand, Iruka thought sensibly and calmly. It was a cold day.

One fingertip moved, skimming over Iruka's nipple, already drawn tight with cold and adrenalin. That one fingertip began to rub slowly back and forth, not very hard, just a steady rhythmic touch.

Iruka didn't make a sound. He didn't drive his elbow back into Kakashi's solar plexus, but oh, how he wanted to. The men outside passed around a canteen of water and began a low-voiced conversation about going farther east, since their prey was probably following the river. Kakashi curled his finger and teased Iruka's nipple with the edge of his nail, a sensation that went all the way down to the soles of Iruka's feet and up again. Iruka resolutely bit his lip. This was insane. This was dangerous, and frivolous, and wrong.

That seemed to describe his relationship with Kakashi, really.

Two fingers, now. The sensation of nails through cloth was clear-edged and impossible to pretend away. Iruka tried to tell himself that he wasn't sensitive to it, not at all, that his nipples were utterly indifferent to touch, that Kakashi might as well have been touching a random spot on his elbow.

He thought Kakashi could probably stimulate a random spot on his elbow until he came. Not that he would, not that it mattered in this situation. He was a trained shinobi. He could withstand torture. Iruka had just not imagined that it would come from his own side.

The hand on his chest began to turn, slowly, and Iruka had several long moments of feeling relieved before Kakashi's scarred and callused thumb found his other nipple. Then he bit his tongue so he wouldn't scream, because the left one was sensitive, but the right one--

Iruka didn't lean back against Kakashi and moan wildly. He didn't even shift his weight to make himself more comfortable in his pants. He focused his gaze on the four men outside, so that he'd be able to recognize them if he saw them again, not just their faces but everything about them, even that ugly knitted hat. Kakashi was breathing against the back of his neck. Filtered through the mask, the air was diffused and the air-pressure almost non-existent, but the change in temperature was enough to be noticed. The constant shift between warm and cold made Iruka's skin prickle. It was such a small thing, and Kakashi's thumb rubbing his nipple was also such a small thing, something that could be completely disregarded, except that it made his whole body burn.

One of the men outside sketched a map in the snow, just a few lines, then wiped it out again with his palm as the others nodded. Iruka hadn't been able to see it. He'd been staring too hard, wide-eyed, and when he finally blinked, tears ran down his cheeks, hot against his cold skin. He was so hard it hurt. He was going to do something terrible to Kakashi when this was all over. His right nipple couldn't bear any more touch. A tight tense line went from his nipple down to his cock, vibrating in time with the tiny movements of Kakashi's thumb.

The man in the knitted hat stowed the package of food away and brushed his hands together, saying something that made the others laugh, and Iruka realized dimly that he hadn't even heard it, he was so far gone, his body entirely attuned to the sensations Kakashi was giving him and the absolute need to stay still and quiet while he was racked by this devastating pleasure. The men started to leave. Kakashi turned his hand a little more, took Iruka's right nipple between his thumb and index finger, and pinched. Iruka came in his pants.

Everything went white, a blizzard just for him. Iruka slumped a little, and Kakashi was there to prop him up. "You're so stubborn," Kakashi whispered.

The clearing was empty now. Iruka shook his head, still dazed. "Kakashi--"

"Well, come on," Kakashi said. "Let's hurry. Now, we follow them."

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