Title: Play pretend
Rating: M
Warning: vague m/m porn and even vaguer plot
Notes: my first real PWP! written for the voyeurism prompt at the kink meme. It's not all that explicit, though. There's a longer story lurking behind. If we're all lucky, I'll never sit down and write that.
He lies on his bed, one hand twisted in the sheets, the other sliding down his naked chest, down over the hills and valleys of his stomach muscles, down until it slips under the green fabric bunched around his hipbones.
Kakashi bites his lip as Guy's hand, its contours still clearly visible under material that stretches and molds itself around the intruding appendage, creeps lower still. Guy sighs softly; his hand comes to rest between his legs. There's movement still, but of a different kind. The fingers grasp and pull; they shift and stroke.
Kakashi steps closer, up to the side of the bed, so he can see better. He doesn't want to miss any of this, not even the smallest detail. The details are everything.
The color rising in Guy's cheeks. Blood. Blood pulsing through his body in quickening pulses, timed like his soft breaths. The dampness on his forehead, the furrowed eyebrows, the eyelids fluttering in tension that rises and wanes with the rise and fall of Guy's hand.
Kakashi leans closer to him, completely focused on Guy. Guy, who arches on his narrow bed, his muscles bulging under his tanned skin, his head falling back, baring his throat, putting himself at Kakashi's mercy.
It's too much. Kakashi gives in and climbs on the bed. Swings one leg over Guy to stand over him. He won't touch Guy; he won't break the illusion. For all intents and purposes Kakashi is not here in Guy's Spartan room and definitely not on Guy's bed – over Guy – so close they're almost touching. Almost.
The mattress dips under his weight; Kakashi needs to hold still. He is so hard it hurts but that's part of it. Otherwise it wouldn't work. He won't get to touch himself until the very end. But he doesn't have to.
Beneath him, Guy makes a soft vulnerable sound that rushes out between ragged breaths . The sound of fabric sliding against skin, of skin on skin. The musky smell of Guy rising up from his sheets; Kakashi inhales it deeply. Savors it.
Guy's gleaming white incisors sink into his lower lip. He inhales in a desperate hiss.
Exhales in a little half-sob that makes the heat in Kakashi's abdomen coil into a tight spring. There's no holding back now.
With one hand Kakashi yanks on his fly. He never takes his clothes off in Guy's room. It would take too much time; it would be too risky.
He gasps when Guy gasps, when his fingers touch his own hot flesh.
Kakashi looks down at Guy's face. Trembling thick black lashes fanned out against flushed skin, hair smooth and dark like oil, light sticks to it even as Guy thrashes, tosses his head.
Their hands follow the same rhythm; they breathe one breath.
Guy's tongue darts out to wet his lips and Kakashi tastes the staleness of his mask.
A soft squeeze, a long stroke.
Guy's hips jerk off the bed, jerk between Kakashi's feet.
Kakashi falls to his knees.
They brush like strangers.
Shivers down his spine.
It's almost enough.
Craving more, Kakashi leans forward, plants his free hand next to Guy's head. Hot little bursts of breath leave damp spots on his wrist. The pounding in his ears is the pounding in Guy's heaving chest.
Their breaths hitch.
"Look at me," Kakashi whispers.
Guy's eyes snap open. Feverish, black, bottomless. Trapped in each pupil a tiny reflection of Kakashi.
Kakashi squeezes his own eye shut and lets himself fall.
He hits the mattress with a soft thud and buries his face in Guy's pillow. Inhales deeply. The odorless smoke – the only visible trace of the transformed shadow clone – dissolves around him.
Kakashi shivers, wiping his sticky fingers on the inside of his pants before pulling them out.
He needs to go home.