Disclaimer: Naruto is not my toy, although sometimes I wish it was. Everyone you meet here belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, I just borrow them, occasionally.
Author's Note: This is NOT CONTIGUOUS with anything else I've ever written. This was the very first time I'd ever tried to write Genma and I never finished the story. I'm posting the parts I have in the hopes that it'll inspire me to finish the damn thing and get it the hell off my WIP list.
Warnings: Eventual yaoi
Genma stood in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and debating whether it was worth it to take his pants off. He had some suspicions about how his night would go, and was engaged in an argument with himself over whether the look on Kakashi's face would be worth the trouble of having to put his pants back on before he could leave the house. In the end, he decided against it. It was better to follow quickly -- it left more time for other things, later.
He and Kakashi were the best kept secret in Konoha. Honestly, he'd been blowing the man for close to ten years, and only Rai and Iruka knew. ...Iruka... He cursed himself for having started that mess. It had been a goddamn disaster, and he blamed himself more that either of the other parties involved. He liked to think that he was less reckless, now, but he knew that wasn't really true either. If he was less reckless, he wouldn't be planning to run out on Yuugao, tonight, in order to follow the Copy-Nin across the rooftops. Sure, the kunoichi was beautiful, sure, she'd lived with him since Hayate had died... But she wasn't Him. Even Hayate, whom he'd loved with the better part of his heart, hadn't ever given Kakashi any proper competition.
Kakashi was incredible, even after all these years. He was an amazing lover, a terrible excuse for a boyfriend, and worth every drop of pain, heartbreak, and blood on the walls that it took to keep his interest. The last time they'd had sex -- proper fucking -- was more than eight years in the past. On nights he was lucky, Genma would look up from his book to see Kakashi tapping on the living room window. After a brief series of shrugs and gestures, Kakashi would bound off into the night, and Genma, cursing under his breath, would grab his shoes and follow. Wherever they landed, Genma would put on his most innocent expression and drop to his knees. Usually, it was over quickly -- Kakashi would be critically tired or would have somewhere else to be, and Genma could do things with his tongue that would make even Anko's eyes drop right out of her pretty little face. And Kakashi would thank him, tell Genma he loved him, and after a quick kiss goodnight, would bound off into the night. And Genma would bite his lips to keep from screaming in frustration as he sprinted home, painfully hard and desperate for relief. He would, as he always did, rush to the bedroom, intent upon taking out his frustrations on the lover who slept there, but upon opening the door, he would be struck by the smell of that person, and would stumble back to the living room in revulsion. He could never face the reality of touching someone else after tasting Kakashi. And so Genma would lie on the couch, with the hand that still smelled of Kakashi pressed against his face, and thrust into his palm until he had wrung the desperation from his flesh. It was never a matter of sating the need, because the need would never be sated -- sometimes it just burned less than others.
He set the toothbrush back in the cabinet and struggled back up from his memories. Tonight, it would happen again, just like it always did. There was something in the air.