Grey Dawn, Part Five - Regret
Beloved, Grey Dawn Remix - VNV Nation
We were once young and blessed with wings
No heights could keep us from their reach
No sacred place we did not soar
Still, greater things burned within us
I don't regret the choices that I've made
I know you feel the same.
Fic written for a prompt from Vernajast and because I needed something to fulfill my angst quotient. Semi-AU, post-Kyuubi where Minato didn't die. Kakashi is 17ish. Overall rating M.
Warnings: Rated M for dark, mature themes. Violence. Angst. Severely edited mentions of smex. Not the roses, wine, candlelight, and silk sheets variety, despite Minato. This is a mission, damnit. He wanted tender fluffy stuff but that doesn't fit the story :) Only one more part. It's all coming to a head soon, for better or worse. Also thanks to lecanis and frackinsweet for input and quick read overs. And to blue bimbomushi... your latest story made this finish up and just flow... :) Unedited version will be posted at adult fanfiction net.
The storm-grey eye met his, full of pain and confusion and something that Minato could not put a name to, something that lay in between unwilling desire and repressed longing. Pale skin flushed red, and breath quickened again, but no longer in confusion. Hesitant fingers caressed a tan cheek, touched the slick skin of Minato's chest before tangling in the material that clung in wet folds to Minato's body. He was dazed as lips pressed against his, not sweet, warm and pliant as in too, too many long nights' fantasies, but cold and stiff, chapped, bitter and salty with blood and tears. "Kakashi..." The name was but a breath, a prayer against clammy skin
He tried to pull back, needed, had to know Kakashi knew what he was doing, what he was asking for, but the long pale fingers tangled in his clothing pulled more tightly, the lean body pressed even nearer, until only too many layers of clothing separated them, and still Kakashi burrowed closer, as if trying to climb inside Minato's very skin. Minato pulled the youth to his feet, backtracking to fetch the forgotten mask. He stopped beneath a sheltered stand of pines, pulled Kakashi into the scented haven. He quickly gathered strands of chakra, weaving genjutsu and ninjutsu together, cloaking them from detection, trapping their heat inside the improvised shelter. He stripped away his sodden clothing, drying the kimono with the simplest jutsu he could think of on such short notice. The coat and pants were hung over a small limb to dry, while the kimono was spread over the soft piles of needles on the forest floor.
Minato tugged at the straps of Kakashi's armguards, reminding him that he was still fully clothed and wet, if not dripping. He raised his hands to tug his armor free, but Minato batted them away, pulling the chestplate loose, piling it all off to the side, peeling the close fitting shirt over his head, mussing the already wild hair. Strong, capable fingers tugged at the fastenings of the dark form-fitting trousers, deftly unwound bandages, stripped him naked and defenseless. Only Minato's gaze kept him in place, barely leashed, nearly trembling with repressed power.
And then at a touch, Kakashi was a wild, struggling thing, all tooth and nail and powerful limbs. Only Minato's sharp hiss of his name and a firm hand to his throat could finally calm him. He looked deep into Kakashi's eye and slowly pushed back the patch, staring into Obito's as well, watching the sluggish circling of the red and black. And once again, Kakashi was aware, and himself. Too much so. Guilt and anguish warred with naked need in those suddenly expressive eyes. Minato pulled him to his knees, forcing him down onto the fabric. "Are you sure?"
"Sensei..." The voice was rough, broken, echoing the loss in his gaze.
"Shhh, Kashi." He ran long fingers across a quivering flank, watching closely. Warm lips kissed a path down Kakashi's neck, pressing against the pale slender column. Kakashi's head fell back with a deep shudder, eyes almost closed, neck exposed carelessly, and Minato couldn't hold back a groan at the sight. Don't. Don't trust me, Kakashi... I'm not worth it. Such trust, such utter and complete abandon, dropping all guards, was an aphrodisiac of sorts, something he couldn't ignore, not from Kakashi, and he knew he was lost, now, would give anything Kakashi asked, no matter the personal cost.
Minato kissed and licked and bit his way across the sharp collarbones, watched them turn pink, felt the cold skin thaw beneath his insistent touch, saw darker marks bloom against the porcelain skin. And everything tangled, melded together, Kakashi's need, his own long-repressed fantasies, the sheer stress of this mission, and the utter relief that they were both still here, alive, together. He'd dreamed of this moment forever it seemed, and it hurt that it wasn't how he'd imagined; Kakashi deserved better than frenzied rutting beneath the trees, animalstic sex driven by grief and need and hurt and the harsh necessity to stay grounded in the here and now.
Kakashi moaned and gasped and made a low, keening sound deep in his throat, and soon, Minato had a squirming lapful of frenzied ANBU. He pressed hard against Minato's chest, legs wrapped tightly around his hips, silently begging for Minato to make everything go away for a few too brief moments in time, to allow him to give up control and do nothing but feel. Minato's hands petted, soothed, slid across the cold, wet skin of Kakashi's back, cupping his ass and pulling their groins close, and Minato had to grit his teeth at the feel of the hard heat against him. His own strangled prayers and curses and utterances were swallowed by Kakashi's seeking mouth, and he fumbled in the fabric beside him for the tube of salve from the medical pack.
He whispered a tiny prayer of thanks and apology to Rin as he coated his fingers in the thick stickiness, feeling it liquefy a bit from the heat of his skin. He prepared and stretched and entered the man, watching his muscles tighten in beautiful agony.
Gods, he's beautiful like that. Panting and sweating, making those little noises. I have to see his eyes, commit it to memory, treasure it forever. Minato knew it was foolish and sentimental and that this was only mission sex, that no matter how he or Kakashi might already or eventually feel for each other, love and tenderness weren't a part of this; emotions would only hopelessly tangle and entrap Kakashi further instead of grounding him. But even if it was mission sex, and not the tender event he'd dreamed of for so long, it was his first time with Kakashi, and would still be remembered always for that.
He couldn't wait much longer. Just watching Kakashi's ever-changing expressions, hearing those addictive little noises, feeling the tight heat of him, smelling the mingled scents of sweat and musk and pine, tasting the salt sweet bitter copper taste of his mouth as he kissed him, all pushed him close to the edge. He moved impossibly slowly, feeling each ripple of Kakashi's movement. "K-K-Kakashi..." and he could barely speak his name, so overcome with sensation as he was. Kakashi didn't even try. He stuck with moans and gasps, although at times those were almost beyond his ability as well.
He stayed like that for several moments. He'd like to say it was purposeful, that he was allowing Kakashi to adjust, but that would be a lie. He just couldn't move, didn't want to, really. This was one of those perfect moments you wished you could capture in crystal, stop time and keep it forever... just. like. this. He didn't feel like a twenty-seven year old man, a teacher, a leader, a revered shinobi. He was young and scared and awkward and fumbling, cheeks flaming and limbs unsteady from too much sake, hearing his sensei's laughter from the next room of the brothel. And then the years rushed back and he was moving, kissing and biting, whispering against the scarred chest.
He pushed and pulled Kakashi, angling, hitting the spot within him, watching the increasingly pained expressions, knowing how closely he was teetering to the edge of the release that just wouldn't come. Come on Kakashi, let go, you're there, let it happen, don't fight... He stroked again, fast, slow, hard, and gentle. Small shocks of pain as he used his nails lightly, warm wet heat as he bent over carefully to kiss and suck. He couldn't hold back anymore, and it was a failure, a betrayal of the worst sort to leave him aching and hard, having grudgingly found his own release.
He pulled out, smearing the last remnants of his seed on Kakashi's length, dragging his fingers through the wetness, pushing them quickly into his own entrance, prepping himself with no thought to pleasure or comfort, only a burning need to share this with Kakashi, bring him back, remind him they lived and that life was good. It was the very essence of mission sex, and in a way maybe that truth was so universal that he could forego the romantic trappings, quit regretting the current circumstances, because above all things, Kakashi was a Konoha shinobi, and he was the Fire Shadow of the Hidden Leaf.
This was fitting, he decided, as he lowered himself down ungently onto Kakashi's rigid length. And it wasn't soft and tender and romantic. It was hard and fast and deep, but it was wild and beautiful, untamed in the same ways as Kakashi. He gave and gave and gave of himself in the guise of taking, his heart pouring out and bleeding, romantic ideals dying a righteous death as he brutally impaled himself on his onetime student, bringing the near-shattered ANBU mind back to this not right, messed up world that they shared. Kakashi arched with a scream, tensing impossibly tight, nails digging deeply into Minato's back, and Minato shuddered, watching, sinking sharp white teeth into a pale ivory shoulder. He held Kakashi close, petting and whispering, kissing and loving, as trembles subsided and frighteningly sane eyes raised to his own. For a moment, he was divine, as he saw a spark, the tiniest flare of everything in those dark, mismatched eyes. Then Kakashi shivered, eyes drooping, hiding the miracle from Minato again.
He set wards. They would both need the remaining night's sleep to make it back to Konoha tomorrow. He cleaned them both in the cold water from the pool, wrapping himself around the dear, pale limbs. They were strong and deadly in battle, but allowed this one moment of weakness and softness, allowed him to care for him only now. It was more than he'd ever have asked for and less than he ever could live with. He was damned, but as he drifted to sleep, he couldn't help but think he was blessed. They both were.
He awoke the next morning, in the cold, grey light of dawn, to empty arms. Kakashi was out in the clearing, gazing at the drifting mist, the fog that reached up only to his chest, blending in with his bone white armor, making him a disembodied ghost. He quietly brought a small mug of hot tea, a bowl of porridge made from oversoft fruit and wild grains. Kakashi quietly offered a leftover bit of honeycomb, quietly watching the golden liquid bead against rosy lips, reaching forward to wipe away one sticky drop. They ate quietly, companionably, and if Kakashi looked drawn and tired, it was to be expected. They erased all signs of their passage and began the long journey back to Konoha.
They arrived mid-afternoon and were whisked away, separated, allowed only time for a quick bath and leftover riceballs before they were taken for debriefing.
Minato had never been so upset seeing the gates of Konoha.