"Kakashi!" Madara shouted through the half-open door.
Kakashi, who was about to put on his leather jacket to make his way elsewhere, sighed restrainedly, hung the jacket over his arm and walked past Konan, who gave him a short, indefinable look, into Madara's office. "Yes?"
"Get something today to cover that hideous pimple on your forehead," Madara scratched past a lit cigarette and seemed to be looking for something on his desk. "I want to take pictures of you tomorrow and I don't want that to be spoiled by your acne."
Acne?! Kakashi ran his fingers over that single pimple near his hairline above his left temple. He had survived puberty largely without major outbursts and only got a pus blister somewhere from time to time. He was blessed! This guy had no idea what real acne looked like.. "Is it enough if I put on a mask?"
Madara paused in his search and his eyes flashed dangerously over the burning haulm.
Kakashi immediately raised his hands. "It was a joke, my goodness. When are you coming today?"
"I'll leave the office around three."
"Do you want to eat something right away?"
"No, I train on Saturdays." Madara seemed to have found something and read through the text on the paper.
"See you tonight then."
It didn't seem to have been what Madara needed, because he angrily slapped the paper on the rummaged pile and roared, "Konan!"
Kakashi had little desire to witness Konan's execution, so he turned around, but Madara asked angrily, "What do you mean, 'see you tonight'? Where are you going?"
"Yeah what, shall I sit around all day and be on call?"
"I told you that you were mine."
The door opened and Konan poked her head in. "Madara?"
"Konan, where is Sarutobi's application?" Madara bellowed.
Kakashi listened attentively. Sarutobi, as in Asuma Sarutobi? Did the extremely rich bumbles around Mayor Hiruzen Sarutobi have money problems? How unpleasant.
"I put it on your desk yesterday," Konan replied indifferently. "I don't know where it hid from you afterwards."
"Fuck, you two make an excellent couple with your fucking sarcasm," Madara growled and poked out his cigarette, causing older butts to plunge into the chaos of sheets.
At this comment, Kakashi grinned towards Konan, who answered him with a roll of her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't remove anything from this office, so the application must still be here."
Madara groaned, got up, lit a fresh asthma medicine and stood by the window, where he wiped his face once with his free hand and put it in his trouser pocket. "Konan, please bring me a coffee."
"Consider it done," Konan said and disappeared again.
"And you," Madara clamoured, waving his cigarette in Kakashi's direction before dragging on it, "where are you going now?"
"To the department store, I guess, to look for make-up."
"And then?"
Kakashi inhaled silently. "I don't know yet. Maybe I'll find something to do on the way."
"Be with me at five," Madara ordered.
"Yes, daddy," Kakashi aped and caught a sparkly look in return. "Do you want to be rebellious?!"
"No."
"I hope so for you. At five o'clock with me, and woe betide you if you drink," he admonished and sat down again at his desk to continue his search.
Kakashi left the office and drove to the large mall in the City Centre, where he looked for a drugstore and lined up in front of a shelf with all kinds of make-up of various brands and types. He was completely overwhelmed. He still recognized mascara, this black kohl was certainly something like Konan and Blondie wore, lip gloss okay, the pink stuff was rouge, the colourful one for the eyes – but what the fuck did you use to cover pimples? If he approached the matter logically, it would have to be something skin-coloured, because with a brown lipstick he could at most paint small pictures in his face – but whether Madara would agree to that was written in the stars.
Indecisively, he weighed a plastic jar of light beige powder in his hand when someone approached him from the side. "Hey, you seem lost, can I help you?"
It was a boy his age, brown ponytail, friendly, brown-green eyes, scar across the bridge of his nose and a dimple on his chin. Judging by the name tag, he worked here and was called Iruka. "Uh.. Yes.. I.. uh.." Kakashi stammered and quickly put the powder back on the shelf, whatever that was supposed to hide. "My.. girlfriend sent me out to get her some cover stuff. But I have no idea what I should take." His imaginary girlfriend really got everything; an anal plug, make-up.. He would like to get to know that girl in person.
This Iruka smiled and had an expression on his face that suggested that he knew very well that Kakashi was not shopping "for his girlfriend". "Sure, at least you're in the right department. Does your girlfriend have dry or oily skin?"
"Uh... How do you find out something like that?"
"Well, does she complain about dandruff or does her face shine more?"
Kakashi suppressed the urge to look in the mirror to check what skin he had. "Well.. I don't know.."
"Does she use a cream for care?" Iruka asked further and still had that furtive smile on his lips.
Slowly, Kakashi was getting much too warm in his leather jacket. He ran his fingers through the neck and quietly admitted, "Um... So.. This stuff is for me.."
Iruka's smile widened a little. "And you need it to conceal little pranks of nature, eh?"
"Yes.."
"What exactly is it about?"
Kakashi tapped the pimple. "It mustn't be visible for a photo shoot." Nobody had to know WHAT kind of shoot it was..
Iruka nodded and looked closely at Kakashi's forehead— too close, for Kakashi's liking. "You have beautiful skin," the guy said out of nowhere and hit Kakashi in his glowing neck. In order not to scratch himself sore, he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and stared obtrusively at a small package of brushes and powder puffs. In the past, he had never received compliments from guys, now Zabuza praised his ass and a complete stranger praised his skin. "Um.." he said, undecided what to answer to something like that.
But Iruka didn't seem to have aimed for an answer at all and expertly explained, "Since you only need it for small pimples, I recommend a normal concealer. Simply apply to the desired area and blend into the skin with a clean finger. If you want even more coverage, you can also layer. Your skin is pretty pale, so I hope the lightest shade works for you." He gave Kakashi something that looked like a skin-coloured lipstick. "Rimmel is good, I use stuff from them all the time myself."
Instinctively, Kakashi looked for signs of make-up in Iruka's face, found none, didn't know how else to classify this information, and so he let it be. He quietly thanked the young man and hurried to the cash register to pay for the concealer. All that had been infinitely embarrassing for him..
On the way to the exit of the department store, he got a lemon-flavoured waffle ice cream and strolled along the sidewalk outside in the sun, which was quite warm again. He was drawn to Leaf Records so that he could buy a new Walkman with his weekly wage, which had been handed to him today. When he pushed open the ringing swinging door, the smell of vinyl, old carpet and vanilla air freshener filled his nose and he automatically started grinning. That was the scent of his youth!
On the counter hung a girl he didn't know. Apparently, Jack, the owner of the store, didn't have cashier service today and Kakashi had to admit that he wasn't too sad about it. It had happened rarely enough that Kakashi had entered the shop alone, and the last time Jack had bombarded him with questions about where he had left Gai. He had little desire for such a discussion. In addition to the Walkman he just wanted to browse in peace again, maybe find a pearl, and even if he didn't have a top grade to celebrate with a new album, the fact that he hadn't jumped was somehow worth a reward, wasn't it?
At first, he devoted himself to the floor-to-ceiling shelves with the umpteen Walkmans in all colours and designs. He had bought his old one for little money at a flea market and the thing had been from the early eighties. In the meantime, Sony had produced much sleeker models, including some explicitly for children or athletes – all ugly, in Kakashi's opinion. He also didn't like this strange roll-up function of the headphone cable, because it made the device too bulky. Besides, he wasn't a fan of headphones that you put in your ears, they had a worse sound than the others.
After all the deductions, he had gotten a hefty 225 pounds on his claw and unlike usual, he didn't have to put any of it aside. He had never been so well off financially in his life and dared to choose a WM-305 in matt grey – it had bass boost, auto-reverse, a protective bag, rechargeable batteries included and was hardly bigger than a cassette case. Together with fancy new headphones for over the ears, that was a total of 125 pounds. Shit.. That was a hell of a lot, but he had it. Nevertheless, he somehow got a guilty conscience. Should he then spend more money at all..?
On the other hand – why not? He didn't have to have any scruples. It was his money, he didn't have to justify himself to anyone. Resolutely and with only a small remnant of stomach rumble, he went one department further.
He rummaged through the many cassettes, picked one up here, put it back, read through the track list there, found it uninteresting. After a while, it must have been an hour and a half, he found a cassette in the advertisement for new releases that aroused his curiosity, Jealousy by X Japan. With the audio sample he went to the wall with the stereos, inserted a pound coin, dutifully put the protective cover on the headphones and listened to the album. Right from the first track, his musical nerve tingled a bit. It was signposted as metal but started with a pure piano piece. Who did something like that? Apparently, the Japanese. Yes, he wanted that. That was just the right thing for him – new, fresh, courageous, just as he wanted to be.
With fully loaded arms and a proud grin, he went to the checkout and looked for his money in his trouser pocket when the basket with the greatly reduced slow sellers caught his eye. There it was, Floodland. After he had kicked his copy into small splinters back then, he had never found the courage to buy the album again. It had been too painful to even see the cover. Even now, he reminisced about his last birthday for a far too long second, causing something to go on a rampage in the vault of his heart. Without thinking about it, he took the album out of the basket, put fifty pence on the four notes and stormed out of the shop with the plastic bag on his chest.
He ran back to his Beetle, slammed the door shut and sat there for a moment, lost in thought, still clutching the bag tightly. The heavy door of the vault had opened a tiny crack and a drop of longing for Gai had seeped out.
And it did not return to the painstakingly erected protective cloak, but stayed there, burning in his chest, growing into a mixture of desire and guilt. Again, he didn't really think, put the tape in the deck and Dominion started.
"In the heat of the night
In the heat of the day
When I close my eyes
When I look your way
When I meet the fear that lies inside
When I hear you say
In the heat of the moment
Say, say, say,
Some day..."
He had never before noticed how fucking well the first verse fit with what had happened in his room on the night of September 15, 1990. Actually, the song was about Chernobyl and in no way about the spontaneously effervescent lust of two male friends in an unobserved moment, but it nevertheless described this act perfectly, from start to finish. But Kakashi was hoping that this "some day" would actually come at some point. Should he perhaps drive to Hawick after all..?
Tonight was the barn party and he had told Dai he would come. But that was exactly where the problem lay. Dai. This damn bastard had slept with his mother, had been into her, had kept a big secret with her, which fucking explained why Kakashi was so strange, why he had these problems dealing with his feelings and people. Opium during pregnancy.. The fact that he was not completely disfigured or crippled could be seen as a gift of fate. Dai had known it and never said a word. And Kakashi had venerated him as a father figure. But this man was not venerable. He was just as big a wanker as everyone else.
No! The vault threatened to break, but Kakashi couldn't let that happen. He no longer wanted to mourn for these people who had hurt him and weep for what he had lost thanks to them.
With trembling fingers, he pulled Floodland out of the deck again, stowed the cassette deep in the glove compartment, threw in his angry tape instead, and let Ace of Spades erase his ears. The music put him in a massively pissed off mood and so he aggressively pressed the bell button of the brick villa shortly after five.
Madara greeted him with an equally grumpy "Can you ever be punctual in your life?!" He wore only black sweatpants, his exposed upper body was covered in sweat and a towel hung around his neck.
"And can't you put something on?!" Kakashi hissed back and pushed past him into the house, chucked his shoes half on the shoe rack, half next to it and carelessly threw his leather jacket into the wardrobe.
"What kind of shit have you eaten again?!" Madara roared and rammed the door into the lock. "This is how you show me your gratitude, hm?!"
"Uuuh, I am soo grateful, Mister fucking Uchiha, for you being so fucking generous and letting me stay in your broom closet!"
During the loudly clapping slap, Kakashi briefly saw stars and his cheek hurt properly. Madara pushed him against the door to the utility room and grabbed him by the throat. "You ungrateful little monstrosity," he growled with bared teeth and a deadly thunderstorm in his eyes, "are you seriously begging to be punished right now?"
Kakashi grabbed Madara's wrist and held his arm in place. "If you finally did it, maybe I'd learn manners, you bloody child fucker."
Madara's fingers squeezed and the tension between them changed from basic contempt to something highly compulsive. Kakashi pushed his hip forward, pressed his crotch against Madaras and sent clear signals, which Madara received and reacted to accordingly. He let go of Kakashi, dragged his sweater and T-shirt over his head and jeans and boxershorts off his legs. Then he threw him to the ground so that he landed on all fours, moved his pelvis up, wrapped the towel around his neck from behind and murmured with timbre swinging with anger and eroticism, "You didn't want it any other way."
One hand pulled on the towel, which elicited a gurgle from Kakashi, the other removed the plug that he had inserted as a precaution because of the spontaneous attacks so as not to risk an injury. Madara slapped his ass, got a stifled moan in response, circled the stretched rosette with his thumb, which was slightly slippery from the lube, and said sternly, "You have to shave again, otherwise I'll do it."
"Yes.." Kakashi croaked relieved, as a massive cock drilled into him. The merciless choking alone would have been enough for him to become hard himself, but Madara's erection, which thrust into him without further ado and brutally caressed his prostate, was a drop in the ocean. He felt the blood pulsating in his loins, struggled for breath that was so incredibly hornily denied him, moaned even louder and more pitifully at the occasional blows on the cheek, because his voice could hardly get past the pressure on his larynx. That's exactly why he was here. That was exactly what he needed—punishment for the audacity of being alive.
He grabbed his bobbing boner and masturbated himself as Madara continued to fuck him with constant force. The towel loosened briefly, probably because Madara wanted to give him the opportunity to take in oxygen. Choppy gasping, Kakashi filled his lungs and leaned down a little further to be choked harder again on his own.
Madara understood him, tugged the towel vigorously and pulled Kakashi's head into the back of his neck, who moaned, drooled, rolled his eyes in their sockets and rubbed harder. It was an absolutely perverse concert that the two men held in the hallway – clapping, panting, moaning, rattling. Kakashi's arm was starting to get heavy, but he realized in his overstimulated, pleading for much-needed breathing brain that he was too close to stop now.
He activated his last reserves of strength, wanked faster and gave a high-pitched whine as he poured out on the cold marble below him. The hormones danced around in his head, gave him a stupid grin, his cock twitched and released small bursts of sperm, which he caught with his fist and spread on the glans when he twisted it between thumb and index finger.
Suddenly, Madara released his grip on the towel, but before Kakashi could take enough breaths to keep him from unconscious, Madara roughly turned him around, forced his head closer by the hair and squirted across his face. That stuff would have given Kakashi conjunctivitis if he hadn't instinctively squinted his eyes, and a lot of ejaculate seeped into his panting mouth. The salty goo wetted the tip of his tongue and incisors and involuntarily he spat it out, hitting his own belly, which was shaking a little. Madara punched him as punishment. "If you treat me like that again, I'll forget myself."
Kakashi huffed and puffed grimly, groping for the terry cloth next to him and freeing his face from cum, although he probably smeared Madara's sweat in his eyes. He blinked carefully, felt no coarse residue on his eyelids and looked up at Madara, who had already risen again and plucked his sweatpants into shape. "What do you want to eat?"
A smirk flitted across Madara's features. "I don't have any preferences. But before you even set foot in my kitchen in this state, clean yourself thoroughly."
"Don't you have to take a shower too?" Kakashi asked, wiping his own jizz off the smooth floor and bracing himself on his wobbly legs. "Shall I go after you then?"
Madara looked at a wristwatch he never wore and seemed to be checking something. "I still have a few kilometres to run," he said and went up the stairs without further explanation.
That probably meant that Kakashi was allowed to take a shower during that time, one could have formulated it accordingly. Shaking his head, he threw the soiled towel into the basket for boil wash in the utility room, collected his clothes and the plug and went upstairs to the large bathroom. He opened the tap, took off his socks and stood in the hot stream, sighing with relief. The water scalded his skin slightly, but in return did something about the burning in his heart, which now flared up again in quiet loneliness.
He shampooed his hair, rinsed the soap down the drain along with his regret for not dancing and drinking with Gai in the Maitos' barn now, and awkwardly shaved his ass crack by messing up his spine like a shrimp with bowlegs and trying to catch every hair. There was little more than a kiwi fur sprawling and Madara complained again. Maybe Kakashi rested too much on the fact that his hair growth was rather poor anyway, which served him well in that he didn't have a permanent beard shadow over his upper lip like other boys his age, but he didn't have any problems with body hair, so he had never cared about his own. It was Madara who wanted him smooth. Should he take a risk in the future? Then Madara would take care of polishing Kakashi's ass, and he wouldn't have to do that work.
However, he thought to himself and put the razor back on the stone shelf next to his shampoo, the Uchiha certainly wouldn't pay attention to whether he cut anything open, so that wasn't a good idea. The fact that he had already ruptured his rectum so often and had not yet suffered a faecal infection bordered on a miracle, so he didn't have to try his luck any further.
The door opened and closed again. Kakashi saw the figure of Madara blurred through the frosted glass. "I'll be done in a moment," he said and took the soap block to quickly clean his body.
This remark did not seem to deter Madara. He took off his cloth pants, opened the door of the shower and came in.
Kakashi had to squeeze himself up to the icy, wet tiles to avoid being flattened. "I'll be done in a moment," he repeated emphatically, but Madara just frowned and reached for his own shower gel. "This is my house, I can take a shower when I want." He raised Kakashi's hand, took the soap from him, put it back on the shelf and pressed a load of creamy white shower gel into the palm of his hand. The plastic lid provocatively snapped shut again. "I guess you know what you've got to do, hm?" He smiled devilishly.
Kakashi refrained from pressing the gel into his face, reluctantly spread it between the palms of his hands and began to soap Madara's body from the neck down. He felt every little muscle, the hair on his chest, stomach and pubic area, the semi-stiff penis and the bulges of his firm cheeks, where he hesitated. He didn't dare to look Madara in the face or even say this question out loud. He didn't mean it sexually at all, but he himself washed his crack while showering. Slowly his hands slid together, over the inclinations that were turned towards each other. His thumbs pressed against the rump.
"Kakashi.." Madara murmured, put one hand on his hip, pulled it closer so that their cocks touched, used the other to lift his face by the chin and forced him to make eye contact. There was something in the blood-red ones that Kakashi couldn't describe, and he didn't have the opportunity to do so, because as soon as their eyes had met, Madara lowered his lids and kissed Kakashi. It wasn't as dominant as usual, not stormy or demanding, no, it was somehow.. strangely intimate.
Kakashi's fingers bravely crawled forward, spreading the shower gel between the cheeks, on the narrow rosette surrounded by a few hairs. As he circled this sensitive point, the muscle ring twitched along with the shaft, Madara exhaled deeply, intensified their kiss by using more tongue, and ran his hand from Kakashi's chin high behind his ear, the fingers of the others tightened.
Kakashi was unsure. If this were anyone else, he would have gone on now, would have understood these reactions in such a way that certain things were expected, even demanded of him, but it was still Madara with whom he stood in this tiny shower cubicle. It was Madara who kissed him, cheered on his corpus cavernosa with these simple gestures and made him so horny that, instead of following a possible misinterpretation, he clawed into this trained back and in turn deepened the kiss, made it wilder, strengthened the contact of their erections – but Madara suddenly stopped, sucked briefly on Kakashi's lower lip, which he usually did, and murmured, "I'm hungry for salmon today."
Blinking confusedly, Kakashi opened his eyes. Once again, Madara's facial expressions were unfathomable. He couldn't say why they didn't start a second round in the shower, but one thing was clear: there would be no sex here now. "Okay," he breathed and broke away from the embrace.
Madara turned off the shower and dried himself with a large towel, his boner had almost completely disappeared, which Kakashi unexpectedly disliked.
He plodded next to Madara at the sink, rubbed his hair with a towel and watched him in the half-fogged mirror as he adjusted his wet strands and spread a tincture with whatever ingredients on his face. He found it fascinating to observe this man and, thanks to this care routine, to discover a touch of clichéd gayism in him for the first time. If you met him on the street, you would never think he was into men, but in the comfort of his own four walls it was different. Here he groomed himself, took all these steps with creams and a weird jade roller to get the best out of himself.
Inevitably, Kakashi looked at his own reflection. He had always seen something like the obsession with one's own appearance as poofy, because his father had been of the opinion that wellness was only for women and nances, but Madara was living proof that very male gays also did it and that it clearly had an effect. Madara's skin was just perfect for his age and his tobacco consumption.
Kakashi stroked the pimple on his forehead once again. Could he have avoided it if he had taken better care of himself? Sure, he was somehow still a teenager and blemished skin was a topic that haunted you long after puberty, but was this clogged and inflamed pore a sign that he wasn't one hundred percent gay, but only half-gay? Gai had suffered a lot from it in the past when he had started with acne, and he had fought against it with all means. Actually, that should have been a signal to him. Other boys at school had carried their sprinkles around as if they were badges, only Gai had been eager that no one saw him like that and had broken down crying more than once. Maybe it was time to pamper his gay half more, but before he haphazardly pasted stuff on his skin, he had to deal with it in a quiet minute – and preferably when Madara wasn't there. He shouldn't know that Kakashi wanted to emulate him.
Kakashi pulled the comb over his skull once, loosened his hair again and was done. "I'm going downstairs," he said to Madara, who was rubbing his neck with a special glove. No sooner said than done. After a short detour to the guest room, where he put on boxershorts, sweatpants and a T-shirt, he rummaged around in the kitchen and found two tender pieces of sweet salmon in the fridge, skinless, boneless, wonderfully coloured and without mustiness, as befits good fish. But no way, the fine gentleman had no preferences today.. You didn't have salmon of that quality lying around at home, it was freshly bought.
Kakashi got a medium-sized and a small pan and a pot out of the cupboard next to the stove, put salted water on and prepared the pans. A few baby potatoes were washed and waited in a metal bowl for their use when the water finally boiled. Carefully, so that they did not have to suffer unnecessarily, he placed the pieces of salmon on a plate and pulled two sheets of kitchen paper from the roll to dab the sides. He had just taken up the salt mill when Madara strolled into the kitchen. He had also thrown himself into comfortable clothes and Kakashi thought that he looked quite strange without a button-up shirt and suit pants. "I need dry white wine," he said, rubbing the salt into the fish.
Madara's eyebrows curl up in disapproval. "You won't drink alcohol in my presence."
"It's not for me," Kakashi grumbled and sprinkled the salmon with pepper. "I need some for the sauce."
"The sauce?"
"Yes. I can only prepare salmon like this in one way and white wine belongs in the sauce. Or do you want to have classic fried fish? Only then can I assure you that this does not do justice to such a handsome little guy." Kakashi pressed a coarsely ground peppercorn between the meat fibres.
"Hm," Madara said, disappeared, as it sounded, into the cellar and returned a little later with a bottle of Chardonnay. "Does this delight your palate?"
"May I try?" Kakashi sneered and caught a sour look for it. Madara placed a measuring cup next to the stove. "How much do you need?"
"Fifty millilitres."
Madara poured the amount into the cup and took a bulbous glass from the display cabinet, into which he poured three finger-widths of wine. Kakashi looked at him critically. "Oh, that's how it is? I'm not allowed to, but you're getting banjaxed here now?"
"I don't get banjaxed," Madara replied simply and took a sip. "It's Saturday and a deliciously prepared fish awaits me, so I can have a little alcohol."
Kakashi snorted spitefully. "Delicious fish? I get the feeling that this was a compliment, Mister Uchiha. Are we getting romantic now? Do you want to hear soon that I like to be with you?" Because he let the potatoes into the salted water and put the fish in the pan, he didn't notice Madara's expression. And he didn't question why he stood next to him longer than perhaps necessary and only slowly made his way towards the dining table with glass and bottle. The sauce needed his full attention. Melted butter, freshly squeezed lemon juice, wine, salt and pepper and it was perfect. After draining, the potatoes were given a coat of olive oil, garlic and chopped rosemary. Only the fish had to be finished frying.
Suddenly, between the sizzling of fat, a dull bass sounded, peppered with rhythmic snapping. Stunned, Kakashi turned around. Madara was standing at the stereo, wine glass in hand, and had put on an Elvis record. "You listen to music?" he asked shamelessly.
"Of course I listen to music," Madara replied grumpily. "I just don't listen to the shit you call 'music'."
"Eh!" snapped Kakashi, checking the frying status of the fish and waving his index finger in warning. "You don't know what kind of music I'm listening to."
"Yes, I just noticed the other day. Only screaming, no melody."
"Fuck you," was hurled at him along with a middle finger. "Shall I show you what my music is, eh?!"
"I do without."
Kakashi's facial muscles twitched. He would have loved to unpack his new Walkman immediately and spoil Madara with his favourite songs, but the salmon was ready, so that had to wait. The meat was still hissing softly when Kakashi put the plates on the table. "I hope it is deliciously prepared," he said and stuffed a potato directly into his mouth.
Madara removed a piece of the fish, chewed on it and seemed satisfied, at least he didn't complain, which in normal English meant, "It's very tasty, thank you for your effort."
Elvis's greatest hits seemed to be playing in the background and Kakashi realized once again that he didn't like everything from the King of Pop. Wooden Heart was not his at all. He was tempted to turn down the music a bit, but he was pretty likely to get punched, so he decided that talking over it would work just as well. "Do you listen to any other stuff besides Elvis?"
"Hardly," Madara replied past a bite.
"Have you ever been able to see him live?"
"Yes, twice."
"Oh sick, you were in the USA? He never played in England, did he?" This actually aroused Kakashi's honest curiosity.
"September 1970 my brother and I were in Miami, and January '72 I saw him in Vegas."
"Cool. I've heard his shows were really good."
Madara assessed him as if he suspected irony. "He was an entertainer, lived as an artist and died like one."
"I've never been to a real concert because I couldn't afford the tickets," Kakashi murmured to his half salmon. "At some point I want to see the Sisters." Well.. He and Gai wanted that.
"Aha," Madara said, didn't keep the conversation going on his own initiative and so they fell silent again.
Rock-A-Hula Baby was running, Kakashi scraped together sauce scrapes on his plate, Madara drank the last sip of his wine and refilled directly. Kakashi raised an eyebrow. Aha? But now there was no fish left to serve as an excuse. He felt a growing urge to ask timidly and humbly for a little pin. Because shit, yes, it was Saturday, and he was more sober than he had been for a long time. To distract himself, he poured the mineral water into his mouth and half onto his T-shirt and stood up. Madara's frown line deepened. "Can't you at least hold still for a moment, enjoy the peace and quiet and let the food sink in?!"
"No!" Kakashi shouted from the hallway. He almost jogged outside, took the bag from Leaf Records out of the Beetle and unpacked the contents at the table. Madara's upper lip rose slightly as he inspected the cover of Jealousy. "And with that you want to bring me closer to your music?"
"No, that's for me." Kakashi snatched the album from his fingers, put a tape with the inscription "Volume I" in the Walkman and unwound the included in-ear headphones. "There are a lot of my favourite songs on it. I had to make several parts because it was so much."
"Aha," Madara grumbled, his favourite reaction to something Kakashi said, and sipped his wine. He didn't seem very enthusiastic about fighting his way through Kakashi's taste in music. But Kakashi didn't care. If he were to listen to this cheesy love song by Elvis, Madara would have to reckon with a counterattack. Although he had to admit that he didn't think it was THAT shit. But it was cheesy anyway. "Ready?" he grinned and held up the headphones.
"No," Madara replied.
"Well, bad luck." Kakashi pressed the plugs into his ears and started the tape. He knew exactly which song came when and how long it played. He didn't hear it, but he immediately started singing. "Tonihiight, I'm gonna have myse~lf a real good time.. Ahaii feel alahahahiiive.. And the woooo~rld, I'll turn it insi~de ooouuut, yeah.. I'm floatin' arou~nd in ecstasy~y.. So don't-stop-me-nooo~w.. Don't-stop-me.. 'Cause I'm havin' a good time, havin' a good time!"
He could not contain himself. His stiff joints wanted to dance to the melody in his head. It might have been strange for him, after all, Good Luck Charm was playing in the meantime and he was jittering through the living room, took one of the narrow, tall ceramic vases with dried flowers as a microphone and imitating the guitar solo in between – but since Madara had the music on his ears, at least he had a suitable visualization. He did the same with Pour Some Sugar On Me, More Than a Feeling, Sweet Emotion, Go Your Own Way, Rebel Yell and Doctor Jeep.
Half an hour later, completely out of breath, he placed the vase back on the side table, put his hands at his sides and looked at Madara, who was sitting there, took out the right stopper, let the white wine circle in the glass and stared at Kakashi. There was silence for a minute, only interrupted by Elvis howling in the background, then Kakashi asked, "And? Do you still think my taste in music sucks?"
Madara emptied his glass in a few gulps, put it on the table next to the used plates, pressed a button on the Walkman, put it and the headphones aside and got up. Without a word, he went to his stereo, took the needle from the plate, Don't Cry Daddy fell silent and finally he came to Kakashi, who was watching him eagerly for an answer. "But I did," he said quietly and completely out of any context, grabbed Kakashi by the hips, stroked his skin under the T-shirt and gave him a kiss. "Come with me."
Kakashi was completely confused, but he followed Madara into the bedroom, sat down on the bed after a wave of his hand and watched Madara walk to a large picture of a snowy landscape. It swung aside and revealed a safe embedded in the wall. The wheel whirred when Madara turned it, and Kakashi registered too late that he certainly shouldn't notice what the code was. The lock clicked loudly, finally Kakashi turned his gaze to the door of the wardrobe and only looked at Madara again when he closed the safe, hid it behind the painting and stepped to the bed. He had something in his hand and indicated with a nod that Kakashi should turn around.
Gradually, Kakashi became restless and that didn't subside at all when he felt something cold on his neck. Immediately he felt his throat and understood what this thing was – a collar. The back was made of smooth leather and was provided with a buckle at the neck, at the front a coarse silver chain was threaded in two layers through rings on the end pieces of the leather, in the middle of the lower layer another ring was embedded. Kakashi ran his fingers over it and gasped slightly as Madara pulled the clasp shut.
"Kakashi Hatake," Madara murmured near his ear and Kakashi shuddered aroused because Madara's cool hands stroked his skin from behind, playing around the jewellery. "You'll never take that collar off again, do you understand?"
"Yes," Kakashi breathed.
"Good." Madara passed his thumb through the middle ring and pulled on it. The chain pressed Kakashi on his larynx and minimally choked off his air. "It should remind you to whom you belong."
"Okay.." What happened here..? Was he just seriously agreeing to wear a collar, like a submissive mutt? And.. Why did he like that?!
"Say it," Madara whispered tonelessly, pulling even harder.
Kakashi croaked, heat was accumulating in his crotch and the baggy, grey fabric of his sweatpants was already bulging. "I'm yours, Madara."
"Yes, that's right. Don't forget that."