The Trick Is Not Minding - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fan fiction. The author does not own Naruto or its characters and is not making any money off of this work. Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto-sama.

Chapter One

It was an average day at the mission desk, boring and frustrating by turns.  Iruka bowed his head and rubbed his temples, coupled with a long day full of hyperactive pre-genin trying to decipher the chicken scratch most jounin (and jounin wanna-be’s) tried to pass off as mission reports was making his head throb.  He understood the rigors of field work, really he did, he reminded himself for the hundredth time as he stared at the example before him - scorched, sodden and scrawled in what looked suspiciously like blood.  He sighed again, then looked up when he heard the room grow silent.  It was then he was reminded of why he kept this job.  Striding across the room was one of Konoha’s finest, and fiercest, soldiers.  Genin at 5, chuunin at 6, jounin at 13, 15 years as an ANBU captain, sharingan wielder, master of a thousand jutsu, the infamous copy-nin, Hatake Kakashi.  This man was the epitome of shinobi, a swift and deadly shadow who appeared to exist merely to fulfill the needs of their village.

Iruka sighed again.  He wondered for the thousandth time what it was about the elusive copy-nin that captivated him so completely.  Apart from a few soft-spoken words passed across the mission desk the man was a total mystery.  He couldn’t even really say he knew what the jounin looked like - body completely concealed by his uniform, hands covered with protective gloves, a mask over most of his face and the infamous sharingan eye hidden behind his hitai-ate . . . all Iruka could really tell was that he had silver hair and one solemn, steely, grey eye.  A solemn steely grey eye that Iruka suddenly noticed was only inches away and studying him quizzically.

“. . . right, Iruka-sensei?”

Iruka then realized that the object of his long-time crush was actually speaking to him, and he had no idea what had just been said.  “Excuse me?”  He replied, trying, and failing, to keep the violent blush from searing across his cheeks. 

“I asked if the report was alright, but now I feel like I should ask if you are alright sensei.  It’s not like you to daydream on duty, and you are very red, are you ill?”  Iruka shivered under the jounin’s fierce study, and lost himself yet again in the depths of that single compelling eye.  “ . . . ka-sensei?”

“Gomen nasai Hatake-sama, I’m just a little tired, it’s been a long day.  The report is fine, thank you for your hard work.” Iruka forced out as he lost another battle to a fierce round of blushes as his mind vigorously supplied him with thoughts of that soft whiskey voice calling his name in the throes of passion.  By the time he jerked himself from his reverie yet again the jounin had vanished in a swirl of leaves.

Iruka slumped back to the desk in frustration.  Oh that was just brilliant.  He mentally berated himself.  Now he thinks I’m spacey . . . and possibly even contagious.  He shook his head to clear it of that depressing train of thought.  I don’t know why I even bother, it’s not like he’d notice a desk-jockey chuunin like me . . . not to mention he’s straight, argggg!  Iruka’s thoughts continued to tumble futilely along the same track of regret and self-deprecation.

“. . . Iruka-kun, what ya thinking about?” Yet again he was jolted from his thoughts by a concerned voice.  Turning his head to the right he saw Genma peering at him closely, “I said, what are you thinking about Iruka?” the senbon-sucking shinobi queried.  Iruka turned an even darker shade of red when he remembered what he had been thinking about - long pale limbs, soft silver hair and a low husky voice growling his name.

“No... nothing Shiranui-san, nothing at all.” He managed to stammer out his denial even while his face threatened to combust under the amount of blushing embarrassment he was experiencing.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me Iruka-kun.” Genma replied, “I’d say you seem awfully heated over nothing . . . or should I say no one?”  The tokubetsu jounin smirked as the chuunin turned an impossibly bright shade of red as he fought to maintain his composure.  “Anything I can help you with sensei?  I’m sure I could make you forget your troubling thoughts.”  Genma smirked, then realized the chuunin had gone from embarrassed blushing to white knuckled fury.

“Shiranui-san, I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t speak to me so familiarly.  And no, I’m certain there’s nothing you can do to help me.”  As if, his inner voice echoed, there’s no way he could ever measure up to Kakashi, so strong, so confident, so . . .perfect. Once again Iruka was swept away by his thoughts as his subconscious continued to list all the ways Kakashi was perfect, in the process once again completely shutting out his curious coworker. 

Thus the evening slowly passed, and finally his shift ended.  Iruka gathered his papers and stuffed them in his bag, then blushed brightly once again when he realized that his daydreams had left him with a very noticeable ‘problem’.  Clutching his bag awkwardly in front of his groin he opted for speed and quickly made the hand signs to jutsu himself straight to his apartment.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get anything done while he was in this state, Iruka huffed softly.  Giving in to the inevitable he quickly stripped and headed to the bathroom, deciding he might as well take a cold shower so he could get on with dinner and grading.  Glancing in the mirror, Iruka surveyed his reflection critically.  His hair was looking a bit limp, he might as well wash it now.  That decided he adjusted the temperature of the shower to pleasantly warm instead and stepped inside. 

The tired chuunin almost moaned out loud when he stepped into the shower.  The warmth instantly relaxing his neck and shoulder muscles and allowing the tension to seep out of his frame. As he began to massage shampoo into his long chestnut locks, his thoughts drifted back to the copy-nin, and he pictured long pale fingers taking the place of his own, gently scratching and massaging his scalp.

As he slipped further into his daydream he could almost hear that soft husky voice whispering in his ear “So hot, touch yourself, show me how much you want me to take you.”  Iruka bit back a whimper, one soap slicked hand stroking his rock hard need, thumb sweeping over the slit, slicking it with his pearly precum.  At the same time he gently circled his entrance with a bold finger, softly probing and swirling before finally slipping inside, stroking and massaging sensitive tissue.  “Careful sensei,” the voice in his head continued “I don’t want you to come until I give you permission.” 

Iruka whimpered a bit louder and added a second finger, followed quickly by a third.  “Please, I need you, please.” he whispered, and pulled his fingers from his quivering passage. 

“As you wish.” his phantom lover replied as Iruka roughly slammed four fingers into himself, hitting his prostate dead on, causing him to moan loudly and precum to drip steadily from his now-neglected member. Faster and faster he slammed his fingers in and out, shaking with the waves of pleasure.  Finally he wrapped his other hand around his straining erection and gave one firm stroke, slamming his fingers hard into his prostate at the same time. 

Stars exploded across his vision as he screamed a garbled “Kakashi” and streams of cum exploded out of him, spattering across his face and chest.

Slumping to the bottom of the shower Iruka panted, trying to catch his breath as water continued to stream over his crumpled form.  The aftermath of his orgasm, as usual, a mixture of loneliness, sorrow and self-loathing.  I need to stop fixating on someone who could never want me and get a life, he thought, although he knew that no one else could ever take the copy-nin’s place.  He was the jounin - the strongest, fastest, fiercest warrior in the village - and having set his sights so high, Iruka couldn’t imagine ever letting any lesser being take him.  And he did want to be taken, claimed, swept away by the force of another, dominated, desired, owned. 

Forcing his thoughts back to the here and now, Iruka made quick work of cleaning himself up and soon was standing in his small kitchen, pondering his dinner choices.  Not feeling up to the effort of cooking he glanced at the clock.  Seeing that it was still relatively early he decided to just go to Ichiraku’s and grab some take-out ramen to eat while he finished his grading.  That decided he toed on his sandals, pulled on his vest, grabbed his keys and headed out.


Chapter Two

Hatake Kakashi had a secret.  Okay, to be honest he had lots of secrets.  But this was a secret he tried to keep even from himself, the reason he was wandering aimlessly through the village, trying to come up with excuses not to go home.  And excuses were what they were, the copy-nin was exhausted, splattered with blood and other unidentifiable substances and sported several nasty wounds, right now a hot shower and a soft bed were what he really needed.  Sighing to himself he decided to stop delaying the inevitable and turned towards home.

But, no sooner than he started, his traitorous feet grew a mind of their own and he found himself turning into Ichiraku’s.  Dropping to a stool he compromised and placed a take-out order, a rather desperate voice in his head yelling that he better hurry up and get his ass home, now, or his bad day was going to get worse.

That thought dancing in his mind, he quickly paid and took his order.  Standing and turning in one fluid and graceful movement he strode forward . . . only to run straight into the solid form of none other than Umino Iruka.   The chuunin smiled, a warm and genuinely happy expression, and reached a hand out to steady the copy-nin.  The moment his hand contacted Kakashi’s arm, the jounin jerked back with a hiss.  The teacher’s eyes took in the man before him and his expression became solemn.  “Hatake-sama, you should be at the hospital.”

“No . . . no hospital, I’m fine.”  The jounin bit out, but the chuunin was undeterred. 

“At least let me help you home.” 

“I said I’m fine.” Kakashi responded coldly, mind working at lightning speed, trying to find something, anything, to dissuade the man in front of him from escorting him home.  He couldn’t let that happen.  After all, Kakashi had a secret . . . and it was waiting for him at home.  Panicking, he said the first thing that came to his mind, “As if I would ever need the help of a lowly chuunin like you.” he growled.  Iruka jerked back as if he had been slapped.  Problem solved, Kakashi raised his gaze . . . only to meet the pale grey eyes of his lover staring calmly back at him from across the street, a sardonic smirk sketched across his thin lips before he nodded and vanished.  Make that bad to worst. he thought, and he shut his eyes briefly as he contemplated just how very very bad this might be.

“Good night, Umino-sensei.” he muttered, even as he made the hand signs to jutsu himself home, and then he was gone in a swirl of smoke, leaving behind a confused chuunin sensei.

Kakashi reappeared inside his front door . . . only to be slammed face first into the wall.  Knowing better than to struggle, he bit back a whimper and tried to remain calm, forcibly relaxing into the grip.  A soft voice hissed in his ear. “I saw you, you know.  You let him put his hands on you, you wanted him to put his hands on you.  Admit it, slut, you begged him for it, didn’t you?”  The malice in the softly whispered words was palpable. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit , ran through Kakashi’s brain like a mantra, he’s going to kill me.

This was the secret Kakashi had been running from.  His secret lover, the formidable ANBU Kuroshin Aoshi, was cruel . . . and more than a little mad.  And he’d been that way for a very long time.  “I didn’t . . .I wouldn’t . . .” the copy-nin stammered, and a smile grew on Aoshi’s face. 

“Oh well then, if you didn’t want it, it’s alright.”  Inwardly Kakashi sighed in relief, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.  The hands on his shoulders pulled back, and the copy-nin was turned to face his long time lover. 

He studied the man before him warily.  Aoshi was taller and broader than he was, with a long fall of thick inky hair he kept bound in a high pony-tail.  A scar cut across his right cheek down to the corner of his mouth, giving him a rakish air.  His eyes, though, if eyes are the windows to the soul, then the man in front of him didn’t possess one.  They were cold, dead, and utterly unfeeling.  “Why are you still dressed pet, haven’t you missed me?” Aoshi inquired, and the copy-nin scrambled to strip off his vest and weapons, yanking off his shirt and pushing off pants and underwear in one smooth motion.  Moments later he was standing naked except for his mask, head bowed, hands clasped behind his back, awaiting his lover’s will. 

Kakashi winced as cuffs snapped around his wrists.  Moments later his world went dark as a hood was pulled over his head and zipped up the back.  This is very bad, he thought.  The copy-nin was unprepared as he was yanked forward and he stumbled, slamming hard into yet another wall.  His hands were pulled up and secured, and he trembled as his legs were roughly spread and secured.  “Since you like hands on you so much pet, and since you insist that you would never let anyone else touch you, I thought I’d help with your dilemma and find some hands to touch you.”  Kakashi quailed, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, he chanted to himself.  But the soft voice inexorably continued “They won’t know who you are . . . but they’ll certainly know whose you are.” and large hands traced the raised scars just above the copy-nin’s ass which proclaimed him to be property of Kuroshin Aoshi.

Just then a knock sounded at the door and Kakashi heard the sounds of his lover moving to answer it.  He could hear voices, but they weren’t loud enough to distinguish.  It could have been one person or a dozen.  His trepidation grew.  He was blinded, gagged, hearing muffled, unable to make hand signs and too weak to break free of his bonds.  Whatever was in store for him he’d just have to make the best of it.

He shuddered as a felt a hand caress his ass . . . a hand that was definitely not Aoshi’s. He steeled himself not to respond when his cheeks were parted roughly, but couldn’t stop the moan that escaped when he felt a wet tongue swipe over his puckered entrance.  “Oooh, responsive” said a voice Kakashi didn’t recognize, and he shivered as the hot breath washed over his sensitive skin.  He was completely unprepared for the tongue to be replaced by a hard demanding erection, which sank into him painfully, unremittingly, until he finally felt the man’s balls against his ass.  He wasted no time letting the copy-nin adjust, but began to immediately pound into him roughly.  This harsh treatment drew blood, which excited the man further, and he slammed into the bound figure in a frenzy, whispering about how needy his hot tight ass was.  Finally Kakashi felt a last burst of pain as the man released, semen burning the abused tissue.
Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief when the softened member was pulled from his body, then wailed when it was replaced immediately by another brutal cock.  Eventually he lost track, fading out of consciousness as his body was repeatedly abused. 

When he came to the copy-nin was laying face down on what seemed to be his bed.  Gods, what an awful dream he thought as he reached to rub his eyes, only to find he couldn’t move his arm.  Not a dream then, his brain continued, and not over either.  He shuddered when he thought of the implications of his still being bound as he was.

“Oh good, you’re awake pet.”  The silken voice of his lover drifted to his ears. “Hopefully that was enough touching to satisfy you.  Of course, since you know I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you I will have to punish you, just as you have punished me by desiring the touches of others.”  A loud crack was heard and the copy-nin screamed as agony lanced through him. Again and again the whip rose and fell, tracing lines of fire across the pale, scarred skin.  Finally the copy-nin felt his bonds being loosened and he was gently lifted and carried to the bathroom.  Once there, his lover gently placed him in the warm water and began to carefully scrub the blood and dried semen off of him. 

He remained pliant, yet silent, as he was carefully patted dry and then lifted once again and gently laid onto clean fresh sheets.  “Sleep, pet, you did well.  I’m not angry any longer.” were the last words he heard as exhaustion finally took control and he slipped into a deep dreamless sleep.

Chapter Three

Kakashi awoke two days later to a world of hurt, waves of pain racing through his frame as he ripped the now clotted flesh of his back from the ruined sheets.  Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself to stand, clutching the night table for support as the pain in his abdomen forced him to hunch over.  He felt for his lover’s chakra, but the apartment was empty except for himself, so he tentatively made his way into the bathroom.  He looked at the tub with longing, but admitted to himself that once in he might not be able to get back out, so he settled for crouching in the shower, gingerly scrubbing his aching body and watching the trickles of red lazily swirl down the drain. Once done he gently patted himself dry and awkwardly wrapped his torso in bandages, then slipped into a soft pair of sweat pants and an old, worn t-shirt.

Now clean and suitably attired, he headed for the kitchen, stomach growling its approval.  On the counter rested a plate of onigiri and a note.

On a mission. See you when I get back.
-A

Not for the first time, Kakashi idly wondered if perhaps this time luck would favor him and Aoshi wouldn’t return from his mission.  Nah, I’ll never be that lucky, he sighed to himself, before deciding to take advantage of his lover’s absence and get some more sleep. 

When he woke again the sun was much lower in the sky.  Hmm, late afternoon, he mused, guess I should finally hand in my mission report from the other day.  That decided he stood and stretched, happy to find he was much looser than he had been earlier.  He quickly dressed in his uniform and finished his now overdue report.  Assessing the pain in his lower regions he decided that walking was not an option and flashed through the signs to transport himself into the mission room. 

He realized how late it actually was when he appeared in the near empty mission room, the only other occupant the last man Kakashi wanted to see right now (aside from his erstwhile lover, that is) Umino Iruka, of the knowing looks, gentle smiles and sad eyes.  The same man who had inadvertently landed him in the painful state he was now with his helpfulness and his touching.  Snarling internally, the copy-nin wrapped his emotionless mask even tighter around himself and strode purposefully to the desk. 

“I know this is late, but I got lost on the road of life.” he quipped, even as his mind added boy, did you get that right. 

“Don’t worry yourself about it,” the chuunin replied “are you feeling better, you had me worried the other night.”  Concern showing on his face as he carefully studied the man on the other side of the desk. 

“Sensei, please do not concern yourself with me, I assure you I am quite capable of taking care of myself and most certainly do not need your help.”  This was droned out in the laziest, most coldly distant tone Kakashi could muster. 

“My apologies Hatake-sama, I meant no disrespect, I was merely concerned for your well being.” Iruka whispered as he kept his eyes glued to the desk in front of him, afraid of lifting them and seeing disgust in the jounin’s single expressive eye. 

“Well don’t be.” Kakashi bit out, before disappearing in a swirl of smoke.  Inside Kakashi was panicking. Why can’t he just leave me alone? What if his lover was already back and found out he’d been alone with Iruka.  He didn’t even want to contemplate the next level of punishment . . .thank God there hadn’t been any touching this time. 

The village’s strongest, the mighty sharingan Kakashi, master of a thousand jutsu and most likely candidate as next Hokage, idly wondered how things had gotten to this point.  He knew he was stronger than Aoshi, why could he never summon the will to fight back, to free himself from this abuse.  Because you’re not really strong at all, his mind supplied, it’s just one more lie - in the end you’re nothing more than lies and shadows. And, as much as he wanted to, Kakashi knew he couldn’t disagree with the cutting assessment.

Kuroshin Aoshi idly contemplated the boy sprawled across his lap. He’d almost forgotten how much fun supple, young, unscarred flesh could be.  As much as he’d enjoyed his pet over the years, perhaps it was time to retire him for a newer, more responsive toy.  After all, it was harder and harder to pull the sounds he wanted from the copy-nin. Aoshi smirked as his mind explored the wonderful scenarios he could anticipate over the next few months - Kakashi’s grand send-off and the joy of training a new pet.  Yes, he thought, this is long overdue. 

Decision made, he roughly lifted the spent form in his lap, ramming hard into his tender swollen entrance.  Immediately the slender form struggled to escape, but Aoshi held his hips in an iron grip, a true smile breaking out on his face for the first time at the sound of the raw screams erupting from his new toy’s throat and the feel of that hot, tight, abused passage flexing against his cock as the young man struggled to free himself from the painful intrusion.  Again and again he slammed into his unwilling partner, so lost in the sensation he never noticed as the struggle diminished and finally ceased.  Only after he’d found his release did he notice that he had literally fucked the young man to death. 

This is why I’ve kept the slut as long as I have, he thought, no one can take as much as Kakashi.  Still, it will be fun to look for one who can. Determined to carry through with his earlier decision to move on.  Besides, his train of thought continued, I can think of so many wonderful things to do with him before we part.  Lost in thoughts of the things he must try with the copy-nin, Aoshi idly cleaned up and slipped out of the inn, leaving the body for others to deal with.  With a new sense of purpose he headed toward Konoha, eager to put his plans into motion.

It was late.  That much Iruka knew, but he wasn’t sure exactly how late.  He had fallen sleep at his desk in the academy grading and had woken after dark, hungry and disoriented.  As he headed toward home he decided to just stop and eat.  Not feeling picky he headed for the nearest barbeque stand, eager to fill his stomach and get home to sleep. 

Aoshi glided through the dark streets of Konoha, eager to reach the copy-nin’s apartment and begin their final dance.  Movement caught his eye and he turned to watch the slender man approaching down the darkened street.  Recognizing him as the chuunin who had dared to touch his property Aoshi silently materialized beside him.  He smiled as the teacher turned towards him, appreciating the man’s beauty, particularly captivated by the horizontal scar across his nose. 

“Pardon me sensei,” Iruka was startled from his thoughts by a soft voice, turning quickly to face a jounin he had never seen before.  Tall, with broad shoulders and long black hair, all in all a formidable specimen.  “I was wondering if you’d know where I could find Kakashi-kun, I saw the two of you eating together the other day.” 

Iruka jerked in surprise, “Hatake-sama . .. No, he’d never eat with me, you must be mistaken.” 

“But sensei, I saw you two the other day, coming out of Ichiraku.” The jounin replied, hands all over what’s mine, he added in his head. 

“Oh, no,” Iruka replied, “we weren’t together, we just happened to be picking up take out at the same time.” 

“Well, you certainly seemed cozy,” the jounin continued “you were holding his arm and your faces were so close together.”  Iruka blushed brightly at this, which only confirmed Aoshi’s deduction, despite the chuunin’s blushing protestations that the copy-nin really didn’t even like him.

Mouth set in a thin line, the jounin decided it was high time he bring his bitch to heel.  Thoughts fixed on the copy-nin and his obvious willful disobedience, he disappeared in a swirl of smoke, leaving a confused Iruka to wonder who this man was who spoke of the great sharingan Kakashi so familiarly.  Shrugging his shoulders he grabbed his dinner and headed home, knowing the morning, and with it hordes of screaming pre-genin, would be here all too soon.

On the other side of town, Kakashi jerked awake when a strong cold hand grasped the back of his neck and a soft vicious whisper in his ear proclaimed “I’m home, did you miss me pet?  Have you been a good boy . . . or have you been naughty again?”  He shuddered and tried to steel himself for whatever was to come.




Chapter Four

“I’ve missed you, and I’ve been good.”  The copy-nin whispered, even though he knew it fell on deaf ears.  After so many years he knew when Aoshi wasn’t listening to him. 

He bit back a whimper as a strong hand fisted in his hair and jerked his head back hard, then shivered as a wet tongue traced his ear before that voice began to wickedly whisper once again “Why are you still dressed pet?”

Kakashi scrambled to rid himself of the sweat pants he’d fallen asleep in, but the hand in his hair was unrelenting and it made the job much more difficult.  As soon as he managed to work the waistband down past his ass he was halted again as talented lips and tongue delicately traced the kanji adorning the copy-nin’s lower back.  “Remember when I gave you these love” the voice of his tormentor continued “you look so good in pain, so hot, just thinking about it gets me hard.”  The taunting recitation continued, even as a shudder traced its way up Kakashi’s spine and he braced himself for what was to come.

The hand in his hair reversed its motion and the copy-nin found his face pressed to the mattress, even as a hand grasped his hip and Aoshi’s hard cock was rammed into his unprepared entrance to the base.  He fought to relax against the pain, knowing if he tensed it would be worse.  He gritted his teeth behind his mask as the man behind him started a brisk pace in and out of his burning hole.  He knew he was in for a very long night when Aoshi abruptly pulled out and strode across the room.  Rummaging in the night table drawer he pulled out a cock ring and snapped it around his dripping erection.
“I want to make this last pet, to celebrate all the wonderful years we’ve had together.”

At that moment Kakashi first knew real fear.

His heart rate doubled when his lover drew on a surgical glove and poured oil over it.  “I saw your little fuck buddy on the way home.  I can see the temptation - please punish me sensei . . . maybe I should go fetch him so he can join us.  Would you like that pet?”
The great and powerful copy-nin was paralyzed, struck dumb at what Aoshi was implying.  The sensei had done nothing to deserve this.  Well, nothing but care about your well being, his mind supplied, and if I don’t figure this out he’s going to suffer for being the kindest man I know.

“Please Aoshi-sama,” the copy-nin begged, knowing that his pleas excited his lover more than anything, “please don’t make me share you.  I can’t stand the thought of seeing you with someone else.”  I hope that’s enough, Kakashi thought dryly, I can’t think of anything else to dissuade him.

Inflamed by the pleas flowing from the copy-nin Aoshi forced his mind back to his original plan.  Without mercy, or haste, he slowly rammed his fist deep into the ass spread wide before him.  Pausing for a moment to relish the cries of pain from the man below him he began a steady slow pace, thrusting his massive fist deep, only to pull it almost all the way out before thrusting deep once more. It’s ironic, Kakashi thought, all these years and he can still catch me off-guard.  I hope there aren’t too many more surprises planned, I’m not sure I can take it.

The copy-nin gasped in surprise as the fist was abruptly removed, and held his breath as something smooth, large and very long took its place.  This object was pushed and pulled until it ended up seated firmly against his prostate. Then it was switched on. Kakashi screamed as the strong vibrations pounded his sensitive nerves, making him shudder and twist in a parody of ecstacy.

Then Aoshi grabbed his head and Kakashi began to struggle.  Not my face, not my face, the voice chanted in his head, all these years and he’s never cared what’s under my mask, why now?  Is he really going to kill me this time? Then a kunai slashed the front of his mask and his mouth was filled with Aoshi’s throbbing erection.  He tasted his own blood and gagged at the coppery bitterness.  Then his whole body convulsed as his throat was blocked by the insistent erection and the struggle for air became his sole priority.  Aoshi thrust deep into his pet’s throat, allowing him only the smallest sips of air, keeping him just on the verge of consciousness.  At the same time his hands squeezed tight around the copy-nin’s throat, bruises in the shape of perfect fingermarks already appearing on the pale skin.

Ready to move on to the next phase of the evening’s entertainment, Aoshi reached down and thumbed off his cock ring, thrusting deep into the copy-nin’s throat and filling it with his hot seed.  Kakashi choked and sputtered, almost in a panic before he was finally able to draw a breath.  Aoshi, meanwhile, was nowhere near ready to quit.  What he was ready for, was to see his beautiful pet bleed.  Blood contrasted so nicely with the pale skin of his lover.  Lifting the unresisting copy-nin he dragged him to the bed and secured him face down, then drifted off to collect more supplies.

Aoshi stood and studied his collection of toys, considering and dismissing an assortment of whips and floggers before a small silver knife caught his eye.  He grabbed the knife and headed to the kitchen, returning shortly with a small bowl and a covered tray.  Laying his supplies out on the night table he once again began speaking to the copy-nin in soft, soothing tones.  “Fifteen years is a long time, isn’t it love.  Who would have thought, all those years ago, that we would still be together.  I want to claim you all over again to celebrate my good fortune.” 

Kakashi almost broke completely at those words.  He did not remember his first claiming fondly, and he feared this time would be far worse.  I was right, he thought as the first cut traced dangerously close to his spine, I hate it when I’m right, he continued as the knife traced patterns up and down his back and across the sensitive skin of his ass, avoiding the mark of ownership just below the small of his back. 

The copy-nin panted for breath as he felt something slick, like lotion, swiping across the surface of his back. It didn’t hurt, which surprised him.  But that surprise was short lived and he screamed as the slick substance was ignited, burning tender flesh and open wounds.  Again and again the slash of the knife was followed by the searing flames.
Finally he could take no more and Kakashi fell unconscious.

When he awoke it was dark and his lover’s chakra was absent.  Forcing himself to his feet he struggled into sweats and a t-shirt, one phrase thundering through his brain, get out, get out, get out, his mind screamed, you won’t get another chance.  Unable to focus his chakra through the pain he fled on foot, stumbling from his apartment into the village, no destination other than away.  He made it about a half a mile before his legs gave out and he collapsed in a ragged heap, unable to force himself to his feet yet again.

He flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder, and timidly turned his eyes up, sure he’d find a thunderous Aoshi and finally meet death.  Instead Kakashi’s eyes locked with the worried doe-eyed gaze of Umino Iruka.  “Hatake-sama, you’re hurt, we need to get you to the hospital.” the chuunin fretted, only to be met with the copy-nin’s frantic pleading.

“No hospitals, please, no hospitals, please . . .” the quivering figure before him tore at Iruka’s heart.  If he didn’t want the hospital then no hospital, but he had to do something.

“At least let me get you cleaned up.”  That said he slipped his arm around the copy-nin’s waist and began leading him towards his apartment.  I’m sure he’d be more comfortable at home, the chuunin thought, but I don’t know where that is and I need to get him inside fast.

If Iruka thought he looked bad huddled in the dark, the devastation revealed under harsh lights was enough to bring the strongest man to tears.  Blood had soaked through the back of his shirt and pants, his skin was the color of chalk, he was trembling like a leaf and whispered a soft mantra of denial over and over “no, no, no, no.”  The chuunin struggled to hold back his tears, and fought the urge to sweep the man into a hug and promise him everything would be fine.  Kakashi might be injured, but he was still the strongest of the village’s shinobi and, as such, could be dangerous to friend as well as foe when cornered.

Realizing he needed information now, he began to gently question the copy-nin, reminding himself over and over that he was only trying to help.  “Who did this to you Hatake-sama?  Were you attacked?  I really think you should go to the hospital and get this checked out.”  At the mention of the hospital Kakashi tried to rise and flee, but he only managed two steps before collapsing to the floor, unconscious yet again.

Feeling a strong need to cater to the whims of this man he cared for so deeply, Iruka wracked his brain for a compromise.  Who could he get to help that could be trusted to keep this a secret?  Of course, he thought, he’s the only logical choice. Course decided he scooped up the limp jounin and carried him into his bedroom, laying him gently on the bed on his side, trying not to put pressure on the bloody areas.  Then he returned to the living room and picked up the phone.  “Hello, Ibiki, it’s Iruka . . . I need your help.



Chapter Five

Putting down the phone, Iruka headed back into the bedroom.  He needed to figure out what had happened, whoever did this needed to be caught.  Running a soothing hand over filthy silver strands the normally gentle teacher modified that thought, whoever did this needs to be killed.

Gently Iruka tried to ease off the blood-soaked t-shirt, but at the first touch Kakashi began to flail once more, so he relented, afraid the copy-nin would damage himself further.  In his struggle to remain covered the jounin had worked the shirt loose from the back of his pants and Iruka stared in shock, eyes riveted on the newly exposed strip of skin.  He reached out tentative fingers to trace the branded kanji proclaiming him to be the property of Kuroshin Aoshi.  In a trembling voice he whispered the question that was now burning inside him “How long has he been doing this to you?” Because while he might be naive, Iruka wasn’t stupid, he knew this brand wasn’t fresh . . . and he knew what that implied.

He hadn’t really expected a response, so he was jolted by the raspy whisper “Fifteen years, since I joined ANBU.”  Iruka’s head spun . . . fifteen years, he thought, he was only a teenager when this started. Once again, the chuunin marveled at the strength of the man before him, to have survived so much and still be so strong.  He was pulled out of his reverie by a knock on the door.  Immediately Kakashi began to panic, trying to lift himself from the bed and flee, brokenly chanting “can’t let him find me, have to hide.” 

“You’re safe now, don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” Iruka tried to soothe the panicked jounin as he headed towards the door. 

Tired of waiting, Ibiki forced the lock and strode in.  Grasping the chuunin by the shoulders he spun him around, taking in his defeated and bloody appearance.  “What happened?  Who hurt you?”  The interrogator demanded.  Iruka’s answer was cut short by a loud thump from the bedroom.  He rushed back inside, Ibiki on his heels, to find the copy-nin cowering under the bed, pressed as far back in the corner as he could squeeze.

“It’s okay ‘kashi-love, it’s just me, please come out, I won’t hurt you.” Iruka crooned.  Ibiki raised an eyebrow at the affectionate nickname, but remained silent, not wanting to further spook the injured, and dangerous, copy-nin.  After much coaxing Kakashi finally relented, and Ibiki faded into the living room so as not to cause another round of panic.  Once safely in Iruka’s arms again the jounin swiftly lost consciousness, blood loss and stress finally taking their toll.

Gently laying him on the bed, Iruka retreated to the living room and an impatiently pacing Ibiki.  “Explain.” was all the interrogator said.

Iruka snapped up his head and replied equally curtly “Kuroshin Aoshi, do you know him?” 

“What does he have to do with this?” Ibiki wanted to know. 

“He branded him, beat him, I don’t even know what else, I haven’t been able to get him cleaned up, he won’t go to the hospital . . . fifteen years, Ibiki, he said this has been going on for fifteen years . . . why didn’t I see it, why didn’t someone see it . . . I have to stop it.” 

The teacher continued to mutter while Ibiki snapped into action.   First he called ANBU headquarters.  “Summon Kuroshin Aoshi to the tower, and when he gets there . . .hold him for me.  Oh, and set up a round the clock guard on Umino Iruka’s house until further notice, no one to go in except the sensei or myself.”

“Iruka, pay attention,” Ibiki growled, “we have to assess his injuries.  Since he won’t let you undress him we’re going to have to either restrain him . . .”

“No”, Iruka shouted, “he’s had enough of that to last him a lifetime and I will not be a party to making this worse.”

“Fine,” Ibiki bit out, “then I will need to sedate him so he stays unconscious long enough for us to treat his injuries.”

Iruka poked his head back in the bedroom.  “He’s asleep.” 

“. . .or unconscious from blood loss.” Ibiki muttered under his breath. 

“You’re not helping anything,” the chuunin sniped back, uncharacteristically sarcastic as a way of dealing with the stress of the situation, “just do it already.” 

That said, the interrogator applied pressure to several points on the jounin’s neck.  “That should hold him for an hour or so, at least long enough to assess this thoroughly.”

“I was expecting an injection” the chuunin muttered. 

“Too dangerous until we know his condition, I wouldn’t want to put him into a coma.” Ibiki replied.

With Kakashi safely asleep Iruka proceeded to gently cut off his t-shirt, after all it was ruined already and trying to work it over his head could possibly cause even more damage.  The teacher gasped when he pulled away the sodden material and got a good look.  The copy-nin’s back was a wasteland of seared, flash cauterized tissue, bleeding in hundreds of places where the knife scores had torn open during his flight. With trembling hands he proceeded to do the same to the jounin’s pants, tears running down his cheeks at the evidence of repeated, brutal violation. 

Drawing on all his training to maintain some semblance of composure, Iruka began to assess the visible injuries, wanting to treat the most dangerous ones first.  Decision made he focused chakra in his hands and began healing the internal injuries; broken ribs, torn organs, and perforated intestine, before moving to the sluggishly bleeding surface of the copy-nin’s back.  His eyebrows furrowed as the torn and blistered skin began to knit together, he could only do so much, he wasn’t a medic, after all, and this would leave extensive scarring.

Having done as much as he could for Kakashi’s back, Iruka carefully turned him over to check for more injuries.  He was reminded of just how raspy the copy-nin’s voice had sounded when he saw the bruised hand prints ringing his neck like a brutal collar.  Once again his chakra flared, and the swollen tissue of the copy-nin’s throat eased and his ragged breathing smoothed out. 

Healing completed, Iruka scooped the limp form up in his arms and headed to the bathroom.  He’s so light, the chuunin thought, so fragile.  He cradled the copy-nin close to his chest as he quickly filled the tub with warm water.  He washed and rinsed the matted silver hair, then quickly but gently scrubbed the residue from the pale torso and limbs, heart breaking at the scarring that covered virtually every inch.  Once his charge was clean he drained the water and carefully toweled him dry, then moved back into the bedroom.

While Iruka bathed the copy-nin, Ibiki quickly stripped the now bloody bedclothes and remade the bed, calling out to the chuunin for the location of sheets and blankets.  Coming in from the bath, Iruka laid Kakashi on the bed, then pulled out some old soft sweat pants and a worn t-shirt which he quickly dressed him in, waking up naked would not help him feel safe, and Iruka desperately wanted that.

The last few hours had turned the teacher’s life upside down.  He had found out things about the man he deeply desired that left him feeling he had been enamored of a dream.  The reality, however, was turning out to be so much more compelling.  As he looked at the broken man, now tenderly tucked into his bed, wearing his clothes, Iruka decided that he would do anything and everything to help him.  He would move heaven and earth to see this man smile again . . . and he vowed one day he’d be laying in this same bed laughing.

Shaking his head to clear it and wiping the tears from his eyes, the chuunin rose and went to join Ibiki in the living room.  The moment he appeared the interrogator pinned him with his gaze.  “Spill, Iruka, now, I’ve been more than patient.” 

The teacher took a deep breath and lowered his eyes to the floor.  “I was walking home from the mission room when I found him collapsed in the street.  He wouldn’t go to the hospital so I brought him here.  I didn’t know then what had happened, I don’t know now, really, but I can guess.  After I called you I tried to get his shirt off so I could treat his back, he fought to keep it and in the process I saw the brand on his back.  That arrogant asshole branded his name on his back!  I was so shocked, I asked how long this had been going on and he said 15 years, since he joined ANBU.  Ibiki,” the chuunin’s voice broke and he had to stop for a moment before he continued “he was only 16 years old, for God’s sake, and there are so many scars, and I have to help him, but I don’t know how.”  Iruka took a few deep calming breaths and tried to put himself into mission mode, knowing that time was of the essence and he needed to save his emotional turmoil for another time.  “Anyway, thank you so much for coming and helping me, I couldn’t have done this alone . . . and I needed to guard his privacy.” 

“Your father was my sensei Iruka, I will always be there for you if you need help.  This, however, is the sort of thing I’m good at causing, not fixing.  The one thing I can do is to keep the two of you safe until we have Aoshi in custody.  Go take care of him, I’ll take first watch.”

That said, Ibiki settled his bulk in a comfortable chair, and Iruka headed back in to sit with Kakashi.