(no subject)
So, last night kattmad made a comment along the lines of, I could pair Hayate with pretty much anyone and it would be hot.
Anyone except Ibiki.
...So, naturally, I stayed up half the night writing. *headdesk*
Title: One Night Stand
Author: JBMcDragon
Status: COMPLETE
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Characters: Ibiki/Hayate
One Night Stand 1/1
"Knock it off," Ibiki muttered, skin turning a dull red as he half-dragged Hayate home.
The younger shinobi stumbled over an invisible fence, the kind only the very drunk had trouble with, and giggled. He almost knocked Ibiki over with him, but Ibiki was sober enough to keep them upright.
"What'd you go and do this for?" Ibiki growled, fresh scars pulling on his lips. He winced and straightened out his expression.
"I--I--" Hayate laughed, took a deep breath, started coughing. Ibiki almost kept going, regardless of the young man staggering beside him, but stopped when he realized Hayate's face was going pink.
The coughing fit continued for too-long minutes, long enough for Ibiki to find them a curb to sit on, to put a hand on Hayate's spine as if that might help, while the Chuunin arced back and tried to breathe, eyes wild.
Finally, finally, it eased.
"You okay?" Ibiki asked softly. He'd heard about the poison, of course. Not many people hadn't, considering Iruka had been worried sick--and Iruka's foster family were the village gossips.
The drunken giggles seemed a thing of the past. "Yeah," Hayate murmured. His eyes were too wet, shining in the street lamps. "They say," he said, blinking rapidly, "that my lungs are shot. I'm not supposed to go on any missions for another six months."
Ibiki stared at the ground between his feet, uncomfortable. He didn't know what to say, how to soothe the other man. Not even shinobi expected to be wiped out by twenty-one, and at twenty-four Ibiki didn't have the experience to know how to comfort.
"Hey," Hayate said with a broken smile. "I'm alive, right?"
"Right," Ibiki said, looking up into nearly black eyes. "That's something."
Hayate smiled, lopsided and young. He always looked young, Ibiki thought. Not that they knew each other well--tonight Ibiki had simply been the only adult willing to take a drunken Hayate home.
But he seemed to remember that the other shinobi always looked young.
"I'm gay," Hayate said baldly.
Ibiki blinked. "Uh. Yeah," he said, face falling into a comfortable frown.
Hayate smiled, black hair hiding his eyes until he tipped his head, looking out from under the soft fringe. "Can I kiss you?"
"I'm not--gay," Ibiki said, nearly stuttering. The frown grew.
"If you keep looking like that," Hayate purred, "it'll stick."
Ibiki blinked.
"Can I kiss you?"
"I'm not--" he began again, cursing drunken fools.
"Gay, right. Maybe you're like Raidou. Maybe you like both."
The thought made his mind turn, the world shifting on its axis. "I suppose," he said slowly, "that's possible . . ." Before the words had even left his mouth, he had a lap full of warm, pliable, willing shinobi.
Suddenly, gender really didn't matter so much. Apparently he'd had enough to drink.
*So, this is what it's like to like both . . .* he thought in awe, as a tongue tickled his lips. He opened, felt it slide warm and wet over his teeth. Then Hayate pulled back slightly.
"Is your place nearby?" he asked plaintively. "Mine has stairs."
"So does mine," Ibiki said, wondering if it was taking advantage if the drunk made the first move.
Hayate slept around. More often, the last few months. It couldn't possibly be taking advantage.
While Hayate pouted, Ibiki started figuring ways to get the young man up the stairs. It couldn't be *that* hard. He'd carry the Chuunin, if he had to. Ibiki stood, lifting Hayate with him, setting the now-laughing shinobi on his feet once they were upright.
"C'mon," he said, covering his half arousal, half awkwardness with a growl. "This way."
Hayate started to laugh, started to cough, and choked out, "Yay!"
Ibiki watched him, enough sense left to make sure the younger man wasn't going to collapse in another coughing fit. But Hayate stabilized, seeming more sober than he had since they'd left the bar.
Ibiki's place wasn't far. He glared off a fellow ANBU who approached them, then shoved through the lock on the outside door. Hayate only stumbled a few times going up the two flights of stairs, and then Ibiki was fitting his key into the deadbolt, a return of sanity--or a dwindling of lust--making him wonder if this was really a good idea. In fact, he was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea. He wasn't gay, first off. Hadn't ever really been attracted to many people--men *or* women--and now he had ugly pink scars running over most of his body. He was good at scaring people into doing what he wanted, and he was a great ANBU, but he wasn't a lover for a half-smashed Chuunin wanting--what? What, exactly, did Hayate want?
Then he realized his hands had acted, and the door was open. Hayate went in without waiting for an invitation.
Ibiki followed, glowering because he wasn't about to show nervousness. "I could make coffee," he muttered, glancing around his apartment to make sure there was nothing *too* incriminating sitting out.
Chains. Manacles. Those probably didn't look good, but they really were for an experiment . . .
Hayate just gave a quiet laugh, toeing off his shoes and wriggling out of his shirt. "Screw the coffee," he muttered into cloth.
"Look, Hayate," Ibiki began, half-transfixed by the pale skin now exposed, a well-muscled torso twisting as the shirt was tossed away.
"Hmm?" Hayate murmured, pushing the door closed with one hand. The movement brought him into closer proximity. Close enough to feel body heat, even through Ibiki's coat. "You said something?" the Chuunin reminded him, stepping closer, invading his personal space.
Lust rose again. Hells, what did it matter if he wasn't often attracted to people? He masturbated just like everyone else! "I--I was saying--"
He had an armful of wiry Chuunin. He couldn't remember what he was saying. He was lucky to remember his own name, really. A hand wrapped around the back of his neck, another at his waist. He slid rough, callused palms over almost-smooth skin, feeling the play of hard muscles under soft flesh.
Hayate smelled like beer and sweat, something a little bitter, something a tad spicy.
"I like this scar," the Chuunin murmured, breath ghosting over Ibiki's jaw.
"Scar?" Ibiki asked, leaning in to kiss the other man, only to have Hayate move ever so slightly away, teasing, keeping just out of kissing range.
"This one." A tongue flicked out, danced hot over Ibiki's lips. Ibiki's hands tightened on the slim waist and he tugged, pulling hips closer, body closer, until he could kiss the other man no matter how lithely Hayate tried to shift. He skimmed his hands up, felt the body against him shiver, smelled musk and tasted alcohol. He swept his tongue over a mouth, lips parted, and dipped in carefully.
Hayate moved, a full-body motion that brought them into contact in all the right areas. Hands burrowed under Ibiki's coat, and he felt tugging until he finally dropped his arms and let it fall to the floor. They broke contact long enough for the shirt to go next, and he had a moment of icy waiting when he realized the new scars were exposed in all their twisted misery.
The tip of Hayate's tongue traced a line of marred flesh. "Sensitive or numb?" he asked, and licked it once more.
Ibiki hissed, burying his hands in black hair. "Do that again."
"Sensitive, then," Hayate laughed, air whispering over nerves. Ibiki's skin tightened, prickles rising, his pants rubbing against him in ways he'd never noticed before. Actually, while some of that was nice, it was really rather uncomfortable too. He shifted, then shifted again, and then felt hands at his belt as lips and teeth nibbled across his collarbones.
He caught Hayate's face, pulled the man up, turned to press him against the door and kiss him whether he dodged or not. Fingers crept into his loosened pants, teasing, slipping along skin, never long enough to do more than tempt.
Ibiki growled, felt Hayate laugh and squirm against him, slipped his tongue into the other's mouth, feeling him shiver as he slid along teeth and palate and tongue. Soft and hot and wet, and fingers were still dancing at his cock. Then they were tugging, pulling at material, and the sound of a zipper was unmistakable in the breath-heavy apartment.
He turned his head, nipping Hayate's jaw, listening to the smaller man's breath catch and break, shudder as he stroked ribs and stomach, pausing to brush nipples when Hayate whimpered.
"Wait--" Hayate said brokenly, and Ibiki cursed but backed off. He wasn't going to force anyone, and if the Chuunin had decided scars weren't hot after all--
Then Hayate dropped to his knees in the limited space between Ibiki and the door, pulling Ibiki's dick out of his pants and licking.
Ibiki slapped a hand against the wood above Hayate's head. A mouth closed around his cock, fingers trailing nails on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He felt his balls tighten, bit a lip to keep from thrusting as Hayate tongued his head, slowly slipping it farther into his mouth. Fingers teased his balls, a sword-roughened palm rubbing them, thumb dragging along the underside of his dick.
Ibiki heard another zipper, looked down to watch Hayate suck more of his length into his mouth. The Chuunin spread his legs a little and pulled his own cock out, rubbing himself achingly slowly. His tongue stroked Ibiki, retreated, licked at his head, came away entirely as Hayate tugged Ibiki's pants the rest of the way down.
Ibiki stepped out of them while Hayate stood, kicking his own pants away, pressing up close so they were chest-to-chest and crotch-to-crotch. "Lube?" Hayate purred against Ibiki's skin, licking up the stripes of scarring.
Ibiki shivered, nerves bundled in the scars firing along his shoulders and down his arms, tightening his balls. "Ah--" his mind wasn't working so well, but he focused with difficulty. "*Condoms.*"
"I have those," Hayate murmured, hands busily stroking Ibiki's dick while his mouth made warm, wet trails along a heavily muscled chest.
Ibiki shuddered, skin hot, blood pooling heavy and thick in his groin. He could feel his own heartbeat, smell musk and sex between them. Sweat prickled along his neck, drops of it collecting in the hollow of collarbones.
Then Hayate stepped away, digging through his discarded pants until he pulled out a square foil. "*Lube,*" he repeated, eyes half-lidded. "So you can fuck me."
Ibiki's mind raced, lust-befuddled enough to hope he had it while knowing he didn't.
Hayate's smile was slow and knowing. "Oil? Moisturizer? Vaseline? Butter? Hollandaise sauce? Shampoo, conditioner? *Spit* is an option, really," he said, laughing, when Ibiki just stared at him.
Ibiki blinked, shook his head. "No--I have--oil--" He frowned. "Cooking oil? Or like, oil for tools?"
"Either will work." Hayate stood, all long, lean lines. "Let's start with cooking oil, since it's definitely non-toxic. There's no mood killer like a rush to the hospital," he added cheekily.
Ibiki wondered if he owned cooking oil. Mostly, he just ate at the office cafeteria. But Hayate was already in the little kitchen, poking through cupboards in all his nakedness.
"Uh, the fridge," Ibiki said in a moment of clarity, wondering suddenly if conditioner wasn't a better idea. At least it wouldn't be cold. Did he *own* conditioner? He didn't think so.
Hayate looked at him, eyes sparkling, and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out canola oil a moment later, sloshing it around and practically stalking back. "This isn't good for your heart," he said, unscrewing the cap slowly. He tossed the lid. It landed with a thunk on the wood floor, then a hand on Ibiki's chest pushed, and he headed backward, realizing Hayate was steering him toward the bedroom. He grabbed the man's wrist and pulled, faster, knowing where he was going and not sure how drunk the other man was--and therefore how good his steering skills were.
The bed was big enough for two. It was one of the few things Ibiki had splurged on, and it was comfortable and large enough to sprawl in, even when there were more than his four limbs and long body.
There would be plenty of room for a slight, limber Chuunin.
The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he sat, Hayate spilling over on top of him, sending him flat on the bed.
"Really not good for your heart," Hayate repeated, pouring cold oil over Ibiki's chest.
Ibiki hissed, the chill raising sudden goosebumps, the sensation another addition to his already-overloaded flesh.
A hand slid through oil, down, fondled his cock, sliding tight and warm, putting the condom on with practiced ease. Hayate straddled him, both hands on his chest again, sliding over his body. "Give me your hand," the Chuunin murmured, and Ibiki did.
More oil, poured over his fingers--held carefully over his torso, as he'd had some idea what Hayate was about. With his clean hand he took the bottle away before the younger man could pour it over the sheets in his zeal.
'Fuck me,' Hayate had said, and Ibiki was far from sheltered, knew what, in theory, needed to happen first even if he'd never done it. He slid his hand down Hayate's spine, watching the Chuunin arch like a cat. Over a firmly curved ass, hit testicles and went back up, finding the anus. He pushed a finger in, saw Hayate shiver, pushed farther, past the knuckle. Lips parted, breath soft.
"Do another," Hayate murmured, and moved enough so the heads of their cocks bumped and brushed, making Ibiki's legs tingle, his toes curl. He slid another finger in, wondered if there was some secret trick to this or if--
Hayate bit his lip, chest expanding, then winced as he suppressed a sudden cough.
"Breathe slowly," Ibiki murmured, threading his free hand up over the smooth skin of Hayate's neck, dragging his nails along the man's scalp. He caught hair and tightened, pulling carefully, saw Hayate's neck arc back with the tug. A hand came back down, between his legs, stroking and fingering his cock. Rubbed his balls, the skin around them, thumbnail scratching lightly.
Then Hayate moved, forward, grabbing Ibiki's arm and pulling until his fingers came free of the other man. Hayate thumbed Ibiki's dick, then held it carefully, positioning them both.
Ibiki's hands settled on narrow hips, narrower than any woman he'd been with, and he felt the other man press around him, sinking down onto his cock, tight and hot and slick. He lifted his hips, thrusting in, watched Hayate's mouth open and eyes close, body squeezing tight around him before purposefully relaxing.
Ibiki tugged at hips, bringing the other man down further onto him, sheathing himself completely as Hayate breathed in carefully long sets. Trying not to cough again, Ibiki realized dimly. Then thigh muscles flexed and the younger man rose, slid down again, moaned softly. Did it again.
Ibiki had never liked giving up control. Hands still on Hayate's waist, he sat up, twisting until the other man hit the bed, eyes wide with surprise, legs still on either side of Ibiki's hips.
Slowly, Ibiki pushed. Hayate's eyes widened, closed, his feet hooking in the small of Ibiki's back. It was all the encouragement the Jounin needed. He thrust, a little faster, a little harder each time, feeling nails dig into his shoulders. Hayate groaned, hot and tight and slick. Pressure built in Ibiki, coiling through his abdomen. Bliss shivered up his spine, curling like starfire through his limbs.
"Oh, all the holy gods," Hayate whimpered, sweat on his skin, back arched. "Just--don't--" Hayate leaned in, hips pulled up, and bit Ibiki.
Ibiki hissed and thrust, shoving the other man down into the bed and feeling wet slide on his stomach. His body tightened, everything pooling in his cock until he came, white shuddering behind his eyelids. The world broke, and ghosts screamed, and Ibiki couldn’t hardly breathe. When the shudders passed, his body slowly coming back down, he opened his eyes.
He was still braced on his elbows above Hayate, whose chest was rising and falling, his arms shaking. Then he started to cough.
Ibiki pulled out, spasming with little aftershocks, condom sliding. He yanked it off and tossed it into the wastebasket, rolling off Hayate and shoving the younger man over, onto his side, as if that might help with the coughing.
Hayate curled around his stomach, eyes clenched, body shuddering in a parody of orgasm as he jerked and twitched, face pinking as he tried to breathe though the hacking mess.
"Try and relax," Ibiki said, and didn't know if it would do any good or not, but he couldn't just lay there.
Eventually, the fit passed. Hayate lay on his side, eyes watering, breathing shallow. He looked more than exhausted.
Ibiki hesitated, then finally cleaned the worst of the mess from them both--Hayate didn't even move, eyes open and unseeing--and drew the blankets over.
If it had been a woman, he'd have curled up against her back, tucked her safely in the nest his chest and legs made, and fallen asleep. But it wasn't, it was a man--
Small enough to do the same to, half-asleep already, who'd initiated everything. He tossed an arm over Hayate's chest, pulled him close, still smelling musk and sex.
Hayate coughed another time or two and then lay still. His breathing slowly evened out.
Ibiki lay awake for a while longer, and then finally fell asleep.
**
Ibiki woke to movement, and ignored it for as long as possible. When several minutes had passed and he heard cursing, he finally opened one eye and watched a bedraggled-looking Hayate tossing clothes and blankets around, peering under furniture and digging through books.
"Looking for something?" Ibiki asked, his voice a sleepy rumble.
Hayate jumped and looked up. "Um. My hitai-ate?"
"You didn't have it last night." Ibiki would have remembered taking it off.
"Damn," Hayate muttered. "If I've lost it again, my squad leader's gonna *kill* me . . ."
Ibiki smiled, the expression more a smirk on his scarred face. Rubbing his head, he sat up and glanced around. "I'd kill you, if I were your squad leader," he agreed.
Hayate snorted, winced as he bit back a cough.
Ibiki frowned. "How damaging is that?"
A flush rose to pale cheeks, and Hayate tipped his head so that hair hid his eyes. "It's not. I'm fine."
"Don't lie." Ibiki stood, blankets falling aside, exposing him in nakedness and scars. "How damaging?"
Hayate shrugged, a jerky movement of sleek shoulders.
Ibiki put a hand on the man's spine, feeling the chakra pathways of his lungs. The damage was extensive. Beyond that, he couldn't tell much.
"Just need some time to rest," Hayate muttered. "It'll be fine."
Ibiki didn't point out that it had been a full year. He glanced around for his pants, remembered they were by the front door, and dragged another pair from the dirty clothes' bin. He pulled them, buttoning them around a lean, scarred waist. He didn't know what to say. He didn't often have one-night stands, and he tried to sleep through them leaving--or tiptoe out without waking anyone.
He never had one-night stands with men.
"So . . . you live with Iruka?" Ibiki asked, wondering how complicated his day was going to get.
Hayate shot him a wry smile. "We're roommates. We're both looking for our own places, since we're making more than enough. It's just . . . we've been lazy. You know?"
Ibiki nodded, though he didn't. He glanced around for a shirt to cover his scars, then decided that was stupid, and he wasn't so insecure. He put his hands in his pockets and wondered what next.
"I should go," Hayate said, frowning as he picked up his underwear. He shoved them in a pocket. "I'm sure I have, uh, something to do. Something daring and brilliant," he muttered in an undertone.
Ibiki frowned, suddenly wondering what, exactly, the Chuunin had to do. He was off missions. Most of the people he hung out with were either gone the majority of the time, or Iruka--who worked long hours at the school.
Hayate was at the door, mussed and disheveled, shoulders slumped a little. He coughed quietly, suppressing it.
"I have a few days off before my Genin team is back to work," Ibiki said without thinking. "Do you want to train?"
The younger man turned and looked at him.
He scowled. "I'm not *hitting* on you," he growled in his best Evil Sensei voice. "But if you ever plan on getting back into doing missions, you're going to have to work around those lungs."
He thought maybe he'd pushed too far. That maybe Hayate would insist he was fine, they would heal, that maybe the Chuunin was still in denial.
"Yeah," Hayate said grudgingly. "You're right."
Ibiki breathed a little easier. "I know some jutsu that might help, temporarily. Suppression jutsu."
Hayate looked at him askance. "Don't those have some nasty side effects?"
"Is it worth saving your life?" Ibiki snapped.
Hayate opened his mouth, then squeezed his eyes closed and coughed, hard, several times.
Ibiki snorted. "Look, go home, shower, meet me in the ANBU training field in two hours. We'll see if we can't kick you back into shape."
"I'm in fine shape," Hayate said, opening the door and starting out.
"Sure. Potato-shape."
"You seemed to like my shape well enough last night," Hayate said, and an impish grin teased the corners of his mouth.
Ibiki glowered and started to close the door.
Hayate leaned in, shoulders blocking the entrance, one finger flicking out to trail up a long scar, and purred, "Or did you need a reminder?"
"Two hours!" Ibiki snapped, feeling his skin go pink. He planted a foot in the Chuunin's stomach and shoved, then closed the door.
Strangest damn one-night stand he'd ever fucking had.
******
**edit** Good news, folks! I've been published! Check it out at Treasure Hunting! And support a fanfic author! :D
Coming soon: By Degrees, a gay romance novel (due out early next year, watch my LJ) and Second Hope, a cowboy romance (due out the same time, watch my LJ!)
Anyone except Ibiki.
...So, naturally, I stayed up half the night writing. *headdesk*
Title: One Night Stand
Author: JBMcDragon
Status: COMPLETE
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Characters: Ibiki/Hayate
One Night Stand 1/1
"Knock it off," Ibiki muttered, skin turning a dull red as he half-dragged Hayate home.
The younger shinobi stumbled over an invisible fence, the kind only the very drunk had trouble with, and giggled. He almost knocked Ibiki over with him, but Ibiki was sober enough to keep them upright.
"What'd you go and do this for?" Ibiki growled, fresh scars pulling on his lips. He winced and straightened out his expression.
"I--I--" Hayate laughed, took a deep breath, started coughing. Ibiki almost kept going, regardless of the young man staggering beside him, but stopped when he realized Hayate's face was going pink.
The coughing fit continued for too-long minutes, long enough for Ibiki to find them a curb to sit on, to put a hand on Hayate's spine as if that might help, while the Chuunin arced back and tried to breathe, eyes wild.
Finally, finally, it eased.
"You okay?" Ibiki asked softly. He'd heard about the poison, of course. Not many people hadn't, considering Iruka had been worried sick--and Iruka's foster family were the village gossips.
The drunken giggles seemed a thing of the past. "Yeah," Hayate murmured. His eyes were too wet, shining in the street lamps. "They say," he said, blinking rapidly, "that my lungs are shot. I'm not supposed to go on any missions for another six months."
Ibiki stared at the ground between his feet, uncomfortable. He didn't know what to say, how to soothe the other man. Not even shinobi expected to be wiped out by twenty-one, and at twenty-four Ibiki didn't have the experience to know how to comfort.
"Hey," Hayate said with a broken smile. "I'm alive, right?"
"Right," Ibiki said, looking up into nearly black eyes. "That's something."
Hayate smiled, lopsided and young. He always looked young, Ibiki thought. Not that they knew each other well--tonight Ibiki had simply been the only adult willing to take a drunken Hayate home.
But he seemed to remember that the other shinobi always looked young.
"I'm gay," Hayate said baldly.
Ibiki blinked. "Uh. Yeah," he said, face falling into a comfortable frown.
Hayate smiled, black hair hiding his eyes until he tipped his head, looking out from under the soft fringe. "Can I kiss you?"
"I'm not--gay," Ibiki said, nearly stuttering. The frown grew.
"If you keep looking like that," Hayate purred, "it'll stick."
Ibiki blinked.
"Can I kiss you?"
"I'm not--" he began again, cursing drunken fools.
"Gay, right. Maybe you're like Raidou. Maybe you like both."
The thought made his mind turn, the world shifting on its axis. "I suppose," he said slowly, "that's possible . . ." Before the words had even left his mouth, he had a lap full of warm, pliable, willing shinobi.
Suddenly, gender really didn't matter so much. Apparently he'd had enough to drink.
*So, this is what it's like to like both . . .* he thought in awe, as a tongue tickled his lips. He opened, felt it slide warm and wet over his teeth. Then Hayate pulled back slightly.
"Is your place nearby?" he asked plaintively. "Mine has stairs."
"So does mine," Ibiki said, wondering if it was taking advantage if the drunk made the first move.
Hayate slept around. More often, the last few months. It couldn't possibly be taking advantage.
While Hayate pouted, Ibiki started figuring ways to get the young man up the stairs. It couldn't be *that* hard. He'd carry the Chuunin, if he had to. Ibiki stood, lifting Hayate with him, setting the now-laughing shinobi on his feet once they were upright.
"C'mon," he said, covering his half arousal, half awkwardness with a growl. "This way."
Hayate started to laugh, started to cough, and choked out, "Yay!"
Ibiki watched him, enough sense left to make sure the younger man wasn't going to collapse in another coughing fit. But Hayate stabilized, seeming more sober than he had since they'd left the bar.
Ibiki's place wasn't far. He glared off a fellow ANBU who approached them, then shoved through the lock on the outside door. Hayate only stumbled a few times going up the two flights of stairs, and then Ibiki was fitting his key into the deadbolt, a return of sanity--or a dwindling of lust--making him wonder if this was really a good idea. In fact, he was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea. He wasn't gay, first off. Hadn't ever really been attracted to many people--men *or* women--and now he had ugly pink scars running over most of his body. He was good at scaring people into doing what he wanted, and he was a great ANBU, but he wasn't a lover for a half-smashed Chuunin wanting--what? What, exactly, did Hayate want?
Then he realized his hands had acted, and the door was open. Hayate went in without waiting for an invitation.
Ibiki followed, glowering because he wasn't about to show nervousness. "I could make coffee," he muttered, glancing around his apartment to make sure there was nothing *too* incriminating sitting out.
Chains. Manacles. Those probably didn't look good, but they really were for an experiment . . .
Hayate just gave a quiet laugh, toeing off his shoes and wriggling out of his shirt. "Screw the coffee," he muttered into cloth.
"Look, Hayate," Ibiki began, half-transfixed by the pale skin now exposed, a well-muscled torso twisting as the shirt was tossed away.
"Hmm?" Hayate murmured, pushing the door closed with one hand. The movement brought him into closer proximity. Close enough to feel body heat, even through Ibiki's coat. "You said something?" the Chuunin reminded him, stepping closer, invading his personal space.
Lust rose again. Hells, what did it matter if he wasn't often attracted to people? He masturbated just like everyone else! "I--I was saying--"
He had an armful of wiry Chuunin. He couldn't remember what he was saying. He was lucky to remember his own name, really. A hand wrapped around the back of his neck, another at his waist. He slid rough, callused palms over almost-smooth skin, feeling the play of hard muscles under soft flesh.
Hayate smelled like beer and sweat, something a little bitter, something a tad spicy.
"I like this scar," the Chuunin murmured, breath ghosting over Ibiki's jaw.
"Scar?" Ibiki asked, leaning in to kiss the other man, only to have Hayate move ever so slightly away, teasing, keeping just out of kissing range.
"This one." A tongue flicked out, danced hot over Ibiki's lips. Ibiki's hands tightened on the slim waist and he tugged, pulling hips closer, body closer, until he could kiss the other man no matter how lithely Hayate tried to shift. He skimmed his hands up, felt the body against him shiver, smelled musk and tasted alcohol. He swept his tongue over a mouth, lips parted, and dipped in carefully.
Hayate moved, a full-body motion that brought them into contact in all the right areas. Hands burrowed under Ibiki's coat, and he felt tugging until he finally dropped his arms and let it fall to the floor. They broke contact long enough for the shirt to go next, and he had a moment of icy waiting when he realized the new scars were exposed in all their twisted misery.
The tip of Hayate's tongue traced a line of marred flesh. "Sensitive or numb?" he asked, and licked it once more.
Ibiki hissed, burying his hands in black hair. "Do that again."
"Sensitive, then," Hayate laughed, air whispering over nerves. Ibiki's skin tightened, prickles rising, his pants rubbing against him in ways he'd never noticed before. Actually, while some of that was nice, it was really rather uncomfortable too. He shifted, then shifted again, and then felt hands at his belt as lips and teeth nibbled across his collarbones.
He caught Hayate's face, pulled the man up, turned to press him against the door and kiss him whether he dodged or not. Fingers crept into his loosened pants, teasing, slipping along skin, never long enough to do more than tempt.
Ibiki growled, felt Hayate laugh and squirm against him, slipped his tongue into the other's mouth, feeling him shiver as he slid along teeth and palate and tongue. Soft and hot and wet, and fingers were still dancing at his cock. Then they were tugging, pulling at material, and the sound of a zipper was unmistakable in the breath-heavy apartment.
He turned his head, nipping Hayate's jaw, listening to the smaller man's breath catch and break, shudder as he stroked ribs and stomach, pausing to brush nipples when Hayate whimpered.
"Wait--" Hayate said brokenly, and Ibiki cursed but backed off. He wasn't going to force anyone, and if the Chuunin had decided scars weren't hot after all--
Then Hayate dropped to his knees in the limited space between Ibiki and the door, pulling Ibiki's dick out of his pants and licking.
Ibiki slapped a hand against the wood above Hayate's head. A mouth closed around his cock, fingers trailing nails on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He felt his balls tighten, bit a lip to keep from thrusting as Hayate tongued his head, slowly slipping it farther into his mouth. Fingers teased his balls, a sword-roughened palm rubbing them, thumb dragging along the underside of his dick.
Ibiki heard another zipper, looked down to watch Hayate suck more of his length into his mouth. The Chuunin spread his legs a little and pulled his own cock out, rubbing himself achingly slowly. His tongue stroked Ibiki, retreated, licked at his head, came away entirely as Hayate tugged Ibiki's pants the rest of the way down.
Ibiki stepped out of them while Hayate stood, kicking his own pants away, pressing up close so they were chest-to-chest and crotch-to-crotch. "Lube?" Hayate purred against Ibiki's skin, licking up the stripes of scarring.
Ibiki shivered, nerves bundled in the scars firing along his shoulders and down his arms, tightening his balls. "Ah--" his mind wasn't working so well, but he focused with difficulty. "*Condoms.*"
"I have those," Hayate murmured, hands busily stroking Ibiki's dick while his mouth made warm, wet trails along a heavily muscled chest.
Ibiki shuddered, skin hot, blood pooling heavy and thick in his groin. He could feel his own heartbeat, smell musk and sex between them. Sweat prickled along his neck, drops of it collecting in the hollow of collarbones.
Then Hayate stepped away, digging through his discarded pants until he pulled out a square foil. "*Lube,*" he repeated, eyes half-lidded. "So you can fuck me."
Ibiki's mind raced, lust-befuddled enough to hope he had it while knowing he didn't.
Hayate's smile was slow and knowing. "Oil? Moisturizer? Vaseline? Butter? Hollandaise sauce? Shampoo, conditioner? *Spit* is an option, really," he said, laughing, when Ibiki just stared at him.
Ibiki blinked, shook his head. "No--I have--oil--" He frowned. "Cooking oil? Or like, oil for tools?"
"Either will work." Hayate stood, all long, lean lines. "Let's start with cooking oil, since it's definitely non-toxic. There's no mood killer like a rush to the hospital," he added cheekily.
Ibiki wondered if he owned cooking oil. Mostly, he just ate at the office cafeteria. But Hayate was already in the little kitchen, poking through cupboards in all his nakedness.
"Uh, the fridge," Ibiki said in a moment of clarity, wondering suddenly if conditioner wasn't a better idea. At least it wouldn't be cold. Did he *own* conditioner? He didn't think so.
Hayate looked at him, eyes sparkling, and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out canola oil a moment later, sloshing it around and practically stalking back. "This isn't good for your heart," he said, unscrewing the cap slowly. He tossed the lid. It landed with a thunk on the wood floor, then a hand on Ibiki's chest pushed, and he headed backward, realizing Hayate was steering him toward the bedroom. He grabbed the man's wrist and pulled, faster, knowing where he was going and not sure how drunk the other man was--and therefore how good his steering skills were.
The bed was big enough for two. It was one of the few things Ibiki had splurged on, and it was comfortable and large enough to sprawl in, even when there were more than his four limbs and long body.
There would be plenty of room for a slight, limber Chuunin.
The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he sat, Hayate spilling over on top of him, sending him flat on the bed.
"Really not good for your heart," Hayate repeated, pouring cold oil over Ibiki's chest.
Ibiki hissed, the chill raising sudden goosebumps, the sensation another addition to his already-overloaded flesh.
A hand slid through oil, down, fondled his cock, sliding tight and warm, putting the condom on with practiced ease. Hayate straddled him, both hands on his chest again, sliding over his body. "Give me your hand," the Chuunin murmured, and Ibiki did.
More oil, poured over his fingers--held carefully over his torso, as he'd had some idea what Hayate was about. With his clean hand he took the bottle away before the younger man could pour it over the sheets in his zeal.
'Fuck me,' Hayate had said, and Ibiki was far from sheltered, knew what, in theory, needed to happen first even if he'd never done it. He slid his hand down Hayate's spine, watching the Chuunin arch like a cat. Over a firmly curved ass, hit testicles and went back up, finding the anus. He pushed a finger in, saw Hayate shiver, pushed farther, past the knuckle. Lips parted, breath soft.
"Do another," Hayate murmured, and moved enough so the heads of their cocks bumped and brushed, making Ibiki's legs tingle, his toes curl. He slid another finger in, wondered if there was some secret trick to this or if--
Hayate bit his lip, chest expanding, then winced as he suppressed a sudden cough.
"Breathe slowly," Ibiki murmured, threading his free hand up over the smooth skin of Hayate's neck, dragging his nails along the man's scalp. He caught hair and tightened, pulling carefully, saw Hayate's neck arc back with the tug. A hand came back down, between his legs, stroking and fingering his cock. Rubbed his balls, the skin around them, thumbnail scratching lightly.
Then Hayate moved, forward, grabbing Ibiki's arm and pulling until his fingers came free of the other man. Hayate thumbed Ibiki's dick, then held it carefully, positioning them both.
Ibiki's hands settled on narrow hips, narrower than any woman he'd been with, and he felt the other man press around him, sinking down onto his cock, tight and hot and slick. He lifted his hips, thrusting in, watched Hayate's mouth open and eyes close, body squeezing tight around him before purposefully relaxing.
Ibiki tugged at hips, bringing the other man down further onto him, sheathing himself completely as Hayate breathed in carefully long sets. Trying not to cough again, Ibiki realized dimly. Then thigh muscles flexed and the younger man rose, slid down again, moaned softly. Did it again.
Ibiki had never liked giving up control. Hands still on Hayate's waist, he sat up, twisting until the other man hit the bed, eyes wide with surprise, legs still on either side of Ibiki's hips.
Slowly, Ibiki pushed. Hayate's eyes widened, closed, his feet hooking in the small of Ibiki's back. It was all the encouragement the Jounin needed. He thrust, a little faster, a little harder each time, feeling nails dig into his shoulders. Hayate groaned, hot and tight and slick. Pressure built in Ibiki, coiling through his abdomen. Bliss shivered up his spine, curling like starfire through his limbs.
"Oh, all the holy gods," Hayate whimpered, sweat on his skin, back arched. "Just--don't--" Hayate leaned in, hips pulled up, and bit Ibiki.
Ibiki hissed and thrust, shoving the other man down into the bed and feeling wet slide on his stomach. His body tightened, everything pooling in his cock until he came, white shuddering behind his eyelids. The world broke, and ghosts screamed, and Ibiki couldn’t hardly breathe. When the shudders passed, his body slowly coming back down, he opened his eyes.
He was still braced on his elbows above Hayate, whose chest was rising and falling, his arms shaking. Then he started to cough.
Ibiki pulled out, spasming with little aftershocks, condom sliding. He yanked it off and tossed it into the wastebasket, rolling off Hayate and shoving the younger man over, onto his side, as if that might help with the coughing.
Hayate curled around his stomach, eyes clenched, body shuddering in a parody of orgasm as he jerked and twitched, face pinking as he tried to breathe though the hacking mess.
"Try and relax," Ibiki said, and didn't know if it would do any good or not, but he couldn't just lay there.
Eventually, the fit passed. Hayate lay on his side, eyes watering, breathing shallow. He looked more than exhausted.
Ibiki hesitated, then finally cleaned the worst of the mess from them both--Hayate didn't even move, eyes open and unseeing--and drew the blankets over.
If it had been a woman, he'd have curled up against her back, tucked her safely in the nest his chest and legs made, and fallen asleep. But it wasn't, it was a man--
Small enough to do the same to, half-asleep already, who'd initiated everything. He tossed an arm over Hayate's chest, pulled him close, still smelling musk and sex.
Hayate coughed another time or two and then lay still. His breathing slowly evened out.
Ibiki lay awake for a while longer, and then finally fell asleep.
**
Ibiki woke to movement, and ignored it for as long as possible. When several minutes had passed and he heard cursing, he finally opened one eye and watched a bedraggled-looking Hayate tossing clothes and blankets around, peering under furniture and digging through books.
"Looking for something?" Ibiki asked, his voice a sleepy rumble.
Hayate jumped and looked up. "Um. My hitai-ate?"
"You didn't have it last night." Ibiki would have remembered taking it off.
"Damn," Hayate muttered. "If I've lost it again, my squad leader's gonna *kill* me . . ."
Ibiki smiled, the expression more a smirk on his scarred face. Rubbing his head, he sat up and glanced around. "I'd kill you, if I were your squad leader," he agreed.
Hayate snorted, winced as he bit back a cough.
Ibiki frowned. "How damaging is that?"
A flush rose to pale cheeks, and Hayate tipped his head so that hair hid his eyes. "It's not. I'm fine."
"Don't lie." Ibiki stood, blankets falling aside, exposing him in nakedness and scars. "How damaging?"
Hayate shrugged, a jerky movement of sleek shoulders.
Ibiki put a hand on the man's spine, feeling the chakra pathways of his lungs. The damage was extensive. Beyond that, he couldn't tell much.
"Just need some time to rest," Hayate muttered. "It'll be fine."
Ibiki didn't point out that it had been a full year. He glanced around for his pants, remembered they were by the front door, and dragged another pair from the dirty clothes' bin. He pulled them, buttoning them around a lean, scarred waist. He didn't know what to say. He didn't often have one-night stands, and he tried to sleep through them leaving--or tiptoe out without waking anyone.
He never had one-night stands with men.
"So . . . you live with Iruka?" Ibiki asked, wondering how complicated his day was going to get.
Hayate shot him a wry smile. "We're roommates. We're both looking for our own places, since we're making more than enough. It's just . . . we've been lazy. You know?"
Ibiki nodded, though he didn't. He glanced around for a shirt to cover his scars, then decided that was stupid, and he wasn't so insecure. He put his hands in his pockets and wondered what next.
"I should go," Hayate said, frowning as he picked up his underwear. He shoved them in a pocket. "I'm sure I have, uh, something to do. Something daring and brilliant," he muttered in an undertone.
Ibiki frowned, suddenly wondering what, exactly, the Chuunin had to do. He was off missions. Most of the people he hung out with were either gone the majority of the time, or Iruka--who worked long hours at the school.
Hayate was at the door, mussed and disheveled, shoulders slumped a little. He coughed quietly, suppressing it.
"I have a few days off before my Genin team is back to work," Ibiki said without thinking. "Do you want to train?"
The younger man turned and looked at him.
He scowled. "I'm not *hitting* on you," he growled in his best Evil Sensei voice. "But if you ever plan on getting back into doing missions, you're going to have to work around those lungs."
He thought maybe he'd pushed too far. That maybe Hayate would insist he was fine, they would heal, that maybe the Chuunin was still in denial.
"Yeah," Hayate said grudgingly. "You're right."
Ibiki breathed a little easier. "I know some jutsu that might help, temporarily. Suppression jutsu."
Hayate looked at him askance. "Don't those have some nasty side effects?"
"Is it worth saving your life?" Ibiki snapped.
Hayate opened his mouth, then squeezed his eyes closed and coughed, hard, several times.
Ibiki snorted. "Look, go home, shower, meet me in the ANBU training field in two hours. We'll see if we can't kick you back into shape."
"I'm in fine shape," Hayate said, opening the door and starting out.
"Sure. Potato-shape."
"You seemed to like my shape well enough last night," Hayate said, and an impish grin teased the corners of his mouth.
Ibiki glowered and started to close the door.
Hayate leaned in, shoulders blocking the entrance, one finger flicking out to trail up a long scar, and purred, "Or did you need a reminder?"
"Two hours!" Ibiki snapped, feeling his skin go pink. He planted a foot in the Chuunin's stomach and shoved, then closed the door.
Strangest damn one-night stand he'd ever fucking had.
******
**edit** Good news, folks! I've been published! Check it out at Treasure Hunting! And support a fanfic author! :D
Coming soon: By Degrees, a gay romance novel (due out early next year, watch my LJ) and Second Hope, a cowboy romance (due out the same time, watch my LJ!)