[FIC] Illuminating Heaven - Kakashi/Sasuke
Title: Illuminating Heaven / 天照 / Amaterasu
Pairing: Kakashi/Sasuke
Rating: NC-17
Beta Editor: ka0richan
A/N: Full author's note at the end of chapter.
Summary: Kakashi'd wondered when and if he'd ever encounter his prodigal former student again, but never expected it to be quite like this.
This Chapter: "Tenderness formed like dew on leaves in the quiet of dawn before the sun rose, arching up towards the light shimmering in the horizon."
Chapter 1: The First Night
Chapter 2: The Second Night
Chapter 3: The Second Night: Interstice
Chapter 4: The Second Night: Stasis
Chapter 5: Exodus
Chapter 6: Recapitulation
Chapter 7: The Third Night
Chapter 8: Tension
Chapter 9: Pressure
Chapter 10: Catharsis
Chapter 11: Tenderness
Chapter 12: HopeAfterword
Chapter 11: Tenderness
[Please Listen: Muse - Unintended]
Tenderness.
It fell like rain in summer, brushing lightly over skin in barely-there whispers, quiet and unassuming like the fine mist of warmth that settled humid and soft on Sasuke's face as he slept at night under the muted light of stars that watched his growth from child to man.
He could lose himself in it -- how it wrapped itself around him with two strong arms and a heart that beat steady against his back, lulling him in and out of dreams that were filled with the scent of strong earth and solid masculinity. He breathed it in and drank it down so it filled up all the knotted-up hollows and spaces inside himself that he never thought could be filled.
But then Kakashi looked at him with an expression so soft and gentle, the tenderness sliced right through each knot, each tangle. It slid itself in between the cracks and found a home inside him, then pulled apart the rope he held so tightly around him until he was left in pieces that Kakashi took in his hands and rearranged around him.
There was a rhythm to this, a silent echo.
He felt it before he recognized what it was, tickling up his neck and into the hollow behind his ear. The warmth of breath steamed over skin before soft lips grazed gently. Heat coiled up languidly within him, stirring slowly at the pit of his stomach before crawling its way up in him. It rose slowly, spreading through his body like petals weighed heavy by sleep, slowly unfurling towards the warmth of the sun.
Fingers fluttered over his hips, a tongue slowly swirled across his skin, and Sasuke's eyes snapped open when Kakashi's teeth lightly grazed over his pulse.
"Kaka--" Sasuke started to say his name, but then those lips were tracing over his jaw, fingers running so gently down his chest that it stole the last syllable from his mouth.
It all felt so good, these sensations that were almost like the ones from the previous night, tingling his skin and trembling down his spine.
Kakashi's lips moved over his neck, sending warm shivers through his body. His fingers danced in slow arabesques across the twitching muscles of Sasuke's abdomen. His movements were filled with an open tenderness that wrapped around Sasuke in slow waves. The tenderness throbbed slowly through him, with Kakashi's body molding too perfectly against his. Then the heat of Kakashi's cock pressed against Sasuke's lower back, and it reminded him of the violence that pounded into him. Violence that left him sore and aching and still wanting.
But there was nothing violent about the way Kakashi touched him.
There was nothing normal about the way Kakashi kissed him.
It was all too tender, too slow, too soft; too gentle, too caring, not rough. Not violent and desperate and filled with all the things Sasuke normally associated with sex -- this act of tearing apart someone else's control just to claim them for yourself. And until last night, Sasuke'd only ever experienced sex that was only somewhat satisfying; sex that was more a struggle and a fight than it was an act of intimacy.
The violence was always hot, fast, and breathless; never intimate, never passionate, always somewhat distant from the mechanics.
Sasuke never knew violence could be so intimate until Kakashi kissed him. And then he wondered why he'd never experienced anything else like it.
Except now, Kakashi's mouth was mapping the contour of his shoulder, barely grazing over the surface. It was like he wanted to know every part of Sasuke's body, wanted to memorize and worship the frame that housed his spirit, because maybe if he knew it well enough, he would somehow understand him.
But Sasuke wasn't so easy to understand, and it was all so gentle, all so tender, that it made no sense.
Tenderness didn't belong in a life that had been so thoroughly broken; it died on the streets of Konoha when he was only seven. Tenderness was dark, quiet eyes that smiled up at the corners when Sasuke came home with scratches on his hands and knees and a scowl to match. Tenderness visited him in dreams, where he chased fireflies whose glow burnt out long before the break of dawn. Tenderness was the taste of icepops melting on hot summer days, and the gentle way the wind would caress the surface of his cheeks.
Tenderness didn't have any place in a life defined by vengeance.
So when Kakashi touched him in such a tender way, it felt more violent than violence.
It locked up the warmth inside him with a hasty knot, then ricocheted down his spine and drew rigidly into his limbs. Tension grew thick in his body and hardened the slowness of his breath into something sharp that prickled his lungs each time Sasuke tried to breathe. Kakashi's fingers slowly slid down towards that most sensitive part of his body, and Sasuke's hand snapped hard around the circumference of his wrist to stop him.
Kakashi's pulse throbbed languidly under his thumb. It was a gentle rhythm, a river flowing slowly, warmed by the summer sun.
It reminded him of smiles left behind in memories grown old -- watercolor recollections faded by the erosion of time. Sasuke didn't want to recall the things he left behind so long ago, when the only memory that mattered was one painted in red. But when he tried to draw away from the warmth that cleaved against him, Kakashi only tightened his arm around him.
"Relax." Kakashi said it so quietly, it came out as a whisper that slowly steamed over the curve of Sasuke's neck, and tickled down to his collarbone, sending a soft shiver through his frame. Sasuke wanted to push him away, wanted to shove down the heat rising and settling heavily in his chest.
But this feeling -- the heat of the body that was flush against his spine, comforting with its solid reassurance -- he didn’t need, or want, to pull away from that yet. Not when he could lie here and pretend that there was no world outside of this. Just like he had the previous night, lying under Kakashi's weight, pulse still racing, vision blurry, almost drunk on the residual sensations that still lingered in the aftermath of catharsis, the destruction of all he thought he knew but didn't. And nothing else mattered at that moment, not the reasons why he left or what happened in the years after -- his world had drawn in and formed itself within the arms that held him, the heartbeat that raced against his chest, and the scent of earthy masculinity that wrapped around him and filled him until it was all he breathed.
He exhaled, the motion a faint depression of his chest, and focused on the way Kakashi breathed, the way his heart steadily beat, thrumming, humming, slowly, strongly. Like the heat of the steam from the shower afterward, the wet, languid kisses that felt like a dream. And he almost thought it wasn't happening, how Kakashi had lifted and carried him, when Sasuke was so exhausted all he could manage to do was barely keep his eyes open as soap suds slicked slowly over skin. He wanted to leave, but didn't want to go anywhere; couldn't, with Kakashi holding him there, within the circle of his arms, pressing down so heavy into his skin, memorizing the way their bodies fit against each other.
Sasuke closed his eyes, so very aware of the sigh tickling along the short strands of hair curled at his nape. The circle tightened, and he felt the press of Kakashi's nose against his neck. Lips grazed languidly in a soft brush, then Kakashi slowly breathed him in. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet, each word resonating gently against Sasuke's skin. "If you ever want to come home one day... home is still there."
Sasuke could only softly scoff, feeling his lips drag down in a frown, as he blankly, flatly repeated, "Home."
Home for Sasuke hadn't existed in so long. Home was a house filled with ghosts, a compound stained in blood and dust; the memory of his mother's hands, his father's frown, and his brother's fingers poking right between his eyebrows -- "Sorry, Sasuke, maybe next time."
Kakashi hummed in confirmation, and Sasuke felt the arm around him slightly tighten as the jounin repeated that word in a gentle breath. "Home."
But home for Kakashi was Konoha, and Konoha was just a place Sasuke'd lived -- a place that tried to cover his eyes, that tried to silence the truth of its crimes. And in those weeks after Itachi's death, Sasuke wanted to destroy that place. Wanted to cut the tree to its root; tear down each branch, crush out each leaf, rip open the earth that held it in place, and bury it in the ashes of ghosts that wandered the streets Sasuke once called home. Even then, it wouldn't be enough, not until he'd eviscerated every seed, every sapling, every form of life that branded itself with the mark of the village that cursed his clan, his brother, himself.
But Pein had taken that pleasure from him, and destroyed Konoha for him.
When Sasuke came upon the village, it wasn't even a village but a crater of destruction; a hole carved into the earth that bore no recognition to his home. Not even the compound or its ghosts could be found in the rubble where Konoha once stood proud and tall. And he hadn't even been there to see it happen -- realizing too late this wasn't the kind of revenge that he wanted.
He couldn't help but feel that his desire to see Konoha in ashes resulted in its very destruction.
"Have you forgotten, Kakashi. I'm a Missing-nin," Sasuke reminded him. He expected the body behind him to go tense, to draw away in realizing the mistake of holding him so close. But Kakashi's lips pressed against his shoulder and Sasuke could swear he felt them curve into a smile, before the jounin murmured, "Mm, but the Rokudaime Hokage probably can do something about that..."
Sasuke scoffed again, this time a little harsher. "Naruto, huh." The flatly delivered acknowledgment was as incredulous as it was skeptical. Perhaps Naruto had finally taken his advice.
"Well, it hasn't happened yet, but when it does, you can probably come back," Kakashi continued lightly, and Sasuke wasn't sure what felt softer -- the fingers swirling across his chest or the breath against his throat. "Assuming the Rokudaime doesn't end up dragging you back himself."
A vague sound answered Kakashi as if in agreement. But it was doubtful, a touch sardonic. Kakashi must've interpreted it as a lack of faith, because he continued softly, "It's not easy to give up on you, Sasuke..." His voice sounded so soft, almost vulnerable at that moment, it was almost as though Kakashi was hesitant to admit it. His apprehension was because of the honesty in it that rang like a clarion in Sasuke's ears -- Naruto wasn't the only one who wasn't able to give up on him.
The realization wrenched and twisted up something inside of Sasuke, and suddenly everything started to make sense -- why Kakashi looked at him in such a soft way, why tenderness flooded every expression, every touch, every whispered word. He couldn't understand why, couldn't understand how Kakashi never let go, never stopped believing in him when Sasuke had taken everything Kakashi had ever given him, ever taught him and ripped it apart to shreds.
The feeling grew and magnified, and suddenly it was too big and his chest was too small, too tight, and Sasuke didn't know what to think or how to respond, or if he should try to push Kakashi away again even if he knew he'd be pulled right back.
But before he could make a choice, Kakashi was talking again.
"Well, Sasuke... these are your options..." Kakashi shifted behind Sasuke as though to give him space. "Either you can continue doing what you've been doing.... and stay alone..." He suddenly found himself looking up at Kakashi's face, and there was that expression again, the one that was so tender around the edges, that settled softly into the angular lines of his face. Sasuke wanted to look away from what he saw in Kakashi's gaze, but found his attention caught when gentle fingers softly grazed against his cheek as they brushed black hair out of his eyes. And then he watched as Kakashi's face transformed with a smile that curved his lips and crinkled both eyes into two perfect arcs. "...or you can come back to a place where people still care about you and love you."
It was like being tied up in that tree all over again, except this time, Sasuke was held in place with the heat of fingertips running over his face and mismatched eyes looking at him in such an open, unguarded way. It felt so different from the first time Kakashi held him in place and spouted unrealistic notions of loyalty and bonds, because this time when Sasuke looked back, he could see the emotions that swirled in Kakashi's eyes -- something like hope and unconditional faith, emotions Sasuke had never been able to read before on Kakashi's face, when he'd always been so closed up and carefully held in, never allowing anyone to see inside him.
And then he realized that Kakashi had always been right -- there'd been no satisfaction in exacting vengeance. Not in Itachi's death, or in Konoha's destruction; not in cutting down the life of the man who'd started the cycle of devastation. Madara's death had been a necessary step on his road of justice, and Sasuke'd believed after bringing him down, he'd find the solace that had eluded his life from the moment he stepped into the Uchiha complex and the acrid scent of copper burnt itself into his lungs.
But there'd been no glory after his war, only emptiness and guilt that ate any satisfaction up, burnt up like the lives of his teammates, who each gave up their life to save him. And only he would ever feel their loss, no one would ever avenge their deaths -- they were thrown away lives whom no one loved, bodies that only doubled as weapons in war. He would have to carry their weight, their sacrifices for as long as he lived -- sacrifices made so he could fight a battle that was meant to turn wrong into right.
Sasuke understood too late what Itachi meant when he said that people lived their lives bound by what they accepted as correct and true. He'd lived his entire life believing that only vengeance was right, and in the end it all turned out so wrong that Sasuke had nothing left but a world that was steadily going black.
For years he wandered aimlessly, trying to understand what it meant to live. He had no home, no bonds, no family. He wasn't ready to die, but he didn't quite live; it wasn't much of a life, but a continued existence, one that was filled with mission after mission, and dreams of a life he could have had, in Konoha where the trees were always green, and the scent of warm bark mingled with damp earth. Where Naruto lay face-down in rice paddies, unapologetically covered in mud; where Sakura's willow-thin arms wrapped around his waist; where Kakashi's large, strong calloused hand brushed through his hair and caused an inexplicable tingling in his chest -- like the one that grew inside him now, spiraling and spreading out tendrils of warmth, flooding him with a sensation like the expression Kakashi wore on his face.
Something that felt a little like hope.
Konoha was a place that Sasuke once lived -- it wasn't home, and it never would be. But it was a place where he once dreamed, a place where people still cared, still loved him.
He looked up at the hope in Kakashi's eyes and made a sound that wasn't quite a yes, but it wasn't a scoff or a narrowing of eyes, or all the other ways Sasuke could've shot down the possibility of him coming back. Kakashi smiled in understanding, and Sasuke drank up the way the warmth lit up his face, like the sun as it sank into skin in summer, an expression that was once more as soft as it was tender.
Somehow that tenderness felt reassuring, and Sasuke decided it wasn't such a bad thing.
He studied how it softened the corners of Kakashi's eyes, how it made his face so expressive, and made it easy for Sasuke to read all the things Kakashi usually kept locked up within. It was strange, seeing him so open and exposed, looking down at him with eyes filled with hope and something else that made Sasuke feel warm. He seriously considered the lines of Kakashi's face, and slightly frowned as he pursed his lips, then brought up his fingers and pressed them softly against one corner of Kakashi's smile.
"You should smile more," he solemnly informed Kakashi.
Kakashi's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and the next thing Sasuke knew, Kakashi suddenly burst out laughing. The laughter bubbled up melodious and unbridled, a full-bodied sound that Sasuke had never heard coming out of Kakashi before. He'd heard Kakashi laugh in the most condescending ways, heard him chuckle in soft amusement, knew the sound of Kakashi's smug snicker -- but this was the first time he'd ever heard Kakashi laugh like this. Honest, open laughter that shook Kakashi's shoulders and crinkled up his eyes in the most genuine way as it came spilling out of him in waves. It was so surprising and sounded so pleasant, that Sasuke couldn't help but feel his lips turn up at the corners. And then his lips parted ever so slightly, just enough to show a glimmer of teeth.
Kakashi's palm was warm as it framed one side of his face, and then he slowly started to lean in. "You should try it yourself, Sasuke-kun," he said, his voice lilting and fond and lightly jesting, his breath warm on Sasuke's lips.
Sasuke's brow pulled down in a frown, and his lips formed a little scowl. "Don't call me Sasuke-kun," he said flatly.
"Okay," Kakashi breathed. "Sasuke-kun." And then his lips captured Sasuke's in a soft kiss.
Tenderness formed like dew on leaves in the quiet of dawn before the sun rose, arching up towards the light shimmering in the horizon; an all-consuming sensation that grew with each kiss, and swelled each time tongues lightly teased and flicked in a slow, sensual dance that tremored on hope, on all the things that went unsaid, and blossomed with slow undulations.
Kakashi's mouth was as hot as his skin, and as fervent as the fingers that worshiped the terrain of Sasuke's body as it arched and strained with desire and need, wanting Kakashi again so badly. And his mouth fell open with broken breaths when Kakashi tasted and licked and plunged his tongue into the very core of his body, heat and pleasure flooding through him until the sensation grew so large that Sasuke couldn't take it. His body bucked and thrashed, fingers twisting in Kakashi's hair as his cries filled the air, unrestrained, as Kakashi kept on tasting him, his tongue plunging in and out and curling so deep, these vulgar kisses pressed against petals and grooves, petals and grooves that spread and swelled and gasped and bloomed.
It was too much, these sensations that filled him and left him breathless and desperate, half-formed words spilling out from his lips as Sasuke tugged and pulled and tried so very hard to stop the salacious parrying of Kakashi's tongue, telling him that it was enough, enough -- but Kakashi seemed to disagree, whispering words of patience and pressing him back down, fingers spreading him even more as he kissed and sucked, leaving Sasuke shaking on the edge of madness as he squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his head back, writhing and trying to escape this uncontrollable pleasure that wound up inside and pulled him apart where he was most tender.
And just when he thought he was going to go insane from it, unable to escape the grasp Kakashi had on him, fingers finally replaced that torturing slick muscle, and he nearly sobbed a note of relief and pleasure when they slowly curled within him. Then Kakashi's lips found that sensitive spot on his neck, kissing so softly it was as though he was asking for his forgiveness. And when their bodies finally joined together, Sasuke could only grab onto him, holding onto him with everything he had, because he was all he had left and all he could believe in, all he could trust in, when he had trusted in nothing and no one else.
But there was honesty in the tenderness that filled him and wrapped around him, and he could try his best to believe in it; to believe that Kakashi still believed in him, that he had enough hope for the both of them, that he would never give up on him, and wanted and needed him in a way no one else did.
There was nothing more but this, nothing else in the world but him, this man who had forced his way back into a life that didn't deserve him; picking up all the pieces of him, then stitching each one back in place; holding them in with the heat of his kiss and the strength of his arms that refused to let go, refused to give up when Sasuke'd given up on himself, and forced him to open up his eyes, to see the hope that steadily rose, hope that Sasuke hadn't felt in years. And all these emotions and sensations wound up inside him, growing far too large for the confines of his body, until it finally exploded wild within him in a burst of hot pleasure that tore its way through him, leaving him screaming as it consumed him, and then he was spilling all over his body as Kakashi hoarsely cried out and slammed into him, filling him, filling him, filling him-- and then chakra glowed hot white, hotter than what filled him up inside, stabbing into him with a scream, slamming and ripping and tearing in, tangling up in waves of heat that pulsed and throbbed and burst open like the sun exploding so hot, spiraling out of control, roaring in a river flowing fast through blood, shooting through every synapse and nerve-- his vision disintegrated into static noise as his breath cut short, and his heart raced fast, body jerking with seismic quakes as his chakra wound around Kakashi's, tangling, tangling, tangling.
Sasuke couldn't remember the last time he felt so free.
A/N: It has been quite the journey, writing Illuminating Heaven. We have finally reached the end! This chapter is essentially the last part of the narrative. The next chapter will function as the epilogue, and the final chapter for Illuminating Heaven. It will explain what happens after all of this, but doesn't continue the narrative the way the other chapters in the story did.
Illuminating Heaven is about loss and love, about second chances and hope. It's also about faith and trust, about never giving up on bonds and all the things that Kakashi believes in and holds true to his heart: precious companions are ones that must be held close, bonds must be cherished.
Above all else, this is a story about gaining vision.
P.S. There's a hidden bonus chapter linked in this one! Good luck finding the link.
Go back to Chapter 10: CatharsisGo to Chapter 12: Hope
Pairing: Kakashi/Sasuke
Rating: NC-17
Beta Editor: ka0richan
A/N: Full author's note at the end of chapter.
Summary: Kakashi'd wondered when and if he'd ever encounter his prodigal former student again, but never expected it to be quite like this.
This Chapter: "Tenderness formed like dew on leaves in the quiet of dawn before the sun rose, arching up towards the light shimmering in the horizon."
Chapter 1: The First Night
Chapter 2: The Second Night
Chapter 3: The Second Night: Interstice
Chapter 4: The Second Night: Stasis
Chapter 5: Exodus
Chapter 6: Recapitulation
Chapter 7: The Third Night
Chapter 8: Tension
Chapter 9: Pressure
Chapter 10: Catharsis
Chapter 11: Tenderness
Chapter 12: HopeAfterword
Chapter 11: Tenderness
[Please Listen: Muse - Unintended]
Tenderness.
It fell like rain in summer, brushing lightly over skin in barely-there whispers, quiet and unassuming like the fine mist of warmth that settled humid and soft on Sasuke's face as he slept at night under the muted light of stars that watched his growth from child to man.
He could lose himself in it -- how it wrapped itself around him with two strong arms and a heart that beat steady against his back, lulling him in and out of dreams that were filled with the scent of strong earth and solid masculinity. He breathed it in and drank it down so it filled up all the knotted-up hollows and spaces inside himself that he never thought could be filled.
But then Kakashi looked at him with an expression so soft and gentle, the tenderness sliced right through each knot, each tangle. It slid itself in between the cracks and found a home inside him, then pulled apart the rope he held so tightly around him until he was left in pieces that Kakashi took in his hands and rearranged around him.
There was a rhythm to this, a silent echo.
He felt it before he recognized what it was, tickling up his neck and into the hollow behind his ear. The warmth of breath steamed over skin before soft lips grazed gently. Heat coiled up languidly within him, stirring slowly at the pit of his stomach before crawling its way up in him. It rose slowly, spreading through his body like petals weighed heavy by sleep, slowly unfurling towards the warmth of the sun.
Fingers fluttered over his hips, a tongue slowly swirled across his skin, and Sasuke's eyes snapped open when Kakashi's teeth lightly grazed over his pulse.
"Kaka--" Sasuke started to say his name, but then those lips were tracing over his jaw, fingers running so gently down his chest that it stole the last syllable from his mouth.
It all felt so good, these sensations that were almost like the ones from the previous night, tingling his skin and trembling down his spine.
Kakashi's lips moved over his neck, sending warm shivers through his body. His fingers danced in slow arabesques across the twitching muscles of Sasuke's abdomen. His movements were filled with an open tenderness that wrapped around Sasuke in slow waves. The tenderness throbbed slowly through him, with Kakashi's body molding too perfectly against his. Then the heat of Kakashi's cock pressed against Sasuke's lower back, and it reminded him of the violence that pounded into him. Violence that left him sore and aching and still wanting.
But there was nothing violent about the way Kakashi touched him.
There was nothing normal about the way Kakashi kissed him.
It was all too tender, too slow, too soft; too gentle, too caring, not rough. Not violent and desperate and filled with all the things Sasuke normally associated with sex -- this act of tearing apart someone else's control just to claim them for yourself. And until last night, Sasuke'd only ever experienced sex that was only somewhat satisfying; sex that was more a struggle and a fight than it was an act of intimacy.
The violence was always hot, fast, and breathless; never intimate, never passionate, always somewhat distant from the mechanics.
Sasuke never knew violence could be so intimate until Kakashi kissed him. And then he wondered why he'd never experienced anything else like it.
Except now, Kakashi's mouth was mapping the contour of his shoulder, barely grazing over the surface. It was like he wanted to know every part of Sasuke's body, wanted to memorize and worship the frame that housed his spirit, because maybe if he knew it well enough, he would somehow understand him.
But Sasuke wasn't so easy to understand, and it was all so gentle, all so tender, that it made no sense.
Tenderness didn't belong in a life that had been so thoroughly broken; it died on the streets of Konoha when he was only seven. Tenderness was dark, quiet eyes that smiled up at the corners when Sasuke came home with scratches on his hands and knees and a scowl to match. Tenderness visited him in dreams, where he chased fireflies whose glow burnt out long before the break of dawn. Tenderness was the taste of icepops melting on hot summer days, and the gentle way the wind would caress the surface of his cheeks.
Tenderness didn't have any place in a life defined by vengeance.
So when Kakashi touched him in such a tender way, it felt more violent than violence.
It locked up the warmth inside him with a hasty knot, then ricocheted down his spine and drew rigidly into his limbs. Tension grew thick in his body and hardened the slowness of his breath into something sharp that prickled his lungs each time Sasuke tried to breathe. Kakashi's fingers slowly slid down towards that most sensitive part of his body, and Sasuke's hand snapped hard around the circumference of his wrist to stop him.
Kakashi's pulse throbbed languidly under his thumb. It was a gentle rhythm, a river flowing slowly, warmed by the summer sun.
It reminded him of smiles left behind in memories grown old -- watercolor recollections faded by the erosion of time. Sasuke didn't want to recall the things he left behind so long ago, when the only memory that mattered was one painted in red. But when he tried to draw away from the warmth that cleaved against him, Kakashi only tightened his arm around him.
"Relax." Kakashi said it so quietly, it came out as a whisper that slowly steamed over the curve of Sasuke's neck, and tickled down to his collarbone, sending a soft shiver through his frame. Sasuke wanted to push him away, wanted to shove down the heat rising and settling heavily in his chest.
But this feeling -- the heat of the body that was flush against his spine, comforting with its solid reassurance -- he didn’t need, or want, to pull away from that yet. Not when he could lie here and pretend that there was no world outside of this. Just like he had the previous night, lying under Kakashi's weight, pulse still racing, vision blurry, almost drunk on the residual sensations that still lingered in the aftermath of catharsis, the destruction of all he thought he knew but didn't. And nothing else mattered at that moment, not the reasons why he left or what happened in the years after -- his world had drawn in and formed itself within the arms that held him, the heartbeat that raced against his chest, and the scent of earthy masculinity that wrapped around him and filled him until it was all he breathed.
He exhaled, the motion a faint depression of his chest, and focused on the way Kakashi breathed, the way his heart steadily beat, thrumming, humming, slowly, strongly. Like the heat of the steam from the shower afterward, the wet, languid kisses that felt like a dream. And he almost thought it wasn't happening, how Kakashi had lifted and carried him, when Sasuke was so exhausted all he could manage to do was barely keep his eyes open as soap suds slicked slowly over skin. He wanted to leave, but didn't want to go anywhere; couldn't, with Kakashi holding him there, within the circle of his arms, pressing down so heavy into his skin, memorizing the way their bodies fit against each other.
Sasuke closed his eyes, so very aware of the sigh tickling along the short strands of hair curled at his nape. The circle tightened, and he felt the press of Kakashi's nose against his neck. Lips grazed languidly in a soft brush, then Kakashi slowly breathed him in. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet, each word resonating gently against Sasuke's skin. "If you ever want to come home one day... home is still there."
Sasuke could only softly scoff, feeling his lips drag down in a frown, as he blankly, flatly repeated, "Home."
Home for Sasuke hadn't existed in so long. Home was a house filled with ghosts, a compound stained in blood and dust; the memory of his mother's hands, his father's frown, and his brother's fingers poking right between his eyebrows -- "Sorry, Sasuke, maybe next time."
Kakashi hummed in confirmation, and Sasuke felt the arm around him slightly tighten as the jounin repeated that word in a gentle breath. "Home."
But home for Kakashi was Konoha, and Konoha was just a place Sasuke'd lived -- a place that tried to cover his eyes, that tried to silence the truth of its crimes. And in those weeks after Itachi's death, Sasuke wanted to destroy that place. Wanted to cut the tree to its root; tear down each branch, crush out each leaf, rip open the earth that held it in place, and bury it in the ashes of ghosts that wandered the streets Sasuke once called home. Even then, it wouldn't be enough, not until he'd eviscerated every seed, every sapling, every form of life that branded itself with the mark of the village that cursed his clan, his brother, himself.
But Pein had taken that pleasure from him, and destroyed Konoha for him.
When Sasuke came upon the village, it wasn't even a village but a crater of destruction; a hole carved into the earth that bore no recognition to his home. Not even the compound or its ghosts could be found in the rubble where Konoha once stood proud and tall. And he hadn't even been there to see it happen -- realizing too late this wasn't the kind of revenge that he wanted.
He couldn't help but feel that his desire to see Konoha in ashes resulted in its very destruction.
"Have you forgotten, Kakashi. I'm a Missing-nin," Sasuke reminded him. He expected the body behind him to go tense, to draw away in realizing the mistake of holding him so close. But Kakashi's lips pressed against his shoulder and Sasuke could swear he felt them curve into a smile, before the jounin murmured, "Mm, but the Rokudaime Hokage probably can do something about that..."
Sasuke scoffed again, this time a little harsher. "Naruto, huh." The flatly delivered acknowledgment was as incredulous as it was skeptical. Perhaps Naruto had finally taken his advice.
"Well, it hasn't happened yet, but when it does, you can probably come back," Kakashi continued lightly, and Sasuke wasn't sure what felt softer -- the fingers swirling across his chest or the breath against his throat. "Assuming the Rokudaime doesn't end up dragging you back himself."
A vague sound answered Kakashi as if in agreement. But it was doubtful, a touch sardonic. Kakashi must've interpreted it as a lack of faith, because he continued softly, "It's not easy to give up on you, Sasuke..." His voice sounded so soft, almost vulnerable at that moment, it was almost as though Kakashi was hesitant to admit it. His apprehension was because of the honesty in it that rang like a clarion in Sasuke's ears -- Naruto wasn't the only one who wasn't able to give up on him.
The realization wrenched and twisted up something inside of Sasuke, and suddenly everything started to make sense -- why Kakashi looked at him in such a soft way, why tenderness flooded every expression, every touch, every whispered word. He couldn't understand why, couldn't understand how Kakashi never let go, never stopped believing in him when Sasuke had taken everything Kakashi had ever given him, ever taught him and ripped it apart to shreds.
The feeling grew and magnified, and suddenly it was too big and his chest was too small, too tight, and Sasuke didn't know what to think or how to respond, or if he should try to push Kakashi away again even if he knew he'd be pulled right back.
But before he could make a choice, Kakashi was talking again.
"Well, Sasuke... these are your options..." Kakashi shifted behind Sasuke as though to give him space. "Either you can continue doing what you've been doing.... and stay alone..." He suddenly found himself looking up at Kakashi's face, and there was that expression again, the one that was so tender around the edges, that settled softly into the angular lines of his face. Sasuke wanted to look away from what he saw in Kakashi's gaze, but found his attention caught when gentle fingers softly grazed against his cheek as they brushed black hair out of his eyes. And then he watched as Kakashi's face transformed with a smile that curved his lips and crinkled both eyes into two perfect arcs. "...or you can come back to a place where people still care about you and love you."
It was like being tied up in that tree all over again, except this time, Sasuke was held in place with the heat of fingertips running over his face and mismatched eyes looking at him in such an open, unguarded way. It felt so different from the first time Kakashi held him in place and spouted unrealistic notions of loyalty and bonds, because this time when Sasuke looked back, he could see the emotions that swirled in Kakashi's eyes -- something like hope and unconditional faith, emotions Sasuke had never been able to read before on Kakashi's face, when he'd always been so closed up and carefully held in, never allowing anyone to see inside him.
And then he realized that Kakashi had always been right -- there'd been no satisfaction in exacting vengeance. Not in Itachi's death, or in Konoha's destruction; not in cutting down the life of the man who'd started the cycle of devastation. Madara's death had been a necessary step on his road of justice, and Sasuke'd believed after bringing him down, he'd find the solace that had eluded his life from the moment he stepped into the Uchiha complex and the acrid scent of copper burnt itself into his lungs.
But there'd been no glory after his war, only emptiness and guilt that ate any satisfaction up, burnt up like the lives of his teammates, who each gave up their life to save him. And only he would ever feel their loss, no one would ever avenge their deaths -- they were thrown away lives whom no one loved, bodies that only doubled as weapons in war. He would have to carry their weight, their sacrifices for as long as he lived -- sacrifices made so he could fight a battle that was meant to turn wrong into right.
Sasuke understood too late what Itachi meant when he said that people lived their lives bound by what they accepted as correct and true. He'd lived his entire life believing that only vengeance was right, and in the end it all turned out so wrong that Sasuke had nothing left but a world that was steadily going black.
For years he wandered aimlessly, trying to understand what it meant to live. He had no home, no bonds, no family. He wasn't ready to die, but he didn't quite live; it wasn't much of a life, but a continued existence, one that was filled with mission after mission, and dreams of a life he could have had, in Konoha where the trees were always green, and the scent of warm bark mingled with damp earth. Where Naruto lay face-down in rice paddies, unapologetically covered in mud; where Sakura's willow-thin arms wrapped around his waist; where Kakashi's large, strong calloused hand brushed through his hair and caused an inexplicable tingling in his chest -- like the one that grew inside him now, spiraling and spreading out tendrils of warmth, flooding him with a sensation like the expression Kakashi wore on his face.
Something that felt a little like hope.
Konoha was a place that Sasuke once lived -- it wasn't home, and it never would be. But it was a place where he once dreamed, a place where people still cared, still loved him.
He looked up at the hope in Kakashi's eyes and made a sound that wasn't quite a yes, but it wasn't a scoff or a narrowing of eyes, or all the other ways Sasuke could've shot down the possibility of him coming back. Kakashi smiled in understanding, and Sasuke drank up the way the warmth lit up his face, like the sun as it sank into skin in summer, an expression that was once more as soft as it was tender.
Somehow that tenderness felt reassuring, and Sasuke decided it wasn't such a bad thing.
He studied how it softened the corners of Kakashi's eyes, how it made his face so expressive, and made it easy for Sasuke to read all the things Kakashi usually kept locked up within. It was strange, seeing him so open and exposed, looking down at him with eyes filled with hope and something else that made Sasuke feel warm. He seriously considered the lines of Kakashi's face, and slightly frowned as he pursed his lips, then brought up his fingers and pressed them softly against one corner of Kakashi's smile.
"You should smile more," he solemnly informed Kakashi.
Kakashi's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and the next thing Sasuke knew, Kakashi suddenly burst out laughing. The laughter bubbled up melodious and unbridled, a full-bodied sound that Sasuke had never heard coming out of Kakashi before. He'd heard Kakashi laugh in the most condescending ways, heard him chuckle in soft amusement, knew the sound of Kakashi's smug snicker -- but this was the first time he'd ever heard Kakashi laugh like this. Honest, open laughter that shook Kakashi's shoulders and crinkled up his eyes in the most genuine way as it came spilling out of him in waves. It was so surprising and sounded so pleasant, that Sasuke couldn't help but feel his lips turn up at the corners. And then his lips parted ever so slightly, just enough to show a glimmer of teeth.
Kakashi's palm was warm as it framed one side of his face, and then he slowly started to lean in. "You should try it yourself, Sasuke-kun," he said, his voice lilting and fond and lightly jesting, his breath warm on Sasuke's lips.
Sasuke's brow pulled down in a frown, and his lips formed a little scowl. "Don't call me Sasuke-kun," he said flatly.
"Okay," Kakashi breathed. "Sasuke-kun." And then his lips captured Sasuke's in a soft kiss.
Tenderness formed like dew on leaves in the quiet of dawn before the sun rose, arching up towards the light shimmering in the horizon; an all-consuming sensation that grew with each kiss, and swelled each time tongues lightly teased and flicked in a slow, sensual dance that tremored on hope, on all the things that went unsaid, and blossomed with slow undulations.
Kakashi's mouth was as hot as his skin, and as fervent as the fingers that worshiped the terrain of Sasuke's body as it arched and strained with desire and need, wanting Kakashi again so badly. And his mouth fell open with broken breaths when Kakashi tasted and licked and plunged his tongue into the very core of his body, heat and pleasure flooding through him until the sensation grew so large that Sasuke couldn't take it. His body bucked and thrashed, fingers twisting in Kakashi's hair as his cries filled the air, unrestrained, as Kakashi kept on tasting him, his tongue plunging in and out and curling so deep, these vulgar kisses pressed against petals and grooves, petals and grooves that spread and swelled and gasped and bloomed.
It was too much, these sensations that filled him and left him breathless and desperate, half-formed words spilling out from his lips as Sasuke tugged and pulled and tried so very hard to stop the salacious parrying of Kakashi's tongue, telling him that it was enough, enough -- but Kakashi seemed to disagree, whispering words of patience and pressing him back down, fingers spreading him even more as he kissed and sucked, leaving Sasuke shaking on the edge of madness as he squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his head back, writhing and trying to escape this uncontrollable pleasure that wound up inside and pulled him apart where he was most tender.
And just when he thought he was going to go insane from it, unable to escape the grasp Kakashi had on him, fingers finally replaced that torturing slick muscle, and he nearly sobbed a note of relief and pleasure when they slowly curled within him. Then Kakashi's lips found that sensitive spot on his neck, kissing so softly it was as though he was asking for his forgiveness. And when their bodies finally joined together, Sasuke could only grab onto him, holding onto him with everything he had, because he was all he had left and all he could believe in, all he could trust in, when he had trusted in nothing and no one else.
But there was honesty in the tenderness that filled him and wrapped around him, and he could try his best to believe in it; to believe that Kakashi still believed in him, that he had enough hope for the both of them, that he would never give up on him, and wanted and needed him in a way no one else did.
There was nothing more but this, nothing else in the world but him, this man who had forced his way back into a life that didn't deserve him; picking up all the pieces of him, then stitching each one back in place; holding them in with the heat of his kiss and the strength of his arms that refused to let go, refused to give up when Sasuke'd given up on himself, and forced him to open up his eyes, to see the hope that steadily rose, hope that Sasuke hadn't felt in years. And all these emotions and sensations wound up inside him, growing far too large for the confines of his body, until it finally exploded wild within him in a burst of hot pleasure that tore its way through him, leaving him screaming as it consumed him, and then he was spilling all over his body as Kakashi hoarsely cried out and slammed into him, filling him, filling him, filling him-- and then chakra glowed hot white, hotter than what filled him up inside, stabbing into him with a scream, slamming and ripping and tearing in, tangling up in waves of heat that pulsed and throbbed and burst open like the sun exploding so hot, spiraling out of control, roaring in a river flowing fast through blood, shooting through every synapse and nerve-- his vision disintegrated into static noise as his breath cut short, and his heart raced fast, body jerking with seismic quakes as his chakra wound around Kakashi's, tangling, tangling, tangling.
Sasuke couldn't remember the last time he felt so free.
A/N: It has been quite the journey, writing Illuminating Heaven. We have finally reached the end! This chapter is essentially the last part of the narrative. The next chapter will function as the epilogue, and the final chapter for Illuminating Heaven. It will explain what happens after all of this, but doesn't continue the narrative the way the other chapters in the story did.
Illuminating Heaven is about loss and love, about second chances and hope. It's also about faith and trust, about never giving up on bonds and all the things that Kakashi believes in and holds true to his heart: precious companions are ones that must be held close, bonds must be cherished.
Above all else, this is a story about gaining vision.
P.S. There's a hidden bonus chapter linked in this one! Good luck finding the link.
Go back to Chapter 10: CatharsisGo to Chapter 12: Hope