Could Have Been (Naruto, Kakashi/Iruka)

Iruka’s fingers curl in the sheets, wrinkling the fabric, bunching it up under his fists, but that’s all he can do with his hands pinned to the bed. Two hands, slightly larger than his, hold him down by his wrists. He’s trapped, mostly. There are sixteen jutsu he can think of to use in this position, four of which aren’t easily countered, one of which he thinks Kakashi might not actually know. But he doesn’t want to escape.

Kakashi’s legs are pressed tight against his thighs, his knees keeping Iruka’s legs spread, ass in the air. It was hard to breathe, not only because Iruka was biting the pillow muffle his voice – he was loud when sex was this good, and the neighbors complained – but also because of the way Kakashi moved. No one, absolutely no one, had ever made Iruka feel this good.

He shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t be doing this. The irony of it made him want to cry. He did cry, but the tears were from an entirely different emotion.

Maybe it was just some sort of early mid-life crisis. At best, he would have said that he and Hatake Kakashi were casual acquaintances. It would have been a stretch to call them friends, and yet here they were, with Iruka face-down on his bed and Kakashi’s cock shoved so far inside of him he could taste it on his tongue. Or maybe that was just an after effect of their foreplay. Nothing got a man into bed faster than a blow job that ended in a teasing smile and the question “your place or mine?”

Open house didn’t usually affect him this badly. He was used to being around other people’s children, but this was the first year that so many of the parents were familiar to him. He’d gone to school with most of them, played pranks on half of them, slept with a few of them. Never before had he been so reminded of what he could have had, if things had been slightly different. If he’d been different.