JBMcDragon (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jbmcdragon) wrote,@ 2008-12-26 23:51:00 |
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Title: The Copy Ninja
Author: JBMcDragon
Rating: NC-17
Status: COMPLETE
Genre: It is now a TOTAL PWP. ;-D
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Kishimoto, to my knowledge, or maybe Toykopop or something. Just not me. Used without permission, and not for profit.
Author's note: I've published a book, with three more due out in March. Check out www.jbmcdonald.com for more info, or take a look at the bottom here for a sneak peek of By Degrees (yaoi) and Treasure Hunting (het), on sale now. ;)
Summary:
Never has the term 'Copy Ninja' been so appropriate.
Wandering home from a mission to copy a jutsu that makes other jutsu go wrong, Kakashi is pretty sure the world is out to get him. Imagine his surprise when he learns he's already been home for a full twenty-four hours. Except it's not him--it's a clone gone wrong. But when it doesn't vanish at injury, thinks of things even before he does, and not even Pakkun can tell the difference... Well, who's to say which is a clone, and which is the real thing?
Finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, Iruka is saddled with a ninja that might be a clone. Mind you, an earlier drunken mistake led to great sex and an awful morning after; being a clone would be Kakashi's just desserts, in his opinion. But as they spend time in each other's company, he realizes that he'd be sorry to see this Kakashi go--and certain the man is going to.
How do you fight the facts when they're stacked against you? Not even a genius is sure of that answer.
The Copy Ninja 1/6
The Copy Ninja 2/6
The Copy Ninja 3/6
The Copy Ninja 4/6
The Copy Ninja 5/6
The Copy Ninja 6/6
Epilogue
Sometimes, Kakashi looked at him in just such a way, and he knew the man was remembering. Remembering how they'd met, remembering his own mortality, remembering that someday he wouldn't come home again. Iruka hadn't known him before, but he guessed that walking to his own execution had probably changed him.
Most of the time, the remembering led to touching, and the touching led to laughter, and the laughter and touching together led to sex. There were times when there wasn't laughter, when there was just movement and friction. Times when it was urgency and speed and mind blowing orgasms. Well, there were always mind blowing orgasms, but that wasn't his point.
His point was that the times that Kakashi remembered were the times Iruka enjoyed life the most. There was always laughter. Sometimes against Iruka's will.
"I swear," he huffed, grabbing a fistful of silver hair and yanking Kakashi's mouth off his chest, "If you don't stop singing that damned song--"
"Ohhhh, the Weeple-Wobbler."
He yanked, and was rewarded with a wince. "Yes, that one. You're destroying the mood."
Kakashi's bi-colored gaze raked down his body, lingering on his erection. "I don't think so."
"When I kill you," Iruka argued, "it will kill the mood." His grip on Kakashi's hair slackened as fingers slid over his cock, doing little more than touching sensitive skin. It prickled shivers all the way up his spine, making his eyes close.
"That would put a damper on things. Unless you're into necromancy. Are you into necromancy, Iruka?"
"Necrophelia," Iruka groaned.
"Kinky."
He laughed helplessly, thrusting his hips up into the hand that still hadn't closed on him. Kakashi's mouth drifted down across his chest again, lips warm, tongue flicking out over and over. It drifted lower, a teasing line down the center of Iruka's body, hot breath making his skin damp. Lips brushed the base of his cock, a tongue flicking out over heated flesh, and softly Kakashi sing-songed, "Ooooh, the Weeple-Wobbler."
Iruka was planning some sort of horrible revenge, really, when that talented mouth closed on the head of his dick and sucked down, sending muscles spasming all the way up his spine. He dug one heel into the futon mattress and pushed up, thrusting carefully past the other man's lips. Kakashi hummed. Iruka tried not to notice the tune. He focused on the rhythm instead, pressing up, and up again, into the tight wet heat of the jounin's mouth. When a long fingered hand wrapped around one hip to hold him still he froze, shuddering as a tongue lapped at the underside of his cock.
Breathing was difficult. Iruka didn't mind. He lifted his head, watching as Kakashi's pale body moved, shadows and moonlight softening the planes and angles of his lean form. Kakashi opened his mouth and slid down, tongue flicking across testicles before tickling at the heavy vein under Iruka's cock again. Eyes, one dark and one blood red, flicked up at him. A hand smoothed down his side, down his hip, over his leg to tease at his inner thigh, gentle brushes of graceful fingertips.
"You are an evil man," Iruka managed to say in a strangled voice.
Kakashi smiled, the very picture of wickedness. "Genius." The genius lapped at the head of Iruka's dick, and while Iruka cursed and arched Kakashi purred like it was the greatest thing in the world. His very voice was like bourbon, smooth and rough all at once, sliding over Iruka's body. And every whispered word meant the brush of lips and the curl of breath over sensitized skin, making muscles quiver and his legs move restlessly. Heat coiled in Iruka's stomach, like hot kunai melting away chocolate. Slow and warm.
"You look good like that," Kakashi murmured, fingers gripping Iruka and sliding up and down his length, over silken skin.
"Good enough to eat?" The words were a panted cliché. Cliches were all he could manage.
"Mmm. You make me long for the days when I could have joined a cannibalistic tribe."
Iruka couldn't decide if he should laugh or plead for an end to Kakashi's babble.
"Of course," Kakashi continued, reaching up for the jar of lube, "we would probably start with the ugly people first, to get them out of the way. So I wouldn't have gotten to you until much later. And by then I might have been full."
"You are making no sense anymore." He lifted his knees, toes curling into the sheets.
"My genius-speak is just above you."
"High in the sky?" He watched avidly, feeling hot and energized at once, as Kakashi unscrewed the cap and dipped two fingers in. The man smoothed them up Iruka's thigh, over his balls, down to his hole. Iruka breathed and relaxed as one digit pushed past the ring of muscle, stretching him ever so slowly.
"Mmm. Very very high. You feel very very good."
Iruka shifted, trying to adjust to the feeling of being penetrated. "So... makes you an airhead, right?"
For a moment, there was nothing. Then Kakashi laughed, leaning up and forward, finger sliding farther in as he braced his weight on his other arm, licking the center line of Iruka's chest. "Definitely an airhead."
And then he did one of those things. Iruka had asked him once what that was, exactly. He'd only smiled and said, 'jutsu,' which was patently a lie since his hands never formed seals. It was a chakra-trick, and Iruka had spent a week trying to replicate it, to no luck--but to Kakashi's lasting amusement.
Heat spread deep inside him, soaking into bone and muscle and nerves, bringing with it intense pleasure. His hands scrabbled, legs tensing, as he gasped to get enough air to fuel his pounding heart. He heard himself whimper, mewl, nearly begging for something--gods, he didn't know, it required too much thought. Kakashi slid another finger in, stretching him, sliding chakra farther into his body in the same moment to stretch him deeper inside and rub up against his prostate. He shuddered as it retreated, leaving him panting for air and quivering with pleasure so intense it was nearly pain. And Kakashi's fingers were still inside him, fucking slowly and thoroughly, stretching him every time they pushed in.
After the first few times had brought later discomfort, they'd learned to be very, very careful. Not that Iruka minded--sometimes this slow stretching was almost as good as the final finish. He was too busy shuddering with sensation, trying to convince his body to relax as his muscles twitched with aftershocks and his ass tried to clench to force out the intrusion, to even mind much when Kakashi started singing the Weeple-Wobbler theme song again.
He took a breath and relaxed, took another and felt long, slim fingers push deeper into him, twisting and sliding back out. "Oh gods," he said on a shaky exhale as Kakashi inched a third finger in, widening him further.
"That's a nice title," Kakashi said against one nipple, licking it slowly. "But you can just all me Daimyo."
Iruka laughed, trying to stop. It only made his body tighten up, increasing the pressure inside him. He was supposed to be relaxing. "You're not helping!"
"It's possible I'm not trying to. I like watching your face, you know. Concentration and pleasure. Maybe I want to prolong that."
He shivered as the three fingers sank entirely inside him and began to move as deep as they could, thrusting gently, sparking off sensations within his body that traveled up his spine. Kakashi was humming again. "Swear to the mission gods," Iruka panted, "I'm going to name your dick Weeple-Wobbler if you keep that up."
"I'll name yours Petunia." Kakashi twisted his fingers.
Iruka nearly spasmed, shifting his legs, toes curling. He breathed, and relaxed, and breathed, and relaxed, and let Kakashi finger-fuck him slowly. Then Kakashi's hand came away and he moved, settling between Iruka's legs, slicking his cock with lube before lining up and pushing slowly inside.
Iruka groaned, fighting to remain supple, to allow the pressure to stretch him further, deeper.
"Weeple-Wobbler would like to see his friends."
The laughter was nearly sobbed. "You are such a mood-killer."
"Oh?" Kakashi pushed, burying himself completely inside Iruka, making the chuunin whimper and clutch at strong shoulders slick with sweat.
"Okay," Iruka panted. "Not totally."
"Mmm." Kakashi bent down, catching Iruka's mouth in a kiss as he started to thrust. Iruka kept his hands on the man's back, feeling the play of muscle under scarred flesh, even as he focused on relaxing and allowing the man into his body. It didn't take long before even Kakashi wasn't thinking about inane things anymore, breath breaking as he moved, muscles bunching and flexing under Iruka's questing fingers.
Iruka lifted his hips to meet each thrust, his own body straining as remembering to allow the entry shifted into nail-dragging perfection. Kakashi slid into him, lean body rocking with every motion, tensing with tightly leashed power. Iruka gasped and moved again, deepening the contact, wrapping his legs around the narrow waist to bring the jounin closer. His body relaxed and opened and stretched and tensed all at once, his cock pinned between their rubbing torsos, and with a cry he felt orgasm crush him, dragging him underwater and tumbling him head over heels. Above him, Kakashi stiffened and choked a strangled noise, freezing for a long moment before he relaxed with a groan and dropped on top of Iruka.
Iruka lay under the heavy man, one hand idly tracing the line of Kakashi's spine down and back up. It was a long moment before Kakashi rolled off, flopping onto the bed with his arms outstretched.
Iruka listened to his own heart pound, waiting for sweat to dry and his skin to stop tingling. From beside him, Kakashi moaned weakly, "Ohhhh, Weeple-Wobbler."
He couldn't help it. He gathered up the pillow and, with the last of his strength, rolled over and crushed it down onto Kakashi's face. For a moment, the jounin flailed. Then he used untold reserves of strength and threw Iruka off, laughing as he caught the man up and pinned him down, pillow cast aside.
"Admit it, Petunia," Kakashi said with a cheerful grin. "You like my Weeple-Wobbler."
Iruka eyed him, trying not to grin. "I will admit that sex is marginally better with you than it was with your clone. Marginally."
The Copy Ninja's eyes widened almost comically. "Oh. Oh, you've asked for it now." Fingers danced down Iruka's torso, trying to find the elusive ticklish spots he had. Kakashi didn't manage it, but Iruka laughed anyway, giving a halfhearted attempt at squirming loose.
"Am I better than a clone?"
"Nope!" Iruka crowed, flipping himself over to hide his hips--one of his weaknesses.
"Am I better?"
"Nope!" He gasped it this time, cracking up as Kakashi shifted from tickling to the more effective butt-pinching. Iruka's heels snapped back into pale shins, and he tried to curl into a ball.
"Am I better than a clone?" The hands stopped moving, settling one behind his shoulders and the other flat on his pelvis.
Iruka grinned, stilling, rolling so Kakashi's arm supported his head. "I suppose."
The man stooped, mouth brushing over Iruka's lips. "Just suppose?"
"Well. Good enough I might not tell Izumo that your clone was as good as you." His skin tingled wherever Kakashi touched. Dry lips, a little narrow, hovered close enough to his own to send shivers down his spine.
"That's good to know."
When Iruka breathed, he breathed in Kakashi. "I might let you keep making a nuisance of yourself."
The Copy Ninja chuckled. "That's definitely good to know. So, I'm better than the clone?"
Iruka's smile stretched, slow and lazy. "...No." He turned away and pretended to go to sleep.
"Oh, Petunia," Kakashi tsked. "I'm so going to make you regret that." A hand drifted over his body, exploring and possessive all at once. Softly, Iruka heard the man sing, "Siiiiilly, Weeple-Wobbler."
--Really End.
***
Did you like that? AWESOME. *grins* Read on for sneak peeks of two of my upcoming (or already out) novels. ;-D
From By Degrees, my yaoi novel due out in late March (more info and whatnot atjennabreen):
Tim's fingers flattened out as he followed the line of hair to where it smoothed down the center of Con's stomach.
Con inhaled slowly, trying to bank his arousal. His muscles tightened, shuddering against Tim's hands.
"Are you ticklish?" Tim asked, surprised.
"Not... exactly."
"You shivered." It was almost an accusation. Con could practically hear the wheels spinning in Tim's head; you shivered, you must be ticklish.
"Yeah," Con said.
Tim traced idle patterns on Con's stomach, looking at him thoughtfully. Then his fingers caught on Con's belly button, distracting him again. His hand slid lower, stopping where the little trail of hair vanished under the waistband of Con's jeans. Fingers skimmed along the edge, thumb flicking at the button.
Oh, God, Con had to stop that line of touch right now. "Do I smell like my shirt?" It was the first thing that popped into his mind.
Tim started to lean over, lost his balance, rose up on his knees, and swung across so that he was on all fours, hands on either side of Con's head, knees on either side of his waist. Then he lowered himself, leaning down until they were tantalizingly close, his face inches from Con's neck and shoulder. Con felt heat trapped between them. Tim's shirt brushed against his stomach. His muscles tightened. Breath whispered against his neck with each of Tim's exhalations. As distractions went, Con thought it was effective -- on both of them.
"Yeah." The warmth between them went damp with the word. Then Tim sat up, rump coming down on Con's hips a hair above his erection. Con considered wiggling and, at the last moment, decided against it.
Tim's hands skimmed over Con's chest, shaping his torso, rubbing back up again in long, sweeping motions. "You have big muscles."
"They're for carrying people out of burning buildings." Con smiled.
Tim returned it absently, then caught his lower lip in his teeth. He swallowed, pupils dilated, breathing shallow. Con had guessed right, then: Tim got off on men, but didn't like giving up control. He nearly laughed. Hell, he didn't mind letting someone else set the pace.
Tim squirmed against him, thighs rubbing against Con's hips, butt against his crotch briefly. Con bit back a sigh of appreciation, and wondered how he could get Tim to speed things up a little. Tim leaned closer, skimming a finger along Con's jaw, up around the cup of his ear, into his hair.
"Soft."
"Does your mouth still feel funny?" Con stared at Tim's lips; not terribly far away.
Tim's tongue slipped out and back in. "Kinda." It wasn't the kiss Con was hoping for.
"Timmy," he murmured, trying to seem soft and harmless -- not easy when you were over six foot and built with muscle. "Can I touch you, too?"
***
From Treasure Hunting, my paranormal romance available now at www.jbmcdonald.com:
Light slid over his flesh as he moved, creating patterns and shadows where there were none. He edged closer until Meg could feel his body heat pressing up against her.
“I don’t even know you,” he said, sounding a little frustrated.
Meg snorted and closed the rest of the distance. “Don’t you know guys aren’t supposed to want to know someone? Guys are just supposed to have mindless sex all the time.”
He laughed, dark and quiet. “Of course. I apologize. Whatever was I thinking?”
“And you’re still talking,” Meg pointed out, sliding her hand up the back of his neck, pulling him down toward her for a kiss. His lips were warm, soft without being feminine, his hair silky under her fingers. Then his arm shifted, hand splaying across the small of her back, spreading heat and making rivulets of pleasure cascade down her spine. He shifted her effortlessly, single arm tightening and pulling her closer until her hip pressed in against his. All thoughts of warm softness evaporated in that single tug, carefully restrained power suddenly obvious in the ease with which he moved her.
Meg squeaked at the initial pull, unused to someone strong enough to do as they pleased. Her hands tightened, one on his neck, the other on his good shoulder. A chuckle rumbled through his chest, and snugged close against him she could feel as well as hear it. Heat spread throughout her body like lightning, skin electrified. Santiago’s mouth shifted, nose skimming against the sensitive skin under her earlobe. Meg’s breath broke. She tipped her head, giving him better access. His hand brushed up and down over ribs and back, spreading easy, warm pleasure. She shifted, feeling along muscled arms, smoothing her fingers over elastic flesh stretched taut across planes of muscle.
“You know,” she said, then stopped to kiss golden skin, nipping gently at his neck before tonguing the mark. He tasted like salt and musk and something she could only describe as masculine warmth. “I’ve never liked long hair on men before.”
“You’re suggesting I cut it?” Santiago asked, amusement in his voice.
“God, no,” Meg said swiftly. She ran her hands across his collarbones, down the front of his chest, felt him shiver when she dragged her nails over a perfectly muscled torso. “It makes you look a little wild.”
“You like wild,” Santiago murmured, the words not quite a question. Meg looked up and saw teeth, white and gold in the firelight, as he grinned.
“I love wild,” Meg admitted on a sigh. It had gotten her in more than a little trouble at times.
His voice dropped to a purr, the words felt as much as heard. “I’m good at wild.”
Meg shivered. “I just bet.” Wherever he touched her felt hot, liquid fire sizzling along her skin. And he seemed to touch her everywhere.
***
Both will be in e-book format; Treasure Hunting is $3.50. ;)
JB
Author: JBMcDragon
Rating: NC-17
Status: COMPLETE
Genre: It is now a TOTAL PWP. ;-D
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Kishimoto, to my knowledge, or maybe Toykopop or something. Just not me. Used without permission, and not for profit.
Author's note: I've published a book, with three more due out in March. Check out www.jbmcdonald.com for more info, or take a look at the bottom here for a sneak peek of By Degrees (yaoi) and Treasure Hunting (het), on sale now. ;)
Summary:
Never has the term 'Copy Ninja' been so appropriate.
Wandering home from a mission to copy a jutsu that makes other jutsu go wrong, Kakashi is pretty sure the world is out to get him. Imagine his surprise when he learns he's already been home for a full twenty-four hours. Except it's not him--it's a clone gone wrong. But when it doesn't vanish at injury, thinks of things even before he does, and not even Pakkun can tell the difference... Well, who's to say which is a clone, and which is the real thing?
Finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, Iruka is saddled with a ninja that might be a clone. Mind you, an earlier drunken mistake led to great sex and an awful morning after; being a clone would be Kakashi's just desserts, in his opinion. But as they spend time in each other's company, he realizes that he'd be sorry to see this Kakashi go--and certain the man is going to.
How do you fight the facts when they're stacked against you? Not even a genius is sure of that answer.
The Copy Ninja 1/6
The Copy Ninja 2/6
The Copy Ninja 3/6
The Copy Ninja 4/6
The Copy Ninja 5/6
The Copy Ninja 6/6
Epilogue
Sometimes, Kakashi looked at him in just such a way, and he knew the man was remembering. Remembering how they'd met, remembering his own mortality, remembering that someday he wouldn't come home again. Iruka hadn't known him before, but he guessed that walking to his own execution had probably changed him.
Most of the time, the remembering led to touching, and the touching led to laughter, and the laughter and touching together led to sex. There were times when there wasn't laughter, when there was just movement and friction. Times when it was urgency and speed and mind blowing orgasms. Well, there were always mind blowing orgasms, but that wasn't his point.
His point was that the times that Kakashi remembered were the times Iruka enjoyed life the most. There was always laughter. Sometimes against Iruka's will.
"I swear," he huffed, grabbing a fistful of silver hair and yanking Kakashi's mouth off his chest, "If you don't stop singing that damned song--"
"Ohhhh, the Weeple-Wobbler."
He yanked, and was rewarded with a wince. "Yes, that one. You're destroying the mood."
Kakashi's bi-colored gaze raked down his body, lingering on his erection. "I don't think so."
"When I kill you," Iruka argued, "it will kill the mood." His grip on Kakashi's hair slackened as fingers slid over his cock, doing little more than touching sensitive skin. It prickled shivers all the way up his spine, making his eyes close.
"That would put a damper on things. Unless you're into necromancy. Are you into necromancy, Iruka?"
"Necrophelia," Iruka groaned.
"Kinky."
He laughed helplessly, thrusting his hips up into the hand that still hadn't closed on him. Kakashi's mouth drifted down across his chest again, lips warm, tongue flicking out over and over. It drifted lower, a teasing line down the center of Iruka's body, hot breath making his skin damp. Lips brushed the base of his cock, a tongue flicking out over heated flesh, and softly Kakashi sing-songed, "Ooooh, the Weeple-Wobbler."
Iruka was planning some sort of horrible revenge, really, when that talented mouth closed on the head of his dick and sucked down, sending muscles spasming all the way up his spine. He dug one heel into the futon mattress and pushed up, thrusting carefully past the other man's lips. Kakashi hummed. Iruka tried not to notice the tune. He focused on the rhythm instead, pressing up, and up again, into the tight wet heat of the jounin's mouth. When a long fingered hand wrapped around one hip to hold him still he froze, shuddering as a tongue lapped at the underside of his cock.
Breathing was difficult. Iruka didn't mind. He lifted his head, watching as Kakashi's pale body moved, shadows and moonlight softening the planes and angles of his lean form. Kakashi opened his mouth and slid down, tongue flicking across testicles before tickling at the heavy vein under Iruka's cock again. Eyes, one dark and one blood red, flicked up at him. A hand smoothed down his side, down his hip, over his leg to tease at his inner thigh, gentle brushes of graceful fingertips.
"You are an evil man," Iruka managed to say in a strangled voice.
Kakashi smiled, the very picture of wickedness. "Genius." The genius lapped at the head of Iruka's dick, and while Iruka cursed and arched Kakashi purred like it was the greatest thing in the world. His very voice was like bourbon, smooth and rough all at once, sliding over Iruka's body. And every whispered word meant the brush of lips and the curl of breath over sensitized skin, making muscles quiver and his legs move restlessly. Heat coiled in Iruka's stomach, like hot kunai melting away chocolate. Slow and warm.
"You look good like that," Kakashi murmured, fingers gripping Iruka and sliding up and down his length, over silken skin.
"Good enough to eat?" The words were a panted cliché. Cliches were all he could manage.
"Mmm. You make me long for the days when I could have joined a cannibalistic tribe."
Iruka couldn't decide if he should laugh or plead for an end to Kakashi's babble.
"Of course," Kakashi continued, reaching up for the jar of lube, "we would probably start with the ugly people first, to get them out of the way. So I wouldn't have gotten to you until much later. And by then I might have been full."
"You are making no sense anymore." He lifted his knees, toes curling into the sheets.
"My genius-speak is just above you."
"High in the sky?" He watched avidly, feeling hot and energized at once, as Kakashi unscrewed the cap and dipped two fingers in. The man smoothed them up Iruka's thigh, over his balls, down to his hole. Iruka breathed and relaxed as one digit pushed past the ring of muscle, stretching him ever so slowly.
"Mmm. Very very high. You feel very very good."
Iruka shifted, trying to adjust to the feeling of being penetrated. "So... makes you an airhead, right?"
For a moment, there was nothing. Then Kakashi laughed, leaning up and forward, finger sliding farther in as he braced his weight on his other arm, licking the center line of Iruka's chest. "Definitely an airhead."
And then he did one of those things. Iruka had asked him once what that was, exactly. He'd only smiled and said, 'jutsu,' which was patently a lie since his hands never formed seals. It was a chakra-trick, and Iruka had spent a week trying to replicate it, to no luck--but to Kakashi's lasting amusement.
Heat spread deep inside him, soaking into bone and muscle and nerves, bringing with it intense pleasure. His hands scrabbled, legs tensing, as he gasped to get enough air to fuel his pounding heart. He heard himself whimper, mewl, nearly begging for something--gods, he didn't know, it required too much thought. Kakashi slid another finger in, stretching him, sliding chakra farther into his body in the same moment to stretch him deeper inside and rub up against his prostate. He shuddered as it retreated, leaving him panting for air and quivering with pleasure so intense it was nearly pain. And Kakashi's fingers were still inside him, fucking slowly and thoroughly, stretching him every time they pushed in.
After the first few times had brought later discomfort, they'd learned to be very, very careful. Not that Iruka minded--sometimes this slow stretching was almost as good as the final finish. He was too busy shuddering with sensation, trying to convince his body to relax as his muscles twitched with aftershocks and his ass tried to clench to force out the intrusion, to even mind much when Kakashi started singing the Weeple-Wobbler theme song again.
He took a breath and relaxed, took another and felt long, slim fingers push deeper into him, twisting and sliding back out. "Oh gods," he said on a shaky exhale as Kakashi inched a third finger in, widening him further.
"That's a nice title," Kakashi said against one nipple, licking it slowly. "But you can just all me Daimyo."
Iruka laughed, trying to stop. It only made his body tighten up, increasing the pressure inside him. He was supposed to be relaxing. "You're not helping!"
"It's possible I'm not trying to. I like watching your face, you know. Concentration and pleasure. Maybe I want to prolong that."
He shivered as the three fingers sank entirely inside him and began to move as deep as they could, thrusting gently, sparking off sensations within his body that traveled up his spine. Kakashi was humming again. "Swear to the mission gods," Iruka panted, "I'm going to name your dick Weeple-Wobbler if you keep that up."
"I'll name yours Petunia." Kakashi twisted his fingers.
Iruka nearly spasmed, shifting his legs, toes curling. He breathed, and relaxed, and breathed, and relaxed, and let Kakashi finger-fuck him slowly. Then Kakashi's hand came away and he moved, settling between Iruka's legs, slicking his cock with lube before lining up and pushing slowly inside.
Iruka groaned, fighting to remain supple, to allow the pressure to stretch him further, deeper.
"Weeple-Wobbler would like to see his friends."
The laughter was nearly sobbed. "You are such a mood-killer."
"Oh?" Kakashi pushed, burying himself completely inside Iruka, making the chuunin whimper and clutch at strong shoulders slick with sweat.
"Okay," Iruka panted. "Not totally."
"Mmm." Kakashi bent down, catching Iruka's mouth in a kiss as he started to thrust. Iruka kept his hands on the man's back, feeling the play of muscle under scarred flesh, even as he focused on relaxing and allowing the man into his body. It didn't take long before even Kakashi wasn't thinking about inane things anymore, breath breaking as he moved, muscles bunching and flexing under Iruka's questing fingers.
Iruka lifted his hips to meet each thrust, his own body straining as remembering to allow the entry shifted into nail-dragging perfection. Kakashi slid into him, lean body rocking with every motion, tensing with tightly leashed power. Iruka gasped and moved again, deepening the contact, wrapping his legs around the narrow waist to bring the jounin closer. His body relaxed and opened and stretched and tensed all at once, his cock pinned between their rubbing torsos, and with a cry he felt orgasm crush him, dragging him underwater and tumbling him head over heels. Above him, Kakashi stiffened and choked a strangled noise, freezing for a long moment before he relaxed with a groan and dropped on top of Iruka.
Iruka lay under the heavy man, one hand idly tracing the line of Kakashi's spine down and back up. It was a long moment before Kakashi rolled off, flopping onto the bed with his arms outstretched.
Iruka listened to his own heart pound, waiting for sweat to dry and his skin to stop tingling. From beside him, Kakashi moaned weakly, "Ohhhh, Weeple-Wobbler."
He couldn't help it. He gathered up the pillow and, with the last of his strength, rolled over and crushed it down onto Kakashi's face. For a moment, the jounin flailed. Then he used untold reserves of strength and threw Iruka off, laughing as he caught the man up and pinned him down, pillow cast aside.
"Admit it, Petunia," Kakashi said with a cheerful grin. "You like my Weeple-Wobbler."
Iruka eyed him, trying not to grin. "I will admit that sex is marginally better with you than it was with your clone. Marginally."
The Copy Ninja's eyes widened almost comically. "Oh. Oh, you've asked for it now." Fingers danced down Iruka's torso, trying to find the elusive ticklish spots he had. Kakashi didn't manage it, but Iruka laughed anyway, giving a halfhearted attempt at squirming loose.
"Am I better than a clone?"
"Nope!" Iruka crowed, flipping himself over to hide his hips--one of his weaknesses.
"Am I better?"
"Nope!" He gasped it this time, cracking up as Kakashi shifted from tickling to the more effective butt-pinching. Iruka's heels snapped back into pale shins, and he tried to curl into a ball.
"Am I better than a clone?" The hands stopped moving, settling one behind his shoulders and the other flat on his pelvis.
Iruka grinned, stilling, rolling so Kakashi's arm supported his head. "I suppose."
The man stooped, mouth brushing over Iruka's lips. "Just suppose?"
"Well. Good enough I might not tell Izumo that your clone was as good as you." His skin tingled wherever Kakashi touched. Dry lips, a little narrow, hovered close enough to his own to send shivers down his spine.
"That's good to know."
When Iruka breathed, he breathed in Kakashi. "I might let you keep making a nuisance of yourself."
The Copy Ninja chuckled. "That's definitely good to know. So, I'm better than the clone?"
Iruka's smile stretched, slow and lazy. "...No." He turned away and pretended to go to sleep.
"Oh, Petunia," Kakashi tsked. "I'm so going to make you regret that." A hand drifted over his body, exploring and possessive all at once. Softly, Iruka heard the man sing, "Siiiiilly, Weeple-Wobbler."
--Really End.
***
Did you like that? AWESOME. *grins* Read on for sneak peeks of two of my upcoming (or already out) novels. ;-D
From By Degrees, my yaoi novel due out in late March (more info and whatnot at
jennabreen):Tim's fingers flattened out as he followed the line of hair to where it smoothed down the center of Con's stomach.
Con inhaled slowly, trying to bank his arousal. His muscles tightened, shuddering against Tim's hands.
"Are you ticklish?" Tim asked, surprised.
"Not... exactly."
"You shivered." It was almost an accusation. Con could practically hear the wheels spinning in Tim's head; you shivered, you must be ticklish.
"Yeah," Con said.
Tim traced idle patterns on Con's stomach, looking at him thoughtfully. Then his fingers caught on Con's belly button, distracting him again. His hand slid lower, stopping where the little trail of hair vanished under the waistband of Con's jeans. Fingers skimmed along the edge, thumb flicking at the button.
Oh, God, Con had to stop that line of touch right now. "Do I smell like my shirt?" It was the first thing that popped into his mind.
Tim started to lean over, lost his balance, rose up on his knees, and swung across so that he was on all fours, hands on either side of Con's head, knees on either side of his waist. Then he lowered himself, leaning down until they were tantalizingly close, his face inches from Con's neck and shoulder. Con felt heat trapped between them. Tim's shirt brushed against his stomach. His muscles tightened. Breath whispered against his neck with each of Tim's exhalations. As distractions went, Con thought it was effective -- on both of them.
"Yeah." The warmth between them went damp with the word. Then Tim sat up, rump coming down on Con's hips a hair above his erection. Con considered wiggling and, at the last moment, decided against it.
Tim's hands skimmed over Con's chest, shaping his torso, rubbing back up again in long, sweeping motions. "You have big muscles."
"They're for carrying people out of burning buildings." Con smiled.
Tim returned it absently, then caught his lower lip in his teeth. He swallowed, pupils dilated, breathing shallow. Con had guessed right, then: Tim got off on men, but didn't like giving up control. He nearly laughed. Hell, he didn't mind letting someone else set the pace.
Tim squirmed against him, thighs rubbing against Con's hips, butt against his crotch briefly. Con bit back a sigh of appreciation, and wondered how he could get Tim to speed things up a little. Tim leaned closer, skimming a finger along Con's jaw, up around the cup of his ear, into his hair.
"Soft."
"Does your mouth still feel funny?" Con stared at Tim's lips; not terribly far away.
Tim's tongue slipped out and back in. "Kinda." It wasn't the kiss Con was hoping for.
"Timmy," he murmured, trying to seem soft and harmless -- not easy when you were over six foot and built with muscle. "Can I touch you, too?"
***
From Treasure Hunting, my paranormal romance available now at www.jbmcdonald.com:
Light slid over his flesh as he moved, creating patterns and shadows where there were none. He edged closer until Meg could feel his body heat pressing up against her.
“I don’t even know you,” he said, sounding a little frustrated.
Meg snorted and closed the rest of the distance. “Don’t you know guys aren’t supposed to want to know someone? Guys are just supposed to have mindless sex all the time.”
He laughed, dark and quiet. “Of course. I apologize. Whatever was I thinking?”
“And you’re still talking,” Meg pointed out, sliding her hand up the back of his neck, pulling him down toward her for a kiss. His lips were warm, soft without being feminine, his hair silky under her fingers. Then his arm shifted, hand splaying across the small of her back, spreading heat and making rivulets of pleasure cascade down her spine. He shifted her effortlessly, single arm tightening and pulling her closer until her hip pressed in against his. All thoughts of warm softness evaporated in that single tug, carefully restrained power suddenly obvious in the ease with which he moved her.
Meg squeaked at the initial pull, unused to someone strong enough to do as they pleased. Her hands tightened, one on his neck, the other on his good shoulder. A chuckle rumbled through his chest, and snugged close against him she could feel as well as hear it. Heat spread throughout her body like lightning, skin electrified. Santiago’s mouth shifted, nose skimming against the sensitive skin under her earlobe. Meg’s breath broke. She tipped her head, giving him better access. His hand brushed up and down over ribs and back, spreading easy, warm pleasure. She shifted, feeling along muscled arms, smoothing her fingers over elastic flesh stretched taut across planes of muscle.
“You know,” she said, then stopped to kiss golden skin, nipping gently at his neck before tonguing the mark. He tasted like salt and musk and something she could only describe as masculine warmth. “I’ve never liked long hair on men before.”
“You’re suggesting I cut it?” Santiago asked, amusement in his voice.
“God, no,” Meg said swiftly. She ran her hands across his collarbones, down the front of his chest, felt him shiver when she dragged her nails over a perfectly muscled torso. “It makes you look a little wild.”
“You like wild,” Santiago murmured, the words not quite a question. Meg looked up and saw teeth, white and gold in the firelight, as he grinned.
“I love wild,” Meg admitted on a sigh. It had gotten her in more than a little trouble at times.
His voice dropped to a purr, the words felt as much as heard. “I’m good at wild.”
Meg shivered. “I just bet.” Wherever he touched her felt hot, liquid fire sizzling along her skin. And he seemed to touch her everywhere.
***
Both will be in e-book format; Treasure Hunting is $3.50. ;)
JB
