He's warm. Iruka snuggles down, pulls the covers over his head and presses his nose to the smooth skin between Kakashi's shoulder blades. Kakashi moves minutely, the smallest of shifts away from the chilly intruder. Iruka exhales a laugh and walks his fingers around the sharpness of Kakashi's hip bone to press his hand flat against his abs. They flex and Kakashi's leg twitches as though to rise in protection. In response Iruka slides his hand lower, the tips of his fingers finding the edge of coarse hair. He scratches gently, no more than a ruffling of fur. And suddenly the temperature in the bed seems to rise by about ten degrees.
"Missed you," he whispers and when Kakashi flexes as though to turn to face him, Iruka presses tight behind him. "Don't," he says, no more than a breath against skin. "Please."
When Kakashi relaxes, Iruka does as well, sinking deeper into the bed and pressing his forehead against Kakashi's back where his nose had poked so intrusively before. It's been over six weeks. He's been worried. Coming home and finding Kakashi in his bed feels like a dream, a genjutsu, the answer to a prayer, and he needs this time.
He pulls Kakashi back against him, sliding up until he can push kisses into his nape and across his shoulders. The skin there is soft and tastes a little of sweat. He flattens his tongue against it, wrapping his arm around Kakashi's body and tugging him so close there isn't a breath of air between them. Kakashi's nails run along his forearm from wrist to elbow and back again, a tactile statement of reassurance – I'm here, it's okay. And Iruka wants to kick himself. He's a shinobi, he knows the dangers and he shouldn't allow himself to become vulnerable like this. But he can't help it.
In the depths of the night when his bed is empty, he finds himself wondering if this will be the time it stays that way. And what he will do if it does. Can he live without this infuriatingly wonderful man in his life now he's had him? Would everything else, his teaching, friends, duty, be enough to hold him here? The answer is probably yes. He is a shinobi and that means as much to Iruka as to any high ranking jounin. While there is need of him, he will be available. But he would miss Kakashi. Miss him like a part of his soul had been taken. Finds himself missing him even while he is here in his arms.
He slides a hand down Kakashi's chest finding a nipple which he brushes gently with his fingertips before pressing harder with the ball of his thumb. Kakashi's breath hitches and he bends his neck. He'll have both eyes open, Iruka knows, watching as Iruka pinches lightly two, three times, then scratches his fingernail across the peaked flesh. His other arm slips beneath Kakashi's body, dropping lower to trace a line up Kakashi's thigh. He finds bandage and takes a second to trace the edges and thickness of it, the expert these days in judging an injury by its cover. It's a scratch, no more, no less. He kisses Kakashi's neck anyway and taps him lightly on the leg below the dressing. Kakashi turns his head and bites him gently on the biceps. Words are pointless. There's none left they haven't spoken and meant wholeheartedly before.
They are both starting to sweat. Sticky heat that makes their skin cling and bind. Iruka blows a stream of air over Kakashi's ear, tightening his grip when Kakashi shudders. Hard heat rolls against his forearm where it's low against Kakashi's hip and he grins. "Predictable," he murmurs and snickers when Kakashi's hand sweeps back and nails dig into his ass, unashamedly tugging him closer. He's getting hard as well, the nestle of Kakashi's buttocks all the encouragement he needs.
They could fuck, but he doesn't want to. Still they need more than sweat and spit. Reaching back, he fumbles with the drawer, cursing quietly when he first can't find the handle and then, when he gets it open, finds the drawer empty. Something jabs him in the forehead and he opens his eyes to see the tube of lube dangling in front of them. He takes it, pokes Kakashi in the shoulder with it and holds it in front of him. Between them they get it open and Kakashi squeezes a generous dollop onto Iruka's fingers.
Iruka touches himself first, spreading the stuff liberally and testing the slide of it against Kakashi's skin. It's good. Hot and wet with just the perfect amount of friction. Kakashi pushes back against him, lifting his leg a little so Iruka slips between them. Now it's Iruka's turn to catch his breath as Kakashi's thighs flex around him, those fighter's muscles a gentle clamp that hold him oh so tight. He thrusts, uncontrolled, a couple of times, the heat and hitch of it too perfect, before stopping with a shudder, pulse pounding in his ears. He takes a breath, willing himself to calm, presses another kiss onto Kakashi's shoulder and reaches forward for more lube.
Kakashi does the honours, catching the excess on his own fingers before tossing the tube away. It falls to the floor with a quiet thud. Palm cupped, Iruka reaches down and takes Kakashi in hand, stroking him once firmly from root to tip, spreading the lube around. Kakashi moves with him, hips flexing and Iruka's hand tightens as his own dick is milked. He thrusts again, cursing Kakashi out silently and damning himself for his lack of control. Kakashi's back shakes and Iruka knows he's being laughed at, the bastard.
He retaliates with sticky fingers, a firm tug and roll of Kakashi's balls and Kakashi arches, head back, breathing hard, always vulnerable to that knowing touch. Iruka takes advantage, continuing to stroke him, moving his own hips in time and pushing himself so the head of his cock nudges the back of Kakashi's balls. Sweat slides between them, the dip of Kakashi's spine a syphon of cooler air as they press and part, press and part. It's awkward and messy and slick in a way that's going to be hell on the sheets and Iruka doesn't care. He rubs his thumb along the ridge of Kakashi's dick, relishing the sound of Kakashi's groan and the way he clutches at Iruka's arm. This isn't going to last long. It's been a while for both of them. Kakashi curls in his arms, hips flexing. He's the driving force and really all Iruka is doing now is providing the means. But it feels good, too good. Something touches the end of his dick, a random rub and slide and press, and Iruka realises that Kakashi has shoved his own fingers between his legs and that is what Iruka can feel. It's an intimacy too far. Iruka shudders, his hips pumping, and he's panting open-mouthed on Kakashi's shoulder in a 'ah ah ah' of pleasure. He comes with Kakashi's dick leaping in his hand and feels the wet stripe of him across his knuckles as they share the moment.
They lie in breathless, gasping silence, hearts thundering and pulses racing. Then Kakashi eases away, the cold rush of air uncomfortable on wet sticky skin. He turns, pressing close again, tugging the covers up to keep them warm. Iruka stares at him, drinking in the flush on his pale cheeks and the heady gleam of his eyes in the dark room. He's home. He's safe. They kiss softly, no more than a touch of lips against lips, a benediction of feelings shared, then press their foreheads together, breath slowing and synchronising.
"Welcome home," Iruka breathes, and Kakashi closes his eyes and sighs.