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Tenzou knew it was becoming a habit—and probably a bad one—but he didn't much care any more.

Every time their squad returned from a mission, the routine was the same: Report in, debrief, be declared officially off-duty, scatter to their individual homes. And every time Tenzou got back to his apartment, his routine had become set as well: Strip, shower, sometimes eat, then go to bed and masturbate to thoughts of Senpai.

It was kind of ridiculous. Not the masturbation—that was perfectly normal, perfectly healthy, and nothing he'd ever felt ashamed of. But he was seventeen, a grown man, too old to be crushing on his captain this way. It didn't matter that his captain was Hatake Kakashi, one of the most famous and lauded figures in ANBU, that his captain was masterfully skilled and fiercely devoted to the squad, or that his captain had a voice like liquid sin and the most gorgeous physique of any shinobi Tenzou'd ever seen right down to his finely-sculpted ass, tight enough to bounce coins off of.

Crushing was for kids, and Tenzou wasn't a kid anymore.

He couldn't help it, though. The male body tended to have a mind of its own and there was no reason not to indulge it in his downtime, but whenever he touched himself, his thoughts always turned to Kakashi-senpai.

This time was no different. It was that stupidly-attractive face with that stupid mysterious mask that hung in his mind, that laid-back single-eyed stare that made his heart trip a little faster in his chest when he thought about it—like Senpai could see through him, could lay him bare with a glance, knew all his secrets but wouldn't tell.

Tenzou shivered, lounging naked on top of his bedclothes, half-hard and growing as he tugged at himself idly, lost in his thoughts. He could only imagine what Kakashi really looked like beneath the mask, could only imagine the intensity of that scrutinizing gaze with nothing obscuring Senpai's face. If he—if Senpai—they wouldn't, but if they ever did—would he see lust in that heavy-lidded eye? Would he be able to read the want in Kakashi's expression?

He liked to think so. He liked to think that Senpai would say all kinds of sexy things in his honey-velvet voice—Mmh, Tenzou, you look so good and Let me touch you, Tenzou and I need you, Tenzou, I need to have you or Nah, Tehn~zou, let me suck your dick

He caught his breath, cock jumping, completely hard now as he wrapped his hand around it. It was a secret fantasy he liked to linger over, the idea of Senpai's mouth on him like that, brazen and sexy-dirty; he stroked once, twice, setting a languid rhythm while he thought about how it would feel, Senpai's lips sliding hot and wet over him, Senpai's tongue teasing around the head, licking up and down the shaft, Senpai sucking him deep and swallowing around him, again and again—

He groaned, squeezed his dick tight and stroked a little faster; he'd had a handful of blowjobs in his life and the idea of getting one from Kakashi-senpai just—it really turned him on. He was sure it would never happen—Senpai probably didn't give him a second thought once they were off duty—but there was no harm in the fantasy. He closed his eyes and lingered on it, imagining the smooth glide of Senpai's unkempt grey head bobbing up and down in his lap, Senpai's hands pushing his thighs further open and holding him still, Senpai's rich voice humming soft muted pleasure as he worked.

There was precome welling at his tip and Tenzou dragged the pad of one finger against his slit, spreading the slick wetness down and circling that fingertip against the seam just below, right where he was most sensitive. "Oh, god," he groaned, drawing his knees up slightly and spreading his legs wide as he teased more precome out; he was panting now, sweat moist in his underarms and the cleft of his ass and the creases where his thighs met his groin. His skin was hot, damp, and both nipples had tightened with arousal; he lifted his free hand across his chest to toy with one and kept rubbing the head of his cock, two fingers now, exactly where it counted most, and the pleasure pulsed up and out and all through him in waves. His muscles clenched, hips rocking up involuntarily at his own touch as he tried to imagine—would he be bold enough to show Senpai how he liked it, so Kakashi could do it for him, do it to him? It would be worth it, so worth it, to let Senpai tease that spot with just the tip of his tongue, around and around, wet with Tenzou's precome and his own saliva, driving Tenzou higher and higher toward orgasm. Or to have Senpai's fingers rubbing on him just like this, just right, and maybe—

Would Senpai kiss him?

"Oh, god!" he moaned, body tense and trembling, hand back around his cock to stroke it properly, index finger precisely curled so he'd caress that spot with every pass. He thrust up into his fist and stroked faster, faster, panting now, still pinching his nipple in gentle little pulls that shot electric sensation straight down to his dick, and lost himself in the idea of Senpai touching him, Senpai kissing him, Senpai's tongue playing with his while Senpai stroked him just the way he liked it best, Senpai pushing him back on the bed and looming over him with urgent heat in that lopsided stare and Senpai's cock rubbing up against his and—and Senpai's hand—wrapped around them both—stroke—stroking them together—

Tenzou threw his head back, mouth open, dick pulled tight and throbbing, rigid with the force of it as orgasm swelled and surged in his groin and exploded, pulsing out of him in thick wet ribbons that fell hot on his stomach, ran down his shaft like candle wax to pool in the curve of his thumb.

"Oh, god," he sighed, weakly, as the tension abruptly ebbed and his body went slack. He slumped back on the bed, laying out flat, and dropped an arm over his eyes while he caught his breath. The other hand he left in the mess it had made, splayed low against his belly and the little puddle of semen there. He had to clean up, he knew, a minute. He'd do it in a minute. Right now, he just wanted to linger in the afterglow, bask in his body's satiation and the fading thought of frotting with Kakashi while Senpai kissed him, because it was...nice. nice.

He knew it was a fruitless dream, no more than a fantasy and bound to remain one forever, but he didn't much care. People...had these kinds of thoughts about other people all the time, and it's not like anyone else would ever know, and...well, he guessed crushing really was mostly normal no matter how old one got.

He'd get over it eventually, he was sure, but until he did there was no reason not to indulge himself this way.