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The Tawse That Refreshes	By : Sushi4Brains Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kakashi/Iruka Views: 2232 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto nor do I make any profit from this work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Long before the morning sun stirred from its hiding place, the sounds of trilling sparrows, the aroma of fresh coffee brewing, and the sensation of warm, soft linens against his skin nipped at the edges of Kakashi’s consciousness. After the most restful night's sleep in ages restored his chakra to near normal levels, it was a welcome surprise and relief not to deal with the typical 'post mission mind fog' for a change. Intending to roll onto his side, as he usually did to savor the first indulgent stretch of the day, twinges of pain shooting through his rear flank nixed that plan in mid-turn.

He was fully awake now and that's when he remembered he owned neither a coffee pot, nor sheets this soft and fragrant.
I’m on the wrong side of the bed too – what the hell?
Pulling the covers up to his chin and cautiously looking to his right, his bed mate softly snored, shifting slightly in response to Kakashi’s movement. Well, that explains why I’m on the other side of the bed. But who did I go home with last night?
Leaning closer to the part of a face that wasn’t pressed into the pillow, he was having a difficult time identifying the lucky lady beneath that tangled mass of thick, wavy brown hair. A mouth slackened in repose, full lips, slightly parted and moist, ‘she’ was average looking from what he could tell. As his pale fingers cautiously brushed against wayward strands, he was taken aback when he saw a smooth scar stretching under a relaxed right eye . . . a scar that seemed to smile at him when his partner scrunched a turned up nose.
Recognition dawned on him like a rabbit punch to the kidneys and Kakashi scooted away as if the man sleeping beside him were a hissing cobra.
Umino Iruka! By the gods, last night wasn’t a dream!
For once in his life Hatake Kakashi, a man well versed in the covert art of stealing away with the dawn after regrettable one night stands, had absolutely no frame of reference for circumstances such as these.
Should I leave a note? Should I garrote him while he sleeps?
What exactly should I say to the man that paddled my ass?
With a quizzical glare toward the still snoring lump beside him, Kakashi eased out of the comfortable nest of linens. Creeping across the room, he gathered up what he hoped was his own uniform, and the rest of his gear that lay atop the dresser by the bedroom door.
And without a backward look, he transported to his apartment in a quietly confused puff of chakra smoke.
Once safely entrenched in the fortress he called home, his first instinct was to create the same amount of psychological distance from Iruka as he had physically; turns out that was easier said than done. He reeked of sandalwood mingled with Iruka's uniquely pleasant smell.
Scent . . . a fundamental sense tied to memory, and the very last thing he wanted clinging to him was any reminder of the man who humbled him last night.
Sprinting toward the bathroom, slinging his mangled uniform across the nearest horizontal surfaces as he ran, he ripped back the shower curtain; the faucet turned to its highest setting soon filled the tiny room with a heavy mist. Yanking down the borrowed sleep pants as if they'd singe his flesh, he kicked them aside. And just as he was set to step under the scalding stream, a patch of red caught his eye in the slowly fogging mirror above the sink.

Sweeping away the condensation with his hand, that’s when he plainly saw them—angry patches of crimson marring the firm expanse of his otherwise alabaster hindquarters. Disbelieving fingers hesitantly brushed over his bottom to confirm what his eye refused to admit.
There were a few areas where the redness deepened in color until it was almost burgundy; right where the curve of his cheeks met the top of his thighs, there were two distinctly raised areas that looked as if he’d been branded with a round object. These areas were warmer to the touch, and slightly swollen, thanks to the repetitive application of an unforgiving wooden implement.
Simultaneously enraged and sporting an erection harder than flint, he stood there . . . confused, turned on and a tad freaked out by his body's betrayal.
The longer he looked over his shoulder into the mirror, the more vividly he recalled the sounds of Iruka’s hand and that damnable hairbrush making repeated contact with his skin. Even when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the rough, scratchy texture of Iruka’s uniform pants pressed against the front of his thighs and the warmth of Iruka’s forearm against the small of his back.
Without his bidding, stark images of himself stretched across Iruka’s lap, taking his punishment like Iruka’s ‘naughty boy’ promenaded through his mind, heightening his arousal. Iruka’s stern voice, bounced around the inside of his skull and as it did, a calloused hand drifted down his chest . . . to his abdomen . . . and stopped its wandering at the crown of an erection poking at his navel.
His breathing, erratic now, seemed to push his hand closer to the base of his erection, as he mentally struggled to quell the urge to stroke himself -- he failed miserably. As his hand moved of its own volition, trembling fingers wrapped around turgid flesh, his strokes, long and purposeful. Abandoning logic and reason, his pressed his back against a wall slick with water droplets -- he was losing control of himself and he didn’t care. Rough strokes accelerated as the fragrance of sandalwood oozed from his pores; he was defenseless against the powerfully conflicting emotions that overwhelmed him.
I’m not a masochist, he raggedly breathed. This . . . this is just . . . pent-up tension . . . from the mission.
Iruka had taken liberties with him that no other person ever dared attempt, as if it were his right to do so; that made his blood boil, yet even though his bitter contempt was justified, he couldn’t prevail against the demands of his body, nor muster the ill will in his mind to despise the man.
A man he deemed unworthy of a second glance had shamed him, disciplined him like a rebellious child, and then that same man turned about and catered to his basic needs, all but rocking him to sleep afterwards.
Nothing made sense any more. 
The brute force of his orgasm caught him off-guard, dropping him to his knees in a perplexed heap beside the bathtub. With his heart racing and his thoughts scrambled, he lay there disoriented, his carnal appetite temporarily appeased. Once sense and reason returned, he crawled into the tub and sat under the spray of water still hot enough to sear away the memories which threatened to drive him insane.
I need answers dammit! I have to understand what’s happening to me and why.
TTTR
The next three days were spent sequestered in the spartan confines of his apartment; wiling away the hours strategizing, plotting, carefully analyzing the ‘whys’ and ‘wherefores,’ as he relived the events of that evening.
While he seriously doubted Iruka was the type to flap his gums and spread abroad the sordid details of his disgrace throughout the village, he had no desire to to mingle with the masses, or to face his fellow shinobi. His appetite withered as his waking thoughts were consumed by images of Iruka’s face; in the midnight hours, sleep, what little he could have of it, provided no respite from the sound of Iruka’s voice. It was as if he were possessed, driven by an unseen force to heights of sexual fulfillment and the depths of sexual vexation by the unassuming, brown haired mission room worker.
Day four of seclusion found Kakashi a haggard, ravenously hungry, and rather mean, shell of himself, no closer to solving the dilemma that was Iruka than he was the day before.
No matter how many times he turned the situation over in his mind, he always arrived at the same two conclusions:
First off, Iruka took advantage of his vulnerable state; he was exhausted and very low on chakra when he met the wily chunnin that night, a comrade whom Kakashi did not or rather, could not consider a threat to his physical being. The only way he could redeem himself in his own mind, was to beat the smirking chunnin to a bloody pulp.
I could lure him away to a remote training ground, beat the crap out of him and say it was a training mishap.
Thinking of how good it would feel to throttle the other man was like a balm to his maimed ego, but the second conclusion he always came to concerning Iruka, was the most troublesome:
Lust, the impenitent, smoldering lust that ate away at him each time he thought of that man. How was he to extinguish the unquenchable flames of a prurience that latched onto his very being at the mention of Iruka’s name?
I’ve had more sex partners than I can count, yet none of them ever left me ‘feeling’ like this! And here’s the real kick in the nuts; we didn't even have sex!
He knew he had to do something extreme and quick in order to diffuse the frustration bubbling and churning inside him. Dressing hurriedly, he finally left his home hoping to find the only man in Konoha who would let him vent without taking an ass kicking personally; Maito Gai!

TTTR
Exactly two hours and thirty-seven minutes later, Kakashi was sweatier and more enraged than he’d been these past few days. Due to his preoccupation, Gai easily outmaneuvered and soundly trounced him eight out of ten times. Their spar, such as it was did nothing to alleviate the tension he felt and getting rid of his Eternal Rival at this point would be more of a struggle than fighting him had been.
“This is so unlike you Kakashi,” Gai bellowed across the training grounds. “I have never seen you so lost in thought.”
“Shut up Gai!” he roared, levering himself upright. Dislodging a few stray twigs from the inside of his flak jacket, Kakashi slowly stood and turned to leave; as expected, Gai suddenly appeared beside him. He never stopped walking even when that beefy green arm slung itself over his shoulder.
“It is as if the Sword of Damocles is hanging over your bowed down head Kakashi,” said the grinning Green Beast.   “Not only is that bad for one’s posture, it is most definitely unyouthful to keep things bottled up inside.”
With a slap to Kakashi’s back that would have loosened a feebler man’s lung, Gai went on to say, “You are my rival for all eternity -- my most treasured friend and adversary. I am concerned for your safety Kakashi. You are far too distracted by something my friend, and for you, that’s extremely dangerous.”
Looking off into the distance, Kakashi said nothing; he knew Gai wouldn’t shut up until he either sucker punched him in the throat or he voluntarily spilled his guts. He was too tired to attempt either of those things -- for now, he just keep walking.
The heavy arm slipped from his shoulder to grab him by the elbow, turning him to face the knitted eyebrows and an uncharacteristic frown.
“I have never once betrayed your confidence Kakashi, nor will I ever. But you must unburden yourself.” Folding his arms across his chest, Gai looked him in the eye and said, “Are not my manly shoulders broad enough to lay your concerns on them?”
                  Well what do you know? Gai was right. It's high time I unburdened and faced the one responsible for disrupting my way of life.
“Thanks Gai,” he said. “Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’ve got a dolphin to filet.”
Leaving his rival to proclaim his victory to the skies, Kakashi dusted himself off and took off running toward the village proper. Gai was right; he was distracted and distraction of this magnitude could get him killed. The closer he got to the Hokage Tower, he realized that if Iruka wasn’t in the mission room at this hour of the evening, he had no idea where else to look for him. Trying to pick out Iruka’s apartment from the hundreds of others in the chunnin housing complex was out of the question too; asking somewhere where Iruka lived would only invite more gossip or speculation – that, he couldn’t deal with right now.
By the time he arrived in the mission room, it was packed. Three overwhelmed chunnin staffed the main desk and the room was abuzz with way too much noise. Stretching his senses about the area, he located Iruka’s chakra signature at the head of the longest and fastest moving line to his left. Briefly acknowledging a few of his peers with a nod, Kakashi joined the line and retreated behind the cover of his notorious little orange book; small talk was never his forte and he had to remain focused on what he’d come to do this evening.
When only two people stood between him and Iruka, a curiously unidentifiable feeling flickered in his stomach. The sensation tingling in his groin however was more familiar and becoming damned insistent. Ignoring them both, he let the prose of Icha Icha Paradise carry him away until he heard Iruka say, “Do you have a report for me, Hatake-san?”
“Nope,” Kakashi found his voice. “But we need to talk.”
“Well, my shift ends in fifteen minutes,” was Iruka’s convivial response. “Can you come back then please?” That sunny smile brightly flashed again before he barked out, “Next!”
The business-like discharge, so polite and professional still stung like hell.
Finding a quiet corner in the hectic mission room was damn near impossible, but Kakashi was nothing if not resourceful. Making use of a camouflage jutsu, he seated himself atop a neatly arrayed line of filing cabinets near the chunnin’s desk and waited. It wasn’t the most comfortable seat in the house, but it proved an ideal vantage point for keeping Iruka in his sights.
How strange; Kakashi could work around someone purposely intending to separate him from life or limb – that was an annoying occupational hazard he’d learned to live with long ago. But going one on one with Umino Iruka, posed a greater threat to his mental health.
He had no idea what Iruka wanted from him, nor how to conduct himself in Iruka’s presence; it was unsettling to say the least.
The last person in line, an excitedly embarrassed young man, shifted from foot to foot as Iruka pored over his mission report. Kakashi almost felt sorry for the kid when Iruka launched into an impromptu lecture about the importance of good penmanship.
“I’m sorry Iruka-sensei,” the young man hesitantly replied. “I was kinda excited, this being my first solo mission and all. I guess I wanted to get my report turned in as fast as possible.”
Naturally, Kakashi’s interest was piqued. Would Iruka reprimand this man as he did me? Suspiciously eying the slight young man now seated beside Iruka's desk, Kakashi dispelled the jutsu and hopped off his perch to lean over the furiously scribbling shinobi.
This kid can't be a day over eighteen; don't tell me Iruka’s interested in this pimply faced punk?
All at once, an inexplicably foreign heaviness bloomed in his chest, prodding him to prevent the unsuspecting young man from hogging any more of Iruka’s attention.
Sweet Kami is this what jealousy feels like?
Iruka's chuckle completely derailed Kakashi's introspection and his homicidal train of thought.
"Ah, Hatake-san, what perfect timing. Allow me to introduce, Michiba Chikao, a former student of mine."
Chikao nodded his head respectfully, "Pleased to meet you sir."
Snapping his fingers as his eyes widened with inspiration, Iruka said, "This is perfect! If you wouldn't mind Hatake-san, perhaps you can help Chikao understand the importance of taking the time to prepare and submit legible mission reports." Tapping the young man on the shoulder Iruka encouraged him to "Pay close attention to what Hatake-san has to say. He's one of Konoha's elite jounin and I'm certain his words of wisdom will serve you well."
Kakashi's cheeks flushed brightly beneath the mask of blue. "Yeah, it's real important kid," he sarcastically remarked. "Sloppy writing makes it hard for the statistic compiling bureaucrats to accurately pay you for your missions; remember that.”
Mild shock and major irritation were rolling off Iruka like a landslide now; figuring discretion would be the better part of valor, Kakashi added, "Basically, just make sure you do what Iruka-sensei tells you, and you'll be fine."
Iruka rolled his eyes, taking the backhanded compliment and half-assed explanation in stride. “I can leave as soon as Chikao-kun finishes, he said. “Hope you don’t mind grabbing a bite to eat while we converse Hatake-san.”
“Whatever Iruka-sensei,” Kakashi sulkily replied. “Just as long as we ‘converse’, it doesn’t matter where.”
Chikao nervously glanced between the clearly pissed off, Copy Ninja and the unruffled Iruka-sensei and promptly decided he wanted no part of whatever the hell was going on between those two.
Handing the form to Iruka, praying it was satisfactory this time, he offered a shamefaced, "Sorry for making you stay so late Iruka-sensei."
"Not a problem," Iruka reassured the panicky Chikao. After a few tense moments, Iruka smiled. "Congratulations, your first solo mission officially goes on record as completed! You've done well. I'm very proud of you."
He relished such high praise and considered it an honor to share Iruka-sensei’s last moments. Bowing himself in gratitude, Chikao bolted from the mission room, leaving Iruka-sensei to fend for himself against Sharingan no Kakashi.
It's a damn shame, Chikao thought as he ran down the hall. Iruka-sensei was a good instructor and a good man. I'm sure gonna miss him.
TBC…
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The Tawse That Refreshes