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The More Things Change	By : Sushi4Brains Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 8511 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters, nor is any profit made from this fanfiction.

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TMTC Chapter Three: Bubble, Bubble Toil and Trouble
“As my kohai, you will accept whatever discipline I deem necessary. End of discussion.”
Funny how the mind works; randomly collecting, recording and filtering data, it also selectively eradicates that which might be harmful upon recollection. Conversely, it holds fast extraneous strings of data, accessing them when it’s least convenient, to make sense of the nonsensical. Funnier still is, how one word could obliterate the barrier between the boy Kinoe was and the man Yamato is.
“As my kohai, you will accept whatever discipline I deem necessary. End of discussion.”
Discipline – Kakashi’s discipline made him strong, sagacious, and decisive on the field of battle. Silence – Kakashi’s silence filling the tiny room where they sat, made him self-conscious, irrational and uncertain. Locked in this tense atmosphere, his brain was working overtime filling the dead spaces where conversation should have been; supplying him with words pride would not allow him to say and putting words in his captain’s mouth he did not wish to hear.
Discipline; its main objective - instilling compliance.
Discipline - a code of conduct, a set of rules and regulations; these were the building blocks which established a hierarchy, a chain of command, a threefold cord of responsibility that preserves order in the military. Every shinobi worth his salt knew what was expected of them or what they could expect should they failed to adhere to the standards set before them.
"As my kohai, you will accept whatever discipline I deem necessary. End of discussion."
Senpai and kohai, master and student; these were the conventions of society which also dictated their behavior. Three years younger than his captain, he always held out hope that they would grow into a relationship more like that of brothers. In Kakashi he found an unexpected ally.   Much to the surprise of his peers, he alone was granted access into the reclusive world of Hatake Kakashi - a major victory and one he didn't take lightly. ANBU's Hound on the other hand, always made certain he understood and stayed in his place.
At last, the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle came together when he realized one simple truth; whatever might happen in the next few hours hinged on which personality manifested to administer his punishment.
If it were, god forbid, Hound, his chastisement would be something ridiculous and extremely embarrassing; like the time he made him dress up as a geisha in full makeup and a flowing pink kimono to serve dinner and drinks to his ANBU teammates because he'd neglected to pack his own supply of food pills.
That was definitely a bought lesson.
Kakashi on the other hand, favored a more traditional approach to correction - the physical type. Once, while still a rookie, Kakashi made him run laps around the village with a backpack full of wet cement until he puked, and then ten more laps around the village because he'd puked. Needless to say, he never forgot to carry enough kunai and shuriken with him after that. Looking back, he much preferred that sort of punishment versus the other ones Kakashi occasionally employed; the ones where he'd find himself draped across the other man's knee as the paddle or hairbrush fell without mercy or bent over a chair as the razor strop or tawse bit into his thighs and buttocks until hot, silent tears streamed down his face.
No, those days are long gone, he thought.
He wouldn't resort to such archaic methods to get his point across.
Knowing him better than most, he recognized that the anticipation and the penetrating glances that ended with a lopsided grin – were small, yet powerful aspects of the way Kakashi operated.
He always got his kicks from screwing with my mind,
drawing things out to trigger a reaction.
Well, I'll be dammed if I give him the satisfaction this time.
Resolved, he sat cross legged, stone faced and tight lipped, having found the boldness to establish intermittent eye contact with his tormentor. Schooling his features into an unmovable façade was child's play; after all, the art of deception was second nature for a shinobi of his caliber. Disguising his body's autonomic responses however, required ingenuity; the sweaty palms he could lightly rest atop his knees, slow measured breaths would counteract his rapidly beating heart and the perspiration dotting his forehead could easily be attributed to the stifling heat in the room. Meanwhile his mind was still sifting through random bits of information, readying a verbal defense for the inevitable confrontation.
The sounds of slippers, the rustling of silk in the hallway, and then a soft knock on the rice paper partition of their private dining area finally pushed away these uncomfortable thoughts; it also turned Kakashi's laser focus from him.
The smell of cheap perfume and high quality sake made both men turn as the door slid open revealing a rotund, elderly woman.
"Ah, so it is you, Kakashi-kun," she said poking her head into the room. "No wonder my staff was all atwitter. May I come in?"
Kakashi respectfully nodded. "Greetings Okami-san." With a sweep of his arm toward Yamato he hastened to add, "My kohai and I thank you for hosting us at such a late hour."
To the untrained eye, this was nothing more than a gracious exchange of pleasantries; but there was something else going on beneath the surface. For starters, Kakashi never made a move to cover the lower half of his face when the old lady knocked on the door. While the man wasn't shy when it came to showing off his unclothed body, he was very particular, almost paranoid about revealing the entirety of his face; obviously, he knew her quite well and more importantly, he trusted her. Something else bothered him about this woman … she was no ordinary civilian. Though age slowed her movements, she carried herself with a confidence and no-nonsense air akin to that of a skilled kunoichi; maybe that's why Kakashi was at ease in her presence.
Peering around her bowed form, he saw two younger women kneeling beside the door; they were definitely civilians. In spite of their demure behavior, their manner of dress labeled them as prostitutes; he wanted no part of that action.
While he wasn't a stranger to working off a mission’s tension with whatever whore he could afford, he certainly didn't want to get freaky in front of his senpai.
Just the thought of such things greatly embarrassed him; he couldn’t hide the warm blush spreading over his cheeks and knowing Kakashi was eyeing him from across the lacquered table made that warmth a thousand times hotter.
The old lady finally made her way to their table with an uncorked bottle of sake and a slight smile on her lips.
"Should you require additional assistance," she said with a wink, "the ladies in the hall will count it a privilege to cater to your 'other' needs."
He almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to gauge his captain’s reaction. Even without the mask, Kakashi was an extremely difficult man to read; his handsome face a blank slate … only the gods knew what devious plans he had up the sleeve of his yukata.
There came a soft chuckle from the other side of the table, one that bespoke mischief in the making. "As usual," Kakashi said, acknowledging the smiling young women, "you've thought of everything, haven't you?"
"Only the very best for those who keep us safe," she said, setting the tokkuri on the table nearest Kakashi. With a hitch of her thumb in Yamato's direction she added, "This one here, looks like he could use some additional relaxation."
The 'ladies' in the hall thought that was comical, coyly tittering and pointing at the now furiously blushing man; didn’t help a bit that his captain was laughing his ass off too. Bristling under the concerned eyes of both his senpai and the old lady, he turned his body away from them.
"Not to worry," Kakashi said with a smirk, "he always looks tense. I dare say, even the combined skills of these young ladies wouldn't be enough to make him relax; although I wouldn't mind being the recipient of their full attention."
So that's what he’s playing at, huh?
Making me watch as he cavorts and has sex with these two whores?
Just like that rat bastard to twist the knife in my gut!
"Thank you for selecting two of your most skilled masseurs to attend us, Okami-san,” “Your hospitality and discretion are much appreciated, but we were just about to call it a night, isn’t that right, Tenzou?"
Yamato’s eyes flickered between Kakashi and the woman he’d mistakenly thought of as a whorehouse madam. "Yes,” he mumbled. “Thank you for your hospitality ma’am.”
"As you wish, shinobi-san," she said, turning to leave. With a snap of her fingers, the young women in the hall women likewise dismissed themselves.
Once the door slid shut, Kakashi stretched out like a contented cat in a beam of sunshine. "Best get moving,” he said with a yawn, “I’m sure it’s almost past your bedtime, Tenzou."
*****     *****     *****
Outside, the pitter patter of fat raindrops sound like tiny detonations against the tin roof of the building; inside the spacious changing room, the backlit clock on the wall counts down the seconds to whatever 'discipline' awaits.
Tick . . . Tock . . . Tick.
The light blue yukata, so soft against his skin earlier, chafed at him now like a twilled cotton straight jacket.
Tick . . . Tock . . . Tick.
With his back to the other man, he made up his mind to put an end to this foolish game of cat and mouse; he'd had it up to his back teeth, torn between absolution for his guilt and the need to confront his senpai.
Tick . . . Tock . . . Boom!
Wheeling around, his face flushed with anger, his breathing sharp, he was surprised to see Kakashi, completely dressed and leaning against his own locker with his arms folded across his chest.
That relaxed 'devil-may-care' pose pissed him off.
"Damn it, senpai," he heard himself roar, "I'm not the same wet behind the ears little punk you bullied years ago!”
Between one breath and the next, he found himself pressed against the cold steel of a locker behind him; Kakashi, or was that . . . Hound's face was a hairsbreadth from his own.
"Ah, Tenzou … there's the fire I've been waiting to see,” he whispered. When a slender hand reached out to chuckle under his chin, the back of his head collided with unyielding metal when he tried to move away.
"I'll caution you this but once, Tenzou. It's a bad idea to let your emotions write a check your ass can't cash."
The room spun when that sinewy body pressed against his … he almost swallowed his tongue when Kakashi dipped his head and nuzzled against his neck; his warm breath ghosting over exposed skin. And when that hardness pressed into his thigh, Yamato felt his brain completely disconnect.
Fear didn’t make him suck in a deep breath, inhaling the clean, musky scent of the man holding him captive with his body, no … this was raw carnality, with a double portion of craven, wanton, lust.
It didn't bolster the argument for remaining conscious when Kakashi palmed his erection through the thin cotton fabric either.
"Let's finish this … somewhere more private,” that low, sultry voice whispered.
*****     *****     *****
He scarcely remembered how or when they arrived at Kakashi's home. All he knew was he was in the middle of Kakashi's dimly lit living room, while the other man slowly undressed him.
Never before had his captain done something this intimate.
The rough material of his new uniform, scratched at sensitized skin as it was gently removed from his body. A familiar, warm chakra tickled as Kakashi healed his wounds from earlier. Sliding down his body, until all he could see was a mop of silver hair and broad shoulders covered in navy blue fabric, Kakashi slowly undid the bindings on his legs; his pants disappeared without his knowledge and thin lips kissed their way upward, first one leg and then the other.
Naturally, his captain completely ignored the hardness straining against suddenly too tight standard issue cotton briefs.
Is he that drunk? Am I?
This is some weird kinda of genjutsu … has to be, he thought.
What the hell is he up to?
Those warm hands were moving again, cupping, squeezing his buttocks as he kept those lips of his moving ever upward, searching out a sensitive area around his navel; in a flash, his underwear vanished, likely joining the pile where his pants and shirt lay. The wet tip of Kakashi's tongue flicked over a nipple, as calloused finger pads tweaked and rolled the other one. Once more, warm breath tickled at his neck, and those roving hands stopped to rest on smooth nether cheeks.
"Close your eyes … please," Kakashi finally said, rubbing the tip of his nose against his kohai’s earlobe. "I've got a surprise for you."
When he did as instructed, the warmth of Kakashi's body was gone; stretching out his senses, that he might feel where he’d run off to, was of no avail.
Then came the sound of something heavy, dragging across the hardwood floor; he didn't need to open his eyes to know - it was the dreaded straight backed chair from the kitchen being moved into place.
And then, there was silence.
NOTES:
Title lifted from act one, scene one of William Shakespeare’s Macbeth; not to worry, he and I go way back …he’s cool with it.
‘Okami-san’ is a formal way of addressing women who own such businesses; much thanks to Weeping Cadaver for making me aware of this.
Tokkuri: ceramic flask used to serve sake; generally bulbous with a narrow neck.
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