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He wakes up to a thick thigh swinging over his body, a warm and familiar weight settling onto his lap. Even half-asleep, it’s a well-honed reflex to let his hands find the other body’s waist, sliding his palms beneath a sleep-ruffled shirt to scratch lightly at the skin there with his short, blunt nails.
Obito is gorgeous in the moon-lit guest bedroom of Minato-sensei’s place. For once devoid of Konoha hitai-ate and the eye patch, he looks softer around the edges, his eye crinkling in amusement, sharingan a glowing beacon in the darkness. The shirt is old and borrowed from sensei himself; it’s a little tight around the shoulders and rides up enough to expose Obito’s navel. Kakashi spends a lazy second admiring the way Obito’s biceps strain beneath the sleeves. His gaze drifts lower, to Obito’s abdomen, and he shifts his hands, spreading his fingers until his thumbs meet in the middle. He can’t quite wrap his hands around Obito’s waist, so he rubs little circles into his skin instead, humming low in his throat at the way Obito shivers, surprisingly ticklish.
“Stop that,” Obito whispers-shouts, somehow managing to sound scandalized.
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”
Obito rolls his eye, bending at the waist and lowering himself to brace on his hands, planting them on either side of Kakashi’s head. It gives Kakashi a perfect view of Obito’s chest, the stretched-thin material of the shirt leaving nothing to imagination. He slides his hands up under it, scratching at Obito’s ribs, mapping out scarred skin with his palms as Obito sits still atop him, mouth half-open and eye drooping, observing — and then Kakashi flicks lightly at his nipple.
That earns him a slap across his hands.
“Kakashi,” Obito hisses, and in the dim light of the bedroom, Kakashi is left to imagine the way Obito’s face warms up.
Obito blushes so easily — color rising up his neck, cheeks, and ears, flushing him over so prettily. He blushes at compliments, at the mockingly suggestive looks Kakashi likes to send him in public, at any PDA — and he blushes even harder when he’s flustered, angered, emotional, or passionate about something. Looking back, when Kakashi and Obito were both children, Kakashi had only ever riled Obito up to watch the flush on the back of his neck grow more and more pronounced.
Now, though, Kakashi gets to fluster Obito in different ways. And at the end of the day, he gets to sink his teeth into that pretty neck of his.
“You’re the one who woke me up,” Kakashi murmurs when Obito bats at Kakashi’s hands again, preventing him from tracing patterns into Obito’s skin. “If you didn’t want me touching you, you should’ve let me sleep.”
“Tch,” Obito huffs, and graciously, lets Kakashi return to mapping out Obito’s body with his hands.
Kakashi’s eye goes wandering across the breadth of Obito’s hips. The borrowed shirt has ridden up further, bunching around his waist, and Obito is warm and solid over him, thighs bracketing Kakashi’s hips. He gives in to the temptation to open his sharingan, dragging calloused palms over Obito’s legs — lingering on the rough texture of his right one, tracing scars and deeper grooves from memory alone. If asked, he could paint Obito from memory, he thinks — even without their shared sharingan, Kakashi had spent enough time learning every imperfection and difference that made Obito the man he was, the shape of his silhouette branded behind Kakashi’s eyelids, made familiar by his hands, a loving map beneath his lips.
When Kakashi brings his hands back to Obito’s sides, the other man arches under the gentle touch, shoulders drawn back and neck exposed. He shifts on top of Kakashi, and it takes some effort not to let out a punched out moan, his cock pinned down under the solid weight and dragging over the coarse fabric of Kakashi’s pyjama pants. Kakashi feels himself twitch, and Obito looks down at him, eye once again narrowed with mirth, lips stretching in a grin Kakashi really wants to kiss away but dares not to, because Obito rolls his hips again, and Minato-sensei is in the next room over.
“Stop that,” Kakashi whispers loudly, echoing Obito and scowling up at him, fingers digging lightly into an old injury on Obito’s hip just as the Uchiha tilts his head to the side, the scar bisecting his bottom lip making his grin look a little crooked.
“Stop what?” Obito hisses back, mocking, hips gyrating in slow, filthy little circles. “I’m not doing anything.”
Kakashi rolls his eye. Obviously, he’s the one at fault here — and not Obito, who decided to crawl on top of him mid-Thursday night, Team Minato’s bi-monthly get-together placing all of them in the same house for a movie night and a hearty dinner. Rin is sleeping in Naruto’s room; Naruto is with Minato in his and Kushina’s bedroom, and Kushina had elected herself the sole ruler of the big couch in the living room, escaping bruised ribs from her child's incessant kicking and dooming Minato to fight off their son’s attacks through the night. Kakashi and Obito share a guest room with two ratty futons, a single dresser, and a chest piled with fuuinjutsu scrolls and Jiraiya’s clothes — they shouldn’t fuck when the silencing seals aren’t active and Kakashi can hear Kushina snoring from the hallway, but—
But Obito is grinding his straining cock into Kakashi’s stomach, grinning at him from above and biting at his reddened bottom lip, eye sparkling in the moonlight. Obito’s wearing Kushina’s shorts — too tight on him, too, riding up on his thighs, and his cock is an obscene bulge to the side of his leg. It would take Kakashi only a single swipe of his hand to expose the engorged cockhead from under the garment, and Kakashi knows exactly what would take Obito to furrow his brows and clench his teeth to suppress moans if he were to close his fist around his dick, pressing fingers to its underside and jacking roughly over the crown.
Obito is looking at him and Kakashi is looking back — he’s digging his fingers into Obito’s ass, bending his knees to grind his dick harder into Obito’s backside, cock a pulsing heartbeat between Kakashi’s legs. There’s an elbow planted beside Kakashi’s shoulder and a face tipped down to briefly kiss Kakashi on the lips— and oh, Obito’s hand is dragging his shorts down, heavy cock flopping out to grind against Kakashi’s stomach.
It takes everything in him not to moan out loud. Obito is grinding against him now, slow and thoughtless, dragging his cock against the coarse fabric of Kakashi’s pyjamas. He bumps into Kakashi’s navel, then draws his hips back and thrusts back forward, smearing precome over Kakashi’s middle and leaving him tense all over. Kakashi tips his head back into the pillow and fixes his hands more firmly on Obito’s hips, as if that will do anything to steady him.
There’s a shift of weight over his hips and Kakashi lets out a quiet hiss through clenched teeth just to take in a sharp inhale when Obito’s fingers clumsily pull at Kakashi’s waistband, dragging it down, down down, hooking it over Kakashi’s balls to pull out his straining dick out. Kakashi tries to breathe through his mouth but it’s hard, and he’s gulping great deep breaths into his uncooperative lungs as his flexing cock gets palmed by Obito’s unforgiving fingers, pulling his foreskin down before roughly jerking him once, twice, nails scraping at the tender, heated skin, making Kakashi scrunch his face up in concentration to swallow threatening to escape moans.
Obito notices. His grin goes softer around the edges, less mocking and more pleased, and he lowers himself enough to brush their mouths together — once, twice, brief and almost lazy, like he has all the time in the world to ruin Kakashi properly, and the door to the guest bedroom isn’t open, letting the breeze into the stuffy little room. Kakashi chases the third kiss when it doesn’t come, earning a quiet huff of laughter against his lips.
“Shush,” Obito smiles, brushing his lips against Kakashi’s jaw, letting go of his cock, fingers probing at Kakashi’s stomach. “You’ll wake someone up.”
Kakashi bristles. “And whose fault would that be—”
He swallows whatever he wants to say next because Obito licks at his palm, languid and lewd, almost making out with his own hand. Kakashi opens both of his eyes, tracing the way Obito cranes his neck, making sure to lather each finger with saliva, sucking at the pinky with his eyes tracing the way Kakashi’s cock throbs, abandoned, against his stomach. Obito brings his hand down first to Kakashi’s dick, tracing a bulging vein on the side, and then to his own cock, propping himself with his free hand on Kakashi’s chest and biting at his lip, roughly jacking himself off under Kakashi’s shaking hands.
When Kakashi contemplates twisting to the side and bringing Obito down onto the futon to end this useless teasing, a large and warm palm closes around both of their cocks, finger swiping over the heads, spreading precome and saliva, rubbing it into the slits. Kakashi gasps, then slaps a hand over his mouth. His cock feels raw from the friction; Obito’s saliva isn’t enough to soften the dry pull, and when Kakashi opens his mouth to tell him to be careful, Obito bends his head, opening his mouth, and letting a string of saliva drip from his tongue onto their sexes.
Kakashi is going to fucking die.
Obito jacks them both off with an expert twist of his wrist, making sure to pull at the heads, rolling his hand over the sensitive spots of their cocks. He’s humping forward a bit, rolling his hips on Kakashi’s lap, and Kakashi is clutching at his ass once again, trying to thrust his dick into Obito’s hold firmer. It’s still too raw and rough, like their first trysts in the jounin barracks back when they had been teenagers and had just figured out what sex was — there’s a billion different ways Kakashi and Obito can get pleasure from each other, but those unplanned, almost domestically simple moments of intimacy are Kakashi’s favorite.
Obito is gasping on top of him, mouth open and eye unfocused. He’s flushed all over, the front of his shirt soaked with sweat; his chin is wet with saliva, some of it dripping down his neck from when he spat down on their cocks earlier. Kakashi thinks he might be dying. He slides one hand up Obito’s spine, under his shirt, feeling the shift of muscle and scar beneath his palm. Obito rolls his hips once more, deliberately this time, hand working over both of them, and Kakashi has to bite the inside of his cheek hard enough to keep quiet.
Obito’s eye gleams in the dark, bright with wicked amusement. He dips his head, bends at his waist once again, one palm still pressing at Kakashi’s solar plexus, and presses his forehead to Kakashi’s for a brief second before trailing his mouth down the line of Kakashi’s jaw instead, all teasing softness and unbearable patience. Kakashi lets his fingers spread over Obito’s back, dragging him closer, mapping out the body he already knows by heart anyway. Kakashi stares up at him, at the moonlight caught along his cheekbones and the familiar scar splitting his mouth, and feels that old helpless rush of fondness hit him square in the chest. He hooks a hand behind Obito’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss.
That gets him a quiet, muffled sound, and Obito’s fingers tightening in his shirt.
Kakashi wants to flip them around and close his lips around Obito’s cock. He wants Obito’s fingers inside himself and wants to bury his cock in Obito instead, bending him over the dresser and pressing himself all over Obito’s sweaty back where he can bite and lick at his reddened neck, languidly rolling his hips and feeling himself spilling deep inside Obito. He wants to sit between Obito’s thighs and take his cock into his mouth, licking and sucking at him, resting his cheek on Obito’s thigh for hours on end. He wants to tangle his legs with Obito’s and bite bloodied marks into his shoulders, marking him again and again in spots Kakashi knows would irritate him later, flak jacket pressing into hickeys and fresh biting wounds. Kakashi wants to love him, forever and ever, the infuriating man sitting on top of him the only focal point in his life.
Obito ruts into his own hand and against Kakashi, muscles in his thighs and abdomen flexing. Kakashi’s arms burn with strain. He’d beg and whimper but the damned door to the hallway is still open, and they’re on a sleepover at sensei’s, and the last thing Kakashi wants is to invite anyone else when Obito is panting over Kakashi’s lips, his hips rolling against Kakashi’s straining erection.
He doesn’t know who comes first — might be him, or Obito, or both. He throws his head back, shaking, his groin burning and cock kicking with the force of his release. Obito is quietly whimpering on top of him, forehead pressed against Kakashi’s shoulder, and he keeps working his hand over their dicks to the point of overstimulation, shuddering and gasping for air before stilling altogether, thighs clamping tight around Kakashi’s hips.
They stay like that for a while — Obito’s warm weight over him, Kakashi’s hands wandering wherever they please, learning nothing new and still wanting to trace every inch of him again anyway. By the time Obito finally lets himself fold down fully against Kakashi’s chest, boneless, Kakashi is still wound painfully tight but too content to care much.
Kakashi hums low in his throat. “Hello,” he murmurs, and Obito huffs a laugh into Kakashi’s skin. “So what was that?”
Obito nudges his nose into Kakashi’s throat, murmuring something too muffled to understand. Kakashi pokes him into his side, and Obito turns a little, moving his hand away from between their bodies, wiping it on Kakashi’s pyjamas. Asshole.
“Come again?” he prompts Obito once more.
“Shuddup,” Obito huffs, settling closer. “You looked pretty, ‘s all. Sleep now.”
Kakashi rolls his eye as Obito brushes his lips against Kakashi’s neck. He keeps one hand at the small of Obito’s back and lifts the other to bury it in his hair, holding him there while their breathing evens out again in the dark.
It is not comfortable, exactly. Kakashi’s legs will probably go numb, and their dicks are still out, come drying on their bellies and smeared on the fabric of Kakashi’s pyjamas. They’ll have to figure out how to wash their clothes before returning them to sensei and Kushina. Kakashi feels sticky, out of breath, and way too hot. But Obito is warm, and safe, and here, sprawled on top of him in Minato-sensei’s guest room like they both had always belonged there.
Kakashi closes his eye and lets his fingers drift once more over the familiar line of Obito’s spine.
They can be quiet for a little longer.