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[lief /  lēf /, as happily; as gladly; willingly; willing; desirous; dear; beloved; treasured. From Middle English leef, Old English lēof; cognate with Dutch lief, German lieb, Old Norse ljufr, Gothic liufs; akin to love.]

 

Kushina shows up halfway through lunch with no explanation beyond an Uzumaki’s sixth sense for ramen—which, Kurama supposes, is explanation enough. She’s wearing the topmost layer of the Hokage's robes without the hat, red hair pulled up in a high tail and sword still over her back, scratched and bruised but cheerful even so. With a friendly grin at Teuchi, she slides into the seat on Kakashi’s right, then promptly steals Kurama’s bowl.

“Hey!” Kurama snaps, even though he’s already waving for Teuchi to bring him another one.

“Too slow, little brother!” Kushina taunts, and promptly stuffs as many noodles in her mouth as will fit. It’s a lot of noodles. Kurama sees many, many big mouth jokes in her future.

“I earned that!” he protests, but Kushina just grins, all teeth, and he has to roll his eyes, unwilling to be soothed by the stroke of Kakashi’s thumb against his thigh. “Fucking Tomato.”

Mouth still full, Kushina flips him off, spends a few seconds struggling to swallow her bite, and retorts, “I'm the Hokage, show some respect!”

“Officially?” Yugito asks, raising her head from whatever destructive plot she and Fū are giggling over. “Are they going to have a ceremony?”

“Probably not.” Kakashi is the one who answers, and there's a faint, wry slant to his smile, though his hand doesn’t move from where it’s curled over Kurama’s leg. “When the Hokage changes during a time of conflict, there isn’t usually a celebration. Though since Sarutobi is still alive, they might change that.”

“The stubborn old bastard will be fine,” Kushina says firmly, then leans around Kakashi to wave at the street. “Yagura! And—oh.”

The tone of that makes Kurama look up from his new bowl of ramen, and his eyes immediately narrow at the sight of who is approaching. Not just Yagura, who has stripped off his Mizukage robes and all signs of office, including his hitai-ate, but the Kazekage and—

Oh indeed, Kurama thinks, eyeing the blond girl clinging to Rasa's hand, the dark-haired boy half-hidden behind him.

Gaara, one chair down on Naruto's far side, makes a startled, almost scared sound, and glances at Kurama like he’s judging the best path over to his lap.

Thankfully, Rasa stops at the very edge of their group, next to Kushina, and doesn’t try to come any closer. “Uzumaki,” he says with a polite nod, and gently extracts his fingers from Temari's grasp. “Why don’t you two go say hello while I speak with Uzumaki?” he tells his children, and Kurama feels his brows rise. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“All right,” Temari says, all fierce determination, and she grabs Kankuro by the sleeve, towing him over towards Gaara. Fū, on Gaara's other side, leans in to smile at them, and Naruto waves cheerfully. Gaara looks between his two fellow jinchuuriki, then at his siblings, and visibly steels himself before he offers a tentative smile.

Temari's steps falter, just a little, and her eyes widen, but then she smiles back, bright and relieved.

Deciding that they’ll be fine, Kurama shifts his attention back to Rasa, turning around on his stool and leaning back against the counter to level the Kazekage with an entirely unimpressed look. “If you think a few minutes of making nice with his siblings is going to be enough to get Gaara to go back to Suna with you—” he starts, a clear warning in his tone.

Rasa raises a hand, expression tired, and shakes his head. “Believe me, Uzumaki, that’s the last thing on my mind.” He reaches into his robes and pulls out a sheaf of folded papers and a pen, offering both to Kurama. When Kurama hesitates warily, he snorts softly and says, “Go ahead. They're adoption papers. I'm formally waiving my rights as Gaara's father. Suna isn’t the place for him, but it seems as if he’s found a place of his own regardless.”

A little stunned, Kurama takes the papers, then opens them and checks them over. It’s the truth: they really are adoption papers, already bearing Rasa's signature and stamp, just waiting for Kurama’s own. When he glances up, faintly incredulous, Rasa just shakes his head again.

“I would have asked Gaara's opinion, but I believe he already made that clear,” he says quietly. “And despite the fact that I caused it, I didn’t want to look into my son’s face and watch him choose someone else. One more moment of cowardice, I'm afraid.”

There's a cutting answer on the tip of Kurama’s tongue, but…well. This is a decent peace offering, as long as Gaara never has to set foot in Suna until they realize he’s more than the monster they made him into. Instead, he bites the words back, adds his own signature to the line, and hands one set of papers back to Rasa. “Thanks,” he says gruffly, because Rasa could easily have been far more of an asshole about this, but for the first time he put Gaara's welfare over his value as a jinchuuriki, and since he’ll be out of their lives shortly, Kurama can take that as something of a bridge being mended.

Rasa's expression is rueful beneath the shadow of his hat, but he inclines his head and steps away. “Temari, Kankuro, be back at the inn before dinner time,” he says sternly.

“Yes, Father,” Temari agrees, then hesitates, looking from Rasa to Gaara. “We—we can stay for a little while?”

“If you’d like,” Rasa agrees. He stares at Gaara for a long moment, regret and resignation foremost on his face, then turns away. “Goodbye, Gaara,” he says, and without waiting for a response he pushes through the hangings and heads back the way he came, leaving Baki to linger a few stalls down, one eye on Kankuro and Temari.

Gaara watches him go, eyes wide, but a moment later Naruto tugs on his sleeve and he turns back, a smile breaking over his face again. Sasuke and Sakura are leaning in as well, with Naruto chattering cheerfully at Temari and Kankuro, and despite the way Gaara's siblings are still a little tense, a little further from Gaara than is really necessary, they don’t look actively scared, so that’s probably an improvement.

Well, Kurama thinks, folding the adoption papers and running a finger along the creases. That was a hell of a lot less explosive than he’d expected any meeting about Gaara's future to be.

“So now you're officially a father,” Kakashi says mildly, and when Kurama turns back around to finish his meal, their thighs brush. Kakashi doesn’t move away, just smiles at him. “One down, three to go. Or is it seven?”

Kushina scoffs. “He can be Naruto's uncle, but he’s stealing my son over my dead body, you know!” she declares, jabbing her chopsticks at Kurama threateningly.

“Like I’d need to steal him,” Kurama retorts. “He’d come with me willingly.”

“He would not, and I'm his mother!”

“So—”

Yagura makes a sound of mixed impatience and amusement, and asks pointedly, “Is there room for one more?”

Still scowling at Kushina, Kurama jerks a thumb at the stool on her other side. “Yeah, sure, but you have to sit next to the harpy.”

“I think I’ll risk it,” Yagura says, dry as dust, and pulls himself up onto the seat. “One of your tonkotsu, please,” he tells Teuchi.

“Of course, Mizukage-sama,” Teuchi says easily.

“It’s just Yagura,” he corrects, and Kurama blinks, because Yagura is about fifty percent defensive anger over his age and fifty percent pride in his position. Raising a brow, he leans around Kakashi to level a look at the jinchuuriki, and Yagura rolls his eyes faintly in return.

“Terumī will be carrying the hat back to Kiri when the delegation returns,” he says. “I told her that she and Momochi could wrestle for who got to wear it, but I believe Momochi bowed out almost immediately.”

Faced with Terumī Mei and the Mizukage’s seat in question, Kurama doesn’t blame Zabuza for staging a tactical retreat. Mei’s probably overjoyed, and Kurama remembers enough about what kind of Mizukage she was to be glad she’s back in the position. Kiri needs change, and given the way Obito controlled him, Yagura isn’t the best person to implement it. There's always going to be some level of doubt about where Obito's control ended and Yagura began, but Mei’s one of the people who stepped up to stop him. People will follow her gladly.

“So when you ask if we’ve got room for one more—” Kurama starts, amused.

Yagura gives him a look, but concedes with a tip of his head. “I was hoping you wouldn’t object to one more jinchuuriki occupying your house. And that the Hokage would allow me to stay in Konoha a while longer.”

“That’s fine!” Kushina tells him cheerfully, through another mouthful of noodles. She swallows, and adds, “There are still a bunch of extra rooms, so just pick whichever one you want.” Downing the last of her bowl, she checks the time, and pushes to her feet. “Okay! Time to go tell the council they’d better keep their damned noses out of things if they don’t want me to kick them out on their asses. I'm not as nice as Minato was, you know!”

She’s really, really not, and knowing how Homura and Utatane supported everything Danzō did, Kurama really can't think of better people to aim her at. He grins, showing teeth, and says, “Don’t get blood on those robes. It’ll be a bitch to scrub out.”

Kushina laughs, gives him a cheeky salute, and drops some money on the counter before she waves a cheerful goodbye to all of them and disappears down the street.

Leaning into Kurama’s shoulder a little, Kakashi chuckles. His fingers leave off tracing lines of heat across the inside of Kurama’s thigh, and he slides his hand down Kurama’s arm to lace their fingers together before he asks a little whimsically, “Plans for the rest of the day?”

“I can keep an eye on the children,” Yagura proposes before Kurama can even open his mouth. Catching the raised brow Kurama gives him, he levels a look of amusement right back. “Everyone else has done their time, and seeing as I'm not Mizukage anymore, I don’t have anything else to do. Maybe we can play tag again.”

Kurama laughs, leaning back a little to survey the four jinchuuriki and four shinobi children where they’re all starting to huddle. Plans are being made, he’s sure of it, but he’s also sure he’s probably better off being able to claim ignorance, so he doesn’t listen in. “Yeah, if you want, but I think they’re coming up with ways to keep themselves occupied. Good luck.”

Yagura smiles, lavender eyes a little softer than Kurama has seen them before. “I'm a jinchuuriki as well, in case you’ve forgotten,” he says, but there's no heat in the words. “Every urge they have to make their presence obvious and impossible to ignore, I assure you, I've had the same.”

Yeah, Kurama is more than willing to believe that. Yagura probably didn’t have much choice, either, when it came to having Isobu sealed in him. In fact, Kurama can't think of a single jinchuuriki who asked to be one—even Mito made the decision because it was either that or watch Hashirama get his head ripped off, trying to fight both Madara and Kurama at the same time.

Well. Maybe the next generation will do better, after seeing what jinchuuriki can be. Or maybe they’ll let the bijuu out at the end of their lives, set them free and let things go back to how they should be.

“Have fun,” Kurama tells him, and gets a lofty smirk in response. Oh yeah, Yagura is definitely going to be taking advantage of the newfound freedom of being just another shinobi. Kurama wishes him the best of luck.

Turning back to Kakashi, he leans in, free hand tracing a line up the man’s thigh, and nips lightly at the curve of his ear. “No plans,” he says, practically against the skin, and feels the shiver that rocks Kakashi’s entire body.

“I might be able to come up with a few,” Kakashi manages after a moment, and casts a sideways glance at Kurama. He raises their hands to his mouth, and through the mask Kurama can just feel the edge of teeth as he nips at Kurama’s fingers, then drags his lips down them.

Fuck, Kurama thinks, and his breath shouldn’t catch at that simple gesture, but it does. “Going to swoon again?” he asks, and despite his best efforts it’s rough and a little hoarse.

Kakashi chuckles, expression faintly wicked as he presses his mouth to the pulse-point of Kurama’s wrist. “Maybe I’m just planning to have you do all the work.”

Okay, that’s just about all the teasing Kurama can stand. He pushes to his feet, pulling Kakashi with him, and nods to an amused-looking Yagura. A hesitation, but he doesn’t want Naruto to worry, so he sidesteps Temari and Kankuro and leans in to muss golden hair. “Hey, kit, be good for Yagura, okay?”

“Okay, Kurama-nii!” Naruto says cheerfully. “Are you taking Kakashi back to the hospital?”

“No, I'm going to take him home and put him to bed,” Kurama answers, which is probably technically the truth. At least, he hopes there will be a bed in their near future; if they don’t get that far today, he doesn’t mind, but it would be nice. “Squirt, you good?”

“I'm fine,” Gaara says with certainty, and judging by the way he doesn’t seem to mind Temari at his elbow, he’s telling the truth. Of course, it probably helps that Naruto is pressed close on one side, with Sakura tight on the other, and Sasuke at their backs.

Kurama kisses him on the forehead, tweaks Naruto's nose, and waves at Fū and Yugito, who are just out of reach. “Behave. No eating anyone, okay, brats?”

“We’ll try our best!” Fū promises, though by her grin she means it about as much as Kakashi would a promise to give up his porn. Yugito nods, too, and her lips are curled in a small but cat-smug smile that means the lack of verbal agreement was absolutely deliberate.

Kurama just rolls his eyes at the two of them, leaves money to cover all of their meals where Teuchi can reach it, and joins Kakashi outside the stand. Instantly, an arm winds around his waist, pulling him close, and Kakashi drags him into a deep, careful kiss. It draws a low, hungry sound up from Kurama’s chest, and he hooks his fingers into Kakashi’s pockets, kissing back as deeply as he can. Behind them, inside the stall, there's the sound of laughter, Naruto and Fū talking loudly, undercut with Yugito and Gaara and Sasuke. Sakura is laughing, and Fū is giggling, and Naruto's presence is bright and steady and unwavering. It makes the breath catch in Kurama’s throat, makes him lean into Kakashi more, kiss him harder, because—

Well. He feels good, all the way down to his bones. He’d been a creature of malice and rage and hatred for so long, with nothing else, and his Naruto helped turn him from that path, pull him towards a brighter future. But Kurama had to reach that future on his own, by himself, with one final push from his best friend, and now he has. None of this would have happened if he had stayed a ghost of chakra trapped in someone else’s soul, and for all the grief that came before, Kurama is happy.

He can't remember ever being this happy before.

Kakashi eases the kiss down, scales it back until he’s just slanting his lips over Kurama’s, dragging them to the side to press a careful kiss to the edge of his mouth, and then whispers against his skin, “So where are we going?”

“If you try a shunshin you're going to crash us into a wall or something,” Kurama huffs, and dredges up the memory of Kushina using one. It’s still clear, simple enough, and Kurama takes a breath—

Kakashi catches his chin with one hand, kisses him again with the curve of a smile all too easy to feel this close, and says, “My apartment is two blocks away. I can manage that far.”

There's no time to protest before a whirl of leaves spins them away, and an instant later they're landing on a narrow windowsill three floors up, with a quieter street below them. Kakashi flares his chakra and then slides the window open, tugging Kurama through into a small bedroom.

“Still fully conscious?” Kurama mocks, and Kakashi growls softly, kisses him hard, and pulls him down. They sprawl on the bed, half-collapsed against the pillows with Kurama partway on top, and Kakashi steals the laughter right from Kurama’s mouth. Long fingers cup Kurama’s face, and it feels a little like that kiss under the Hokage Mountain, full of desperation and affection, traced through with relief.

He breaks apart just enough for words, curls his hands in silver hair and leans in to press his lips to Kakashi’s eyelid, his forehead, his cheek. “Hey,” he says into the heat between them, “I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Kakashi looks up at him for a long moment, then carefully pushes his hitai-ate up to look at Kurama with both eyes. He holds his gaze, and…

Kurama doesn’t want to flinch away. There's no urge, no hesitation. He knows that eye and knows what it can do, just faced the horror of it a few hours ago at most, but this is Kakashi. This is the man who came to him the moment the genjutsu broke, who defended him against Zetsu and Obito and Kisame alike. He’s the one person in this time who knows everything Kurama is. They’ve pushed at each other, sniped and snarled and fought and come to an understanding, and Kurama couldn’t think of him as an enemy anymore if he tried.

It’s freeing in a way he doesn’t remember ever feeling before. Not freed from someone else’s chains, but from chains of his own creation. No more fear. Not of Kakashi or anything about him.

Leaning down, he kisses that eyelid as well, the scar that cost Kakashi his original eye, the curve of Kakashi’s smile as he pulls Kurama in again. One hand strokes down Kurama’s side to curl around the back of his thigh, squeezing lightly, and Kakashi sighs into the kiss. “I guess you're not,” he says, and the words are halfway to joke but the look in his eyes is the furthest thing from it. “There goes my grand plan to get rid of you and reclaim my peaceful life.”

Kurama scoff. “Bullshit, asshole. You just like pushing boundaries.” But he kisses Kakashi again anyway, nips lightly at his tongue for the way it makes Kakashi’s hand tighten on his leg, and shifts until he has a leg on either side of Kakashi’s hips before he pushes up. Kakashi blinks up at him, rumpled and flushed with his mouth kiss-bruised, and the sight of him makes heat curl around Kurama’s bones. He unzips the heavy flak jacket, gets his hands under Kakashi’s shirt and pushes up to run his fingers over tight muscles.

Kakashi’s breath catches, eyes going heavy-lidded as he watches Kurama ease the fabric up even further, and he asks lightly, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Kurama can't stop the way his grip tightens at that, the unconscious roll of his hips as his claws tear through cloth, and he growls softly, lurching forward to kiss Kakashi roughly. “Yeah,” he admits, and it’s hardly recognizable as a word, shaped around the edges of a snarl. He takes a breath, drags himself back under control, and tries to shake off the heat that’s building inside of him. That kiss had more teeth than normal, and he knows his own limits well enough to recognize that. “I'm bleeding chakra right now, pulling it in from around us. My reserves are so low that it’s instinct. If my strength gets out of hand, things could get messy.”

There's a quiet hum, like Kakashi finds this interesting but ultimately trivial information. “I trust you,” he says easily, the warmth in his eyes is softer than Kurama knows what to do with.

Sage, Kurama wants him badly. He growls, kisses Kakashi again, short and desperate, and presses his mouth to skin to admit, “I'm not going to last long.”

Kakashi chuckles, and the hand around his thigh slides up to cup his ass. “That’s all right,” he assures Kurama, and his expression is full of mischief and naked desire in equal measure. “Once you're done with me, I get you.”

The thought shivers down Kurama’s spine, and he groans, rocking back on instinct. The thought of fucking Kakashi until he comes, then rolling over and letting Kakashi have him while he’s loose and sated, is way too fucking sexy. He wants it with an ache that twists through him, makes breathing difficult and his blood hot.

“Fuck yes,” he manages, and ducks to press his mouth against Kakashi’s stomach, scraping lightly with his claws. “You’re going to have to get yourself ready,” he says, a little regretfully, as he eyes the sharp tips to his nails. Maybe he’ll file them down, at least on one hand, if this ends up being something regular.

Kakashi chuckles, tugging him up to taste his mouth, deep and heady enough to make Kurama’s head go fuzzy. “I'm sure you can entertain yourself while I do, Kurama,” he breathes, taking one of Kurama’s lips between his own and scraping lightly with his teeth.

Kurama hums agreeably, finding the button on Kakashi’s pants. “I might be able to come up with a few things.” He undoes the zipper, then pushes them down, sliding with them until he can pull Kakashi’s sandals off and relieve him of his pants completely. It leaves him at eye-level with the curved cock straining Kakashi’s underwear, and with a hum of interest he leans forward to mouth at it. Kakashi makes a bitten-off sound, hips bucking up in an aborted jerk, and his hand fists in Kurama’s hair.

“If you do too much of that,” he warns, “this is going to be over a lot sooner than planned.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Kurama casts him a look from under the fall of his hair, then very deliberately eases Kakashi’s underwear down. He leans in, letting his breath ghost over sensitive skin, and makes sure his hair brushes Kakashi’s cock as dips his head to press a teasing kiss to Kakashi’s groin.

“You're terrible,” Kakashi laments, letting his head fall back against the pillows as he groans.

Kurama laughs, cupping Kakashi’s balls in one gentle hand to feel the weight of them and admiring the way it makes Kakashi jerk, breath stuttering. “Isn’t there something you’re supposed to be doing?” he says pointedly, and rubs the tip of his finger down the perineum.

Kakashi cries out at that, knees locking tight around Kurama’s shoulders, and he uses his grip on Kurama’s hair to tug him back. Pushing himself up, he leans down to kiss Kurama hard, and orders, “Get undressed.”

For a moment, Kurama considers feeling miffed at being denied the opportunity to play, but Kakashi is fumbling for something in the crack between the mattress and the headboard, and Kurama decides he’ll get as much opportunity as he wants in the future. Right now, he wants to fuck Kakashi too badly.

“Next time,” he promises, sliding to his feet beside the bed, “I'm going to blow you so hard you black out when you come.”

The sound that tears from Kakashi’s throat is high and sharp and desperate, and he yanks his vest off, drags his shirt up and tosses it to the side. His gloves follow it a moment later, then his hitai-ate, and the snap of a tube opening sounds sharp against the tension. Kurama muffles a curse, stripping off the remains of his old shirt, and he can feel Kakashi’s eyes for him as he undoes his pants and lets them fall.

When he glances up, Kakashi is staring, pupils blown wide and expression all the compliment Kurama needs. He puts a sway in his step as he moves back towards the bed, gets a knee on the mattress and crawls forward, getting his hands on Kakashi’s thighs. He pushes them up and apart, presses his mouth to pale skin and scrapes his teeth over it. Kakashi’s moan is deeply satisfying, as is his sudden fumble with the lube, but he squeezes it out over his fingers even as he shifts.

Kurama lets him roll them, keeps his grip on muscular thighs as he’s suddenly pinned to the bed, Kakashi straddling his chest. That tempting cock bobs in Kurama’s face, and he doesn’t even try to resist the urge to reach out, cup it in his hand as he leans forward to drag his tongue up the soft skin. Kakashi gasps, hips bucking, and grabs Kurama’s hair even as he reaches behind himself with his slicked hand.

There's too many things to pay attention to, Kurama thinks, a little irritated, because he wants to watch Kakashi finger himself, wants to see him opening himself up, but he also doesn’t want to take his mouth off of Kakashi. Each noise he wrings out of the man is perfect, makes the arousal tighter, hotter in his gut, and he closes his mouth over the tip, tongues the head and feels a yank at his hair that doesn’t quite hurt but urges him on. There's movement over his head, Kakashi adding more lube before he reaches back again, and Kurama can feel the buck of his hips as he adds another finger.

With a satisfied hum that makes Kakashi cry out, Kurama seals his mouth over him again, slides his tongue over veins and delicate skin and relishes the shaky gasps above him. He tugs lightly on Kakashi’s thighs, because like this he can't control much of the depth, and there's a curse before Kakashi grips his hair tighter, rocks forward into Kurama’s mouth and then back onto his own fingers, and the strangled cry makes Kurama moan. He’s achingly hard, with no way to get friction, but he arches up anyway, feels Kakashi’s cock slip deeper and tastes bitterness on his tongue—

With a gasp, Kakashi pulls back, chest heaving, eyes on the verge of wild. He slides down Kurama’s chest, throws himself into a kiss the moment the angle is even vaguely close to right, and it’s all teeth and want, hot enough to make Kurama whine deep in his throat.

“Up,” Kakashi urges breathlessly, and he’s the most gorgeous thing Kurama’s ever seen, hair falling around his face and his eyes hot-dark. He kisses Kurama again, mouth slack, messy and urgent, and then slides away, catching Kurama’s elbow and urging him along.

Kurama moves with him, rolling up onto his knees and leaning over Kakashi as he sprawls on his back. A leg hooks around the backs of his thighs, pulling him in, and Kakashi chuckles, low and warm. “I’d ask if you're still going to respect me in the morning,” he drawls, “but seeing as between the two of us I'm not the one who slept with Momochi Zabuza…”

Kurama rolls his eyes pointedly, planting his hands alongside Kakashi’s ribs and scraping his teeth lightly over a nipple. It makes Kakashi groan, makes his hand tighten on Kurama’s hips, and Kurama hums in victory. “I can't still respect you when I never respected you in the first place,” he retorts, only to lose his next words on a stuttering gasp when a slick hand wraps around his cock. The touch drags a whine from his throat, makes his head fall forward as he tries hard not to buck into Kakashi’s hand.

“Lies,” Kakashi says cheerfully, and he’s deliberately, agonizingly thorough as he strokes every inch of Kurama’s cock, watching with hooded eyes and a wicked smile as Kurama’s muscles tremble. “If you didn’t respect me, you would have killed me the first time we met.”

“Kakashi—” Kurama bites out, unable to focus on the teasing, only on the want that’s beating a tattoo through his veins.

With a soothing hum, Kakashi tugs him forward, uses the hand on his cock to line him up. “Come on,” he murmurs, kissing the shell of Kurama’s ear and using his free hand to brush crimson strands back from his face.

Kurama groans, pressing forward, and it’s slick and hot and tight, scatters every last thought beyond that breathless heat as he sinks in, Kakashi’s body opening around him. It’s so good, every nerve singing, every muscle pulled tense in a way that has nothing to do with violence and everything to do with giving in.

There's a quiet, breathless noise from beneath him, Kakashi’s body arching up into his, and Kurama grits his teeth and forces himself to stop, biting back a whimper. Instinct wants him to shove forward into that heat, to fuck and overwhelm and kiss Kakashi until they're both dizzy with it. But Kakashi trusts him, and the last thing Kurama wants is to hurt Kakashi, so he makes himself pause, raises his head to see Kakashi with his head thrown back, expression tight.

“Kaka—” He breaks off, grits his teeth and whines, sliding forward another inch as he tries to brace himself, and Kakashi groans. The leg around his thighs pulls tight, and Kakashi presses back, a clear enough sign. With a sound of relief, Kurama presses in, bottoms out with a bitten-off cry and pauses there, checking Kakashi’s face for pain.

“Kurama,” Kakashi says, strained and rough and strangled. “I'm about to flip us over and do all the work myself. Please.”

His first thrust wrings a gasp from Kakashi, and the second a rough moan. Legs hook tight around his hips as Kurama slides in, pulls back, and each movement winds the desire tighter, builds the heat. He gasps out a fractured version of Kakashi’s name, finds Kakashi’s mouth and slants a messy, graceless kiss over his lips. Kakashi’s body clamps down around him, blindingly tight, and Kurama hisses, feels fingers in his hair and gets a hand on Kakashi’s hip, hitching his body up.

Another thrust wrings a cry from Kakashi’s throat, makes him shudder, and his hands go tight, dragging Kurama’s head down. More than willing to comply, Kurama nips at his throat, kisses his jaw, feels the mind-numbing surge of pleasure washing over him. He tries to gasp out a warning, tangled around Kakashi’s name, and Kakashi presses an open-mouthed kiss to his temple.

“Again, again,” Kakashi groans, and Kurama shifts forward, pulls up, hears the cry that says that’s the right angle. Kakashi’s body clenches around him, painfully tight, and Kurama can't hold back anymore. Three hard thrusts and he’s coming, a breathless cry that might be the beginning of Kakashi’s name torn from him. He slumps, head spinning, feels Kakashi’s cock caught hard between their bodies, and pulls back as carefully as watery muscles will allow.

Kakashi rolls with him, sprawls over him and kisses him deep and hard, and Kurama kisses back as best he can, uncoordinated and hazy.

“Can I?” Kakashi asks against his lips, hips jerking, and he sounds wrecked, wild. It’s too soon for much, but that tone sparks through Kurama’s blood, makes him whine against Kakashi’s mouth, and he rolls over onto his stomach, spreading his legs. Kakashi slides between them, breaths loud in the still air, and he kisses down Kurama’s spine as he finds the lube again, fumbles it open, and then two fingers are sliding into Kurama’s hole, pushing slick into him, pulling back so Kakashi can add more.

It’s wet and feels strange, but tingles across overwrought nerves and forces a sound from Kurama’s throat. He doesn’t know whether to push back into it or pull away, except then there’s another finger, more stretch, and oh, that makes the sensations sharper. Kurama shivers and groans, spreads his legs as sharp teeth skim his spine, and he twitches, instinct screaming predator even as he thrusts back, pushes into the weight of Kakashi’s body on top of him.

“Perfect,” Kakashi breathes in his ear, sprawling over Kurama’s back with a hand on his hip to keep him still. His other hand pushes forward, drags a low, needy sound from Kurama’s throat as the fingers spread wide, and then they're gone. An instant later Kakashi is pushing into him, thick and heavy, and it feels like he’s dragging over every single nerve in Kurama’s body, pleasure on the very edge of pain. He gasps, curls his hands in the sheets as Kakashi curses, breathless. There's a hand on his back, splayed across his spine as Kakashi pushes up, pushes all the way in in one smooth slide until his hips are flush against Kurama’s ass. He’s so hard, the press of him making Kurama shiver, and it feels like an invasion but it’s so good he can't bring himself to care. There's only the stretch, the sparks across his nerves that light up each shift of Kakashi’s body, the weight on top of him.

Kakashi gives it one more second before he pulls out, slow and careful, and then slams forward with a snap of his hips. Kurama snarls, jerking, pushes back because that was everything he needed and he wants more, and Kakashi gives it to him, braces his knees against the slippery sheets and fucks him hard, one hand pressing Kurama down, the other locked around his side. Each thrust shudders up Kurama’s spine, makes spots of color swim behind his eyes. He rocks back as best he can, and he can feel the coiled tension in Kakashi, the desperate way he’s chasing his orgasm, each snap of his hips enough to slam him home. There's a low ache building, but it makes the pleasure sweeter, makes Kurama gasp and fight the weight on him and push back for more.

Kakashi growls, low and sharp, and his hand slips off Kurama’s sweat-slick skin. He pitches forward, and inside of Kurama his cock shifts, drives home deeper, and Kurama shouts. Kakashi’s chest is against his back, pressing him into the sheets, and Kurama isn’t hard but that almost makes it better, lets him focus everything on way Kakashi if fucking him. A mouth on his neck, a ragged sound against his skin, and then teeth, sharp canines biting down. Kakashi slams into him, shudders and gasps and goes still, and Kurama shivers as aftershocks of pleasure slide up his body. The panting breaths against his shoulder turn to a kiss, sloppy and tired, and Kakashi strokes his hips with long, slow sweeps, in no hurry to pull out.

“You okay?” he asks roughly.

“Mm.” Kurama shifts a little, more to feel Kakashi inside of him than any sort of impatience. He’s softening, but the weight of him is still strange, still good. “Fuck, we’re definitely doing that again.”

Kakashi chuckles, and his grip is something close to possessive as he presses kisses across Kurama’s shoulder blades and then down his spine. “No argument from me,” he murmurs. After another long moment, he groans and pulls out, flopping down next to Kurama and tugging pointedly at his arm. Without complaint, Kurama goes, curling up against his chest and letting his head rest on Kakashi’s collarbone. Fingers trail through Kurama’s hair, soft and soothing, and Kurama hums.

“I really, really don’t hate you right now,” he says into Kakashi’s chest, and feels him chuckle.

“Good,” Kakashi tells him. “Because I don’t hate you, either.”

Kurama hums again, entirely pleased with that knowledge, and lets his eyes drift closed.

 

 

He’s rather less pleased when four jinchuuriki kids, five shinobi children, Rōshi, and Yagura storm the bedroom several hours later, shouting about rescuing red-haired princesses and defeating evil porn-reading dragons. Kakashi groans very loudly and drags a pillow over his head, while Kurama mutters vicious curses at the ceiling and gives Rōshi a glare that just dares him to tug on the sheet his hand is inching towards.

“Kurama-nii, Kurama-nii, we’re here to rescue you!” Naruto cheers, clambering up onto the bed, and Kurama groans and catches him as he starts to slip, dragging him into his lap.

“Yeah, kit,” he sighs, and buries his face in sun-gold hair to hide his smile. “I noticed.”

Somewhere, he’s absolutely certain, his Naruto is laughing.