[The wait is so fucking maddening that Sasuke's suddenly certain he isn't dreaming.]
[Of course there are other cues. The way Kakashi's fingers shift against his neck, pressing tendon and sinew in a way that makes the blood beat a little harder in Sasuke's veins, with just enough pressure to fuzz the faintest, faintest outline of purple at the lower corners of his vision. Or maybe that's just the edge of dizziness that comes when Kakashi's thigh presses in closer and strokes against his junk, pressing his balls up against his cock and making the latter twitch suddenly closer to firm, making the already labored breaths shudder over his lips. Gods.]
[But all of that is nothing compared to the anticipation.]
[The way those goosebumps standing up every single hair follicle tingle numb but sharp as Kakashi just watches him, sizes him up, promises and consideration in his gaze and Sasuke feels half like a priceless heirloom and half like a cut of meat. Those eyes tell him Kakashi knows exactly how to take care of him, and also that Kakashi's going to devour him whole. His eyes promise lips and teeth with an explicitness Sasuke didn't know was even possible. And all the time, that one thumb grazing over the pounding vessel of his blood screams danger and protection in a perfect, promised balance Sasuke has no idea how to combat. Not that he fears the threat - just that the threat is going to drive him mad the longer it goes unfulfilled.]
[It's not until Kakashi leans close enough for their noses to brush that Sasuke's eyes drop, from one grey eye to two covered lips, still curled into that smirk that's so, so much clearer through fabric at this distance. And still Kakashi holds off and the tenseness winding tighter and tighter in Sasuke's body threatens to snap. He doesn't fidget, doesn't actually let his body move with that instinct, but it's so tangible in the air and in his flesh and in his chakra that it barely matters that he holds himself still.]
[And then Kakashi inhales, and that control falters and it's barely a fraction of a millimeter in movement but Sasuke half squirms against the wall as fingers curl across his eyes. His heartbeat spikes instantly, the edge of instinctive panic towards blindness that he never has and doubts he ever will escape, but he barely has a moment to contemplate that before hot breath rushes against his, weight leans into and over him and his cock twitches hard (gains slow firmness and length) against the slight shift of thigh between his - and lips press so firmly to his that he barely has a chance to feel the way four lips meet and mold together before teeth are behind them and pinning his head back against the drywall, finally bringing that anticipation to a climax with such eagerness and force that Sasuke's not sure what direction his breath moves in: half sucking a gasp of still-disbelieving want out of the heat of Kakashi's mouth, half blowing a sigh of satisfied completion out through his nose. The pads of his fingers drag against the mottled surface of the paint as his fingers curl, and honest to the gods he sinks a quarter-inch against that wall as his knees turn to water. He suddenly doubts there was ever a time he didn't want this.]
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[Of course there are other cues. The way Kakashi's fingers shift against his neck, pressing tendon and sinew in a way that makes the blood beat a little harder in Sasuke's veins, with just enough pressure to fuzz the faintest, faintest outline of purple at the lower corners of his vision. Or maybe that's just the edge of dizziness that comes when Kakashi's thigh presses in closer and strokes against his junk, pressing his balls up against his cock and making the latter twitch suddenly closer to firm, making the already labored breaths shudder over his lips. Gods.]
[But all of that is nothing compared to the anticipation.]
[The way those goosebumps standing up every single hair follicle tingle numb but sharp as Kakashi just watches him, sizes him up, promises and consideration in his gaze and Sasuke feels half like a priceless heirloom and half like a cut of meat. Those eyes tell him Kakashi knows exactly how to take care of him, and also that Kakashi's going to devour him whole. His eyes promise lips and teeth with an explicitness Sasuke didn't know was even possible. And all the time, that one thumb grazing over the pounding vessel of his blood screams danger and protection in a perfect, promised balance Sasuke has no idea how to combat. Not that he fears the threat - just that the threat is going to drive him mad the longer it goes unfulfilled.]
[It's not until Kakashi leans close enough for their noses to brush that Sasuke's eyes drop, from one grey eye to two covered lips, still curled into that smirk that's so, so much clearer through fabric at this distance. And still Kakashi holds off and the tenseness winding tighter and tighter in Sasuke's body threatens to snap. He doesn't fidget, doesn't actually let his body move with that instinct, but it's so tangible in the air and in his flesh and in his chakra that it barely matters that he holds himself still.]
[And then Kakashi inhales, and that control falters and it's barely a fraction of a millimeter in movement but Sasuke half squirms against the wall as fingers curl across his eyes. His heartbeat spikes instantly, the edge of instinctive panic towards blindness that he never has and doubts he ever will escape, but he barely has a moment to contemplate that before hot breath rushes against his, weight leans into and over him and his cock twitches hard (gains slow firmness and length) against the slight shift of thigh between his - and lips press so firmly to his that he barely has a chance to feel the way four lips meet and mold together before teeth are behind them and pinning his head back against the drywall, finally bringing that anticipation to a climax with such eagerness and force that Sasuke's not sure what direction his breath moves in: half sucking a gasp of still-disbelieving want out of the heat of Kakashi's mouth, half blowing a sigh of satisfied completion out through his nose. The pads of his fingers drag against the mottled surface of the paint as his fingers curl, and honest to the gods he sinks a quarter-inch against that wall as his knees turn to water. He suddenly doubts there was ever a time he didn't want this.]