Chapter Text
It had been a bet. A foolish, idiotic, asinine bet. And now he was going to die for it.
Bet you can't steal a persimmon from the palace gardens, Iruka. Iruka's thoughts were high-pitched and mocking; the self-ridicule a nice distraction from the way he was being bundled up and tossed over a shoulder like he weighed nothing at all. He didn't try to fight it. You said you could sneak into any building, Iruka. This should be no problem for you.
He always had let his bravado get him into trouble. Whether it was boasting of the things he was capable of or what he'd done in the past, even at twenty years old, he hadn't yet grown out of his childhood habit, and Mizuki knew it. He knew exactly the things to say to get Iruka in the right frame of mind for some high-level stupidity.
Out of relentless curiosity, Iruka had scouted around the palace enough to find a flaw in its security. It was a little thing, an irregularity in the way the guards patrolled during their nightly shift change, but he'd been sure he'd be able to get in and out without notice. It'd been an interesting secret, a tiny I know something you don't know that gave his step just a tad more bounce. He hadn't planned on doing anything with that knowledge, but then he'd told Mizuki and things had escalated.
Which was how he found himself here, apprehended by guards for trespassing and suspicion of who knew what else. All Iruka had planned to do was grab one piece of fruit as proof of his inability to turn down a bad idea and then leave. He wasn't a thief, he didn't want to steal more than that, he didn't want to cause any harm. It was a single piece of fruit, and even if it was one that didn't grow anywhere else in the kingdom, the palace gardens had miles of orchards. Surely no one would notice.
But his attempts at scouting hadn't been so great after all. With as quickly as the guards had found him, they might as well have been waiting for him.
Iruka thanked any gods listening that he hadn't allowed Izumo and Kotetsu to come with him. They'd both warned him against this, not that Iruka had listened. They were usually up for a good bit of mischief, but they'd told him this was ill-advised from the start.
"You don't take risks when it comes to the King. Don't let Mizuki talk you into this idiocy," they'd said.
But when it'd become clear that Iruka wasn't going to back down, they'd both wanted to go with him, to keep a lookout for any stray guards if nothing else. Iruka had convinced them to stay outside the palace walls. He just hoped they didn't do anything foolish when they realized he wasn't coming back. They were too good of friends. He didn't deserve them, and they definitely didn't deserve to get in trouble because of him.
Iruka was tossed unceremoniously into a dim, lantern-lit cell. The slamming of the door behind him and the heavy click of the lock sliding into place felt like his fate being sealed. He sank down onto the nearest cot's thin mattress and waited for whatever would come next.
Just a few minutes later, it was clear no gods had been listening to his prayers. Or if they had been, those gods hated Iruka. The door to the cell was unlocked and thrown open, only to be slammed shut again after Izumo and Kotetsu had been shoved inside. Iruka stared at them in horror.
"What- why?" Iruka sputtered. There was no way they could have realized he'd been caught yet. They shouldn't have had time to do anything foolish.
"That's what I want to know," Izumo said, plopping down onto the cot next to Iruka and glaring at the cell door.
Iruka looked at Kotetsu who shrugged and sat on a cot across from them. "They came out of nowhere and grabbed us, like they knew exactly where we'd be."
"They wouldn't even tell us what we'd done wrong. Just a grunt of 'criminal activity,'" Izumo said.
Iruka groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry I got you caught up in this."
Izumo slapped him hard on the shoulder. "Hey, what are friends for if not receiving unnecessarily harsh punishments for minor crimes together?"
"We didn't do anything," Iruka said. "Or at least, you didn't do anything. Surely-"
He looked up to see Izumo and Kotetsu exchanging a glance.
"What?" Iruka asked.
"They call him the Friend Killer, Iruka. The Cold-Blooded King. You don't get names like that for being nice or lenient," Izumo said.
"I know the rumors, but they can't all be true. Just look at the state of the kingdom. We've been at peace for years now. Konoha is prosperous. Whatever people say, he's a good king. He can't be that cruel."
"Always trying to see the best in people, aren't you, Iruka?" Kotetsu asked.
"No one could be as bad as those rumors."
"Iruka," Izumo said almost gently.
"I know, I know, but I just can't believe-"
"We know you can't. That's what makes you you," Kotetsu said.
"It'll be fine," Iruka said, ignoring the skeptical looks Izumo and Kotetsu sent him. "It'll work out."
"Sure it will," Izumo said, but they could all hear exactly how little he believed it.
~*~*~
The following day, they were fed well enough, and though not spacious, there was still room for the three of them to move around the cell. It wasn't damp or dirty, it wasn't sweltering hot or freezing cold. It was even decently lit during daylight hours, and they were given water to wash with, room temperature, but clean. Their treatment was humane, something Iruka hadn't expected for all his hope that the rumors were exaggerated.
That evening, the guards came again and opened the cell door.
"You," one of them said, pointing to Izumo. "You will come with us."
Iruka was on his feet immediately. "No."
The guard stared at him with large, creepy eyes, but Iruka refused to back down.
"Take me instead," Iruka said, moving to stand between the guards and his friends.
"Iruka," Kotetsu hissed, "he will kill you."
Iruka shook his head. "You guys didn't do anything. I need to take responsibility for my actions."
"Iruka," Izumo started.
"No," Iruka said again, "if he wants to execute you, he needs to execute me first."
"Pretty sure he will," Kotetsu muttered.
Iruka's stomach twisted with dread, but he didn't look back at his friends. "Take me instead," he repeated to the guards.
They glanced at each other, shrugged, then led Iruka out of the cell before he could say goodbye.
~*~*~
The palace was massive, though Iruka doubted he was seeing more than a fraction as they led him through it. Each corridor was more ornate than the last. Gilded scrolls covered the walls; some depicted Konoha's history, others delicate scenery. Even if he was walking to his death, Iruka couldn't help but stare in awe. He hadn't seen this much wealth in his whole life.
Their footfalls against the polished wooden floors echoed down the hallways, leading them ever closer to his fate. The soft smell of cedar and cypress hung in the air, a scent straight from his childhood home. Iruka inhaled deeply and used the memories it brought up to steady himself.
They finally stopped in front of a set of large sliding doors decorated with forked lightning and a thousand birds in flight, each with one glittering ruby eye. Iruka tried to remember to breathe as the guards slid the doors open and flanked him as he stepped inside.
He didn't know what to expect. The rumors painted the King to be a monster with glowing red eyes and hands dripping blood. If a person saw his face, they died, that was what everyone said. He killed his friends, his family, and anyone who crossed him.
Iruka's heart pounded a frantic rhythm in his chest, but he forced his hands not to shake as he walked into the King's rooms.
Then he blinked at the sight before him.
Whatever he'd expected, this wasn't it. A man with gray hair sat slouched in a chair, layers of baggy embroidered robes all but obscuring his form. A cloth covered the bottom half of his face and a patch rested over one of his eyes. He was reading a bright orange book, one Iruka had heard about, but had never read himself. Its contents were talked about in nearly as many hushed whispers as the King, though for entirely different reasons. It was said to be the most scandalous book ever written, that it would make even the hardest warrior blush. Though with the cloth covering his face, it would be impossible to tell if the King was blushing.
He glanced up from his book, his one visible eye looking bored as he regarded Iruka.
All Iruka could do was hold his breath and wait for him to speak.
~*~*~
Kakashi watched as his guards brought the prisoner forward, Tenzo pushing him into a bow at a respectful distance from Kakashi's chair. The man didn't fight it. Genma made a suggestive little wiggle of his eyebrow, the clear "look at this one" he saved for only the people he found the most attractive. Even Kakashi could admit that the prisoner was decent looking. For a criminal.
"This isn't the one I asked for," Kakashi said. He'd been given descriptions of the three men that had been captured, and he'd wanted to talk to one of the two that had been taken outside the palace grounds first.
"No, Sir," Tenzo replied, bowing in apology. "This is the one that broke into the grounds. He insisted we bring him, not his friends."
One of Kakashi's eyebrows rose. No one volunteered to come before him; most would happily let their friends go first. But it didn't matter, it wouldn't affect his judgment.
"What's your name?"
"Umino Iruka, Your Highness," the man said. There was a hint of nerves in his voice, but underneath that was a quiet determination.
"Umino Iruka," Kakashi said. "You have been charged with unlawfully breaking into the palace grounds for nefarious purposes. Tonight you will act as my servant. If you have not proven yourself innocent by midnight, you will be executed."
The prisoner snorted and Kakashi blinked at him. People did not snort when he said that, they fell to their knees and begged for their lives.
"I was caught in the act, red-handed. I was going to steal from your gardens. There's no proving myself innocent. I did it. I won't lie to try to save myself."
Kakashi studied him. He didn't know how to react to this. No one had ever told him the truth before, not during one of these trials. They lied, they begged, they bribed, but they never told the truth.
There was a willful, stubborn tilt to Iruka's chin that Kakashi wasn't used to seeing and it fascinated him. Everyone lowered their eyes when they spoke to him; they didn't stare straight at him with a challenge plain on their face.
Kakashi mentally shook himself. Any criminal could be honest when they thought it served them best, that didn't mean they were honest all the time. And it didn't mean they could be trusted. There were less than a dozen people Kakashi trusted, and even that trust had limits.
"You don't deny your crimes even if it means death?"
"No. I snuck into the palace grounds, I planned to steal from you. I did that. It was my actions, my decision. Mine and mine alone. Please don't punish my friends for my stupidity. They did nothing wrong. They actually tried to talk me out of it."
"But they didn't stop you, which makes them complicit. And you're willing to risk your life to save them?" In Kakashi's experience, people lied about their friends to save themselves. The friends that would die for you were few and far between, especially among thieves.
"Yes," Iruka said, still staring at Kakashi with determination. "If anyone has to die for this, it should be me and only me."
Kakashi continued to study him, until the other man shifted, clearly uncomfortable under his gaze, but he didn't back down, the challenge was still unmistakable in his eyes.
No one was that good; everyone had their price. Kakashi pushed, wanting to see how far he'd go.
"What else would you do?" he asked, voice low and suggestive. He eyed the criminal up and down and shifted his legs apart enough that someone might be able to kneel between them.
A step behind Iruka, Genma shot Tenzo a wide-eyed look, but Tenzo just shook his head.
Iruka got the suggestion loud and clear. He turned red, sputtered, then looked outraged. "Is that justice to you? Is that what you make people do to prove their innocence?"
Kakashi had to fight the urge to bring his legs back together and sit up straighter, it took effort to keep his tone cold. It’d been a long time since anyone outside his advisers had voiced disapproval of his actions, and never so emphatically. "I don’t have sex with criminals," Kakashi sneered.
"But you, what? Allow them to bribe you with blowjobs? Let them think you'll reduce their sentence if they suck you off?" Iruka’s face was still bright red with anger and embarrassment.
"No, but some offer," Kakashi said, voice casual. He didn't say that he'd never asked before, that he didn't know why he had this time. A criminal didn’t deserve that kind of explanation.
"Of course they would. Who wouldn’t to save their life?"
"You didn’t."
Iruka opened his mouth to say something then snapped it shut.
"People who think they can bribe me, with sex or other things, can be bribed themselves. They can’t be trusted."
"People do what they have to in order to stay alive."
"Exactly."
Iruka glared, Kakashi stared back. For one brief moment, Kakashi felt like he was the one who needed to prove something here, but he pushed it aside.
"You still have the rest of the night to serve me and prove your innocence."
Iruka gave him a disgusted look. "I will serve you if I must, but I have nothing to prove to you."
Kakashi shrugged his acknowledgment. "The guards will take you to the kitchen. Bring my meal." With that, he turned back to his book.
"Please," Iruka said sharply.
Kakashi looked up again. He'd heard that word quite often in these situations, but never in that tone. "What?"
"It’s what you say when you ask for something. Bring my meal, please."
Kakashi blinked after Iruka, who'd turned on his heel and walked out the door, Tenzo hurrying to catch up. After they'd left, Genma looked at Kakashi and grinned.
"Oh, I like him. Can we keep him?"
Kakashi scowled. He would not be keeping a thief, even if he did make Kakashi curious in a way no one else had in years.
People who didn't follow the laws were trash, and Kakashi wouldn't let them near the people he needed to protect. He wouldn't let himself trust anyone like that again.
~*~*~
Iruka and Tenzo returned a short time later with Kakashi’s meal. Tenzo nodded once to Kakashi then left the room, sliding the door shut behind him. As captain of Kakashi's personal guard, he knew the routine.
Iruka watched him go then looked around the room, realizing they’d been left alone. His eyes narrowed with suspicion and more than a little disgust.
Once again Kakashi felt the need to defend himself, to defend these trials, but he refused to give in to it. He didn't force anyone to do anything, and furthermore, he needed to test people this way. If he wanted to see what they were capable of, he needed to be alone with them. When guards were there, people's behavior was different than when they thought he was unprotected. That was when people showed their true colors.
He waved Iruka towards a low table and watched as he set out the various dishes the kitchen servants had given him. To his credit, his hands weren't shaking. His movements were confident and precise, like this was a regular job. As he worked, his eyebrows furrowed and he seemed to slip into deep thought, either ignoring or not noticing Kakashi's eye on him.
Kakashi had been holding these tests for years now. For crimes that threatened the palace, its residents, or the kingdom itself, there was no official trial. Kakashi was judge, jury, and executioner. Those that tried to bribe or kill him in order to escape were undeserving of mercy. And nearly everyone did one or both.
Test after test, Kakashi's beliefs were confirmed. Everyone lied, everyone betrayed. Over and over again, instead of finding a way to prove themselves, the criminals tried to kill him in order to save their own hides. Many of them tried to seduce him, thinking if they slept with him, he would let them go. He didn't touch any of them. But the ones that truly proved his beliefs were the ones that tried a combination of both, first offering him sex or money and then trying to kill him when they realized their ploy wasn't working.
Kakashi killed the would-be murderers himself. The lucky ones were banished from the kingdom on fear of death should they ever return. There were very few lucky ones.
Either way, no one ever returned home after Kakashi tested them. They were killed or exiled. And with each person gone, Kakashi's reputation as a cold-blooded killer grew.
No one had ever proven their innocence, though they'd all tried. Every single one lied. Even if Kakashi had all the evidence in the world to prove them guilty, they still said they hadn't done the crime. It wasn't them, people must be mistaken, they would never do anything like that.
Iruka had been the first to admit he was guilty. There was something oddly genuine about him that Kakashi hadn't seen in ages. But that couldn't be trusted, Kakashi had been tricked before.
Kakashi stood and made his way over to the table, watching Iruka's body language as he drew closer. He tensed, but continued to arrange dishes on the table.
Kakashi lowered himself to the floor, sitting on a cushion in front of the myriad of dishes Iruka had spread out for him.
As Kakashi reached for his chopsticks, Iruka set a small glass bottle holding a clear liquid in front of him with a sharp click. It was full and unopened.
"One of the serving girls slipped this to me," Iruka said, an edge to his voice. "Along with a hastily whispered sob story about the horrible things you do to her. Perhaps you know which one I'm talking about? Black hair, red eyes?"
Kakashi stared at him. "Do you think you should get a reward for not poisoning me?"
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'd be willing to help an actual serving girl with such a story. If you were raping your servants, poisoning would be the least you deserved. That is, assuming the bottle even contains poison."
Kakashi raised an eyebrow, not sure where to start. Iruka had just admitted he'd kill him under the right circumstances. And even though he thought Kakashi had tried to extort sex from him earlier, he apparently didn't believe the story he'd been told. "An actual serving girl?"
"You see, this one had calluses that looked less like something you'd get from washing dishes all day and a lot more like she frequently handles kunai. But I suspect you know that already."
He'd seen this played out multiple different ways. Some criminals tried to poison him, some told him about Kurenai to try to win his favor, all of them had heard more than enough rumors about him to believe the worst. No one had figured out the scheme and confronted him about it. Kakashi was grudgingly impressed, but he wasn't going to admit that to a thief.
"And you know how kunai calluses look because?"
Iruka shrugged, spreading his hands before him, calluses clear on the palms and fingers. There were many things that could cause calluses like that, not just working with weapons. Anyone who did manual labor had their fair share as well, but Kakashi didn't think Iruka was a laborer and there was one callus around his index finger that looked like he regularly spun kunai around it. Kakashi had a similar one on his own hand.
Kakashi narrowed his eyes. Most civilians didn't learn how to handle kunai, and he knew the face of every single soldier in his army. Iruka wasn't one of them. He wasn't just a thief, he was someone with weapons training that had snuck onto the palace grounds.
"It's a hobby," Iruka said.
"Not a hobby most people have."
Iruka shrugged again. "I learned from my parents."
"They were soldiers?"
Iruka studied him, and Kakashi could feel himself being weighed to see if he was worth answering. After a moment, Iruka spoke. "They served under King Minato and died during the Invasion."
Kakashi hadn't expected that.
The Invasion. Kakashi remembered it all too clearly. It had led to Minato's death and a sixteen-year-old Kakashi being put into a position of power he'd never wanted or been trained for. The position was supposed to be temporary, if sixteen years could be considered temporary, but he couldn't remember the last time someone had called him Regent, not King. Another eight years, and hopefully he'd be free of the title altogether.
Kakashi mumbled the traditional prayer for fallen soldiers under his breath and Iruka covered his surprise by doing the same.
"You went to an orphanage after that?" Kakashi asked, curious despite himself.
Again that considering look, then after a few moments, an answer. "I was twelve. I didn't know there were places to go. I learned to manage on my own with friends in a similar position."
Kakashi bit back the urge to apologize. That had been his fault, his responsibility. Too many orphans from the war had slipped through the cracks as Kakashi had learned to juggle all the duties of leadership. But instead of saying that, he forced himself back into his bored, disinterested persona. He wasn't on trial here, Iruka was. Kakashi didn't need to know his backstory. This conversation had gone on long enough. People had tried to tell him sob stories before, in the hope that they would sway him. They never worked.
"Wait there," Kakashi said, gesturing to where Iruka was kneeling by the table, "in case I need anything."
Iruka raised an eyebrow at him.
"Wait there, please," Kakashi said, the word mocking and sarcastic on his tongue.
Iruka made a displeased tsking noise, but he did as he was told, sitting back on his heels and waiting.
Satisfied with the reaction, Kakashi opened his book again, reading as he began to eat, moving his mask aside just enough to take bites, but not enough for Iruka to see his face. He focused far more on the book than on the meal, but even then, the majority of his attention was on the man kneeling next to him, an odd puzzle that he had one night to solve.
~*~*~
Growing up on the streets, food had become precious, something that should never be wasted. But for the first time since the Invasion, Iruka wanted to throw it. Specifically, into the King's face.
The King looked bored now, all but drowning in his massive robes.
There was a sharp knife still sitting on the tray Iruka had brought into the room. He hadn't bothered putting it on the table. None of the food was the kind that required cutting. The knife had one purpose, and that was the exact same as the little bottle of something he'd been given. The "serving girl" had told him it was a strong poison; colorless, odorless, and flavorless. He suspected if he'd opened it, it would have been something harmless as well. Like water.
The King appeared distracted by his book, but Iruka doubted there was a moment he didn't know exactly what Iruka was doing.
With effort, he got his temper back under control. He was messing this up. Deliberate baiting aside, he still needed to figure a way out of this, or at the very least, a way to keep his friends from being killed after him. Yelling at the King was not going to accomplish that.
From the angle he was sitting, he could read bits and pieces of the King's book. He caught fragments of sentences, like flashes of skin, tantalizing, making him want to see more.
An idea started to form in his head. It was stupid, foolish, crazy. But then again, that was what had landed him here in the first place. Maybe it could be what got him out too.
~*~*~
After dinner, Iruka trailed the King to the palace baths. The humid air in the room made his clothes cling to his skin as soon as they stepped inside.
The King stared at him expectantly, head tilted in something of a smug challenge like he thought Iruka would protest again. It took Iruka a minute to realize what he wanted, but when he did, his cheeks burned. The only times he'd undressed other adults, it'd been a much more mutual thing.
He helped peel the King out of his clothing, embroidered piece by embroidered piece, layer of silk by layer of silk, down to a shirt of lightweight mesh armor. Iruka doubted the kitchen knife would have done much against that shirt. He wondered how many people had tried to stab the King during dinner, only to realize that he was protected from the worst of it.
It hadn't protected him from everything though. His body was all hard muscles and a patchwork of scars, clearly that of a warrior, not what Iruka would have expected from a king. He would have thought he'd be softer, less sinew and strength. One tattoo decorated his upper arm, a swirling design that Iruka recognized as the symbol of the former King's personal guard. He'd heard that rumor too, that the man before him had been a trusted guard of the former king, right up until he'd single-handedly slaughtered the king and all his family.
Iruka's cheeks burned even hotter as he undid the King's fundoshi, trying to keep as much distance as possible between them while he unwound it, trying not to touch anything he shouldn't. The worst of it was the way the King watched him, disdainful and amused, like he was enjoying Iruka's discomfort.
That only left the cloth that covered the King's mouth and the patch over his eye. Iruka hesitated, remembering the rumors about how anyone who saw the King's face was killed immediately. But the King didn't tell him to remove it, instead walking over to a small wooden stool in the washing area and sitting on it.
"Wash me," he ordered, then gave a small snort before adding an insincere "please."
Iruka gritted his teeth and rolled back his sleeves, trying not to think too much about what he was doing, instead focusing on keeping his clothing as dry as possible and not getting soap on himself.
The King seemed unbothered by his nudity or by having a stranger wash him, but Iruka's cheeks burned at the intimacy of it.
He didn't wash more than halfway up the King's thighs, or lower on his torso than his waist. The entire time, he waited for the order to do the rest, but it didn't come. He turned away on the pretense of getting a bucket of hot water for rinsing, and the King used the time to wash the parts he hadn't. Iruka held back a sigh of relief. Small mercies, he supposed.
Iruka rinsed the soap off the King's body, again trying to avoid getting his own clothing wet, though not succeeding entirely.
Then the King rose and walked over to the large bath, stepping in and lowering himself into the hot water slowly, gesturing for Iruka to come stand beside him.
The King soaked with his head tilted back, exposing his long, pale neck. His visible eye was closed, making him look almost asleep. Even though his face was still covered, a blade for shaving sat on a small table near the bath, glittering in the lantern-lit room. The situation was provocative, all but inviting an attack.
Iruka wanted to scoff at it. Like anyone would shave while they were in the bath.
It wasn't hard to see the pattern, to realize that the King was trying to lure people into attacking him. Iruka didn't bother considering it. He wasn't a murderer, and even if he had wanted to try it, one look at the King's body proved how foolish that would be. No one ended up alive with that many battle scars without being able to fight. There had to be at least one dead body for each of those scars, probably more than one.
Instead, Iruka took a deep breath then asked the question he'd been thinking about since dinner.
"Would you like to hear a story?"
The King cracked open his visible eye. He'd left his book behind in his rooms, this might be Iruka's only chance.
He shrugged one shoulder, water rolling over it as it broke the surface, ripples spreading out to the edge. "Why not." His eyelid slid shut again like he didn't care what Iruka did.
Iruka had thought about this, about what kind of story he would tell. He had no clues to go on except the orange book and the offer to let Iruka bribe him sexually. Even if that was a trap too, Iruka would place money on the King being at least slightly interested in men. He was going to have to bet a lot more than just money, but he couldn't imagine the King being willing to take sexual favors from male criminals if he were completely uninterested. He also had no wife, though rumor said it was because he killed all the women he slept with.
Iruka had never read the book, but he'd heard things whispered about it, enough to know that all the couples in it were straight. He needed something the King wasn't getting from the book if he wanted to keep him entertained. As far as he knew, there was no gay version of the book on the market. If there were, it'd be scandalous enough that Iruka would have heard of it.
Which brought him to his plan. His foolish, crazy, stupid plan. One born from countless nights telling himself stories to distract from the growling of his stomach after the Invasion, one developed with each orphan he'd taken care of since then, trying to replace the stories they'd never hear again with some of his own. Though none of those stories were anything like the one he was about to tell.
"This story is about a boy from a small, snowy village and the demon who fell in love with him."
The King's eye opened once again, studying Iruka. It was unnerving, that gaze, but Iruka didn't let it stop him. He started to tell his story.
~*~*~
Kakashi wasn't sure what Iruka's move was here. When he'd asked if Kakashi wanted to hear a story, Kakashi had assumed Iruka was going to tell him a sob story about his own childhood or some thinly veiled fable about wicked kings getting their comeuppance. What he got was something entirely different.
It was a story about a boy who lived a life of quiet happiness with his family until one day that happiness came crashing down around him in sharp, shattered ice. Seeing his mother killed by his father, then killing his father with his newly discovered, uncontrolled magical abilities. Running from the mob that chased after him because of those abilities, doing anything and everything he needed to do to survive. Realizing from far too young an age that the world around him found him useful for his body alone and if he wanted food or shelter, that was all he had to give.
It was not the sort of story Kakashi would have imagined Iruka telling. He had seemed so proper and uptight when Kakashi had suggested he offer sex in return for his freedom. Kakashi would have labeled him a prude or a virgin from the way he'd reacted as he'd removed Kakashi's clothing and washed him. But he didn't shy away from the darkest parts of the story. His descriptions of violence were vivid and gory. The parts dealing with the boy's forced prostitution didn't try to make the encounters sexual in nature, but instead focused on the emotional toll the boy suffered. It left Kakashi's stomach twisted with disgust, just as it was intended to. The story was dark and entirely too real.
Kakashi stood abruptly, water rolling down his body and splashing out of the bath. Next to him, Iruka jumped back, whether to avoid the water or him, Kakashi wasn't sure.
He looked at Kakashi, wary, questions clear in his eyes.
"I've bathed for long enough," Kakashi said, once again feeling the need to explain himself and this time giving in. "You may finish your story back in my quarters."
Iruka nodded and offered him a towel. Kakashi stood there, looking at him until he got the hint again. Cheeks stained red, he toweled Kakashi dry. Like with his washing, his motions were carefully unstimulating and he avoided Kakashi's groin like he was carrying diseases.
For a moment Kakashi considered pushing him, seeing what he'd do if he said to dry him properly. All of him. But he let the idea go without acting on it, grabbing the towel from Iruka to finish the job while Iruka looked away.
Iruka helped him dress in the lighter robes for sleeping that his servants had left in the room. Kakashi never bothered to wrap himself in a new fundoshi before bed, but for a moment, he considered that too, amused by the idea of how flustered it would probably make the man if he had to do it.
There was tension in Iruka's body as he silently went through the motions of dressing Kakashi and following him back to his rooms. It made Kakashi wonder what he was thinking, if it was because of the embarrassment of waiting on someone so intimately, or if he was regretting the story he had started, if he thought he'd gone too far and Kakashi had disliked it.
Back in his quarters, Kakashi did not immediately pick up his book like he normally would have. It was the last hour before midnight that people got the most desperate and they always thought he wasn't paying attention when he was reading.
He settled himself on a low chair and gestured for Iruka to kneel on one of the cushions in front of him. Iruka knelt on the floor a little distance away instead, avoiding the cushions, but stayed silent.
Kakashi stared at him, realizing he wasn't going to start again until he was asked.
"Continue," he ordered.
Iruka scowled at the lack of courtesy, but he started his story.
The story jumped to the demon. Born from mist, he killed easily, caring nothing at all for those around him. He was cruel and vicious to a point never seen before. He took what he wanted, used what he needed, and regretted none of his actions.
The demon found the boy nearly dead, but even then he could see his strength, how powerful he could become, what an amazing tool he would be. He took the boy in and sharpened him, shaping him into the weapon he needed. The boy offered his body in payment, but the demon refused, disgusted that the world would use such a beautiful tool in that way.
He trained the boy until he turned into the perfect weapon for the demon to wield, and the boy followed him loyally, doing everything in his power to make the demon's life better.
The boy became a strong young man, as delicate and beautiful as he was deadly. The demon was proud of his creation in a way that he'd never felt before. Each time he looked at the boy, he felt pleased and possessive, greedy and jealous. His weapon was his alone, perfect for him like no other could be. Wanting to know everything it was capable of was only natural. Only a fool would use a weapon he didn't truly know.
"But you see," Iruka said, "the entire time the demon was molding the boy, changing him into the ideal weapon, the boy was changing the demon as well, in ways the demon wouldn't realize until it was too late."
"For all the years they'd been together, it started slowly," Iruka continued, his voice getting a little lower, caressing each word a little more. Kakashi's toes wanted to curl in anticipation. He knew where this was going now.
During the day, the boy found any excuse to touch him, checking to see the condition of his body after they trained together, removing his clothing, bathing him.
Kakashi's mind supplied mental images of Iruka doing the same to him just an hour ago, but he ignored them and focused on the story. It had been nothing like what Iruka was describing anyway.
The boy had bathed the demon for years, but now his fingers lingered on the demon's skin, his eyes followed the lines of his body, the hunger in them unconcealed. The demon was aware of how much older the boy was now, how his body had matured and grown into something strong and beautiful. He was never more aware of it then at night, when they lay beside each other wherever their journey had taken them, and the boy thought the demon was asleep.
The sounds of blankets and clothes rustling and skin rubbing against skin were loud in the night, as were the boy's muffled pants and gasps. The demon didn't let himself watch, but he listened and breathed in the sharp scent of pleasure.
For the first time in the demon's life, he didn't immediately reach out and take the thing he wanted, he didn't just use it and throw it away. He waited for the boy to come to him.
There was weeks of this, an exquisite sort of torture the demon was starting to like far too much. Even without looking, he could picture what was happening. He memorized the rhythm the boy used most often, the hitches in his breath that meant he was about to come. After a few weeks, the scent of some kind of oil joined the natural scent of his release, as did the sound of fingers working inside a body, not just stroking a hard cock.
The demon looked forward to it each night, waiting for it with anticipation, listening for every small noise, imagining it clearly in his mind. Each night his dick grew hard, but he didn't touch himself. He let the ache of it build in his balls, let the desire to possess grow hot and wild, and still he waited.
He waited until one night, when the boy's gasps were louder than usual, when the sound of skin against skin was more frantic, when instead of coming with a cut off groan, the boy gasped out the demon's name.
The demon turned, cock hard as steel, balls aching. He ran his hand under the blanket of the bed they were sharing and dragged his fingers over the boy's stomach, enjoying the way the boy shivered at the touch, the muscles of his stomach jumping, the shattered moan it pulled from him. His fingers ran through the boy's release, smearing it over his skin.
"'Yes?' the demon asked, his voice a low growl in the dark," Iruka said, his voice low as well. "The boy shifted under the covers, his legs falling open in invitation. In the dim light of the room, he looked at the demon, his eyes dark with want. His fingers gripped onto the demon's arms. He opened his mouth to speak."
A loud chime started to sound outside the palace, nearly causing Kakashi to jump. His heart was pounding, though not from the sounding of the time. He shifted, adjusting his robe across his lap. He wasn't particularly hard, but that didn't mean his dick was completely uninterested in Iruka's story either.
Iruka still knelt in front of him, though he was looking out the nearest window, face carefully blank.
"Continue," Kakashi commanded.
Iruka turned and looked at him, challenge back in his eyes. "It's midnight," he said. "I'm done serving you. What's my sentence?"
Kakashi tried not to sputter at that, but Iruka was right. The clock outside finished sounding the hour. Midnight. Kakashi had lost track of time, too wrapped up in the story Iruka was spinning.
He realized what Iruka was doing and found himself wanting to chuckle. It was refreshing, really. Smart and resourceful, using Kakashi's weakness for smut against him. Iruka wasn't trying to bribe or seduce Kakashi, but he was buying for more time. No one had tried that in an honest way before.
Kakashi weighed his options.
"If I hold off on sentencing you and allow you to serve me again, will you finish the story?" he asked after a moment.
Iruka studied him back. "Will you promise not to sentence my friends until after you have sentenced me?"
Interesting, Kakashi thought. Once again, Iruka seemed more concerned about his friends than his own welfare.
Kakashi considered then nodded. "I'm willing to wait to sentence them."
Iruka nodded in return. "Then I will continue the story tomorrow night."
Kakashi raised his voice and called his guards. Genma stepped in a moment later.
"Take him back to the cells," Kakashi commanded. "Bring him again tomorrow night."
Genma did a poor job of keeping the surprise from his face, but he caught himself quickly. "Yes, Sir."
As Genma led Iruka out of the room, Tenzo looked in quickly, having overheard the command. He shot a questioning glance at Kakashi before he left, but Kakashi didn't bother responding to it.
It hadn't escaped his notice that Iruka had said he would continue the story, not finish it. He grinned under his mask. This might end up being very interesting indeed. Even if the man was a criminal, Kakashi couldn't see any harm in allowing him to finish his tale. It'd be another night, two max, before Iruka finished, and then Kakashi could sentence him. But until then, Kakashi would enjoy the story he spun.
He stood and stretched then walked across the room to get his book. It'd do for now.
~*~*~
On his way back to the cells, Iruka tried not to sigh with relief. It was only one night, but it was a start. He could feel both guards shooting him glances. Clearly they had questions, but they didn't ask them. If the rumors about the King were even partially true, this hadn't happened before.
Both Izumo and Kotetsu stood abruptly when the cell was opened and Iruka walked in. They waited half a second after the door was closed and locked behind him before they rushed forward, grabbing onto him, question after question spilling from their lips.
"What happened?"
"Did he let you go?"
"Are we going to be executed?"
"How are you not dead?"
"I'm not sure," Iruka said, shaking his head, "but I think I have a plan. I'll get you two out of this, even if it's the last thing I do."
Izumo and Kotetsu exchanged glances, but they didn't look like they doubted him as much as they had the night before.
~*~*~