Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Indecent Exposure ~ A Naruto Fan-Fic (K/I) ❯ Chapter 1

Indecent Exposure

A 'Naruto' fan-fiction by Ookami Kasumi

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Summery: There's a reason Iruka prefers teaching to going out on missions. Missions are entirely too...stimulating. (K x I)

 

Warning: Mature (NC-17) M/M content, adult language.

 

`Naruto' characters, terms, and locations property of Masashi Kishimoto. This story was written for the intent of Personal enjoyment. No money was made from this work.

 

 

For Kiterie

 

 

~ One ~

 

The mission called for subtlety.

 

Five minutes to midnight on a Saturday night, Umino Iruka sauntered into the dimly lit dance club with his dark hair down around his shoulders. His distinctive nose scar was hidden under make-up, which included eyeliner, mascara, and scarlet lipstick outlined in black. The loose-knit fishnet top he wore displayed his broad shoulders and muscular chest and belly while the sleek black leather pants skimmed his lean thighs and rounded butt. On the broad studded belt around his narrow hips, the oversized bat emblem buckle sat low, drawing the eye straight to his crotch.

 

The clothes and make-up were deliberate, of course. The eyeliner and mascara made his brown eyes look particularly huge and vulnerable. The scarlet lipstick made his mouth look lush and inviting. His make-up advertised that he was most definitely looking for a good time with either gender. His clothes advertised that he didn't have the distinctive overly-ripped musculature of a battle-hardened soldier -- or ninja.

 

Subtlety...

 

Iruka squeezed onto the crowded dance floor and writhed to the heavy music, rocking his hips, waving his arms, shaking his ass, and rubbing up against anyone that cared to rub up against him. In a matter of minutes, he was just as sweaty, flushed, and excited -- as every other patron at the club was.

 

He danced his way across the floor to the bar, where he spotted his mark, the club's owner, sitting at the designated spot.

 

The man was bald, and huge. He towered head and shoulders over Iruka even seated, with heavy slabs of muscle hiding under a thick layer of fat that was barely contained by the gold silk dress-shirt and black dress slacks he wore. According to the file, he was a retired professional weight-lifter. Also according to the file, he still spent time in the gym. This meant that despite the softness around his middle, and fact that he had no known martial arts training, he was fully capable of crushing someone with his bare hands. In short, he was not someone to take lightly.

 

At the moment, the owner was grinning and laughing with a young man perched on his right knee and a young woman perched on his left.

 

Apparently, the other notation in the file had been correct. The man was definitely bi-sexual, though it had mentioned that he had a preference for young men.

 

Iruka sidled up to the bar only two stools away from his mark. His eyes focused on the liquor bottles displayed on the glass shelves on the back wall, he leaned across the counter, his rump high in the air, and ordered a whisky, neat from the bartender.

 

"Nice ass!"

 

Iruka turned to look wide-eyed at the club owner. He ducked his head, his cheeks warming under the light dusting of powder on his cheeks -- deliberately done to show off his blushes. "Thanks." He lifted his gaze to the owner and tilted his head. "Hey, aren't you that championship weightlifter from back in...?

 

The man threw back his head and laughed. "Am I that recognizable?"

 

Iruka tilted his head slightly to the side and smiled. "My dad won a whole lot of money betting on your matches. He says you never let him down."

 

The man laughed and waved Iruka over. "So your dad was a betting man, eh? How did he take the match were I faced...?"

 

Just like that, Iruka was in.

 

In less than five minutes, he was perched on the man's knee, the man's over-large sweaty arm cuddling him like a doll against his broad sweaty chest.

 

Iruka poured on the star-struck charm using every drop of history he'd gleaned from the man's file. He wasn't a genius, but he did have an extremely well-trained memory and fairly good acting skills. All he had to do was pretend that he was one of his students and gush. The blushes of embarrassment however, were entirely natural.

 

Ten minutes later, the owner was kissing him, wet, sloppy invasive kisses that summarily removed all of Iruka's lipstick. His big meaty hands pawed at Iruka's chest and belly.

 

Iruka moaned and writhed on the man's knee to encourage him, despite the fact that the rotten-milk taste of the man's mouth, the sweaty sour beer stench of his body, and the less than skillful groping turned his stomach.

 

Five minutes later, the owner walked Iruka into his cramped, trophy-filled back room and sat him on his desk. He spread Iruka's legs wide and stepped close.

 

Iruka threw his arms around the man's neck. During the kiss and grope that followed, he slid a long, slender senbon needle deep into the back of the man's neck, targeting a very specific nerve bundle.

 

Half a second later, the retired professional weightlifter dropped to his knees, his eyes wide with alarm, but completely unable to move, or raise his voice above a whisper.

 

The meaty thud from the owner's knees had barely faded when a tall, pale, and slender man stepped soundlessly into the tiny room. His decoratively shredded sleeveless black t-shirt and snug jeans revealed that every inch of him was pure whip-cord muscle. The messy shock of frost white hair falling over one side of his elegant face didn't quite hide the black skull and bones patch covering one eye. His full lips curved into a broad smile. "That was quick."

 

Iruka slid off the desk and scowled. "Not quick enough for me."

 

Smiling sweetly, the pale man knelt to catch the owner's gaze in his blue-gray eye, then and lifted his eye-patch, revealing a whirling red eye. Five minutes and one softly spoken conversation later, Hatake Kakashi had extracted every drop of information the owner could recall.

 

Iruka hastily wrote everything down on a small scroll.

 

Kakashi leaned close to the man's ear and whispered.

 

The retired weightlifter nodded.

 

Kakashi stood up, flipped his eye patch back down over his whirling red eye, and nodded to Iruka. "Done."

 

Iruka handed the scroll to Kakashi, and pulled a sealed alcohol wipe from a pocket sewn into the underside of his belt. He ripped the packet open, reached over, and carefully pulled the senbon from the back of the owner's neck. After a quick wipe, he slid the needle back into its sheath, also sewn into the underside of his broad belt. He stuffed the used wipe back into its packet and shoved it back into his belt. He then held his hand over the owner's small puncture wound. Glowing green chakra filtered from Iruka's hand into the mark, fading it from sight. He nodded at Kakashi.

 

Kakashi snapped his fingers.

 

The owner abruptly stood up, marched over to his desk chair, and sat down. His eyes closed and he slumped back making his chair creak alarmingly. Two breaths later, he was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

 

Kakashi nodded. "When he wakes up, he'll remember fucking you on his desk then chasing you out to catch a nap."

 

Iruka rolled his eyes. "How nice." He flashed through some hand-signs and whispered. His clothing became acid-washed black jeans and a red crop-top t-shirt, though his belt remained the same. His hair went long and glossy blond, and his eyes day-glow blue. At the same time, his body went busty, curvy, and feminine.

 

Kakashi blinked. "The sexy jutsu?"

 

Iruka winked and spoke in a voice that was sweetly feminine. "Better than any henge illusion, this is a full transformation. It goes all the way to the bone."

 

Kakashi blinked and his visible eye widened slightly. "Oh, really?"

 

Iruka blew him a kiss, fully aware that his bust-line jiggled with his motions.

 

Kakashi's gaze dropped below Iruka's chin. He swallowed. "Um, you forgot the bra."

 

Iruka giggle and latched on to Kakashi's arm. "No I didn't."

 

Less than a minute later, they were out of the club.

 

Ten minutes later, Iruka was ensconced in a stall of the public restroom in an abandoned amusement park and back in his proper body. With the ruthless application of the wet-wipes he never left home without, he cleaned the stench of the other man from his neck, chest, and belly. Feeling much better, he pulled on his standard-issue black turtleneck and tucked it into his equally black cargo pants. He then shrugged into his high-necked, green flack-jacket, looped his forehead protector with its scrolled leaf symbol around his arm, collected his backpack, and stepped out of the stall.

 

Kakashi stepped out of the stall next to his, dressed pretty much the same way with the addition of a black cloth mask covering the bottom half of his face including his nose. His forehead protector was pulled down to cover one eye. He held up the tattered black jeans and t-shirt he'd worn. "I had no idea you had clothes like this."

 

Iruka snorted and set the back-pack on the edge of the sink. "I wasn't always a school-teacher." With practiced speed, he bound his dark hair into a jaunty pony-tail.

 

Kakashi nodded. "So I saw. Where did you learn to dance like that?"

 

Iruka chuckled and turned on the water to fill the sink "Anko-chan." From his bag, he pulled out a washcloth, a towel, and soap.

 

Kakashi blinked. "Anko-chan? I didn't think anyone called her Anko-chan, except maybe Ibiki."

 

"I'm one of the privileged few." Iruka soaked the facecloth in the water. It was cold, but it was clean, and that was all that mattered. He soaped up the cloth and proceeded to scrub all traces of make-up from his face.

 

"Oh?" Kakashi folded his arms and leaned one shoulder against the stall, the very picture of nonchalance. "And what did you do to attain such a privilege?"

 

"Not a damned thing." Iruka scrubbed at the dregs of his eye make-up. Mascara was a bitch to get off without oil. "She was my genin teammate."

 

Kakashi frowned. "Doesn't that mean that your jounin sensei was...?"

 

Iruka winced but continued scrubbing. Gods, when will I learn to keep my mouth shut? "Yes, my sensei was Orochimaru, same as hers." Here it comes, the "your sensei killed the Hokage" speech. Like he didn't know? He splashed water onto his face to rinse off the soap.

 

Kakashi shrugged. "Well, that does explain where you learned to use senbon so skillfully." He scrubbed at his chin. "I mean you took him down with a single needle. I'm assuming it wasn't even drugged?"

 

Face dripping, Iruka stilled in surprise. He's not going to bring it up? He swept the water from his eyes and chanced a glance at Kakashi.

 

Kakashi smiled and shrugged.

 

Iruka grabbed for his towel and scrubbed his face dry. "No, no drugs. The needle was clean. If placed correctly, senbon work faster than any drug and there's nothing to trace in the target's bloodstream." He winced. This was not the time to deliver a lecture, especially to someone who probably knew more about senbon and their applications than he did. "Anyway..." He hastily shoved his stuff back into his backpack. "I'm not nearly as good with needles as Genma, but then he specializes in using them with poisons."

 

Kakashi stepped closer. "He specializes in using them for assassinations."

 

Iruka zipped his bag closed and stood to shrug it onto his back, but kept his gaze on the floor. "I'm not...mentally suited for assassinations."

 

Kakashi clapped him on the shoulder. "But you are very good at what you are suited for."

 

Iruka looked over at Kakashi and smiled sourly. "Kunoichi, seduction work?"

 

Kakashi gently but firmly, pushed Iruka toward the exit. "I was going to say, training young minds, Iruka-sensei, but that too." He stopped Iruka at the door and turned to look at him from less than a kiss away, his visible blue-gray eye oddly serious. "You were damned hot. I'd have fallen for you too." He walked out of the restroom and into the night.

 

Iruka blinked. He thought I was...hot?

 

And that's when his problem with missions, and the reason he avoided doing them, raised its ugly head. In the ten steps it took to tie his forehead protector across his brow and catch up to Kakashi, his libido, which had been practically absent during the entire mission, suddenly awoke -- with a vengeance.

 

~ * ~