“You’re holding back,” Kakashi muttered, his voice low and sharp as a blade, eyes locked onto yours beneath that silver fringe of hair.

You wiped sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, panting, flushed. “Because I don’t want to break your pride.”

Kakashi’s mouth curved — just a little. Dangerous.

And then he disappeared.

You barely caught the blur of motion before he was behind you, arm snaked around your waist, and your body slammed to the mat with a hard thud. His knee pinned your thigh. His forearm pressed down against your chest, holding you in place.

His face hovered just inches above yours, and for a moment… neither of you moved.

Just the sound of heavy breathing. Fast heartbeats. That look in his eye — that one that always lingered just a little too long during missions. The kind that wasn’t just about winning.

“You’re sloppy today,” he said quietly, eyes dropping to your mouth.

“Maybe you’re distracting,” you fired back, lips parted, breath shaky.

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t move. But his hand slid — slow — from your chest down your abdomen, settling at the waistband of your pants.

“You’re not the only one here who likes men,” he said darkly.

Your breath caught.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” His fingers toyed with the waistband now, just under your shirt. “You think I haven’t felt it? The tension every time you’re underneath me like this?”

“What if I have?” you whispered, voice rough. “What if I want more?”

Kakashi’s hand gripped your chin suddenly, tilting your face up to his.

“Then stop pretending this is just training.”

And just like that, he kissed you — hard. Tongue deep, dominant, biting your lip as your body arched into his. His hand slid under your shirt, rough fingers dragging over your chest, your stomach, until he reached exactly what you were aching for him to touch.

You moaned against his mouth.

He swallowed it whole.

“You moan like that again,” he growled, “and I won’t stop.”

“Don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t stop.”

And he didn’t.

That day, the training ground turned into something else — sweat, heat, gritted teeth, desperate mouths.

And by the end of it, you weren’t sure whether you were more sore from the sparring or from what came after.