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"Sometimes I wonder why I love you," Obito said, and his teeth were coloured red, just like his cheeks, his knuckles. His eyes, too, were red, and Kakashi's gut burns the same – red hot – and he felt like he was falling all over again.
"You wonder that now?" Kakashi said, fangs poking over his lip as he smiled, feral. It was hunting season, and all Obito had to do was run, run on his delicate Uchiha legs through the forest, outrun Kakashi and escape for today. Because if Obito escaped this season, there was always the next, and then the one after that. Kakashi wouldn't stop, would hunt Obito down like it was the last thing he would ever do, and would take him home with ribbon around his wrists and come dripping down his thighs.
Even the thought of it was enough to fill his cock with need.
"It's been so long, Obito. You could've stayed away. You could've stayed with Madara." Kakashi licked his teeth, tasting metal, and closed his eyes. He knew Obito hated being reminded of that time, but he needed to push a little, just enough to spark that competitive streak again. To make Obito's cheeks flush that brilliant red, to make his fists clench and his jaw twitch in a way that made Kakashi want to tear him apart, to possess him fully, intimately.
"You know that was never an option," Obito spat, and there he was, eyes narrowed, dark lashes across red like a dirtied wound and his teeth gleaming when he snarled. Kakashi ran his tongue over his lips and wanted.
He blinked for one long moment and breathed out slowly, whispered, "You better run, Uchiha."
"What are you saying?" Obito said, and he sounded so startled, like Kakashi's words weren't registering.
"Maa, it's hunting season, Obito. And you need to start running now."
The quick intake of breath, the way Obito stumbled, the skittering beat of his heart, each movement in quick succession was like music to Kakashi's ears. And then the rustle of leaves as Obito ran into the trees above.
Oh, he was smart – he would be harder to track through the trees, but Kakashi didn't think twice, pulling his mask down and inhaling, long and deep.
Kakashi wasn't one of the best trackers in the village for nothing. The way Obito ran was familiar, predictable for someone who had worked alongside him for years, and there was a part of Kakashi that wanted to catch up immediately. But the chase was the fun part, was the part that would have the pursued so tired, shaking as they collapsed and left themselves open to their pursuer. And Kakashi wanted Obito like that for him, exhausted beyond belief, bone tired and still trying to keep going because that's what his training taught him to do.
But Kakashi had always been miles ahead of Obito, despite their two-year age difference. Neither was built for endurance, but Kakashi was good at rationing his chakra. Uchihas were lithe, made to run fast but not far, to dodge and avoid and bewitch and ensnare. They weren't built to last.
Kakashi had built himself to last.
It was still early in the day – the sun was just topping the buildings across the village, and lightning was thrumming in Kakashi's bones, smouldering as he ran his stinging fingers across the bark of trees. They were tall, with long, sprawling canopies and wide, round leaves, and they were perfectly scentless unless damaged. Obito wouldn't be able to scent it – with his mask on, Kakashi wouldn't either. But like this, bared and hunting, every scent was amplified.
His hearing had always been good, and he could hear the way the slightest breeze whistled through the leaves, the scratching of animals and birds in the branches and leaf litter. And there – the slightest thud of sandals hitting wood, of Obito darting through trees like his life depended on it. And perhaps it did, if he were interested in being single.
But Kakashi knew Obito had only ever liked Rin, who was buried in Konoha's cemetery with a fist-sized hole through her chest and lightning-shaped marks searing her skin. Chidori was brutal, visually stunning in the purple, red, yellow, green bruises it left across the skin. He thought of her body marked with bruises, of tear tracks on her cheeks and lips stained blue from burst blood vessels and shivered.
He would never forgive himself for her death, and he thought Obito felt just the same.
Just then, a whiff of scent brushed past his nose and he turned his head, feeling much more unhinged than before. Obito was trying to evade him. Not cleverly enough though, not when Kakashi had everything on his side.
He would win if it was the last thing he'd do.
And he would take his spoils, his victory, with splendour.
Each turn of the wind give Kakashi something new to focus on, each sound scratched his ears as they fought for attention. He sorted through them all, filtering out the unnecessary noises of the slightest sounds of shinobi on the move. Obito wouldn't escape him forever.
Kakashi slowed down when he reached a small clearing, still focused on the sounds of kunai and shuriken in a weapon pouch. The sound of sandals rustling through grass gave away Obito's exact location.
And oh, he was getting so crafty. Setting up a trap for Kakashi, as if it would stall him when he knew exactly where the ninja wire was, knew the prime places to lie each string to make it as secure yet non-lethal as he could instinctively. Kakashi had been field-qualified for far longer than Obito, had learned these tricks as soon as he could walk.
But watching Obito work, so focused yet so alert, head ducked low but Kakashi's vantage point let him see the long length of his braid, the wicked scarring on his pale cheek. What he would do to have those eyes on him, searing into his soul and branding himself across his heart like a Chidori. And how he wanted to mark Obito in turn, to keep him for his own. Kakashi's teeth ached with it.
The sun shone high in the sky, filtering through the leaves like dust motes. It didn't take long for Obito to finish, tying each thread so carefully they didn't even glint in the sun. Kakashi was tempted to get trapped in the wires just to let Obito have a small victory before Kakashi ruined him. But Obito never expected him to get caught in this trap, he knew. And he didn't want to give him the injustice of a false sense of security when Kakashi wanted him anxious, wanted Obito's heart beating as quickly as a rabbit's while he tried to evade him.
There was something so rewarding about this, watching Obito's little traps and feeling the ways he tried to evade Kakashi in the wind. Time stretched long, and soon enough Kakashi was throwing himself through the air once more, Obito's wide eyes locking onto his location and immediately disappearing into a pile of leaves.
Kakashi's lips curved wide, tongue darting out to lick his fangs. His pretty Uchiha, so easy to spook.
But of course, Obito knew nothing of Kakashi's clan hunts. He only knew his own, his whimsical fire dancing and forging. Though secular, Uchiha marriages were visible throughout the village – billowing flames reaching high into the blackened sky, singing and celebration echoing throughout empty streets. Kakashi could see them from his apartment, roaring dragons circling the compound, flaming animals and birds taking to the air to dance to their own tunes.
His own was much more visceral, infinitely more dangerous, and perfect for a clan such as his own – individualists, travellers, those who never tethered themselves until they hunted. His cousins would be unrecognisable to him, unfindable without scouring records for names. Kakashi bet he was the only unmarried Hatake that settled in a village for longer than a couple of years.
Minutes stretched into hours and Kakashi hadn't caught a single hint of Obito, couldn't sense him at all. He closed his eyes, tilted his head this way and that trying to catch a shuffle, a shift, but there was nothing. He was getting better throughout this, better at concealing himself. But there was no way he could hide forever. After all, Kakashi had until sundown to claim him, to take Obito properly.
But the sun was waning in the sky, burning hotter as shadows stretched into each other, mingling into an amalgamation of blues and greys. In these shadows Kakashi wanted to feast upon Obito's body, to taste his blood and bone and spend until he was empty of it, to destroy him and carry him home like the trophy he was.
Kakashi's last piece, the one who came back home for him.
And – there. Obito's hair, disappearing behind a branch. Hiding from Kakashi's nose like that, in the downwind–
He'd never gotten hard so fast in his life.
"Found you," he said, and the words bubbled like blisters from his throat, reaching out to grab Obito's ankle. It was a testament to how tired Obito was that he barely tried to escape beyond a cursory kick, letting himself fall off the branch without a second thought, falling headfirst to the ground. His fingers formed the signs for a shunshin but the warmth of his body never left Kakashi's palm, the customary leaves never appeared in their rudimentary swirl, and Obito kept falling. Kakashi didn't dare let him go, lest he never got him back again. He refused to let Obito escape this time, so close to the deadline. He refused to wait another year, not when he had Obito now.
It was easy, far too easy, to unzip Obito's chuunin vest, to slide his mesh up his skin.
"Kakashi–" Obito breathed, and his eyes were closed now, his shaking fingers trying to push Kakashi's hands away. "Stop, please–" Each word was heavy with exhaustion, and Kakashi smiled, leaned up to hover over Obito's face. Their eyes met, a discourse of grey and red.
"I won," he murmured, and ducked his head to mouth at Obito's jaw, not letting him pull away. "You're my reward."
"You're sick."
"It's just tradition, Uchiha. You should know what that word means." Kakashi's lips moved against Obito's tense jaw, coaxing his muscles into softening. "Weren't you the one who was confessing your love for me this morning?"
"I didn't– Not like this." Obito's breath stuttered as Kakashi's fingers drifted over his bared ribs, scarred and patchwork white in turn, and he smiled, pressed his fangs in just to hear Obito gasp.
"Then how did you want it?" Kakashi's hips ground against Obito's and oh, he was hard. There had been a brief moment where Kakashi had thought Obito wouldn't enjoy this, wouldn't enjoy this rougher, more feral side of him. The part of him he hid but for his ANBU missions. But the way Obito's eyes, still delightfully red as his breath came courser, ran over Kakashi's face, trying to assimilate the man he'd known with this side of him, the part that wanted to devour and destroy and decimate until there was nothing left with the relaxed, more docile, jovial part of his personality. "Did you want me to kiss you, to sweep you off your feet?" He ran a thumb over Obito's pulse point, his throat bobbing under Kakashi's palm. "Or did you want to sweep me off my feet, to kiss me like you owned me?"
The way Obito groaned was telling. "God, Kakashi–"
"There are no gods in this forest," Kakashi said, throat thick with want. "There is only me, and I will own you."
The light was dulling around them, desaturating the world around them until there was nothing but them, cast white in the gloom, and Obito's red, red eyes, glowing slightly in the dimness. His tomoe spun rapidly, and Kakashi knew everything Obito was seeing would be seared in his mind forever. If only he had such a skill.
"I want to deconstruct you and rebuild you again, until you know nothing but my name."
Obito whined, fingers reaching for Kakashi's shoulders like he needed grounding. Kakashi would be the steady rock in the stream and Obito would depend on him, letting Kakashi drink from his life like an infinite source of ambrosia.
"You came back for me," Kakashi groaned, fingers running skittered paths over Obito's sides, working into fabric and removing it just as quick, until Obito was bared properly, scars on show, the mismatch cold white of Zetsu blending in pinched lines right down his entire body. A part of Kakashi had wondered–
Well, it turned out Obito was wholly himself down here. Kakashi worked his way back down again, pressing bruises into Obito's skin until even the weird white was stained. Every kiss felt like ownership. He only had one nipple, the other was a pale imitation. But Kakashi worked them both, relishing in the way Obito whined, eyes unfocused as his hands twisted into Kakashi's hair. And oh, how he whimpered as Kakashi grasped him, flesh hot and heavy in his palm. His searing eyes disappeared – for the best, Kakashi was losing his mind having Obito here, and he didn't want it reflected forever in Obito's lovely, infinite eyes.
"You're stunning," he said, and bruised the line of Obito's throat so he wouldn't have to meet his eyes. There was something so fragile, suddenly, a broken moment in the air.
Kakashi didn't know if this would've happened without the devastation of Obito's death, of Rin's. If he would've felt this disgusting need to have Obito, to take him for himself. This possessive need he never had before he lost everything and everyone.
Part of it was a need to protect, born of loss, of having no one. Just for those brief few months, he'd had nothing except his job, his promotion in the wake of Minato-sensei's death and in the years since Obito's return this feeling hadn't lessened. Obito was all he had, and he couldn't lose him again.
And to dismantle Obito and rebuild him as Kakashi's life partner made him more tangible, less like he was going to be drawn away by whimsy, by someone else, by death.
Leaf litter dug into Kakashi's knees through his cargo pants, but it didn't matter, not when Obito was right here, present, wants running away.
And not all of it was tradition, not all of it could be tradition when Obito was leaking like this, brow furrowed as Kakashi tugged his cock lazily. And if Obito wasn't truly into this, didn't want Kakashi's claim inside him, dug into his neck, then Kakashi would respect his wants.
But he'd run, he'd let Kakashi chase. He'd left himself open for attack, and hadn't tucked himself away in his other dimension like he so easily could. He was offering himself to Kakashi, and Kakashi would gladly take all that he offered until there was nothing left.
"Fuck, Kakashi," Obito whined, and his fingers twisted harder, nails scraping over the back of Kakashi's neck like a brand. And Gods above, Kakashi hadn't wanted anything as much as this.
"I'll give you it – I'll give you anything," the words spilt like a confession, and the way Obito arched underneath him, all sweaty, taut skin, words falling from his lips, garbled–
Kakashi couldn't get out of his clothes fast enough, teeth aching with need as he pulled his mesh off, leaving his mask tucked under his chin and his undershirt on. Obito didn't resist, fatigue so clearly set into his bones that he's languid and pliant, letting Kakashi work his way between his legs, pressing one up to his chest without pause. His cock was pretty, Kakashi thought, long, flushed. But the face he made when Kakashi touched his hole was infinitely prettier, filled with nerves, panic.
"I can't–" But Kakashi ignored him, because this was just part of the hunt, part of the claiming before the bite. "Kakashi–"
He slipped lube out of the pocket of his discarded pants and slicked his fingers as fast as he could, pressing two against Obito and sliding them in with ease.
"Have you done this before," he bit out, and the surge of jealousy was unprecedented. He'd never wanted someone all for himself so desperately.
"I haven't," Obito hissed, and Kakashi realised just how rough he was being. "But that doesn't mean I want you."
But all those little moments that had led up to this today, the culmination of the hunt, the claiming of a wolf upon his prey. And Obito couldn't have consented more than if he'd declared himself to Kakashi from the moment Kakashi had declared the hunt.
"Good. You're mine."
The moment he thought Obito was ready, he withdrew his fingers. Obito wasn't hard now, but that was okay. There was still the rest of the night.
"Relax," Kakashi breathed into Obito's neck, bracing himself by Obito's shoulder as he pushed in. Obito winced, fingers pushing against Kakashi's hips, but he was lacking the force he'd normally use. Kakashi pushed harder against Obito's knee, forcing him wider as he slid deeper and deeper.
"Fuck–" Obito swore, and the way his fingernails bit into Kakashi's flesh like wicked sharp teeth was almost enough to make the tightening in Kakashi's gut infinitely stronger. Obito smelled so good, of damp earth and sweat and freshly crushed grass, and Kakashi couldn't help but bury his nose in the crook of Obito's neck, to smell more of him than just the surface smells, and groaned when he noticed ash, smoke.
Obito was so tight, so delectable and warm against his cock, and sinking in felt better than anything he'd done to himself before, exquisite and almost overwhelming.
He ran his tongue up the bruised length of Obito's throat. This close, he could hear the way Obito's breath was stuttering, broken, impossibly quiet sobs reaching no further than his throat. In the growing darkness, Kakashi couldn't see the exact details of each swollen bruise, but the way Obito stiffened when Kakashi pressed on one with gentle fingers was delightful, thrilling. He curved his fingers around Obito's throat, groaning as his pulse sped up. They were reaching the eye of the storm, the thunder roiling faster, the bolts striking quicker, and there they were, two of them, entwined under the rising moon.
Obito's life was in his hands, and Kakashi knew Obito could just phase out of reality if he wanted, as easily as breathing. The fact that he was staying here, letting Kakashi press in despite the pained twist of his lips, the way his leg spasmed as if to try and close his legs, it was a heady feeling.
Obito was his. Forever.
Each thrust felt like his father's blade, speared through his bloodied body, like each broken shard of that blade coming together, reassembling again and glowing that brilliant, healthy white it had lost afterwards. This was a part of him that had been so damaged for so long, and to feel this whole, this alive–
He arched his back, tilting his head up to howl, and each movement was a homecoming, a completion he'd never envisioned for himself. Healing, in this unimaginable, impossible way.
"You've stopped struggling," he mused and bared his teeth. Obito stared at him, and his glowing eyes were more and more prominent, staining his skin red.
"You left me no other option."
Kakashi laughed, because Obito had so many options, so many opportunities. Even now, he could leave. The claiming wasn't complete until the hunted had been marked and filled, after all.
He wasn't going to mention that though, not when there was still the tangible idea that Obito could leave him, could turn around and disappear once more. And the last place Kakashi wanted Obito to go was back to Madara.
"You had choices." Kakashi fucked hard then, thrusting deep and letting Obito feel it, feel it like the heat and want and need flowing through Kakashi's veins like lifeblood, like the lightning that fizzled under his skin like an untamable storm. "And you chose me."
Obito's moan was high, broken, and Kakashi reached down, wrapped his hand around Obito's cock and made him positively sob with it. Kakashi wondered what it would be like to be him, to take it all and keep taking it. The thought made him shiver. Soon.
After he was finished with the taste of Obito's skin, finished spreading him open on his cock and taking him. And Gods, was he taking it. Soft little moans were escaping his lips on every inward thrust and the way he clutched at Kakashi's shoulders like he was the only thing holding him together… Well, it was a powerful feeling.
He was so hard he could barely prevent himself from coming, but he wanted Obito to come apart first, for him to be laxer and overcome with post-coital bliss to barely feel the way Kakashi's teeth would puncture his skin. He wanted to claim and claim again, to tie that red ribbon around Obito's wrist and debauch him until no one could deny the claim Kakashi had on him.
The moon shone brightly through the trees, illuminating their coupling with monochrome detail, and Obito clenched then, tightening unimaginably as he arched, spilling across his stomach and chest. The way his breath hitched was enough to send Kakashi over too, breath punched out of him in a rapid moment that left him gasping against Obito's neck, stretching his lips wide and sinking his teeth deep into Obito's flesh as he thrusted in one last time.
"Fuck, Kakashi," Obito hissed, twisting and pushing at Kakashi's hips like it would get him to move. Like he could move. "Hurts–"
"You can take it, you can take anything I give you." And those words were, startlingly, true. Obito could match him in nearly every way, was better in many others. Kakashi would always beat him physically, but that meant nothing when Obito was so kind, so much better as a person than he was.
Obito's heart pounded under the press of Kakashi's lips upon his pulse point, quick as a rabbit's feet. But he relaxed all the same, tensed legs falling limp once more around Kakashi's hips.
"You carry my mark now," Kakashi whispered. "And now all that's left is to tie the knot."
He shivered as Obito clenched around him, releasing a long breath.
"I'm ready," Obito breathed, and Kakashi scrambled for his pants, digging through one of the leg pockets and pulling out a long red ribbon. The standard for hunts – Kakashi had never seen one before this. It had belonged to his parents, tucked away in the old family house. There was a dark brown blood stain at one end.
Obito's wrist was smeared in mud, white lines scraped into his skin from sticks and other forest debris. Kakashi had never wanted to bite something so bad.
"Mine," he whispered, wrapping it around once, twice, over and over until the ends no longer trailed past Obito's elbow. When Kakashi looked up at him again, his eyes were closed, mouth parted. Perhaps he could feel it too, could feel the way his chakra warped with each touch, the way Obito's skin burned fiery as Kakashi's flesh prickled lightning.
Or perhaps he was realising just what he signed up for. Kakashi was a killer, with instincts as wild as the plains of the Land of Grass, as dangerous as the slopes of the Land of Iron, and hungry as a wolf. His family were descended from wolves, his father had told him, but Kakashi thought they had been just stories. Perhaps, now that he looked down at Obito, at his bloodied neck, dirt smudged across his face and come smeared across his belly, there was something behind it.
This was the culmination of his subconscious desires; he had someone for himself, someone whom he loved dearly, craved with every waking moment. Obito. Kakashi leaned forward, letting his weight fall onto Obito as he pushed his nose into Obito's jaw, an unbidden smile crossing his lips.
Kakashi's claim, his seed, his ribbon. His ownership, in a way. Obito wouldn't take Kakashi's name – it wasn't the shinobi way – but the bloodied wound on Obito's neck, probably stinging like fury, reminding Obito of Kakashi at every moment–
His father's blade; white, whole.
He would never be alone again.