Smooth, pale skin the color of fresh untouched snow. The skin of the pure and innocent, scarred only by a madman's failed attempt on his life. That beautiful, wonderful skin stretched out beneath him -covered in a thin veil of sweat.

The silver haired man let loose a long breath of air, crouching over the withering and panting boy below him. He breathed in and out deeply once more and dipped his head, running a moist pink tongue over velvety soft skin. He toke another lick at the soft skin, breathing rapidly through his nose in a desperate attempt to control himself.

Smooth muscles slid just beneath the surface of the white snow as the boy gave a particularly loud moan, arching desperately into his touch. A silver head lifted, mix-matched eyes taking in the sight offered up to him. A long pale neck, stretched out. A head of long, curly black hair thrown back - sweat soaked strands sticking to a pale forehead. The silver haired man grinned, prowling forward over the delicious body working below him. He crawled forward until his mouth was just over the black haired boy's head. The older man grinned lecherously, running his tongue along a thin strawberry pink scar in the shape of a lightning bolt…

… Kakashi lurched forward, panting and clutching his convulsing chest. He put a hand out to catch himself before he fell from the rafters of his charge's apartment. His singularly uncovered brown eye flicked down some twenty feet to his charge - sleeping somewhat peacefully. The silver haired man sighed glancing over the boy with no small amount of lust in his dark eye.

He eyed the boy, wrapped wildly in a thin blanket that had - at the beginning of the night been underneath the boy. Such a beautiful boy with his lean, effeminate frame graced with long legs, sharp hips, and barely any body hair to speak of. His face was androgynous with soft elfin features: plump, cupid's bow lips; high, prominent cheekbones; and perhaps most wonderfully, large almond shaped emerald eyes surrounded by long thick lashes. Thick, wildly curly black hair was cut to frame the boy's soft white face and hide a faded but still clearly visible lightning bolt scar.

Harry Potter. The gorgeous war hero who also happened to be Kakashi's new charge. He was to watch over the boy while the last of the so called 'death eaters' were rounded up. This, Kakashi tried to convince himself, was just another job. Just another job during the course of which he had to watch a beautiful client. Just another job during which he would have to resist an attractive, beautiful client. Just another job during which he had to… but not matter how much he tried to convince himself, Kakashi\knew the truth. This was not just another job, this was anything but. Sure, he had worked outside of the shinobi lands before and, of coarse, being the horn dog he knew he was Kakashi had been attracted to clients before. But… it had never been like this. He hadn't even been watching his charge for a full day yet and the silver haired jounin already felt an insistent, nagging draw to the boy that would not allow itself to be ignored. Barely eight hours doing nothing but watch the boy sleep and he was already having those sorts of dreams.

Kakashi sighed. Perhaps Naruto was right, maybe he was getting rusty in his old age. Well, not old -per say- but older. Mid thirties wasn't old, was it? He didn't feel old. Still, that didn't necessarily mean anything. Jiriya didn't 'feel' old - as he had told Kakashi time and time again - but that didn't change the fact that the white haired sanin was in his seventies at the very least. Maybe he was a little old but certainly not …

A sharp, blaring, screeching alarm interrupted the older man's thoughts. With a groan that caused a slight thrill to go through Kakashi, his young charge rolled out of bed - scrambling desperately to silence the alarm. Once silenced, the boy groaned again - quite obviously not happy to be awake. The emerald eyed boy yawned, covering his mouth politely. He covered his mouth? Who covers their mouth when they're all alone and know it (well think they know it). Kakashi was distracted from his thoughts however when the boy started to stretch. The young Englishman was not tall, as a matter of fact he was remarkably short for a man of his age. However, when the boy stretched it was like miles of smooth soft skin was being unveiled just for him.

Was everything this boy did so god damn erotic? If so, Kakashi wasn't sure if he would last through the estimated month long mission. Sighing lightly, Harry glanced into a nearby mirror and ran a hand through his wild hair in a failed attempted to make the mid back length mess of curls somewhat more orderly. The green eyed boy swept his gaze over himself again, pouting slightly when he noticed that his hair was still messy.

Kakashi blinked in surprise. How did? How did the boy below him do that? Go from sexy and more attractive Kakashi thought was possible to looking so innocent that the jounin felt dirty and wrong for having been turned on. How did he do that? More importantly, how was that fair? Kakashi felt like a cradle robber and he hadn't even done anything. Not that he didn't want to but that was strictly forbidden. The elderly man who had hired him - Albus Dumbledore - had specifically said the boy was not to know he was being watched over. Which meant, the old bastard had gone on to say, that Kakashi could not - under any circumstances speak to, touch, or have sex with the boy. Well fuck.

Kakashi wasn't allowed to have sex with this gorgeous boy yet he felt guilty - as if he had already defiled and dirtied this impossibly pure boy. Well shit, fuck. He had heard the adage 'If you can't do the time, don't do the crime.' several times in his life, and believed in it whole heartedly. So how was it fair that he had done the time (feeling guilty and crappy) when he hadn't done the crime? He felt like a pedophile and all he'd done was have a completely natural reaction to an unnaturally sensual stretch from an unnaturally attractive teen who looked unnaturally young and innocent and completely too fuck-able for his 18, nearly 19 years.

It simply wasn't fair, Kakashi concluded as he scuttled along the thick wooden rafters, following a path similar to the one his charge below was using to reach the kitchen. How could any sane person watch this boy for more than five minutes and not have that sort of reaction? Kakashi sighed softly, laying himself down on the rafter to watch his charge make some mysterious (and assumablely breakfast related) dish with quick, skilled motions that came only from years of practice. A cook? Was that what Harry did for a living? It fit.

Kakashi had been given a basic profile on Harry - it was simple and didn't give much but at the time Kakashi hadn't thought much of it. Name, age, birthday, location, and simple summary of his role in saving the world. Even with such a scanty description the boy sounded extraordinary on paper, but Kakashi hadn't felt the need to know more. That is until he meet the boy. Now he wanted to know everything. What was his favorite color? What job did he have now that he'd left that school (Hogwash?)? What kind of music did he like? Would he like to be taken away to the shinobi lands when Kakashi would keep him forever as a love slave?

In all truthfulness Kakashi knew that - even if he were allowed to interact with the boy below - the chances that this sexy little minx should choose to become sexually involved with him (a 36 year old pervert ninja) and then stay with him after going to Konoha and seeing the large array of admittedly more attractive, younger ninja with which he could share his sexy little minx-ness were little to none. Still, a ninja could day dream, right?

His day dreams (and Harry's cooking) however were interrupted - rather rudely his thought- by a set of crisp, sharp knocks at the impressive and somewhat overly grand front door. The green eyed vixen quickly washed his hands off, scrambling to get the door and seemingly forgetting that his only form of attire was an oversized and obviously well loved blue shirt. The younger male finally noticed his state of undress when a cold draft blew against his bare legs with the opening of the door. Harry hide himself as well as he could behind the door - having a quick talk with a mystery someone. Stepping back somewhat awkwardly, Harry granted entrance to his guest - a well dressed and very good looking young man with skin the color of rich, dark earth and entrancing gray eyes.

Inwardly Kakashi could feel curls of possessiveness and anger swirling restlessly in the pit of his stomach. Who was this handsome, younger man? What did he want with his angel-esc client? A single, rich brown eye narrowed when the newcomer joined the still half dressed Harry at the modest, but still nice dining table. The possessiveness and anger doubled over again and again, growing in size at an alarming rate as Kakashi watched - ever the silent sentry - the two young men (likely around the same age) partake in a breakfast of pan-fried cake things.

What, Kakashi wondered silently, was the best way to kill a man such as this? What was the best way to stake his claim on what he wanted, but had no right to?

It was, perhaps, at this moment that Kakashi truly understood the severity of his situation. The silver haired man had been watching over Harry To Fucking Perfect To Be Allowed Potter for approximately eight hours, twenty-four minutes, and thirteen seconds. Within this short time period Kakashi had: a) had an erotic dream about his client, who happened to be just a few years older than his own students; b) seriously considered the violent murder of a - for all appearances - innocent [Kakashi knew the truth, this boy was evil through and through young man which in turn would likely reveal his presence to Harry, causing him to fail the mission; and c) considered the best way to mark Harry as part of his territory without the brunets' knowledge. He was screwed.

Rearranging himself silently, Kakashi bent himself in such a way that he could read the faintly glowing red figures on Harry's 'muggle' (What did that even mean, he wondered) VCR. 10:27. With a quick bit of math (of which Kakashi was supremely proud) the jounin felt his spirit slowly crumble under the weight of Harry's undeniable sex appeal. 39, 813 minutes left. That was 23,088,780 seconds. He was totally, irrevocably, undeniably, unmistakably, indisputably screwed.


Well, there it is - the first chapter of Screwed. I'd really love reviews, so feel free to tell me exactly what you thought of the chapter. Like it? Hate it? Want me to continue? I'm not so sure about this story so if you want me to keep writing it please do let me know. This is, by the way, in answer to AbeoUmbra challenge number four: Kakashi is hired to protect Harry Potter – who does not know he is watched, who has nightly dreams about Kakashi, who is not allowed to be seen, heart or felt by the Wizard. Yet he too dreams of Harry…In which Harry is very likely a incubus-creature, and the story is set in Hogwarts or shortly afterward with Harry living in his own home and 'friends' dropping in a few times a day.

Much love and pocky Stephfunky