Divided Loyalty

A/N: LOL, I used Minato's fanon name as his pseudonym.



CHAPTER 10





“Very well. Come with me.” The blond stranger said.



Nagato looked at him again, taking in the details of his appearance – he looked young, around the age he himself appeared to be – late twenties – had wild golden-blonde hair and blue eyes a shade darker than his own. His face was handsome if a little angular, dominated by high cheekbones and soft lips. His clothes hinted at a high social standing – with excellent cut and expensive materials, and he could smell the faint scent of an expensive aftershave. All in all, he did not appear like the kind of person who would hire a low-end prostitute like him. Something wasn’t adding up. Under other circumstances, he would’ve refused and beat a hasty retreat, but the thought of Kakashi back in that shack, sick and helpless, made him change his mind. If this stranger turned out to be some creep he would defend himself at all costs, but if he was a legitimate client he could not back away now. Too much was at stake.



The man turned on heels and headed up the street, not looking back, confident that Nagato would follow. And he did, two steps behind him, not daring to come any closer no matter how much he wanted to hide under the large umbrella as well. He was soaked to the bones, shivering in the cool wind, his fingertips having long become numb.



The client led him to an expensive part of the town, taking no notice of the looks the residents sent the man following him – looks full of pity or disgust or both at the same time, clearly disapproving of Nagato’s presence in their neighbourhood. Considering how he looked like, he couldn’t blame them, but they still hurt, because they reminded him how far he had fallen.



Finally they reached a five-story building, once again painted in white with blue rooftops, surrounded by a tall hedge that hid an excellently maintained lush garden. When Nagato saw the bellhop standing under the sunshade, having taken refuge from the incessant rain and the revolving polished brass and glass doors, he realized that this was a hotel. The interior – all gleaming polished marble and metal surfaces, freshly cut flowers in large vases, plush loveseats in the corners – confirmed that it was not just a hotel but a very expensive hotel, the kind of place where he would never be allowed in if he was on his own. The woman at the reception desk gave a sunny smile to his john but the moment she noticed Nagato her pretty little nose scrunched up in open disgust and disapproval.



“Ah, sir…” she began.



“Is there a problem, ma’am?” the blonde said innocently.



“Your guest, he, ah…”



“My guest will be coming up with me in my room. I do not wish to be disturbed until he leaves.” He told her sternly.



“Oh, I see.” She handed him a key. “Here’s your key, sir.”



“Thank you.”



She cast one last disapproving look at Nagato as they left and the red-head fixed his eyes on his shoes, unwilling to look at anyone else they might meet until they reached his rooms.



His client’s room, actually, the penthouse hotel, fit the rest of the hotel – polished surfaces, expensive silk and velvet draperies, flowers, plush carpet on the pale marble floor. The four poster bed dominated the spacious room, covered with indigo-coloured silk and numerous pillows.



With his smelly, soaked, torn clothes he couldn’t be more out of place in this room than he was now. He felt small and insignificant, barely more than a stain on the floor. Uncomprehending why his john would pick someone like him, he stared down at his feet again, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped protectively around him.



“You stink like a wet dog.” The blonde said suddenly. “Go and take a shower. Put those rags in the trash. I’ll give you something else to wear later. Dry yourself before you come out.”



He looked up in surprise and it took him a few moments to compute what was just said to him. Apparently it just annoyed his john because the man pointed to the door at the back of the spacious room and snapped:



“Well? The bathroom’s that way. What are you waiting for?”



He nodded mutely and hurriedly headed for the bathroom, careful not to step on the carpet – his feet were dirty, even if he had no shoes on – and slid in the bathroom. He gaped for a moment when the door closed behind him – the whole room was larger than their little shack, and covered with more polished marble, black this time, with tiny silvery veins cutting through the dark stone. There was a large, ornate copper bathtub in one corner, propped on feet shaped like lion’s claws, etched with flowers and fantastic animals on the outside and polished to a shine on the inside. Next to it there was a showerstall, surrounded by sliding glass doors. The wall opposite the bathtub and the showerstall was entirely covered with a huge mirror, reflecting the soft golden glow of the cup-shaped sconces mounted high above him. He caught sight of himself in it – a thin figure dressed in wet, dirty clothes, with matted hair and sullen eyes surrounded by large dark circles. The scars of his piercings were clearly visible and he winced at the thought of them betraying his identity. Nagato looked away and began to undress, doing his best not to look at the mirror wall, folding his clothes in a ball and throwing them in the trashbin he found under the sink on the far wall after a small hesitation.



Then he opened the showerstall’s sliding doors and got in. He gasped when the hot water hit his frozen body and shook for a moment before leaning forward with a moan of pleasure, feeling his tired muscles unknotting and warmth spreading through him. He found a herb-smelling shampoo on a stand on his right side and used it to wash his hair, then proceeded to clean his body. When he was done, he leaned against the wall for a few minutes, closing his eyes and simply enjoying the flowing of the hot water over his tired form. He was ready to fall asleep as he was standing there, tension leaving him for the first time in a whole week.



The banging on the glass wall of the showerstall jerked him into full consciousness and he turned around blearily to meet annoyed blue eyes.



“I am not paying you to dawdle in here. Dry yourself and come out.” His client told him and left the bathroom.



Reality came crashing back in and he hurriedly turned the water off and exited the showerstall. The hot water made him feel marginally better as he walked out of the bathroom to find his client sitting on the luxurious bed, dressed only in a pair of soft-looking cotton slacks, his feet bare against the soft carpet, the muscles on his tanned chest playing under the smooth, tanned skin as he leaned back.



There was a large cart by the bed, heavy with covered dishes, a steaming teapot in a heating device and a crystal fruit bowl in the middle of the cart. The smell of the food reminded him of his own painfully empty stomach and he tried to look away, to focus on the man.



The man looked at his naked form, his eyes traveling up and down from head to toe, much like a buyer would inspect a horse on the market or a housewife would appraise a peace of meat before purchasing it.



“Turn around.” The man ordered and he obeyed meekly, letting him examine his body, knowing that his back was covered with old and fresh scars and hoping that they wouldn’t turn the john off enough to throw him out.



“You’ll do.”



Relief flooded him like a tidal wave and he swayed on his feet a little before regaining his balance.



“Get a peach, plate and a knife and come here.” Was the next order and he obeyed again, walking to the cart and choosing a large, red peach from the crystal bowl. His stomach twisted with hunger at the sight of it and his fingers shook as he took a small plate and a silver knife, but he swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control. He wasn’t allowed to eat any of this, no matter how much he wanted to. Maybe, later, if the man was pleased with him, he would let him have thе remaining scraps? He fervently hoped so.



Turning back, he walked to the man and stood before him naked, holding the plate with the knife and the peach in his hands, waiting for the next instruction.



“Sit on the bed, peel it and cut it into pieces.”



The man watched him like a hawk, with an inscrutable expression on his face, as he followed the order and balanced the plate on his naked lap and began to peel the fruit. The sweet juice poured over his fingers and his hands shook so badly with the effort not to lick them clean that he almost cut himself with the knife. When he was done, he looked up, waiting for whatever came next.



“Feed it to me.” The blonde’s voice had gone hoarse, something dark lurking behind vibrant blue eyes, intense enough to make him tremble with something other than hunger when he met his gaze.



He reached and shakily offered a soft, juicy piece of fruit before his lips and they wrapped around his fingers, taking in the fruit and licking the sweet nectar before letting go. He offered another piece, trying not to think how much he wanted one too and failing miserably but the darkness in those eyes stopped him from voicing his request.



Before he could offer a third piece the plate was taken from his hands and the man nibbled on a new piece on his own before looking at Nagato again:



“Get down to your knees and get to work.”



Well, at least that was something he was familiar with.



He slid down and obediently unzipped the man’s fly, pulling down the garment along with his underwear to reveal his flaccid organ. He licked his hand and reveled in the taste of the fruit before reaching and wrapping his fingers around the organ and began to massage him gently, using his other hand to cover the head and rub his palm over it, his thumb flicking over the ridge of the swelling head. It quickly filled in his hands, lengthening and thickening and hardening, soon standing to full, impressive attention. He was almost as large as Kisame and Nagato winced at the thought of that going inside of him with little preparation. A rough hand twisted in his damp red hair and pulled his face down and he quickly obeyed, offering no resistance as he took the thick organ in his mouth.



The man’s soft mouth working his cock was maddening and Minato leaned back, one hand still twisted in the bright ginger locks, his eyes drooping with pleasure as the wet tongue flicked and licked gently on his underside, tracing the throbbing veins before stabbing at his slit.



Despite his initial misgivings about having sex with this man, he couldn’t help but enjoy his skillful ministrations. He was very good at what he was doing, even if he was a little mechanical. Part of him, the dark, angry part that resented him for killing Jiraiya and trying to take his son, enjoyed the humiliation he bestowed on him by using him in this way and playing with the food the way he had. The hungry, desperate expression in his eyes had been enough to tell Minato that the other was starving and he had enjoyed dangling the juicy, sweet fruit before his eyes and not allowing him to have any of it.



The soft mouth suckled him gently and he could feel a tremor at the base of his spine, heat that was spreading through his limbs, about to overwhelm him in its intensity.



His fingers tightened in the ginger hair again and he pulled his mouth away from his cock.



“Enough.” He said hoarsely. “Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.”



Nagato swallowed visibly with apprehension but followed the command, crawling on the bed and settling on his knees and leaning on his elbows, trying to relax as much as he could, waiting for the massive cock to rip into him. He was surprised when a small tube landed next to him on the silken coverlet.



“Use this. Prepare yourself.”



So he liked to watch too. He reached and took the tube, pouring a generous amount of the clear gel on his fingers and reached behind himself to slide them inside, knowing that in this pose his client could see how they disappeared in his body, spreading his hole wider and wider as he worked himself as quickly as he could. His shoulders were pressed on the bed for more leverage, his face turned to the side and he sighed softly as he went through the motions. The presence behind him was cold and dark, unforgiving eyes staring at his debasement and he suddenly felt worse than he ever had while being with a client. For some reason the man had reminded him of Kisame, but he was nothing like him. The Mist nin would prepare him with tender, callused fingers, would rub his back and whisper soothingly to him as he slowly entered his body, would clean and hold him afterwards, make him feel like a person rather than a piece of meat with a hole in it. But he wasn’t worthy of that anymore, was he? Not after the way he had failed Kakashi, the way he had sent him on a mission that put him through such torment. Not after the way he had behaved towards him in the morning. He deserved to be treated like this, like an object, a thing, a vessel to be used and discarded. Just like Kakashi had been treated. At least the other had been generous to allow him to prepare his body first. Kakashi hadn’t had that luxury. He felt pitifully grateful and opened his eyes to look at him, wanting to express his gratitude but only managed a soft moan and a single tear spilled down his pale cheek.



Minato stared at the man on the bed, his thin, tired form trembling, blue eyes opening and focusing on him as his face was turned to the side, the expression on them pitifully grateful for a reason he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Was it because he had hired him when no one else would? Because he allowed him to shower? The fact that someone, especially someone he was about to have sex with, would feel gratitude towards him despite the way he had treated him, sickened Minato. The was obvious that the man was trying to hurry in preparing himself, worried that Minato would lose patience if he took his time and was hurting himself in the process.



He had never caused pain to a bedpartner, unless he was specifically asked to and then did it with reluctance. He had never made one cry, unless they were tears of joy or pleasure. The fact that he was doing so now to someone so helpless, so obviously broken, felt like he had been hit with a brick between the eyes. What was he doing? How could he have done that? He knew the answer to that, it had been obvious all along but he had never allowed himself to face it because to do so meant that he had to face his own failings. He had hated Nagato not because he had killed Jiraiya, not even because he had tried to capture his son, not even because he leveled Konoha with the ground and left so many people homeless… He had hated him because this man had had Kakashi, when Minato could only dream about having him. Where Minato had failed to take care of his student, this man had succeeded in it, and despite the terrible cost to himself continued to do so. And, he, Minato, hadn’t even been able to get over the thought that their relationship would’ve caused a scandal which would’ve eventually blown over. The comparison between them hurt Minato, forced him to face his failure with Kakashi, and for that reason, he had focused his self-hatred, his jealousy, his misery onto the red-head. It was far easier than hating himself.



He was a horrible, awful person.



He reached and gently stilled the thrusting fingers, tenderly pulling them out of the reddened hole, grabbing the lube from the bed at the same time.



“Here. Let me.” He said softly.



The red-head looked at him with mild confusion but obeyed instantly, putting his arms back on the bed and angling his hands in a way which would keep his gel-covered fingers away from the expensive silk coverlet.



Minato coated his fingers with the gel and tenderly inserted only one in the abused channel, carefully working it around, wanting to go slow about loosening it. The expression in the blue eyes was still confused and a little fearful and he tried to reassure him:



“I won’t hurt you. I promise. You’re safe here.”



To back up his words he reached with his clean hand and took a piece of the peach and offered it to Nagato’s trembling lips. The man immediately took it from him, closing his eyes in bliss as the taste exploded on his tongue. Minato kept feeding him the remaining pieces of the peach as he prepared him and watched him gradually relax on the bed, the food and the gentle preparation slowly leeching the tension away from the thin shoulders. Minato reached and rubbed his hand across the man’s side and flank, eager to soothe him even further.



“It’s okay to put your hands on the coverlet. I pay them to keep this place clean.”



Hesitantly, Nagato put his open palms on the bed and relaxed his strained arm muscles, sighing when a second and a third fingers were gently inserted into him. By that time there was very little pain left, only warmth and the familiar sensation of stretching. Occasionally the fingers brushed against his prostate and sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine and he mewled softly each time that happened. He was semi-hard, as he was too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to achieve a full erection. He hoped that the john wouldn’t be angry about it.



Finally the blonde removed his fingers and held his hip with one hand, careful not to clutch him too hard, guiding his erection to the stretched, glistening hole. Despite the preparation, he was still very big and when he breached him the red-head moaned and stiffened, so he used his free hand to caress the small of his back and to reach around him to rub his flagging organ, patiently bringing him back to hardness.



When he was finally fully seated inside, he paused and asked:



“Are you okay?”



The red-head nodded meekly.



“Tell me if I hurt you. I’ll stop immediately. Okay?”



“Yes, sir.”



He began to move, slowly, shallowly, waiting for the still tight passage to relax further around him, his hand not leaving the red-head’s erection. The man under him mewled with each tender stroke, a sound somewhere between pleasure and pain which intensified when he hit his prostate and Minato continued to aim at it as often as he could.



He took his time, rocking slowly back and forth, thrusting as deep as he could, but always remaining mindful not to hurt the man, not to cause anymore pain. Nagato began to raise his hips back into it, searching for more of the delicious sensation of being pleasured like that for the first time in months, after having endured a string of cruel, callous partners. He whimpered when the blonde fondled his balls tenderly, shiver running through his entire body.



“Shhhh.” The man above him soothed. “You’re safe here, with me. I promise. You’re safe. You’re safe.”



He kept repeating that, over and over until he finally brought them both to completion, spasming and shivering together in ecstasy. Afterwards, he carefully pulled out and walked to the bathroom to clean himself and bring a warm, wet towel to clean Nagato, throwing it in the litterbin hidden under the bed. When he was done, he sat down next to his supine form and caressed the messy ginger tresses.



“Are you okay?” he asked again.



It took Nagato several tries to finally find his voice before he replied:



“Yes, sir. Thank you.” His blue eyes were welling up again and he looked away to hide his humiliation. “You are very kind to me.”



“Mmm. Not as kind as I should’ve been to begin with.”



Nagato looked absolutely exhausted and he turned to get a blanket for him but when he turned around again he found him already seated, about to get up, movements slow and sluggish.



“I need to go, Sir. If you’d be so kind to pay me…”



He nodded and reached for his clothes, removing several notes from his pockets. While still holding them he walked to his luggage and rummaged through it, finding a clean shirt and pants. They would be a bit large on the red-head’s skinny frame, but still better than what he wore before.



When he handed him the clothes and the money Nagato looked surprised and more than a little confused.



“Fifty?”



“Too little?”



“No, no.” he flushed. “I said that I only take 10…”



“Ah, well, I was very satisfied with your performance. Take it as a tip.” And he gave him one of his sunny, disarming smiles.



Nagato didn’t hesitate for long.



“Thank you, sir. And for the clothes too.”



“My name’s Arashi.” He told him, unwilling to share his real name lest he began to suspect something. The other paused, then quietly replied.



“I am Nagato, Arashi-san.”



“A little belated introduction on both our parts, but better than none.” He told him as he watched him put on the new clothes. “Nagato, why don’t you stay a little and have something to eat? I know that you’re hungry. When was the last time you had a decent meal?”



Nagato mumbled something shyly.



“What was that?” he asked again.



“A week ago, Arashi-san.” The other answered louder, looking ashamed, but his eyes were riveted to the tray of food.



“Have as much as you want then.”



“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Nagato said, genuinely grateful and moved closer to the cart with food, uncovering the different meals with a squeal of delight. As he stuffed a piece of soft, warm bread in his mouth he turned to the blonde to find him watching him curiously.



“May I take some of this with me, Arashi-san?” he asked timidly, half-expecting to be scolded.



“Of course.” Minato replied and watched him stuff his pockets full of food, undoubtedly intending to bring it to Kakashi.”About my proposition…”



The red-head paused in his eating and looked up.



“I was wondering, if you’d want to meet again. Soon. The day after tomorrow, maybe?”



“Again?”



“Yes. The weather will force me to stay here for the next few months, and frankly, I feel quite bored and lonely. I’d like to have some nice company. I’ll pay for your time, of course.”



Nagato’s blue eyes shimmered with joy and gratitude.



“I… Yes, yes, of course.”



“Good. Wait for me across the street from the hotel, around 4 pm, the day after tomorrow.”



Half an hour later Nagato left, looking much better than he had when he entered his hotel room – in clean clothes, warm, fed, mostly dry, as his shoes were still quite damp but he paid no attention to that little discomfort, and most of all, overjoyed that maybe now he’d have a steady source of income to get a clean, dry room, food and medicines for Kakashi. Things would get better.



Minato watched him leaving and sighed, looking down at his bare hands. If only he could gather the courage to face Kakashi, to beg for forgiveness, to be allowed to take care of him as his student deserved. But for now, he would have to do it through Nagato. Maybe it was even better this way. The red-head was deeply devoted to him, much more than he had ever been, and at least Minato was sure that his student would get all the love and attention he deserved.