Divided Loyalty

A/N: Well, this is embarrassing. It's been almost a whole month since I've last updated this story. I apologize for that. In between the hiatus I took from writing Revenge and Loyalty, real life issues, and hurting my hand and being unable to type much, a lot of time passed. Not to mention that this chapter drove me crazy when I DID sit down to write it. It deals with some delicate issues, namely the transition between KisaIta and KisaSasu, and I wanted to deal with it realistically enough. I am not sure if I succeeded completely, but I sure tried very hard.



I just hope that all my readers haven't abandoned me after such a long hiatus. I love you, girls.



CHAPTER 11





The next few days after Kisame spanked him – and brought him to completion – were, to put it mildly, awkward. More so for Sasuke than for Kisame, because the young man had no idea what to say, what to do, whether to even mention what had happened that evening between them. Kisame, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm and collected, exhibiting his usual slightly morbid sense of humour, going about his business without any visible signs of shame or worry. Perhaps he really wasn’t ashamed – after all, he had nothing to be ashamed of, unlike Sasuke.



Sasuke, however, kept flushing crimson whenever he was in his presence, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth whenever Kisame entered the room. He took to avoiding the older man, only seeing him at meals, firmly refusing to accompany him on his fishing trips whenever the weather was relatively good. Kisame accepted that too, but Sasuke thought that he saw a glimmer of worry in the unusual golden eyes. He wasn’t sure if Kisame was so accepting of his avoiding him because he wanted to give him space or because he was disgusted with his behaviour. What kind of a person became aroused when someone caused them pain? Living with Orochimaru of all people taught him that there were people who became aroused by causing pain, but the other way around was something he hadn’t seen before.



Living with the Mist Nin had provided a relative level of normalcy for him – for the first time in his life he felt like a regular person, a civilian even, not like a Ninja, certainly not like an Uchiha burdened by a terrible yet deeply coveted ability. He was just Sasuke, local fisherman. Nothing more, nothing less. He hadn’t expected that he’d enjoy that, enjoy living that kind of life. His reaction to Kisame spanking him was at odds with his new way of life and that worried him deeply. His housemate had also been affected by what had happened between them, and yet for some reason Sasuke found it more acceptable than his own reaction.



“Sasuke?” Kisame’s voice made him jump and he looked up guiltlily, meeting his eyes. His…What was Kisame now? Friend? Saviour? Mentor? Lover? His friend, Sasuke finally decided, was looking at him with the same thoughtful expression.



“Do you want to come with me? It’s a good day today, there will be a few sunny hours.”



“You go on.” Sasuke told him, averting his eyes to his lap. “I’ll stay here.”



Kisame stayed by the door for a few more moments, his eyes firmly focused on Sasuke. He looked like he might argue, but he finally nodded.



“Alright.” And left.



Sasuke regretted his refusal almost immediately after Kisame went away. The house was quiet and empty and with annoyance he realized that he felt strangely lonely without the large man around. The loneliness became more and more pronounced with each passing day, but he felt too ashamed of himself and his behaviour to try and approach Kisame.



He spent the rest of the day alone, reading and then exercising in the backyard until the weather became too foul to stay outside. Kisame hadn’t returned yet and the young man kept looking through the window, worriedly watching the storm that began to pelt water and what suspiciously looked like hail against their windows. With each passing hour he was worrying more and more, his heart sinking to the soles of his feet when it became dark and Kisame still wasn’t home. Had he drowned? True, he was a creature of the sea, but Sasuke had seen plenty of giant fish – or whatever they were – washed ashore after one of these storms. If he hadn’t drown had he got tired of Sasuke’s attitude and abandoned him? Either possibility seemed equally frithening though for different reasons.



Midnight came and went, the storm outside only intensified further and Sasuke took to pacing up and down in their tiny living room, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around his torso protectively. The house, save for the creaking caused by the wind, was incredibly silent and empty without Kisame.



He missed him, Sasuke finally admitted to himself. He missed him, with his snide little remarks, and gentle hands and creepy smile, he missed all of that and more. He wanted Kisame to come home and things to go back the way they were before.



Finally, when he thought that he would actually break down and cry, he heard the front door open and Kisame’s familiar presence fill the whole space around him. The Mist Nin was an incredibly powerful man, and despite the fact that he suppressed his chakra, initially Sasuke had felt almost suffocated by his presence. Now he just associated it with safety, much like the blankets Itachi had protectively wrapped around him after he had a bad dream as a child.



He turned and ran down the hall, stopping at the mouth of the corridor to see a soaked, tired-looking Kisame undo and take off his shoes, sitting on the raised floor of their genkan.



“Kisame!” he said sharply, sharper than he would’ve liked, betraying his distress. The large man slowly turned to look at him curiously, blinking tiredly.



“Oh. You’re still awake. I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He told him and pulled himself up.



“Sleeping?!” Sasuke almost hyperventilated with the effort to suppress his need to take off his own shoes and throw them at the man’s head. “I was waiting for you, you big oaf!”



“Oh? Why?” Kisame asked, turning fully to look at him. “Were you worried about me?”



Sasuke’s jaw worked. He raised his chin angrily.



“Hardly. I know you’re a Mist Nin, Hoshigaki. A little hail and rain can’t take you down. I was hungry, that’s all. Some fresh fish sounded good.”



Kisame looked terribly amused for a moment.



“Is that so?” he murmured. “Unfortunately, whatever I caught got carried away after one large wave crushed my boat to pieces. I had to walk all the way here through the stormy sea. It was a fun experience.”



The urge to throw his shoes at him intensified.



“Fun?” he repeated icily. Kisame nodded innocently.



“Yes.”



There had to be some way to hide just how frightened he became once Kisame told him about the boat. That wave could’ve buried him too, no matter what he claimed. In his desperation, he latched onto the first thing that came to mind:



“So you lost our one source of income.” Sasuke griped. “How astute of you.”



Kisame didn’t appear too concerned.



“I have enough savings to buy another. Besides, during the storm season the prices would fall, because the fishermen would need ready cash. You worry too much.”



He passed by him on his way to the kitchen. Sasuke growled and followed him, grabbing a hold of his wet shirt and dragging him to a chair. The large man let himself be guided into it, still watching Sasuke with that damn little smile.



“Sit down here and take off your clothes. You’re soaked. I’ll bring you a towel.” He ordered him and Kisame complied after a small, resigned shrug.



He was completely naked when Sasuke returned and he stopped in his tracks at door, staring at his body, his eyes hungrily taking every detail. Kisame was a large man, far larger than most Ninja were, heavily muscled without being grotesquely bulky, long limbs surprisingly nimble and graceful for a man his size. Sasuke’s eyes followed a drop of water slide down at the crease of his flat, muscled stomach, past his navel and disappear into the thatch of trimmed dark-blue curls that surrounded a thick, heavy cock. His mouth filled with saliva at the sight of it and he resisted the urge to press his thighs together. Would it feel as silky in his hands as it looked? It would be heavy and even thicker once he hardened, the tip darkened to an angry purple, a small drop of fluid gathering at his slit. It would taste salty, Sasuke was sure of it, he could almost feel the taste in his mouth, heady and masculine, just like the rest of him.



“Sasuke?”



His eyes snapped up sharply and met his. The little smile had turned into a full grin.



“See something you like?” it sounded more like a statement rather than a question.



“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He snapped and threw the towel at him, feeling satisfied when it landed on Kisame’s face, hiding the annoying grin. “Dry yourself, I’ll make some tea.”



He walked up to the kitchen counter and the stove and put a pot to boil water on it, then opened the pantry above his head and stared at the contents. They didn’t have much food left, that was for sure. He picked up the stale cheese and the bread and took out the butter from the fridge, then began to smear thin slices of it over the bread. Kisame would have make do with a very simple dinner.



He was so preoccupied with what he was doing that he didn’t even hear him approach until he was pressed behind him. The heavy cock was nestled between Sasuke’s clothed cheeks and pressed as close as possible, the large hands coming to rest on his hips but not holding him down.



“Kisame.” He said hoarsely. “What are you doing?”



“It’s quite obvious.” The other man replied gently. “I’ll stop if you want me to.” He added.



He paused in spreading the butter and closed his eyes, biting his lip when the cock slowly began to rub against his ass, gradually hardening. He could feel it lengthening and thickening, the heated hardness growing larger and larger with each passing second. With a moan, he dropped the knife and pressed back against it, grinding his ass over the erection. Sharp teeth nipped carefully the nape of his neck and he bent over even further, quietly submitting to whatever Kisame wanted to do. One of the large hands snaked around him and cupped him through his pants, squeezing and massaging gently and he moaned softly again, spreading his thighs to give him better access.



“Yes.” Sasuke moaned when the hand slid under the hem of his pants, long fingers wrapping themselves around his naked length, callused thumb teasing his already slick tip. “Please, Kisame…”



“Please, what, beautiful?”



He bit his lip, suddenly feeling apprehensive and shy.



“Please… put it in me.”



The Mist nin leaned forward, covering him with his large body, pressing him flat over the surface of the counter.



“Put what in you, Sasuke?” he asked, his breath tickling his neck.



“I…” he was interrupted by another moan when the huge cock grinded even harder against his still coated crack. “Put your cock in me.” He murmured needily, flushing at his own filthy words. “I want to feel it stretching me.” He reached behind himself and his fingers finally found it, and it felt even better than he had imagined. Just as thick and silken and hot, throbbing wildly in his hand in time with Kisame’s pulse.



“Oh, I will.” He promised him and the hot mouth latched onto his throat, sucking and licking until he was satisfied with the bruised mark he had left there, a clear sign of ownership.



Sasuke trembled helplessly when the large, experienced hands completely undid his fly and slid his pants down his slim hips. He offered no resistance when Kisame pulled off his loose shirt and dropped it on the floor next to his pants then leaned back against the counter, pressing his heated cheek against the cool surface. He felt hot and dreamy at the same time, the whole situation so blissfully unreal that all he could do was relax and let it happen. The large, hot body once again covered him from behind and he let out a soft groan. Sasuke wanted to turn around and touch him, explore that magnificent form with his hands and mouth, but the fear that he might not do as well as his brother had stopped him. Itachi had always been the better one of the two of them, in everything they did. There was no way Kisame wouldn’t compare them, subconsciously at the very least. Sasuke was far from a virgin, but still, what he had with Suigetsu all those months ago had been little more than horny, hormonal teenaged fumbling in the dark. So he didn’t turn around, didn’t run his tongue over the ridges of the sculpted pecks, didn’t cup and squeeze that muscled ass, even though his mouth filled with saliva at the thought of doing all that.



Kisame didn’t seem to mind his passive submission all that much, he eagerly explored his body just like Sasuke imagined doing that to his lover, his hands and tongue and lips leaving no spot without loving attention. He paused to play at the backs of Sasuke’s knees after discovering how soft and sensitive that spot was, and the younger man felt silently grateful that they were both so very flexible.



Sasuke was both shivering and covered in sweat by the time Kisame withdrew and returned to petting and massaging his back and hips. One of his hands strayed to his bottom, fingers sliding between his cheeks and rubbing slow, teasing circles around his twitching hole.



“Later, after we’ve had shower, I’ll make you come just by licking you here.” He promised him, his voice having turned even more hoarse than usual. Sasuke quaked at that promise and his hips jerked up eagerly, the finger teasing him almost breaching his body.



“Eager little kitten, aren’t you?” Kisame murmured and chuckled warmly. The fingers withdrew from his body and moved in Sasuke’s field of vision, scooping a handful of the butter that lay in a porcelain plate on the counter. He bit his lip, suddenly realizing what was to come and spread his legs further, determined to make this as easy as possible. Kisame was a very large man, in all senses of that word, and he suddenly felt apprehensive if all that could enter him without causing too much damage. He could stand pain – his previous occupation had made sure of that, and him and Suigetsu had been too inexperienced to do this properly, but still…



A soothing hand caressed the small of his back as the firth thick finger returned to his entrance and smeared the butter heavily around it before slowly entering him to the first knuckle. It stung a little but Sasuke ignored it, focusing on how good the petting hand felt on his back. The same hand sneaked around him and slowly began to rub his straining, flushed erection and he completely forgot about the discomfort when the finger went all the way in.



“I know what I am doing, kitten.” Kisame informed him, amusement rich in his voice. “I have spent a lifetime preparing people to receive me.”



“Show off.” Sasuke muttered but it held no sting. It was answered by a another warm chuckle and a long, wet lick over his straining shoulder. He whimpered and his hips jerked in Kisame’s hands.



“Be patient, Sasuke-kun. This will take a while.”



He was right, of course. Preparing him sufficiently to receiving an erection of that size did take quite a while, and although Sasuke felt incredibly frustrated and needy by the time he was done, he also felt grateful for the consideration and attention. Sometimes he still had nightmares about the people Orochimaru had taken to his bed, and he had seen what his teacher had done to them.



A butter slick hand cupped his cheek and a turned his face to the side, surprisingly soft mouth chasing away painful memories. He sighed into the soft kiss, strangely chaste and tender compared to what they were doing. Without breaking their liplock Kisame guided himself to Sasuke’s prepared entrance and slowly made his way in, drinking in the soft, needy mewls as he spread him open further and further on his cock. When he was finally in, he paused and exhaled, pressing his cheek against Sasuke’s. The young man in his arms was panting rapidly and taking large gulps of air.



“Kisame…” he whispered, barely finding his voice. “I...”



“Am I hurting you, kitten?” he asked him. The young man under him shook and for a moment he was ready to pull out, convinced that despite the extensive preparation Sasuke had just not been ready for him yet. He pulled back, firmly stomping on his disappointment, reminding himself that he was no animal. Itachi had said so. A small, graceful hand on his hip, gripping at the muscles there stopped him.



“What are you doing?” Sasuke asked hoarsely.



“I don’t like hurting my partners in bed, Sasuke-kun. At least not when they don’t want it.” He explained patiently, but the hand didn’t let go.



“Don’t you dare to move, Kisame.” Sasuke sounded oddly bossy, compared to the utter submission he shown up to this moment, steel ringing in his voice. He reminded him of Itachi in such a painful way that he stilled obediently.



“Give me a moment. I… I just need to get used to you, that’s all. Just a minute more, okay?”



He nodded and when he realized that Sasuke couldn’t see it, said:



“Okay. But you will tell me if you want me to stop.”



“Yes…”



They stayed like that, their bodies joined, throbbing at the point of their connection. It was pure torture for Kisame to stand there without moving, the soft, hot, tight glove of Sasuke’s body gripping him so deliciously. Slowly the gripping tightness loosened a little, enough for him to feel a little more comfortable.



“Move, Kisame.” The young man ordered softly.



He didn’t need a second prompting. His hips snapped back and forth, perhaps a little more forcefully than he had intended to, and whatever Sasuke was about to say was drowned in a throaty groan. Kisame made an effort to regain his self-control, knowing that he couldn’t let go completely, not with a partner who was that inexperienced. It wasn’t anything new to him, to hold back in bed – in the later years of their relationship Itachi’s condition had been too fragile for rough sex. The only person he ever allowed himself to truly let go of all control had been Nagato, but few people had his recuperating ability, not to mention his barely concealed masochism.



So he thrust back and forth into the young man, delighting in the way his much smaller body writhed under him when it was impaled on his erection over and over. He couldn’t help but look down at the place where they were joined, his eyes focusing on the impossibly spread, reddened and glistening muscle of his opening, how own thick cock going in and out of it, slick with butter and his own copious juices, the taut cheeks bouncing each time his hips slapped against them.



He hadn’t been with anyone ever since Itachi died, and despite his experience and considerable self-control he knew that he wouldn’t last long, especially not with a partner straining and mewling like a cat in heat under him like that. Kisame leaned forward and pressed them from shoulder to hip again, his large hands wrapped around Sasuke’s middle while he indulated inside of him. The young man moaned incoherently again, reaching and gripping the arms around him, holding onto them as if for dear life, his own hips snapping up to meet the invading cock. They were both slick with sweat, the heat shared between them as intense as a furnace. He opened his eyes and watched the side of Sasuke’s flushed face, his raven hair sticking to his flushed cheeks, the swollen, reddened lips opened in an endless moan, long lashes trembling. He let out a helpless mewl when he finally came, his channel spasming almost painfully around Kisame’s erection. It took him only a few more thrusts until he finished as well, growling with each shot of come that left his body and poured into Sasuke.



Sweaty and exhausted they both slid to the ground afterwards, Kisame sitting on the cool wooden floor and Sasuke curled in his lap. His large hands roamed over the still trembling body, making him moan again when they gently cupped his spent balls and fingers probed his leaking, sore entrance. Sasuke leaned and kissed him, a wet, messy kiss, deceptively strong arms wrapping around his broad shoulders and holding him as close as possible.



“Are you okay?” he asked, lips hidden in the messy raven hair.



“Yes.” Sasuke settled more comfortably on his lap, thighs spread slightly to give his still probing hand a better access. “Are you?”



Kisame paused and thought about it. Was he okay? He hadn’t felt okay ever since Itachi’s death. He had withdrawn into himself, refused all of Nagato attempts to comfort him, and selfishly ignored Nagato’s own need for comfort. He hadn’t been able to forget how small Itachi’s body had been in his arms while he carried him back home.



He had had to chase Zetsu away when he arrived in the ruins of the Temple where the brothers had fought their final duel, threatening the spy that he would chop him into a salad and feed him to the pigs if he so much as thought of going anywhere near Itachi’s broken body.



His young lover lay there, Sasuke’s own unconscious form long taken away by Madara, who had callously abandoned Itachi’s body, since dead he was no longer of any use of him. He remembered pausing, staring down at the broken form, surprised by the peaceful, serene smile on the mangled, once-beautiful face. He had still been warm under his fingers when he wrapped him in his cloaked and lifted him, shocked at how light his body was – during the last several months of his life Itachi had refused to allow anywhere near him, including Kisame. Now, he could feel his rips and the ridges of his spine even through Itachi’s torn clothes and his own cloak. He had felt the warmth seep from the still body, its muscles stiffening in death.



By the time he arrived in Ame the rigor mortis had passed away, the body once again slack in his arms, but cold, so terribly, unnaturally cold, like the mists that covered his village during the winter.



He had washed him, washed away the pain, the blood and grime, combed his hair, wrapped him in the finest silk he could find, and then had gone to another trip, carrying a precious burden. He supposed he had been selfish in the way he had performed those final rituals for Itachi, following his own tradition, giving his body to the sea, rather than following Konoha’s customs and feeding him to the fire, but part of him had been outraged at the thought of following the traditions of the place that had destroyed his lover.



When he returned, he locked himself in his room, waiting for the time when he would be sent to another mission but that time didn’t come. He waited, and waited, politely refused all of Nagato’s requests to join him for a dinner, or a walk, or a simple conversation in his office. He wanted to grieve, but he discovered that he no longer knew how. He couldn’t cry – crying was the first thing beaten out of you when you became a Kirigakure Nin. The walls in their small apartment felt like they were closing in on him, the silence and emptiness oppressive in their intensity. One day he decided that he needed to deal with Itachi’s things and went to open the chest where he kept his clothes and weapons. He had been calm, numb even, while sorting through them, still unsure what exactly he would do with them once he put them in order. It was when he found the photograph he now kept in his box that he snapped. It had fallen out of a small leather pouch he found in the bottom of the chest. In it there had been a small training Kunai, like the ones given to students of the Academies all over the world when they first arrived there, having no sharp edges and its point dull and round. They weren’t for fighting, not really, they were simply made for the child to get used to the feel and weight of the weapon in their hand until they were allowed to use the real thing. “To my little brother.” The engraving on one of its sides said. Next to the Kunai there was an old, torn stuffed doll, a creature that resembled both a bear and a badger, some of its filling sticking out through undone stitches. He briefly wondered if that had also belonged to Sasuke. Underneath the Kunai and the doll there was the photograph, a little bent and creased, but still unmistakably the one Kisame had taken of Itachi all those years ago. He had though that his lover had thrown it away, or lost it, since he had little need of such sentimental mementoes. He hadn’t expected that Itachi would hide it, keep it, put it alongside things that obviously meant the world to him.



He had stood there, the photograph in his hands, Itachi’s things strewn on the ground and on the bed around him and waited. He couldn’t cry, although for the first time in his adult life he truly wanted to, and attempted to do that. No tears came out. Something snapped in him, a rage he had long suppressed, at Itachi, at Madara, at Akatsuki, at himself, at the whole world, and he went wild. He thrashed the place, tearing through clothes and furniture, the inanimate objects giving into his strength with the same ease as flesh did. When all that was left of their belongings was a ruin, he stopped for a moment and looked around, his wrath still unabated, still whitehot, boiling in his breast. He felt like he would burst.



He grabbed his Samehada and hurriedly left Ame, wandering almost blindly around the borders until he found a group of unsuspecting Nin – and he didn’t pause to find out whether they were rogues or a patrol or Hunters – he just attacked, letting the rage consume him, allowing the beast he had suppressed for all these years to come to the fore.



His memory of that fight was very hazy, but when he was finally done the landscape looked like a hurricane had passed through, and the Nin he attacked lay torn in pieces around him. He was covered in their blood from head to toe – it soaked through his clothes and in his hair, drenched his hands, was splattered on his face, he could even taste it in his mouth.



The great sword fell from his nerveless fingers and he stumbled, sitting on the ground in shock at his own utter loss of control. He didn’t regret killing them – he had lost the ability to feel that kind of remorse along with the ability to cry, but the fact that he had lost himself so far to the rage appalled him. What would Itachi think if he could see him then? He was no animal, Itachi had told him once, but at that moment, Kisame doubted that.



“Kisame?”



The Mist Nin slowly returned to the present and met worried dark eyes, so alike and yet so different than Itachi’s. This wasn’t Itachi, it could never be Itachi, nor could he take his place. For the first time in months it occurred to him that actually Sasuke didn’t need to fill Itach’s place, just to fill the void he inside of him, the void that had remained after his loss. Surprisingly, Sasuke was doing a good job at that. Only time would tell if Kisame managed to do the same for him, but for the first time in so long, he dared to hope that he would be capable of doing such a thing.



He smiled at Sasuke.



“Yes, Sasuke-kun. I’m okay.”