Divided Loyalty

A/N: Ah, the new chapter is done, FINALLY. Real life keeps me quite busy, but I try to write a little every day. Don't worry, I have not forgotten about any of my fics. :D



CHAPTER 13





He waited for almost one hour before Arashi-san appeared, quietly sitting on the edge of a large stone flowerpot decorating the street corner where their meeting was supposed to be. He was a little cold and the hunger – the one for blood, not normal food – kept gnawing at him, twisting his insides as he tried to occupy his mind in order to find a distraction from it and from the worry that his client wouldn’t come. The more time passed, the more he got worried, fear replacing the hunger, at least temporarily. What would happen if Arashi-san didn’t come? Where would he find a client willing to pay him that well? How would he help Kakashi if he couldn’t find one?



By the end of the hour he was on the verge of tears and only sheer strength of will and determination not to be seen crying by total strangers held him back.



“Nagato?”



He jumped and almost fell over when he heard the familiar smooth voice, sharply turning around to face him.



“Arashi-san! You came!” Nagato couldn’t help but sound utterly relieved and grateful.



“Of course I did. I apologize for the delay – I was making some preparations, but there were some things I had to deal with in the last minute. You waited for almost an hour, didn’t you?”



“That’s alright, Arashi-san. I am here to serve.”



The blonde frowned a little at those words but he couldn’t hide the pleased glow in his eyes.



“Yes. You are.” He muttered quietly and beckoned him to come closer.



“Come with me, Nagato. We’ll go back to my hotel room first, you need to prepare.”



“Prepare, Arashi-san? For what?”



“Oh, we’re going to dinner tonight. I trust you’re hungry?”



It was as if someone had set fire in his veins.



“Yes.” He whispered hoarsely. “Very.”



“Good. You’ll enjoy the meal then.”



He obediently followed Arashi-san into the hotel, through the entrance hall and up the elevator, dutifully ignoring the glares from the personnel and some of the clients. He could tell that they knew what he was and why he was here and they thought he was trash, but he couldn’t care less. All that mattered was that after tonight, he might actually have enough money to rent a small room for the both of them, a real, warm, dry room with an actual bed in it. He looked forward to that. If he had luck, he might even satisfy his craving as well.



Arashi-san unlocked the door and ushered him in.



“Come in. Undress and go in the bathroom. I want you to shower again and to remove all hair on your body. I have prepared all that you mind need.”



Nagato gave the blond a quizzical look but shrugged and began undressing. People had different kinks and lack of body hair was quite a harmless one, so Nagato didn’t give it a second thought. It wouldn’t even be that much of a chore to remove it all – being a natural red-head, Yahiko had never had much body hair to begin with and ever since Nagato had taken over it barely grew. He hadn’t shaved his face in weeks.



The spacious bathroom was as he remembered it – the large wall covered by a mirror, the richly decorated copper bathtub, the gently glowing sconces on the walls – it reminded him of the illustrations of the fairy tales books his mother had read to him as a child many years ago, well before the war in Ame began.



On a rack next to the shower stall there was a shaving kit – a razor, small brush and shaving cream along with a small tube of soothing aloe gel. He turned on the hot water and slid under the shower, once again marveling at just how good hot water felt. He really missed having long, hot showers, a luxury he hadn’t had since he was forced to flee with Kakashi. Nagato cast a longing look towards the bathtub – how he wished to soak in it, but Arashi-san would probably throw him out like a flea-ridden cat if he dared to even touch something so expensive.



With a sigh he turned around and reached for the shaving kit. Shaving his legs was awkward, it was something he had never done before, though he had seen Itachi do it – Kisame had been another man who liked his lovers smooth and silken. Armpit and pubic was far easier – he already had the habit of removing it, simply because it lessened body odor by a large degree and when you were on the run from Shinobi, you want to smell as little as possible. Blushing a little he turned around and craned his neck to look at the mirror, then spread his asscheeks with both hands to see if he had any hairs around his anus, although he had never had to remove anything there before. His hairless hole twitched under his gaze and he flushed even further – the reflection in the mirror looked incredibly wanton, like a slut openly begging his lover to impale him on his erection. Then again, considering what he was doing in this bathroom, it wasn’t far from the truth.



When he was finally done he slicked all shaved places with the soothing cream to soften his skin, wrapped the fluffy bathroom robe he found hung on the door around himself and quietly returned to Arashi-san. The latter had his back turned to him, arranging something on the bed. Nagato remained in his place, patiently waiting for him to finish doing whatever it was that he was doing.



When he was finally done the blond turned around and faced him, a small smile playing on his lips.



“Ah, there you are.” He beckoned him to come closer. “Take off the bathrobe. Let me see you.”



Obediently he followed the order and slid the bathrobe down his shoulders then he allowed it to fall to the ground. He stood naked before his client, gooseflesh breaking out on his skin under the intense scrutiny of those sharp blue eyes. Arashi-san looked him up and down from head to toe, taking in the details of his smooth, silken body, hungrily licking his hips before ordering:



“Turn around and bend over.”



Once again he complied without a word, turning gracefully on his heels and bending over, his bottom jutting up. Smooth, strong hands cupped his cheeks and tenderly massaged them before spreading them wide and a thick, unoiled finger shallowly breached him. He gasped at the sensation and tried to relax as much as he could, knowing that it was the only way to minimize damage if Arashi-san decided to take him without lube or preparation. It would hurt, but it this wouldn’t be the first time he did something like this. By know he had learned to take it.



“Very good. You haven’t missed a spot.” Arashi-san cooed with delight and removed his hands.



“You can turn back now. Take a look at what I’ve got for you.”



When Nagato turned around Arashi-san had moved away from the bed and he saw what the blond had been arranging earlier. It was a sky blue kimono of a clearly feminine cut, richly embroidered and decorated with white and black herons hunting for dinner among blossoming flowers. Next to the kimono there was a sash, also richly embroidered, but no obi. Arashi handed him a small box white paper box.



“Here. Put these on under the kimono.”



A little nervous, he lifted the lid and the protective layer of rice paper to discover that inside the box there was a pair of silken stockings and a pair of decidedly feminine panties. He put the box on the bed and lifted the panties out of it, holding them between two fingers in each hand and examining them with shocked curiosity. They were white and appeared to be of quite a demure cut, and despite the lacy material resembling boxers than actual panties. Or at least he thought so until he turned them around and saw that the back consisted of nothing but a thin silken g-string, quite short at that – they would be sitting quite low on his hips when he put them on.



“Well?” Arashi-san said impatiently behind him. “Put them on.”



A little hesitantly he slid the panties up his smooth legs and twitched with embarrassment when the g-string nestled between his asscheeks and pressed against his already sensitive hole. The material on the front was barely enough to hold him in – he felt like he was about to spill out of it any moment now. Nagato licked his lips nervously before reaching into the box again and pulling the stockings out – delicate, filmy things that reached the middle of his thighs when he finally managed to put them on, the elastic lace at the top holding them in place. When he looked up he noticed that Arashi-san was watching intensely, his expression focused and hungry, blue eyes burning in a way that made him feel uncomfortable despite all the times he had already sold his body to complete strangers. There was something different about Arashi-san compared to his other clients, something primal but no matter how much he tried he could not put his finger on it. He both frightened and fascinated him and under other circumstances he would have beat a hasty retreat. Kakashi, however, needed his help. He had to provide them both with a decent roof over their heads, decent food and good medicines. No matter how strange a kink Arashi-san might have, Nagato was determined to satisfy it, because he needed him more than Arashi needed Nagato.



Arashi walked up to him, looking at him all over again, the odd hunger on his face intensifying even further. He suddenly lowered himself before him on one knee and ran his hands up silk-covered calves and thighs, nuzzling his lace-covered groin.



“Beautiful.” He whispered quietly before returning to the bed and carefully gathering the kimono in his hands. “Lift up your hands, beautiful, let me put this on you.”



He quietly cooperated while Arashi-san carefully arranged the rich, silken material around his form. He was no girl, he didn’t have the delicate feminine curves of a girl and no matter how much his client arranged the folds he wouldn’t be able to hide that. The kimono was cut in a way that left its upper part wide open, tantalizingly revealing his shoulders. That made it perfectly clear that it wasn’t meant to hide the fact that he was male and pass him off as a female. It showed that he was a man dressed in feminine clothes. The rich sash tied at the front – the way prostitutes did, rather than an obi gathered at the back - made the ensemble all the more vulgar. Arashi-san clearly wanted to advertise that he was having a dinner with a crossdressing whore. Nagato just couldn’t figure out if the point of this was to humiliate him or it was some sort of a strange exhibitionistic streak that the blond had.



When Arashi-san was finally satisfied with the way the kimono was arranged on his person he took a step back and looked him over with a pleased expression on his face.



“Come. Have a seat on the bed. Be careful, don’t crease the silk.”



He quietly complied, feeling restricted by the strange garment and embarrassed that he was stuffed in it to begin with. He probably looked absolutely ridiculous. He stared down at his stockinged feet, feeling a blush warming his cheeks, but before he could gather the courage to voice his concerns he felt gentle hands in his drying hair, combing it and styling it with surprising skill.



“There. We need to tame that pretty hair of yours if we’re to go out like that.” Arashi-san cooed.



He was a man dressed as a woman and wore female underwear. Who would even notice his hair? Still, he didn’t dare protest as he remembered why he was doing this. Kakashi needed a decent home and medicines. If Arashi-san wanted him to go out like that and do a public striptease he would comply.



Tender fingers lifted his chin up and he stared into a pair of brilliant blue eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed before how blue Arashi-san’s eyes were? The colour seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn’t make the connection.



The tender fingers ran over his lips, smearing something slick and sugary sweet on them.



“I bought this today especially for you.” The blond explained, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but I think I can make you look presentable enough.”



Nagato noticed a small box of powder and eyeshadow in his hands. Make up?



“What are you, Arashi-san?” he couldn’t help but ask “An unusually rich hairdresser?”



Arashi-san laughed heartily.



“No. An occasional actor, at best, but I always applied my own make up and costume. My own disguise, if you will.” A small, soft brush pressed against his cheeks and then his eyelids and Arashi-san worked in silence for a few minutes. “There now. I’m done. You look beautiful.” Arashi tugged him towards the bathroom



Beautiful? He was sure he looked ridiculous and vulgar and… oh. A stranger was looking at him from the full wall mirror in the bathroom. A stranger dressed an elegant kimono that naturally hugged his slender form, his pale shoulders looking silky smooth above the folds of the sky-blue silk. The usual untamable mop of bright red-hair was falling in orderly, elegant fashion around a face that was too pretty to be entirely masculine but certainly not feminine as well. His lips glistened softly with a sweet, strawberry tint, the peach blush on his cheeks made him look demure and innocent, the hint of kohl on his eyelids brought out the brilliance of his own ... of Yahiko’s blue eyes. It was still clear that he was not a girl, but while he had expected that he would look ugly and trashy he discovered that Arashi-san’s efforts had given him an otherworldly, androgynous appeal.



“As I said.” His client said behind him, his large hands gently massaging Nagato’s exposed shoulders. “You look beautiful. Let’s go out for dinner now.”



He swallowed and looked away from the mirror to face Arashi-san.



“Why are you doing all of this, Arashi-san?” he asked quietly. “The clothes, the make up… I’m a cheap whore you picked up from the street, not a high-class courtesan.”



Arashi-san paused at that question but did not appear offended or angry, he did not remove his hands from Nagato’s bared shoulders and continued to gently rub the skin there.



“Because you are far better than any courtesan I could’ve bought for the night.” A crooked smile twisted his delicate lips “To be honest with you, you are far less demanding than a courtesan would’ve been. I would’ve had to struggle for control with one of them, as they are creatures who prefer to hold all the reigns of an encounter in their hands and give nothing to their partner. And while sometimes I do enjoy the struggle for dominance, other times I just want… obedience. And you’re more than willing to give up all control.”



Nagato looked down.



“Oh. I see.”



Minato watched the red-head assimilate what he had just been told. While the main reason to pick him up was the need to ensure that Kakashi would receive proper care, what he told Nagato was the truth. He did enjoy obedient sexual partners and the fact that the other man was willing to be all that made things easier for the both of them. His own feelings for Kakashi’s lover were a tangled mess that he had yet to pick apart. During their first encounter his anger, his thirst for vengeance for all the crimes this man had committed had eclipsed the need to take care of Kakashi and he had lost control for a while, he had hurt him and humiliated him and he had gotten off on it, at least until he realized what he was doing. Whatever his crimes may be, he still did not deserve to be used in such a callous, obscene way. Nobody did. He pitied him and regretted his actions, fed him, clothed him, gave him kind words even.



When the man left though, the old anger began to resurface, even hotter than before. He had been disgusted at himself, at his own soft nature. Even if he had given back lives of almost everyone he had killed, Konoha still lay in ruins, his agents still carved a bloody trail throughout the ninja world as they hunted for the Jinchuuriki, he still nearly took his son’s life, and worst of all, Jiraiya-sensei was still dead. Murdered by his own student. How could he have been so kind, so nice to that man?



Determined to use their next encounter to humiliate him and hurt him as much as possible he purchased the kimono and the underwear, eager to make him look like a transvestite whore and parade him around town like that. He spent the whole morning looking at the clothes and underwear, tasting the shame the other would feel when he put them on, when he walked through the streets and felt the mocking, hostile looks on his form.



And then he had to come, shy and so obviously vulnerable, looking and acting like a lost, frightened child, the agony lurking behind the blue eyes obvious for anyone who knew what to look for. He had expected to enjoy observing that pain, to play with his prey, stick his fingers as deep as he could in his wounds and twist them and gloat at the other’s suffering. What he witnessed though produced no such reaction, much to his surprise and confusion. Something about his behaviour reminded him of Kakashi right after he rejected him in his office all those years ago, the flash of raw pain he saw in his eye right before his mask covered the horrible wound that Minato dealt him. How could he continue with his plan when he had already done that once already, to someone who had been so sweet and innocent and had depended so completely on Minato? This man was hardly Kakashi, but the similarity in demeanor and behaviour was so great that he just couldn’t continue with his plan. The memories it brought were too raw, too painful.



So instead of going through with his plan, instead of making him look cheap and vulgar, he opted for another approach and decided he liked the final result.



Minato caressed a soft cheek and lifted his face to meet his eyes.



“I won’t hurt you.” He promised quietly and ignored his own surprise at the truth he uttered. “I promise. Don’t be afraid of me.”



He leaned and actually kissed him, gently, softly, imagining that it was Kakashi he was kissing. The sweet-tasting lips under his trembled for a moment before opening with practiced ease, eagerly letting him in, the soft, wet, agile tongue curling around his like a serpent. Minato thrust his tongue in that welcoming mouth and the other obediently suckled on it as if it were a sweet, the smaller body relaxing in his arms. Desire throbbed in Minato’s veins as the kiss deepened and he had half a mind to scrap his plans for the dinner and take the red-head here and now, but he did not become a Hokage without learning self-control and patience. What he had planned for the night was delicious and ultimately would be even more satisfying that a quick fuck in the hotel room.



Hesitantly, he withdrew and caressed his cheek again.



“Come, we’ll be late for dinner.”



The other nodded silently.



Nagato’s cheeks grew more and more heated as he felt the gazes of the people around him all focused on his person, appraising, curious, lustful, but surprisingly enough, not derisive and hateful. He had expected mockery and yet he had received none. Were they actually fooled that he was a woman? Certainly not. He had no cleavage whatsoever and the kimono was revealing enough not to be able to hide that fact.



“See?” Arashi-san said with a small smile as they walked down the street, heading for whatever restaurant his client had chosen for the night. “You had nothing to worry about.”



Nagato’s hand around Arashi-san’s elbow tightened and he cleared his throat, still feeling a little uncomfortable.



“You’re right, I wasn’t really expecting this. Thank you.”



The restaurant was in three-storey building of classical architecture, hidden behind an extensive and well-maintained garden. Nagato surreptitiously looked around as they walked down the gravel path, noticing other well-dressed gentlemen like Arashi-san taking a stroll, most of them accompanied by pretty, sensual men and women. Was this some kind of a brothel? Or simply a place that catered to rich men and their lovers?



The maitre d’, a pretty, middle-aged woman in a traditional garment, met them at the door and bowed low, inviting them in with a graceful gesture.



“Welcome, Arashi-sama. Your table is waiting for you.”



The interior of the restaurant was a strange mix of luxury and spartan simplicity. There was very little actual furniture and decoration, but wherever Nagato looked he could see polished marble, imported ebony floors, richly embroidered curtains and walls painted in gold leaf. It seemed that each table was hidden behind a painted and lacquered screen, giving privacy to whomever dined inside.



The maitre d’ led them to a screen that depicted the scene of Amaterasu leaving her cave and returning light to the world, the rejoicing lesser gods cheering around her, all drawn in lacquer and gold leaf again.



“Your table, Arashi-sama.” She ushered them in, set a menu on the table and bowed gracefully again. “A waiter would be right over to take your order.”



“Thank you, Akiko-san.” Arashi answered graciously.



The room inside was surprisingly spacious, its walls covered with red silk, the tatami on the floor perfectly clean and smooth, the low table surrounded by numerous soft-looking pillows.



“Have a seat, Nagato.” Arashi-san said as he lowered himself on the pillows, not bothering with the rigid kneeling position and relaxing onto his side. Mindful of the kimono, Nagato sat more carefully, tucking his feet under himself. He was feeling tense and out of place in these surroundings. As a child he slept on the wet, muddy ground, hungry and often bruised, terrified for his life, shivering in the rags that constituted his clothes, the one source of warmth being the small, furry body of his dog that cuddled up to him when they rested. Later, when Yahiko, Konan and himself formed Akatsuki they didn’t care about luxury nor could they afford it, their mission being far more important than physical comforts. Pein too liked simple things, although he spared no money and efforts to be sure that his employees had comfortable, functional quarters and a well-stocked kitchen. Starvation was one memory he was never able to shed, even when he became a leader of a village of his own, as well as an international rebel organization.



So dining in such a room was something relatively new to him, especially considering his situation in the past months.



“You’re tenser than a girl on her first wedding night.” Arashi-san murmured.



“I apologize, Arashi-san.” He answered, tugging at the hem of his kimono. “I…” he swallowed, uncomfortable that he would admit his lack of etiquette knowledge. “I am not used to surroundings such as these. I don’t want to do something that will embarrass you.”



Minato narrowed his eyes at the other man. What kind of a game was he playing at?! He had been a Kage, for crying out loud, and from what he had heard, for the past several years Ame’s financial situation had improved greatly. Nagato, however, appeared genuinely worried and ashamed. How could that be? The man was a mass of contradictions – a killer who exuded innocence and vulnerability, a Kage who had no knowledge of etiquette, someone whose power had been almost god-like in its greatness and yet was prostituting for small change to support his mutilated lover. Who was he, really? What was he?



Apparently the open suspicion and disapproval on Minato’s face scared him because the soft, full lips trembled and he suddenly bowed as low as his garment would allow him, forehead almost touching the ground.



“I apologize, Arashi-san. I will be on my best behaviour. Please. I can do this, I know I can, I will satisfy you in any way you want…” he seemed to be babbling, his panic rising with each word and plea.



Minato quickly reached and took his shoulders in his hands, tugging him up, pulling him in his arms for a hug.



“Shhh. It’s okay. We have complete privacy here, I don’t care even if you eat soup with your fingers, okay?” he assured him and felt thin body tremble before relaxing.



“Thank you. You’re so kind to me, so good…”



He rubbed his back and held him close, waiting for him to calm down. All of these reactions were real, genuine. He could tell as much. How could someone who had held his position be this broken now? Was this a new development? Was the loss of his former status, of finding his lover in the state he was in been this harmful to his psyche? Or was this an older situation, dating back from the time when Jiraiya had met him as a boy? Naruto had hinted of a past filled with suffering, homelessness, fear and starvation. Did that trauma still have an effect on him? All these were questions without simple answers and Minato doubted that he would be able to figure them out that particular evening.



Minato looked up to meet the eyes of the waitress that had just entered their booth – a young woman in an elegant yellow kimono, her hair perfectly coiffed, face covered in traditional make up. Minato had barely felt her coming – the staff here was trained to be as quiet as a ghost and as unobtrusive as a cat.



“Ah, you’re here.” He said and allowed Nagato to pull back a little, though he still had his arms wrapped around him. “Give me a few moments to take a look at the menu and I will order.”



She bowed again and patiently stood by the lacquered screen.



Minato opened the menu and eyed the fares.



“Ah, hmm. Well, I’ll have the oyster motoyaki, the eel kabayaki, the marinated octopus, the ikira…” he kept listing food until he was satisfied with the amount. The only outward show of surprise on the waitress face at the long, complicated order was a slight widening of her eyes for less than a second then she composed herself again. When Minato was done, she turned to his guest.



“Are you going to…”



“He won’t be ordering anything today, Miss, thank you.”



“Oh. I see.” She bowed minutely. “Your order will arrive shortly, Arashi-san.”



Nagato had a disappointed, sad look on his face, apparently assuming that Minato would be the only one eating tonight.



“Don’t worry, beautiful. I ordered enough food for the both of us.” He reached to tuck a soft strand of hair behind his ear. “I just like the thought of you eating off my plate and from my hand too much.”