Once, They Were Three

A/N: This was inspired by the spoiler for the upcoming chapter. Yes, I have it bad for those two. xD

She had been sitting there on a chair in the corner for the past seven hours. She hadn’t made a sound, watching him pour over maps and scrolls and letters, reports of the city that had been brought to her and she gave to him to examine and approve. Pein’s day was always terribly busy, as it befitted a man of his station. She’s used to the strain and the stress of following him around, of providing assistance without him needing to ask. She’s used to anticipating his wishes and fulfilling them and in advance. And frankly, she knew that he’s used to it as well.

Still, despite the fact that she knew that these bodies are borrowed, that Nagato could drive them as mercilessly as he drove himself, they still needed sustenance and rest. For all his claims of divinity, for all his ability to revive them after terrible injuries, even the puppets he possessed were still human on some level and had very human needs. Eat. Drink. Sleep. Nagato’s will controlled them, but Konan’s care maintained them. All the more, when he forced the puppets to go beyond their limits it was him who had to pour his energy into them, and that was unacceptable.

“You need to rest.” She stated flatly.

“Later.” Was the quiet reply. He did not look up.

Konan frowned at him and smoothed a non-existing wrinkle on her cloak. He was being stubborn now. And while she had chosen to follow his lead in the quest they had embarked on, she had never put up with any stubbornness from him when it came to his well being. So she adopted her other tone she sometimes used with him.

“You will rest now.” Steel rang in her voice and he paused, looking up at her.

When she used that tone, he knew that he crossed a line. She never used it in the presence of other people – before witnesses and onlookers, she was a quiet follower, an extension of his will, his Messenger, there to do his bidding and punish his enemies. In private, when it was only the two of them, it was her who ultimately made the choices. Nagato, Pein, had never been able to deny her anything, though she knew what was permissible to ask for and what was not and chose not to push him beyond those limits. If she did, she knew that he would grant her wish, but that was breach of trust that Konan had no desire to commit. And she knew that he needed her to take care of him, of his needs, even when didn’t want her to.

Slowly, Pein put his pen down and straightened, looking at her, waiting further instructions.

Konan got up from her chair and approached him quietly until she loomed over him as he was seated behind the large desk.

“You will come with me now and I will wash you. Afterwards, we’ll have dinner and go to bed.” She told him.

For a moment, there was a quiet challenge in his eyes, but she just looked at him, her expression calm and gentle and he simply nodded, getting up and following her out of the room.

Once in their quarters she led him to the bathroom and undressed him, then herself, and turned on the hot water, filling the large bathtub – one of the few luxuries they allowed themselves to have. After spending years in the wilderness, they felt as if the filth that had accumulated on their bodies from sleeping in the gutter had gone under their very skin. A good bath or a shower was something they both enjoyed and craved and often.

Konan let her hair out of clasp that held it up and slid in the tub, Pein following her lead and relaxing against her chest, her long legs wrapping around his middle, his face cushioned against her shoulder. Yahiko’s… Pein’s soft red hair tickled her cheek and she slid her hand in it, caressing gently. He seemed to relax even further, body molding against hers. Konan’s other hand travelled over his chest, over the smooth soft skin and hard, cold rods that protruded from his flesh. A puppeteer’s strings. She gently turned his face further around and up and kissed him just as her questing hand slid under the water, down his flat stomach to his awakening groin. Yahiko had always had a magnificent body. The first time they did this, it felt strange, because it was only the two of them, two bodies intertwined together where it used to be three. In a way, this was both her friends, her lovers, at the same time, and yet, it was neither of them – Yahiko was long dead and Nagato was trapped inside his real body, a cage of flesh and bone that refused to die, anchored to the world of the living through pure agony. Sometimes, she wondered, she hoped, that an echo of the pleasure she gave this puppet was somehow transferred to Nagato through the link.

With a soft sigh, the red-head opened his lips under hers and she kissed him deeper but her hand did not speed its movements under the water. There was no need, they weren’t in any hurry. She wouldn’t allow them to be.

They stayed in the tub for a while, caressing and petting and kissing, until the water finally began to cool. Afterwards, wrapped soft bathrobes, they made their way back to the living room. They kept few personal servants and none of them were allowed near the floor where they resided, but they never failed to bring a cart full of warm food before the door that separated the public part of the building from their sanctum. Food, plenty of it and well-prepared, was the other luxury that Konan couldn’t let go of, and Pein readily indulged her, even if he himself couldn’t care less if he ate ash. Years of starving and begging from strangers, enemies, for scraps had made Konan appreciate a full stomach and a good cook.

She piled food on his plate, more than he would have served himself, had she given him the chance. She always did that. It was almost as if she was trying to compensate for the state of Nagato’s body, emaciated as it was, fed from a system as it couldn’t accept any normal food ever since he was encased in the prison of his own making.

Pein did not protest his overfilled dish and dug in obediently as she looked at him, taking an almost masochistic pleasure in watching him eat.

When they were done, Konan gathered the dirty dishes and put them back on the tray, knowing that the servants would take them wash them. When she came back, he was still sitting at the table, watching her with calm, thoughtful eyes.

“Come to bed.” She said and turned around, walking into the bedroom. For once, he was the one following her lead, as willing as she was to follow his.

Later, he lay on his back as she ran hands and mouth over his body, invoking the softest of sighs and moans from him, ever quiet, ever subdued. When they were like that, there was never any need to use tie up or restrain him anyway, he was perfectly obedient, needing her to do this to him, for him, as much as she needed to do it to him. When she sank her mouth on him and her fingers inside of him, he came, his hand coming to rest in her hair, petting her much the same way she had pet him earlier in the bathroom.

Afterwards, all she had to do was roll them over and allow him to do the same to her, work her with his pierced lips and tongue, wrap her long thighs around his shoulders and urge him to go faster, deeper, harder until she finally arched against him and moaned softly.

Much later, Konan watched him sleeping next to her, long fiery lashes resting against pale cheeks. When he was asleep, it was not possible to make the difference between him and Yahiko, whose features had relaxed much in the same way when he fell asleep, curled against her side, Nagato curled against the other. But the other side had long been empty and cold. All she could hope for was that this night had brought Nagato at least a fraction of the pleasure and peace it had given her, as temporary as they were.