For His Own Good

A/N: I started writing this late last night, well past the time I am normally working on fanfiction. Twenty-four hours later, it is done. Essentially, the idea popped into my mind and just fell onto the paper. This is the result. I hope you enjoy.

Oh, and even though Minato was Jiraiya-sensei's student in canon, I elected to make them all the same age here.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters. I make no money from the writing of this story.

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Warning: unbeta’d; language; humor; OOC; PWP; yaoi

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Fucking pretty boy, Orochimaru thought to himself as he sat in his seat. He absently spun the base of his wine glass on the table with his fingers as he watched the interplay between Minato Namikaze and Shibi Aburame on the other side of the room, boring imagined holes into them both with a laser-like scowl. Who was that fucking Aburame, anyway? He seemed so…macho for a science professor. And he had Minato eating out of his hand, a fact that had Orochimaru stewing in his own bitter juice.

Bastard, Orochimaru thought petulantly, at least have the decency to remove those stupid sunglasses.

Two tables over from where Orochimaru sat, a handsome white-haired man observed him in silent amusement.

Here we go again, the man thought to himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Minato Namikaze was the city of Konoha’s golden boy, primed to be its next great leader. And there all six feet, two inches of him stood, poured into the penguin suit that was uniform of the day for fundraisers like these, but somehow making it into something uniquely his own.

He and Orochimaru had both grown up in Konoha, had had the same teachers for the same classes through high school and college, and earned similar grades. But the similarities ended there. Somehow as adults, Orochimaru had wound up becoming the only kid without a date for the prom, a kind of local reject, while Minato had become its king: a tall, tanned, blond, blue-eyed god-like myth in the flesh.

Minato seemed to be able to harness the power of the sun itself, drawing people effortlessly to him as though he were vital sustenance. He could easily disarm anyone with that sparkling smile and those sparkling blue eyes of his. Sunshine and happiness seemed to seep from his every pore. And in the face of all that, he still managed to convey a baffling humility.

Orochimaru sat and watched and drank, stunned by the power of his own hatred. He hated genetics. He hated the people of Konoha and their collective ignorance. He hated Shibi Aburame. He hated Minato Namikaze, his parents, and his grandparents.

But most of all, he hated himself for wanting Namikaze’s rigid cock pounding into his ass.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The gesture was an innocent one, made by a man in pleasant conversation with another man. But to Orochimaru, watching the shady Aburame place his hand on Minato’s shoulder was a challenge. To Orochimaru, Aburame was marking territory.

Orochimaru picked up his wine glass and drained it, setting it down with a thunk before rising from his chair to make a beeline for the spectacle he considered the two of them were making.

Not far away, the white-haired man also made his move.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Great! I’ll talk with you tomorrow”, Minato told Shibi, who turned and walked away.

Minato watched him go with a smile. Things were going well, and he was happy.

He turned, analyzing his next day’s schedule in his mind when he came face-to-face with Orochimaru.

“Hello Minato”, the dark-haired man greeted, a smile plastered on his pale face.

Minato stiffened under that yellow-eyed stare, suppressing a shiver. Orochimaru had given him the creeps since they were kids, and it had only gotten more intense as the years progressed. He seemed paler than usual tonight and in that tuxedo, looked like the Grim Reaper.

Minato wondered what he was doing there.

“Orochimaru! I didn’t see you standing there”, he responded, forcing himself to smile.

Orochimaru blinked, stunned anew by Minato’s smile. It never failed. “I wasn’t”, he explained. “But you seemed so thoroughly engrossed in your conversation with Shibi Aburame I decided to come over and see what all the fuss was about.”

Minato shrugged absently. “Oh you know, just business”, he responded.

Orochimaru shook his head. “Mm, I’m afraid I don’t know. What do you say you and I return to my table and you can explain it to me over a glass of wine?”

By now Orochimaru was reaching for the shoulder he remembered Shibi Aburame touching, eager to somehow subdue the man’s scent on Minato and to mark him with his own.

Minato watched the gesture as if in slow-motion. “I—well, that is I’m really—“

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” a booming voice greeted as the white-haired man approached the pair. “You’ve got the stealth shoes on tonight, eh, Orochimaru?”

That voice.

Orochimaru stiffened. His hand fell away as he turned to face the interloper. Son of a bitch.

“All the better to dodge you with, Jiraiya”, Orochimaru muttered in response. Damn the man, who had also attended the same classes as he and Minato but hadn’t fared nearly as well academically. Despite having been, for the most part, their class clown, he had managed to carve out a grudgingly enviable niche for himself in Konoha, complete with sturdy ties to local bigwigs and a perpetual supply of wine, women and song.

Jiraiya also had the distinction of only appearing when Orochimaru least expected and then making himself the proverbial fly in the ointment. Much to the dark-haired man's chagrin, it looked as if tonight would be no different.

“Jiraiya!” Minato greeted with a mix of pleasure and relief. “Great to see you here!” he told him, extending his hand.

The larger, long-haired man inserted his body between Orochimaru and Minato, blocking the laser-scowling man’s view of the blond, and shook Minato’s hand with a big smile. “Well, you know, when Hiruzen Sarutobi talks, it’s a good idea to pay attention.”

“You can say that again. Say, how is Lady Tsunade?” Minato asked innocently, lowering his hand.

Jiraiya looked away briefly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Er, well, we don’t see each other the way we used to, but she’s around. As buxom as ever, God bless her”, he finished with a chuckle.

Behind him, Orochimaru smirked. He knew Jiraiya had been banging the high-society blonde since their college days, no doubt an attempt to use his dick to compensate for his startling lack of wits.

Not that the blonde was at all without her charms, or that Jiraiya’s dick was a less than effective tool. He’d heard rumors about the big man’s prowess that had practically set his ears aflame, and couldn’t help but admit to a bit of curiosity himself.

Orochimaru chose that moment to exploit the rumor mill, stepping cautiously from behind Jiraiya. “Aw, poor Jiraiya”, he drawled, inserting himself in front of the two men who turned toward him, “you never were one for languishing within a...closed fence. Has the lady finally grown tired of all the track marks on her hips?”

It was Minato’s turn to look away while scratching the back of his head. He cleared his throat in discomfort just as Jiraiya spoke.

“That’s so intimidating coming from someone for whom an allergic reaction to pesticide is the closest he’ll ever come to contracting VD.”

Orochimaru gasped audibly in wide-eyed shock that quickly evolved into thin-lipped rage.

“Come on, fellas”, Minato pleaded, “we’re in polite company here. Neutral corners, please?”

“Don’t worry, Minato”, Orochimaru spat, “I have no intention of indulging this knuckle-dragging mouth-breather for one more second!”

He caught the upturned corner of Jiraiya’s mouth as the dark-haired man spun on his heel and walked away, his body moving toward the men’s room independent of his will.

“Crass technique, but effective”, Minato sighed as Orochimaru walked away. “Thanks for the save.”

“Hey”, Jiraiya responded, “what are friends for?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Orochimaru pushed open the door to the bathroom with a grunt, sending it flying open and stormed past the confused washroom attendant before barricading himself into a stall, all the while muttering obscenities to himself. “Damn that fool Jiraiya! I was close enough to touch Minato! I was so close! Damn Jiraiya and his fucked-up timing and his stupid dumb luck and his trashy sex novels and his sinful voice and—“

The sound of the men’s room door opening and closing reached his ears, stopping his tirade. He turned his head to either side in the deafening silence before something made him look down. Only then did he realize his pants were open and he was palming his very hard, leaking cock.

When did I do that? He thought to himself.

Confusion followed, siphoning the wind out of his sails. Was it something I said? He wondered as he lowered his pants and boxers with his other hand and turned to sit on the seat.

Oh, well, no sense letting the opportunity go to waste…

He ran his fingers deliberately over the hardened flesh, then down to his balls and back again, enjoying the feel of the skin against his fingers. If you asked Orochimaru, his was a masterpiece of genitalia. His cock was the perfect size--not too big and not too small. It looked like something that had been expertly crafted from the smoothest pale stone—its skin glistened, whether erect or flaccid. When erect, it blushed at the tip rather than reddening—a gentle airbrushing effect that belied its painful intensity. His balls were congruent, his pale sacs smooth and hairless—the way he liked to keep them.

Touching himself was having a calming effect. He closed his eyes and, feeling more tension leave his body, allowed himself to think of the tall, blue-eyed Adonis who had eluded his clutches for so long. Ah, Minato…so beautiful. So erotic. So powerful…

Orochimaru cradled his cock from base to tip with his hand before gripping himself firmly as he increased the speed of his strokes. He continued to imagine Minato in various stages of undress, kissing him, running his hands along Orochimaru’s body, his tongue over a nipple. Then, in his mind, fantasy Minato was lowering his head and Orochimaru was waiting to finally, finally feel those fantasy lips on his cock—but then fantasy Minato moved away, shaking his head. Uh-uh, fantasy Minato told him. You owe me something first. That’s when fantasy Minato forced the frowning Orochimaru onto his stomach, yanked back his hips and forced his head to the floor with an unforgiving hand to the back of his head. And when Orochimaru heard fantasy Minato spit into his palm, he didn’t think he could get any harder.

A bruising grip of one bony hip later and the blond’s fantasy cock was roughly impaling him. Yes! And it hurt so good! Fantasy Minato was inconsiderate of Orochimaru’s discomfort, which only made the raven-haired man want it more. Yes, abuse me, please, I’ll take it and beg for more…

And then fantasy Minato was taking him, driving that beautifully tanned cock into him, degrading him even more with words like cock-slut and bitch, and Orochimaru could feel his pleasure intensifying. Oh god yes, I’ll be your cock-slut; I’ll be your bitch, just give it to me harder and never stop…

Then, from out of nowhere, as fantasy Minato was driving into him from behind, another, larger cock was poking at his open mouth. Orochimaru was surprised for a second before opening wider to allow access to that heavenly length of flesh.

Good boy, a sinful voice drawled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Orochimaru’s eyes flew open as he gasped. He looked down at his cock and growled. “God damn you Jiraiya! Is nothing sacred?!”

He banged a frustrated fist against the wall of the stall a second before the door was flung open from the outside. Orochimaru looked up sharply to find the hulking silhouette of the man who’d just intruded on his fantasy staring intently at him.

Orochimaru was now seeing red. “Get out, you fucking troglodyte!” he screamed.

“Make me”, Jiraiya responded and moved forward. There was something in the tone of his voice that caught Orochimaru off-guard. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, before the big man positioned himself beside him and closed a large hand over the one that was stroking his erection.

“What are you doing?!” Orochimaru hissed, even as the realization that Jiraiya was now in the stall with him helping him jack himself off was beginning to seep into his brain.

“I’m speeding this up. Do you know we can hear you jacking off in the dining room? I had to cross the yellow police-line tape the attendant put up to get in here.”

Orochimaru was using his other hand in a feeble attempt to pry off Jiraiya’s hand. “Leave me alone. Don’t you even have the decency to let me masturbate in peace?”

Jiraiya responded with a dark chuckle. “I’m surprised to hear the word ‘decency’ coming from your mouth, screamer. Now here”, he continued, prying Orochimaru’s own hand off his cock with ease, “let me finish this for you.”

“I’ll do no such—“ Orochimaru began, but the words died in his throat when Jiraiya’s hand closed over his erection, stroking it back to its previous firmness with ease. Just like that, Orochimaru went dumb, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. “Harder”, he groused.

“That’s more like it”, Jiraiya responded, stroking him harder as directed. He could see the smaller, paler man responding creatively to his efforts, thrusting into his hand. He stroked him silently at first, giving him time to find his zone before he spoke.

“Orochimaru”, he purred in his sultriest voice, “doesn’t my hand on you feel nice?”

“Sh-shutup”, the dark-haired man managed. He couldn’t handle Jiraiya’s phone-sex voice live and in person combined with the rhythmic slapping of skin. He would erupt any second, and he didn’t want that. He needed this to last.

“But why? You like my voice…don’t you?” Jiraiya asked, his grip tightening and picking up speed ever-so-slightly. “That’s what you were thinking about when you were cursing me before—weren’t you? My voice…telling you sexy things…just like it’s doing now…”

A choked gasp followed by a ragged exhale was Orochimaru’s response, and it made Jiraiya smile. “You’re close, aren’t you, Orochimaru?” he whispered.

“Stop…talking…stroke…harder!” Orochimaru bit out between panting breaths. Honestly, the sound of Jiraiya’s voice was making his eyes roll back. Orochimaru’s entire body was now seized by a heating surge of energy. His arms were braced on the wall on either side of him and Jiraiya, the unrefined, uncouth soft-core porn paperback writing man-whore, was jacking him off in a bathroom stall while wearing a pristine tuxedo, and it was easily the sexiest damn thing that had ever happened to him. Orochimaru knew he would masturbating to this memory into old age, when his balls were shooting powder.

Damn that bastard—he had even wormed his way into his fantasies.

“Just look at the cum rolling off the tip—it’s weeping all over my hand. It’s beautiful”, he drawled in a sexy voice. He looked up at the pale man’s flushed and sweaty face, contorted in desperate pleasure. “It makes me want to taste you”, he whispered.

It was the final straw. At that, the dark-haired man’s eyes squeezed shut and he seized, firing at full force, an ardent growl of a word escaping his already burning throat as spurt after spurt of cum ejected from his body, his neck tensing so acutely from the force that the top button on his shirt broke loose, trapped between the shirt collar and the bowtie.

Jiraiya continued to stroke him until he relaxed, boneless and sated. He let go of Orochimaru’s cock and stood up slowly, mindful of muscles that ached from staying in one position for so long.

He looked down at the man who rested there with his eyes closed, lazily wiping strands of wet, inky-black hair away from his face as he panted heavily. Jiraiya had known Orochimaru since they were children, and he could not remember seeing him so relaxed. It was quite a sight, definitely something to be remembered.

He backed out of the stall, mindful of the mess they had created. He walked to the sink and cleaned himself up, took off his suit jacket, and adjusted the bulging erection in his pants so that the jacket draped over his arm would be able to fully conceal it. And then, without looking back, Jiraiya left the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jiraiya’s movement outside the stall forced Orochimaru to remain conscious. It just wouldn’t do to have the white-haired man carry him out after jacking him off in a public bathroom.

Orochimaru forced himself upright on the commode, eyeing the broken lock on the stall door. What the hell was that? What the hell was that?! Jiraiya, that reprobate, that cretin, had just forced himself on him. He had just…

Oh, who was he kidding? Jiraiya had just taken him to a place he’d never ever been. Hell, he’d tripped on acid before and never been to this place. And, if he were truly honest with himself, he loved it. The experience was sensational. It ranked right up there with every Minato fantasy he’d ever had, and it was quickly gaining favor, and he wanted to do it again.

What the fuck did Jiraiya do to him? How was it even possible?

And since when did Jiraiya swing both ways?

Orochimaru’s head was still spinning. He’d give himself some time to calm down and freshen up before he walked out there.

Jiraiya was gone, which was good. He didn’t think he could face him again tonight—if ever.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Orochimaru opened the door, peeking out into a darkened dining room. It hadn’t been cleaned, he could tell, but the revelers had apparently been ushered into another room. That was fine by him. He had humiliated himself enough tonight to last a lifetime.

He opened the door and walked out, suit jacket draped over one arm, his bowtie untied and lying around his shoulders and the top three buttons of his shirt—of which the highest one had become a casualty of his orgasm—were unbuttoned. He rounded the corner with a sigh, eager to get as far away from where he was as quickly as possible, and froze when he spotted a man sitting at a nearby table in the darkness.

Shit. That thick spiky hair gave his silhouette away. Orochimaru rolled his eyes at the combination of relief and disappoint that came over him. Why the hell was he still here?

“You okay?” Jiraiya asked in that voice, and just like that, Orochimaru was taken back to thirty minutes before, when that voice in his ear sent him deep in the throes of an indescribable ecstasy.

“It was an orgasm, not a stroke. Don’t get ahead of yourself”, Orochimaru responded testily, playing off the effect.

“Well it sounded like murder to the attendant”, Jiraiya told him. “I stuck around in case he needed proof that I wasn’t trying to kill you in there.”

“How noble of you.” Orochimaru was irritated. The situation was awkward, and he hated awkward. Why did Jiraiya have to go and blow the curve by making him feel so good?

“I spoke with Minato”, Jiraiya began, and Orochimaru sighed. “He assured me he’d do whatever he could to make sure this particular part of the evening’s events is omitted from the story in the society page of the newspaper.”

Orochimaru’s mouth curled into a sneer. “Oh, you’re all just loving it, aren’t you? You, and Minato, and Shibi. You’re all having big fun at my expense, aren’t you? Well you know what? I don’t need any of you doing me any god dam favors!”

“Yes, you do!” Jiraiya boomed in response. He stood up then, a spectre in the dark room moving slowly toward its startled target. “I swear you are your own worst enemy. I’ve watched you make a fool of yourself over Minato Namikaze for years, and it’s turned you into miserable old fart way before your time. What happened, Orochimaru? Your specs are on par with Minato’s, and yet here you are, angry at the world, gone into hiding and sustaining yourself on your misguided sense of entitlement. You’re 26 years old, for crying out loud. Is this really what you’re going to do with your life?”

Orochimaru scowled up at Jiraiya, who now stood little more than a foot away from him. He tried to ignore the erratic beating of his heart. “Don’t you dare presume to preach to me, you panderer! You don’t get to tell me about my life just because you write smut to earn a living, and forged a trail through this town with your dick!”

“Oh, but I do, Orochimaru, because I’ve done more with my dick than you’ve done with your brain, and your brain is far more valuable. Do you think no one notices? It may seem like all eyes are on Minato, but many of us have been waiting for the day when you take flight. What the hell are you waiting for?”

All the talking about Jiraiya’s dick flooded Orochimaru’s mind and he glanced down in spite of himself, instantly wishing he hadn’t. Or maybe not. For there, pressing Jiraiya’s pants from the inside was the outline of an erection so big and long Orochimaru had to do a double-take. Is that real?

Orochimaru forced himself to look up again. “Wh-what’s it to you?” he asked in a voice that had lost its bitter edge. Orochimaru’s brows furrowed in his half-hearted attempt to keep his eyes up.

“As difficult as it may be for you to buy into, I care about what happens to you”, Jiraiya told him. “We go back a long way. There’s a lot I can do for you, if you’ll just accept my help.”

I’ll say there’s a lot you can do for me, Orochimaru thought to himself. He looked away, hoping to camouflage the curiosity in his eyes. In that instant, the face of the fantasy man in Orochimaru’s mind was not Minato’s but Jiraiya’s, and now Orochimaru’s arms were leather-bound at the wrist behind his back, and Jiraiya was wielding a cat-o-nine-tails…

Sweet mercy.

When he looked up again, Jiraiya was standing even closer and watching him with an odd expression.

God he can see me, he can see my eyes. Orochimaru blinked slowly. I wonder what he feeds that thing?

“Orochimaru.” Jiraiya was using his name like a spell, announcing it in that phone-sex voice. “It’s been a long night. Why don’t I take you home?”

The words had the effect of a bucket of cold water being dumped on Orochimaru’s head. He sneered at Jiraiya once more, free from his spell. “Oh, I get it. First you laugh at me, and then you fuck me. Was that your plan?” he asked, the venom back in his voice.

Jiraiya rolled his eyes. Damn, the man was exhausting. “Well, if you must know, the plan was only to fuck you. The laughter was just a bonus.”

Orochimaru shoved Jiraiya away from him with surprising force. “Douche bag”, he hissed before walking past him toward the door.

But he wasn’t fast enough. Jiraiya’s hand reached for his upper arm, pulling him back against the erection he couldn’t get out of his mind before he could wriggle himself free, and pinning him with a firm arm across his chest.

“All right”, Jiraiya began in a fed-up voice, “that’s enough.” Orochimaru struggled, but Jiraiya was not having it. “Tell me in plain English—right now--that you don’t ever want me to finish what we started in that bathroom stall and I’ll cut my losses. Otherwise, prepare to spend the night having your ass plundered gay-pirate style.”

Orochimaru choked on a breath. He was fighting a battle he couldn’t win. The feel of all that hard flesh pressed against his back had already begun to siphon the fight out of him, and his struggling made it twitch, forcing him further into submission. God dammit, where was his pride? One amazing hand-job in a men’s room stall and the promise of a super-sized cock had reduced him to this? No morals? No dignity?

For crying out loud, where was his dignity?

He wanted to tell Jiraiya no, to go away and never bother him again, that he didn’t need him, but he didn’t have the strength. God help him, all Orochimaru wanted at that moment was to be the fantasy Orochimaru, the one who was naked, ass-up, leather-bound at the wrists, and being alternately pumped with a beastly cock and whipped with a leather flogger while getting third-degree rug burns on his face and his knees.

He was such a whore.

Just stop. Orochimaru stopped struggling, lowering his head in submission.

Behind him, Jiraiya nodded. He knew what it must have taken Orochimaru to finally get to this place. It was for his own good—in time, he would see that. Orochimaru was a brilliant mind who belonged with the living, not hiding in the dark alone, pining for someone he couldn’t have and wondering where it had all gone wrong.

Eventually, Orochimaru might even begin to see Jiraiya as something more than a brainless sex machine and—well, never mind.

He loosened his hold on the smaller man in his arms, reluctant to release him but confident that the remainder of the evening would go the way he’d planned.

“You know I wanted to tell you”, he told him in his ear, “you have a beautiful cock—for a man who was born from a jackal.”

As if on cue, Orochimaru raised his head and broke free of Jiraiya’s hold, rounding on him.

“I wish you’d die”, he hissed at him, turning to leave the dining room. When he didn’t hear Jiraiya following him he hesitated, only for a second, before resuming his purposeful stride out of the room.

One second of hesitation was all Jiraiya needed. “You want me”, he said with an evil grin as he followed the man out of the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: anyway, like I said, it popped in there and fell out here. Leave me a review and let me know what you think.