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Blue Diamond	By : Darkprism Category: Naruto Crossovers > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 2224 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Loveless - neither characters nor story lines - and I make no money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
"Good," Nagato said, mostly to himself, and he gazed inwardly upon the impending avalanche of icy-hot pain. He stood small and fragile before it, a child at the base of an eternal mountain. Over the years, the mountain had risen, ever taller, ever larger, ever more present; a swelling pile of earthen rage, hell-bent on taking Nagato as a sacrifice. The hour of its demand was upon Nagato once again, and he settled in his chair, distantly experiencing the sensation. Nagato had not survived into adulthood by allowing his features to reflect pain or discomfort. He had not lived among men who fancied themselves gods of destruction and learned nothing of disconnecting himself from existence in order to preserve his mind from what his body endured. Many times at Haze and while playing pretty games of torment had Nagato thought that if any of the children in the clubs had to witness ten seconds of Nagato's life in his family, they would be cured of their masochism; the urge would be spent to ragged threads. The planning, the maneuvering, the politics... the complex and intricate tango of chance, greed, and power... The killing, at the end of the day, had been the simplest part of Nagato's training.
The mountain rumbled and the cracks started to form. The pain that Nagato had stacked high was beginning to tumble. He allowed the old habits of anger and fear to take him, grip him, and pass through him. In the beginning, when the demons in his nerve centers had begun to sink their teeth into his bones and tissues, Nagato had raged. He used to scream in silence at the ache in his joints, and he would scream at volume at anyone who tried to help, even if that someone was himself.

Thankfully, Nagato had never been a slow learner. Soon he knew that throwing fury at the agony was as useless as putting a tissue over a severed artery. Both would bleed out in due time, and both were immune to tears, unkind words, or any sort of pleading. Disease was without mercy.

And so, Nagato set his face in the neutral expression that bespoke of a man lost in a pleasant daydream, and he opened his proverbial arms to greet his old friends. The moment his will bent to the inevitable, Nagato was seized and buried alive by paroxysms of throbbing misery. He bowed to the spasms in his shoulders, wrists, spine, hips, and knees. He said hello to each in turn, and instead of shunning his guests, he helped them renew their acquaintance with Nagato's nervous system. After all, if he was a soul imprisoned by flesh, then the pain was a creature trapped inside his body with him. When it rebelled against the cage, it did well to make the creature feel welcome and secure, and then it was best to confine the creature in its rooms once again; to start stacking high the mountain so that it could crumble and renew itself in its favorite cyclical pattern. Such actions were rituals best performed remotely on autopilot, and so Nagato breathed and sank deeper below his level of consciousness.

It took time for the arthritic flare to run its course, but Nagato didn't spare a second of consciousness as to how long, exactly, it took. He floated in starlit safe space, he listened to his internal aria, and when his nerves calmed, he directed his consciousness into his body, and he opened his eyes.

Itachi, Kimimaro, Haku, and Soubi were in white robes, sitting on the floor and holding one another. Soubi knelt next to Kimimaro, and one of Kimimaro's hands reached behind him to clasp Soubi's. Vaughn had clothed himself and tidied the dungeon, putting toys in bins for cleaning, disposing of lube and filled condoms, placing clothing into baskets to be laundered, and covering the leftover refreshments. The air smelled like cleaner and lemon spray. The chairs were lined up against a far wall. The lights were dimmer, and the manservant, himself, stood next to Nagato with a goblet of sparkling water. When Nagato looked, Vaughn showed Nagato two oblong white pills, just waiting for Nagato to swallow them. One pill would dull his senses, two would lull him to sleep, and the injectibles Vaughn kept that could be used in conjunction to oral medications would let Nagato slip into a sweet and temporary coma.

Nagato accepted one pill and a long draught of water. "See to my little one," Nagato said, in a mixture of English and Russian that proved to Nagato that he was past the point of no return for the evening.

Vaughn hesitated, Nagato shot the Fool a glare meant to rot flesh from bones, and Vaughn bowed his head. He pocketed the other pill, set the glass on the rolling tray nearby, and he went to Soubi.

Sighing, Nagato lifted his gaze and met Soubi's. Startling, that was, as Soubi rarely made eye contact and even more rarely held it. Soubi's big, blue eyes were wide and bright, and though his nearsightedness likely made Nagato indistinct, Soubi studied Nagato all the same. Nagato was drawn to those eyes, that attention, that focus... He acknowledged it and matched it, and the sway of Soubi's inquisitive affection awoke pinpricks of pleasure along Nagato's body.

"To his rooms," Nagato ordered, but he spoke softly and with one hand reaching for Soubi. Vaughn helped Soubi to stand, but Soubi walked of his own free will and volition to Nagato. He took Nagato's outstretched hand by the fingers, and Soubi caressed the knuckles with the pad of his thumb. And even when Soubi's knees threatened to give out, and Vaughn caught the sweetling in his capable arms, Soubi never stopped looking at Nagato. Soubi searched Nagato's very soul; saw into him, dug around inside him. Nagato opened himself to the internal caress and did his best to clear the path, let Soubi find whatever the Wanderer sought, and Nagato could not help his tiny noise of pain when Vaughn led Soubi away, obeying Nagato's instructions.

"You will stay here tonight," Nagato said to the three men remaining in the room, though he gazed after Vaughn and Soubi in wonder and with interest. Something about Soubi's expression had shaken a piece of Nagato loose. It was not the pain, not the night's events, and not the series of Scene sessions that had led Soubi to this room... There was accusatory, possessive, prideful claim in Soubi's pale eyes... and it... It had been... Confident and jealous and... Could that be...

Warmth ensconced Nagato, and he moaned, leaning into the trio of men who surrounded him. "Naga," Itachi whispered, kissing Nagato's hair.

"Your Grace," Kimimaro said, on one knee and bending to kiss Nagato's thigh.

"Please allow us help you," Haku said in flawless Russian, and he rubbed his cheek on Nagato's hand.

Words would not come to Nagato's mouth, so he nodded his acquiescence. Itachi and Kimimaro ducked beneath Nagato's arms, and Haku skipped ahead to open doorways. Had the three not been there, Nagato would have had two choices: wait on Vaughn to return or crawl to his chambers. It would not be the first night that pain had put Nagato on his hands and knees. And it was not altogether unpleasant, the view of the marble and the rugs from the height of mere inches instead of feet.

"You've been overdoing it with your new beloved," Itachi said, more observation than chastisement.

"Mm." Nagato grunted, enjoying the feel of arms around him and holding him as they made their way from dungeon to waiting room to hallway. "When one finds... reason for living..." Nagato tried to stick to English, but it was failing him. "One... indulges."

"You need more help in the house," Itachi said.

"I have Vaughn... I have Soubi."

"Your little one can only help you if you allow him," Itachi said. "But he would. He would like to. I know it and can see it."

They passed from the main hall into a sitting room and beyond that, a corridor leading to one of the guest wings, where Soubi had taken up residence. "Are you sure, my Martyr, that you do not mistake your old habits for his emotions?" Nagato asked with a low chuckle.

"I remember all too well, Naga, what it was like to see you crawl."

Itachi's whisper reminded Nagato of that night. It had been a damp spring, humid and miserable even with climate control. A chill had taken Nagato one evening, even though Nagato had spent most of the day in his library with his fire, naked and sweating and enjoying Itachi chained to the baseboards. Itachi had been muzzled, cock in a cage and ass plugged with a rudimentary electrical plug that had shocked him at random for hours on end. Vaughn had stepped out to fetch groceries, and Nagato had needed to make use of the facilities. They were only feet away, a bathroom located just beyond the library doors, but when Nagato had gotten up off the sofa, he'd fallen to the floor in a heap with a spasm. Nagato could recall the events both trapped in his own mind and from Itachi's spoken recollections. Nagato had been so intent on containing the pain that he'd not heard Itachi's yells or cries. Nagato had fixated on crawling to the bathroom, where in addition to a toilet there was also stored medicine. The way Nagato remembered it, he'd not been particularly bothered by the turn of circumstance, but his Martyr had not been so calm.

Itachi, more than half out of his sane mind, had rattled, strained, and eventually torn the baseboards away from the wall to get to Nagato. He'd left behind a trail of leather and toys, and he'd helped Nagato get to the bathroom, use it, and had injected Nagato with medication before assisting Nagato to bed. Itachi had insisted from that point onward that Vaughn be in the house at all times if Itachi was bound, and Nagato had laughed from the hallway where he had stood and listened to Itachi berate Vaughn within an inch of the manservant's life for being unfortunate enough to choose the wrong moment to leave to get fresh fish from the market.

Itachi's concern had perfectly charmed Nagato. Always had, and always would.

"I will endeavor to pay heed to your lessons, my Martyr," Nagato promised as they entered Soubi's rooms. There was an office area, a reading nook, a suite bath with tub and shower, and, in the main portion of the room, was a massive black, four-poster king bed bedecked with metal hooks and slats. The red and black bedclothes were rumpled, Soubi's shoes and adornments were scattered across the floor, and his office was a right mess of paperwork and computers and books. Adorable, really, the clutter his little one made.

Off to their right, the bathroom door was ajar, light spilling from it to join the dim lamp illuminating the seating area and some of the bedroom. Nagato heard water running, surmised that Soubi must be getting an assisted shower or bath from Vaughn, and the boys and Itachi got Nagato to the bench at the foot of Soubi's bed. He remained passive as they worked to undress him, Haku taking pains to hang Nagato's clothing in the closet, muttering about wrinkles and fabrics. Kimimaro produced a comb, likely from Soubi's desk, and ran it through Nagato's hair, and Nagato sighed in such care, tears welling and beginning to spill down his cheeks.

"Lovely, go to the kitchen off the east side of the reception hall, and fetch the ice packs you'll see on the top shelf of the freezer."

"Yes, My Lord," Haku said to Itachi, bowing and scurrying from the room.

Itachi embraced Nagato about the waist and hoisted Nagato to his feet. Together, they lumbered to the bed, and Nagato sat and swung onto the mattress with Kimimaro's help. Nagato didn't need every ounce of their attentions, but he would never be so crass as to turn them down. Besides, their care was reminiscent of being trapped by Soubi's expressive gaze, made Nagato start to sink into a gentle fugue, and Nagato dwelled on and in that memory while the men arranged pillows and blankets and, when Haku returned, ice packs. Nagato made not a sound when Itachi positioned the chilly things against Nagato's bare hips, thighs, and beneath Nagato's shoulders, neck, and lower back. They were contoured, each made for their purpose, and the shock of cold sent ripples of confused pleasure through Nagato.

By the time Itachi and Kimimaro were finished, Nagato was in nude repose in a nest of pillows, supported at every angle, and the ice and medication were calming the inflammation. He was half-hard, cock awakening against his hip, and he hummed when Itachi sat next to him on the bed. Nagato and Itachi stared at one another, smiling and exchanging novels of information without the need for words. Itachi brushed Nagato's hair away from his face and kissed Nagato's forehead. "Another pill, Naga?" Itachi asked.

"Half," Nagato allowed, upon consideration. A few hundred more milligrams would silence what the ice and supported positioning could not manage.

Itachi nodded and accepted a pill bottle from Haku, who must have plucked it from its place on the kitchen counter on his sojourn for ice packs. Itachi shook out a white pill, broke it, and handed it to Nagato with a glass of water from the nightstand.

"My little one?" Nagato asked, resting on his bed of ice, feathers, and satin.

"Kimi," Itachi murmured, and Kimimaro pivoted to march to the bathroom. He knocked and gained admittance. Itachi held Nagato's hand until Kimimaro returned.

"Vaughn is tending to him and is upset that he is not in two places at once."

Itachi laughed. "Did he say that, sweet boy?"

Kimimaro fidgeted. "Ah, well, he looked that way to me, Master."

"It is fine, then," Nagato said. "To the Master's chambers to slumber, all of you."

"We will wait until Vaughn comes out to attend you," Itachi said.

Nagato opened his eyes. "It has been a long night, my--"

"I have survived far longer, Naga, as have my boys." Itachi raised an imperious eyebrow, and Nagato tried to be vexed but could only manage to be amused.

"I'd have you over my knee for your impertinent interrupting," Nagato said with earnest but playful longing.

"You must settle for me at your side, Your Grace." Itachi touched Nagato's face, throat, and chest, the dark brown of his eyes swirling like the cosmos. "Seeing to you in other ways..."

Fixated upon one another, Itachi trailed fingers to Nagato's hip and up the underside of Nagato's shaft. Tingles came to life in the wake of Itachi's attentions, and Nagato's vision began to swim more than usual. The drugs were running amok in Nagato's bloodstream, Itachi's touch was growing deliberate along his cock, and Nagato sighed, short and harsh and soft. "Ahh... my Martyr..."

"Rest, Your Grace," Itachi encouraged. "Your Fool and your Wanderer come for you, soon."

Nagato basked in the lazy arousal stirred by Itachi's slow-stroking fist, and he drifted on the hazy waters that filled the rift between reality and unconsciousness. The world became a dream and that dream faded into darkness. It seemed to Nagato that he blinked, and Itachi, Kimimaro, and Haku were gone, shadows of their shapes remaining where they had stood. Gone as well were the ice packs and the light in the room. Nagato was covered to his waist by a blanket, and the pain had receded to its usual, sleepy purr.

Carefully, Nagato twisted and turned on the lamp by the bedside. The door into the rooms was open, and Vaughn appeared in the framework, a book in hand. He strode to Nagato's side, and Nagato nodded absently to the Fool, allowing Vaughn a question and taking note that the other side of the bed was empty, though still warm with life.

"Is there anything you require?" Vaughn asked in Russian.

Nagato petted the sheets where Soubi had most recently lain. "My little one..."

No sooner had Nagato spoken the words than the bathroom door opened. Soubi paused, one hand up to trace the carved word across the front of his throat, an absentminded gesture that indicated Soubi was lost in thought. Soubi was nude, and his freshly pierced nipple was swollen. His hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and after a quick glance from Vaughn to Nagato, Soubi walked to the bed.

"I’m here, Vaughn," Soubi said, politely but dismissively. "Thank you."

Vaughn bowed to Soubi from the waist, but he didn't budge an inch until Nagato waved a finger at him so he could leave. Vaughn knew whom he served, though Nagato relished Soubi finding confidence to attempt and direct the Fool. Soubi watched Vaughn go just outside the door where he sat, no doubt, in his favorite, rickety folding chair. Nagato couldn't see it, but Vaughn had guarded Nagato for so many years, Nagato knew Vaughn's habits.

"How are you?" Soubi asked, slipping like a pale ghost from the footboard to the side of the bed.

"My state of being depends more upon yours than on any facts affecting solely mine," Nagato reached for Soubi. "Come to me, little one."

Soubi put a knee on the bed and stopped. He bit his lip, but took Nagato's hand when Nagato offered it. "What is it, my Gentle Sweet?" Nagato asked.

"Are you... are you in pain?" Soubi asked.

"No more than is my usual allotment, little one." Nagato clucked his tongue. "What is this outpouring of concern and measurement of my tolerance? Come to me, I said."

But Soubi refused Nagato, shaking his head and squaring his shoulders. "I wish to exchange my indulgence for favor, Your Grace."

"Oooh, I see," Nagato said on a sigh. "Your indulgence, is it?"

"Yes... my..." Soubi swallowed. "My reward bestowed upon me by Your Benevolence. The one I delayed claiming a few weeks ago after I endured your trial of denial."

"I remember all your suffering, Gentle One," Nagato said softly. He knew precisely the two weeks to which Soubi referred. Eight times per day had Nagato edged Soubi, and in between, the boy had been caged, forbidden to touch himself. Nagato had fucked his Gentle One mercilessly. Every time he could harden, he had taken Soubi; Nagato's desire heightened by Soubi's cursing, tears, and struggle. Soubi had survived all fourteen days without breaking the rules and thus having to begin it anew, and so Nagato had granted Soubi a boon: anything his Sweet Soubi wanted, so should Sweet Soubi have.

Soubi sat on the bed, Nagato's hand in both of Soubi's. "And I see your pain..." Soubi took a breath. "Nagato."

"It is receding," Nagato reassured Soubi, and, much as it had earlier in the dungeon, the longer Nagato gazed at Soubi, the more Nagato began to feel adrift. It was enchanting. Some combination of atmosphere, attitude, and Soubi was casting a spell, and Nagato dare not blink, else he miss some of the magic.

"Yes, I know, but... I see all your pain. Tonight, yesterday..."

Nagato chuckled. "Then I am failing to keep you suitably distracted."

"I want to help," Soubi said, louder and firmer. "I want to show you..."

The floating sensation intensified with the look of longing in Soubi's eyes, and Nagato hummed. "Tell me of this showing... what is it you wish me to see?"

Soubi's respiration sped, his bare chest rising and falling faster. He licked his lips, and whether the delay of answer was rooted in insecurity or indecision, Nagato couldn't know, but he waited, watching, and Soubi soon proved the attention worthwhile. Soubi crawled closer, stretched out alongside Nagato, and then, gently, as though worried Nagato might break, eased himself atop Nagato's prone form. Face to face, chest to chest, belly to belly, and with Soubi's groin to Nagato's hip, Nagato stuttered a sigh, his eyes falling closed for an instant before he focused yet again on his Soubi. Like this, Nagato was so warm, so incredibly aware and awake and alive.

"Itachi..." Soubi murmured, delicately tucking Nagato's hair behind Nagato's ear. "He... Vaughn... they... They did and do take care of you, don't they?"

"Yes," Nagato replied, and Itachi's words of warning about Nagato's boy came to him again in a wisp of memory. "And my Martyr lectured me on allowing you to do the same."

"He did?" Soubi whispered, the hope and shock evident.

"Indeed." Nagato placed faint fingertips on Soubi's lower back, aimlessly tracing patterns and following Soubi's dreamlike lead into the untapped lands taking shape ahead of them.

"Did Itachi..." Another lip lick, and Soubi's mouth was turning pink from the gentle abuse. "I wish to be like he was... to you."

"Soubi," Nagato turned the name into a reprimand. "There is no room for comparison in my house."

"I know," Soubi whispered ferociously. "I know I'm yours. But I want... I wish to be the way he was with you. The little bit I saw tonight was..." Soubi sighed in frustration. "I want to care not just about you, but for you."

"Mm..." Nagato's curiosity lit up his core, and he lightly cupped Soubi's ass, but briefly, continuing his caresses over hip and back again. "And this care, what form shall it take, my little one?"

"I..." Soubi tried and failed to finish, and Nagato urged the boy on with an impatient noise. The delay was fracturing the otherworldly bubble around them, and Nagato did not want it to break.

"I don't even know what you like," Soubi whispered, almost smacking of defeat, but he continued on, surely and quickly: "I want to know what you like. What you like done to you..." Soubi inched higher, aligning their mouths and curling one of his arms around the top of Nagato's head. Soubi moved so carefully, as though not to startle or perhaps as though waiting to be told to cease and desist. Soubi could not do the first and would not hear the second, but Nagato felt no urge to impart that understanding upon Soubi, as Nagato was enjoying Soubi's considerations too much.

"Naga...?" Soubi asked, trying out the nickname.

A new game was afoot, and Nagato thrilled to its summons. With his vision comprised entirely of Soubi's lips and nose and chin, Nagato deliberately intoned a low note of a sigh. "I like... to be asked..."

"Asked?" Soubi repeated, more breathless with both Nagato's hands stroking his flanks and buttocks.

"Mmhm..." Nagato said, his cock beginning to harden and the flickering embers of want stirring in his veins. They were so close that the words were like uncompleted kisses. "Ask of me... your questions, my Soubi, of what you'd do... if you could do anything."

"And if I ask and discover some of what you like, you'll let me do it?" Soubi asked, his lips pressing to the corner of Nagato's mouth.

"Depends on the manner of your inquisition, little one," Nagato replied against Soubi's stubble-flecked cheek. "Begin... and we shall see..." Nagato whispered, and he was a live frequency attuned to Soubi, waiting with checked desperation for Soubi's next and first move.

As always was his habit, Soubi took time, considering action and words. "Do you like... your ears kissed?" Soubi asked, tone a rumble just above a whisper.

"Yes," Nagato replied, both palms full of Soubi's ass. Evidently the game was to begin slowly, but Nagato channeled patience.

Warm breath blew hotly against Nagato's temple, and kisses feathered themselves along the rim of Nagato's right ear. "Do you like... explicit questions?" Soubi asked.

"Yes," Nagato answered, instantly intrigued.

Soubi grunted, and he rocked into Nagato's handholds and into Nagato's hip. "You like it when I rub my dick against you?"

Nagato sighed through his nose, almost a tiny moan, and he urged Soubi onward. "Yes."

"Mmph... Like me on top of you?"

"Yes..." Nagato's answer was a partial hiss, and Soubi pressed Nagato more firmly into the bed. The rolled into one another, crashing like waves in unison.

Soubi's next question was breathy and spoken against Nagato's jaw: "You want me to kiss you?"

Nagato didn't answer with words, he answered with action. He turned his head toward Soubi, who claimed Nagato's mouth in a kiss that had a different flavor than Soubi's kisses to date. Soubi sucked and bit at Nagato's lip, plunged his tongue to rub alongside Nagato's, and fueled their connection with possession, not submission. Nagato's hands couldn't find enough places to touch, grip, and stroke Soubi, and still they moved together, aiming for friction and clinging to one another as survivors would to lifeboats.

"Want me to call Vaughn in?" Soubi asked in a heady rush. "Want him to watch?"

Nagato's sight went dim, and he drowned in a stream feeding the river of his past. The old days, before pain, before self-discovery, before annihilating enough competition in this city to rule its underbelly with an iron fist... Nagato had been in a bedroom, but in a hotel, not a home... There'd been a boy, but dark, younger than Soubi... Italian... Smelled like wood chips and single-malt whiskey... He'd been on top of Nagato, he'd thought he had Nagato distracted, but by the time the knife clicked out of its sheath, its target Nagato's jugular, Vaughn -- Nagato's second cousin-turned house pet and manservant later in life -- had been there, business end of a gun barrel to the boy's temple. Smoke from Vaughn's cigarette had floated into the air, his copy of War and Peace had hung from his left hand, and Nagato had kissed the boy, smiled, and reached for the boy's prick. Nagato had held the boy by the hair, jerked the boy off until the boy was just shy of completion while Vaughn waited, and before the boy could come, Vaughn had cocked the gun and fired.

To this day... the taste of spunk occasionally reminded Nagato of that boy's blood.

"No need for Vaughn," Nagato answered Soubi, the present moment reasserting itself with a thrum of pleasure. Nagato knew to his bones that Soubi was no threat, and if that somehow turned out not to be true... then Nagato was content to leave this world by Soubi's hand.

"Like this... I wish it to be just us," Nagato said, and Soubi met him for another kiss. On and on it went, the two of them groping and gnawing like teenagers in the back of a car, and Nagato forsook all tethers to reality in exchange for bondage to his Soubi's affections.

"Stroke you?" Soubi pant-whispered into Nagato's mouth.

"Oooh yes..."

Soubi's eyes locked on Nagato's, and he reached between them to grasp Nagato's cock without breaking the stare. They breathed in and with one another, and Soubi tugged at the flesh of Nagato's dick, twisting the foreskin around the crown. When Nagato bucked, tried to get more and to get it faster, Soubi shoved Nagato into the mattress and shook his head.

"Little one..." Nagato snarled in warning.

"You like it when I suck you?" Soubi interrupted.

"Yes," Nagato said, trying to push Soubi closer to that goal, but Soubi stubbornly refused.

"Like it when I worship your cock with my tongue?" Soubi asked.

Fever engulfed Nagato, and he triumphed in his boy's delay, cackled in glee in his mind to experience Soubi seeking control. Nagato grabbed Soubi by the hair, unmindful to the brutality, for he only cared about Soubi's sharp gasp and unrequited moan. "Heaven is made of pretty pictures of my little one choking on my dick." Nagato shoved Soubi down his body, and at first, Soubi obeyed, licking and laving Nagato's prick. Soubi suckled the head, swept up and down Nagato's length, and Nagato guided Soubi by the hair, allowing sounds to escape his lungs and marveling at the depth of his own need, shown in the pitch of his hips to meet Soubi's plunges.

But when Soubi slowed, Nagato growled, and Nagato was not entirely appeased when Soubi nuzzled his balls. "Soubi..." Nagato rasped, and he started to explain that questions were done and answers could be found in subservience to the orgasmic cause, but Nagato didn't get even to begin his instruction.

Soubi bit the inside of Nagato's thigh with enough pressure to rend skin and to draw blood. Panic and pain erupted in a hurricane. Nagato curled upward, joints and aches be damned, and he started to respond, some way, somehow, but Soubi took hold of Nagato by the base of the balls and pulled. Nagato was rendered a slave to automatic response, unable to fight caught so unawares, and he let out a strangled gasp that melted into a sound he'd not heard himself make since Itachi had shared his bed, and even Itachi had never been so bold.

Heart pounding in his ears and adrenaline making him dizzy, Nagato rested on one elbow. Soubi slurped, drawing at the wound, and Nagato cried out in earnest, the sharp sting scorching through him. He blearily caught sight of Vaughn shadowed in the doorway, but Nagato was too stunned and his system too far gone into red alert for Nagato to do much more than wave Vaughn off of attack mode.

Soubi licked at the throbbing, torn skin and slowly rose to hover over Nagato's cock. Bliss-blue-black eyes rolled to look at Nagato. Inhuman... preternatural... fucking beautiful. Nagato stared, and Soubi parted his lips. Nagato's own blood and his little one's saliva dribbled onto Nagato's shaft in a sticky line. Gradually, it spilled south between his legs, and Soubi's finger smeared the mixture around Nagato's entrance. Nagato knew he was gritting his teeth because his jaw began to hurt, and he knew he was breathing with a wheezing whine working into a dull roar, because his chest burned, his nose ran, and his throat vibrated.

In no hurry, Soubi lowered himself and slathered Nagato's entrapped balls with a blood-red tongue. Nagato fisted the sheets, and his internal killer calmly told him that he could end this boy; it asked if perhaps Nagato should do so. Nagato could respond in kind. Use teeth to tear Soubi into pieces, make the death slow and personal and delectably messy. Or Nagato could employ Vaughn. He could get the gun out of the second bedside drawer, finish it fast.

But all those thoughts were distant relics of patterns long deceased. Nagato didn't want to act in retribution, he wanted to relax and give in to Soubi's beckoning call. He thought, perhaps, he craved such a thing, more than bloodlust or revenge or power. Nagato's Gentle One had a cruel bite, but only for Nagato. Only here, only now, and only because the child wished to show his care and love for his Master.

"Mmnh..." Nagato's grunt worked its way out of him around a swallow. Soubi coated Nagato's nuts in tinted moisture. A high buzzing drone invaded Nagato's ears, his limbs were weighted in concrete and leaden pipe, and Nagato fell onto the bed beneath him, propped on pillows so his sights didn't stray from his Soubi.

"You like it when I use your blood for lube?" Soubi asked, throatily and thick, and while pushing a finger inside Nagato's body. Nagato writhed, his adoration for the unexpected shutting down his mind until there was nothing but feral quest for more. Oh, but he loved that... he'd not felt that in... Did he know when? Did it matter? Nagato cried out for his little one, panted for him and spurred him onward with words and flex of foot and dig of heel and grip of sheet.

And it was not Soubi who fetched more practical slick from the bedside table, but Vaughn. Nagato's manservant put the tube within Soubi's reach, and Vaughn left the room, even pulling the door almost shut behind him.

"Like it when I squeeze?" Soubi asked in a shady husk.

Nagato's vision went gray on the edges, the pain screaming from his balls threatening to put him out. Nausea crested, he hacked a dry cough, but he tucked his chin to his chest, over and over. The invading finger working Nagato's insides left, and one handed, Soubi flicked open the lube. He spilled clear, wiggling dollops onto Nagato's leg, and then scooped them up. Nagato hated the time it took to slather and smear and make possible slippery functionality. He snarled Russian curses into the pillow by his head. He pounded the bed with a fist, and he reached to wrestle the headboard when two fingers shoved into his ass. Soubi kept Nagato's balls in a vise, Nagato's ass stuffed and fucked, and took the head of Nagato's cock into a hot, sucking mouth. Sweat broke out across Nagato's body in a fresh burst. He couldn't order his legs to stop their shaking. And as Soubi eased up on the pain and increased the pleasure, Nagato was powerless to get his vocalizations under his control. His breath stammered and gagged him, and he realized he was sobbing, heaving wet breaths with tears streaming, and the understanding that he was so affected swept him up in a hot springs bath of happiness.

"Do you like getting taken, Naga?" Soubi asked, a sweet whisper from above.

Nagato let go of the headboard, wrapped both arms around Soubi, and answered in the rhythm Soubi's hand put to Nagato's asshole. "Yes... da... da..."

"Do you want my cock in you?" Soubi asked, and the kiss was a metallic singe.

"Da... nnngh... yes..." Soubi nudged at Nagato's gateway, and Nagato called to his heaven. "Yes!" Nagato raked through Soubi's hair, slid a grip from Soubi's back to hip to ass, and buried his face in Soubi's throat for the initial thrust within. It hurt so richly, so perfectly... As though one piece would never fit the other, and Nagato kissed and touched and clung to anything he could reach.

"Yesss... Soubi..."

"Oh my... fuck..." Soubi gasped.

"In me... fuck me... move..."

Nagato didn't know what other words he used or which tongue, but Soubi followed their collected directive. Nagato hooked his legs around Soubi's powerful body, driving into Nagato at a mind-numbing, skin-tingling, thought-annihilating pace.

"Aaaahn...!" Nagato held Soubi so tightly that the boy had difficulty fighting for space to thrust, but Nagato couldn't let go. He was alive and whole in the center of Soubi's affections. Pain didn't matter. The past nor the future existed. There was just this, just now, and just Soubi deep inside Nagato's body and soul.

"Nagato..." Soubi whispered, and he petted Nagato's hair, kissed Nagato's cheeks. "Like it like this?" Soubi asked, leveraging higher on an arm. His trained his gaze on Nagato's, and his balls slapped against Nagato's cheeks.

"Nnngh... da... Soubi..." Nagato cupped his swelling nuts to get them out of the way, and he stroked himself from base to crown. He heard his own sound: a rise and fall of a wail, as though something hurt him, and perhaps it did... The acceptance of his most precious lifemates... It always hurt. Cut him open to leak the poison pus and let him heal.

"Want it...?" Soubi gasped.

Soubi's sweat dripped onto Nagato's face, and Nagato licked it from his chin. "Yeah..." Nagato said, the half-syllable unrecognizable to his own ears. And he was stroking all the faster, tensing all the tighter, feeling the summit of his need approaching... closer and nearer and hotter and brighter. The frizzle of climax tensed his shoulders, tore down his spine, and contracted his ass.

"Fuuuuck..." Soubi cursed, snarled, and kept speed. Nagato let go of his cock, flicked Soubi's nipple, and cried out his own yell when Soubi practically screamed.

"C'mon... Naga..."

"Close..." Nagato murmured. "I'm--" Nagato cut off into a high rasp, because Soubi dipped hips and slammed home on a different angle. While Nagato was still reeling, Soubi ducked and threw one of Nagato's legs over his shoulder. Arcs of lightning crackled across Nagato's field of vision, and the current that had previously hummed now roared along the lines of Nagato's nerves.

Nagato could do nothing but stroke himself, and when he managed to open his eyes and focus, Nagato's view was a sopping wet, furiously fucking Soubi, all eyes and teeth and infused flesh: the carnal embodied. Soubi pounded into Nagato and flashed teeth in a grin-grimace. "Like it when I fuck you 'til you come?"

Time stopped in the microsecond before Nagato began to orgasm. One heartbeat... two... slow at first, as though heard through anesthesia soup, and then faster... faster... frantic... crazed... and the bass beat broke the surface of the frozen instant. Pleasure demanded life sacrifice in exchange for its existence, and in the death throes, Nagato expelled breath, voice, tears, and a river of seed. He lost connection to his physical form, and when he reclaimed it, he and Soubi were entwined on damp, soiled sheets, holding one another through the shaking aftermath.

"I love you," Soubi whispered, fingers in Nagato's hair and embrace snug about him.

"And I, you, my Gentle One," Nagato replied. He knew Vaughn's touch when it grazed his shoulder, and he allowed himself to be torn from Soubi's grasp to be tended. Nagato watched Soubi, the back of his fingers petting Soubi's cheek, and Vaughn cleaned Nagato's wound, bandaged it, and prepared a hypodermic. Nagato understood that the mountain of delayed agony had rebuilt itself at speed during the tryst, and he knew that tomorrow and in the days to come, he would take steps to mend himself and make the pain manageable. For now, he permitted Vaughn to prepare and to slip the needle into Nagato's vein.

"Your Grace..." Soubi whispered, bloodied and spent and devout.

"Beautiful..." Nagato answered. "It... and you... beautiful..."

The drugs began their dance, and Nagato let them lead, and the last thing he saw before he followed his chemical caretakers into dark waters was the deep, deep blue of his Soubi's eyes.

...Until Next Time...
~*~
SOME NOTES...
1. This story is now complete! Thank you for your support!
2. This is not the first story in this series. For all the stories in order, as well as references to them in other stories in my world, please go here: http://demented-dee.livejournal.com/49053.html
AFF gets third tier as far as posting order goes. Y gallery and LiveJournal have more and have more fun stuff.
3. This story has artwork! You can see it with a Y gallery account by going here: http://www.y-gallery.net/view/864550/
4. This story has an audio version, as do some of the other Nagato/Soubi pieces. You can find them here: http://www.4shared.com/folder/_NP_sSIc/Nagato_Soubi_and_Crew.html
5. Chapter Three is dedicated to Kimya, who won the a round of Bingo at my last Read Along! Congrats!
Thank you! Much love and dreamy darkness,
<3Dee
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