Stained

By: Madd Envy Freak

Summary: He was born to repent for his parents mistakes by living them out: Lust, sex, and sodomy were his life. However, when his master of fifteen years is killed, Naruto must change his ways and coexist with the self-proclaimed civilization around him… even if that means a lifetime of loneliness in the steel run world. That is, if he can’t convince his new caretaker a little touching is a good thing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, or its characters, blah blah blah.

Warnings: Yaoi, lots of lemons, anal, oral, angst, Non-Con, slavery, a sick sense of humor, lemons, non-graphic past shota, mind fuckery, me writing this when I’m high on pixy stix.

Pairings: OrochiNaru, ItaNaru

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“There is no difficulty that enough love will not conquer; no disease that enough love will not heal; no door that enough love will not open; no gulf that enough love will not bridge; no wall that enough love will not throw down; no sin that enough love will not redeem ... It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble; how hopeless the outlook; how muddled the tangle; how great the mistake. A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all. If only you could love enough you would be the happiest and most powerful being in the world ...”

Emmet Fox –

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Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole

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Arashi Uzumaki had the most beautiful eyes Orochimaru had ever seen. They were like the sky on a cloudless day; so deep and serene and calm… One could say Orochimaru both loved and hated those ethereal eyes. Whereas Arashi’s eyes were like the sky, so full of hope, his own were like raw, unpolished gold. He hated his own eyes. Yet… he hated those oppressively breathtaking blue eyes more. Those damned eyes that took in everything with light and laughter, mocking him and his cold, dull world.

You see, Arashi Uzumaki and Orochimaru came from two very different worlds. The blond god’s world was one of riches, bright lights, and capitalism. His city was a sickeningly modern place that breathed oil and exhaled coal. Its streets were metal, its buildings metal, hell, Orochimaru would bet even the hearts of its people were metal.

Orochimaru’s city, however, was like the unrefined gold of his eyes. A place filled with tall grass, growing trees, sunlight, and gravel roads walked by God-fearing heathen people. He loathed it.

And he loathed that man even more.

So, when the blond man left Orochimaru smirked to himself and carried on.

But there was one thing Orochimaru had over Arashi…

The snakelike man looked down at the sleeping blond in the cradle and sneered. The same blond hair, the same breathtaking blue eyes, and yet… he could already tell the boy would have the effeminate shape and curves of his whore of a mother. Not that it bothered the man. He preferred his boys slender anyway. And when the child was a little older… that brand on his stomach would constantly remind the child what he was… and whose he was. It was a pity, though, that his mother had to die… but that was the way of their people, after all. And, as Arashi said, “Culture is culture.”

Although Orochimaru doubted that little line would have included the burning of that particular sinner.

Slender, pale fingers trailed down soft tan cheeks, and the man smirked.

It didn’t matter. His new pet was beautiful.

Chuckling to himself, he drew out his knife and pressed it to the same cheek he had just caressed, applying pressure until the boy screamed and blood dripped onto the white pillow. Six identical lines were drawn, and Orochimaru drew back to admire his work. Yes… now he truly was his pet, a darling little fox. He set the bloody knife down on the small table next to the cradle and leaned over the sobbing blond, a long tongue running over the cuts and lapping up the blood, and he laughed when the child thrashed and cried.

Eyes gleaming in cruel amusement, he turned from the orphaned child and strolled to the door, hands locked behind his back.

“Goodnight, my little Naruto.”

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Tan fingers glided over taught pale muscles and a delicate pink tongue flickered over his master’s nipple, drawing the hardened stub into a hot mouth to suck teasingly. Long nimble fingers tangled in golden blond hair and Orochimaru tugged painfully on Naruto’s locks, urging the teen to suck harder. And, like the good collared pet he was, he complied with his master’s wishes. The hands on the older man’s chest drifted down to black pants, and Orochimaru shifted his hips up, allowing the blond to pull the offending material down.

Naruto let out a breathy purr as he straddled the man, pushing down in what could have been considered a shy gesture (had it not been coming from the equivalent of a whore), against Orochimaru’s prominent erection. His orange and black kimono fell from his narrow, tan shoulders and pooled around his legs on the bed. Orochimaru’s strong hands gripped Naruto’s hips harshly, and he hissed aggressively as he pushed the teen down onto his member, drawing out a strangled cry of pain from the golden haired incubus. A vicious smirk cracked over the snake-man’s face as he bucked up wildly into the blond, feeling the blood slicked entrance clamping around him tightly. Naruto braced his hands on the bed on either side of his master’s chest, using his thighs to push himself up and down as he rode the man, eyes closed, face contorted in pain.

Orochimaru’s hands traced up the blonde’s sides in favor of tangling in blond hair once again, jerking golden covered head level with his face.

“Look at me, Na-ru-to.” He hissed.

Wide blue eyes fought to open against the pain, and the blond stared down at his master, panting harshly, “M-Master?”

Orochimaru smirked, and staring into aching and agonized blue eyes, allowed himself a final violent thrust before he spilled into the boy. Naruto stilled his movements and feebly pushed his body up and away from his master’s now placated cock and kneeled with a cringe on the bed, feeling cum and blood dripping down his thighs as he pulled his kimono back over his shaking shoulders.

A long tongue darted out and licked parched lips as Orochimaru drew himself out of the silk sheeted bed, discarding his sweaty clothes as he moved towards the bathroom, Naruto quickly scurrying after him.

Orochimaru leaned against the wall of the tiny room, a lazy smirk gracing his lips as he watched the blond fill a bath for him and strip himself of the horrendously bright kimono. A tan foot dipped into the water that was quickly filling the porcelain tub, and he nodded, sweaty blond locks waving gently. He held out his hand for his master, and Orochimaru congratulated himself once again on his well-trained pet as he slipped into the hot water, motioning for the soiled teenager to sit opposite him.

“We’re having special guests tonight, Naruto.”

The blonde’s head cocked to the side as he lathered his master with the fragrant soap he loved so much, “Is that so, master?”

“Mmm. A guest from the north who is here to discuss business matters.”

Naruto cast him a worried glance as he took up rinsing the pale body, “Should I be concerned for you, master? I’ve heard those businessmen from the north are monsters, dattebayo.”

Orochimaru chuckled and shook his head, “No, Naruto, this man is an old acquaintance of mine.”

The blonde sent him a bright smile as he shifted to wash the long black hair, “That’s good. Does master want me to stay in his chambers, then? I don’t want to be in the way…”

“No, that won’t be necessary, Naruto… in fact, it would be rude of me not to introduce the two of you.”

“It… would?” Naruto blinked, confusion written on his face.

“Don’t worry about it now, Naruto… You’ll see soon enough.”

Naruto shrugged and dutifully rinsed the suds from his master’s hair.

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Later that evening, Orochimaru strolled into the banquet hall to great his old… friend.

The blond man and his raven haired business partner, one Uchiha Itachi, sat on delicately embroidered pillows as they awaited the snakelike man’s return-Arashi chatting away animatedly, and Itachi staring at an apparently interesting speck on the table.

“Arashi-san, Itachi-kun, it has been too long.” Orochimaru drawled, the smile on his face clearly as fake as the crystal glasses lining the table.

Arashi, a good deal older than the last time they had met, but still as devilishly handsome (as judged by the simpering maids and servant girls) smiled back in the same transparently fake manner, turning away from the stoic Uchiha, “Indeed it has, Orochimaru-san.”

Itachi looked on in boredom and offered no greeting, instead opting to flick a speck of invisible dirt from his coat with a purple lacquered nail.

The two older men sat engaged in a battle of pleasantries for a while until dinner was finally brought out. A look of disgust flashed briefly over Arashi’s face, seeing the near raw meat of some random animal—perhaps a pig?—and he wondered if perhaps they were trying to kill him via bacterial infection. Glancing over at his host, he saw the snakelike man contently slurping away at some kind of mutant looking soup and so he cringed as he reached for the least-ugly thing on the table. God, he hoped that was a vegetable.

Itachi… glared at the food and scared the help staff away.

“So, Arashi-san,” Orochimaru spoke in his business voice, a voice ladled down with satin and velvet spikes, “Kabuto tells me you were looking into my region’s resources?”

Arashi smiled back and replied lazily, “Indeed. Your region is full of the natural resources our area always found scarce. I’m sure you can see the benefit of merging with Akatsuki…?”

Orochimaru could hear the underling threat. He was no fool. Akatsuki of the Dawn was the largest empire in the country… perhaps even the world. Refusing them, or angering their leader, was economic suicide. But… on some accounts… revenge was worth the humiliation he would soon have to bear, “Of course, Arashi-san. Now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way, how about some we watch some… entertainment?”

The blond man shrugged and brought his glass to his lips, eying the red liquid before taking a suspicious sip. Orochimaru smirked and motioned one of the maids to go fetch whatever entertainment he had been referring to. Idly, he tapped his fingers against the table, not finding the pale man’s leer to be all that reassuring. He glanced over at Itachi, who was calmly staring at nothing in particular again and rolled his eyes.

“You called, Master?”

Arashi turned, and his breath caught in his throat when his eyes laid on the golden haired boy, no older that seventeen, that had just walked into the room… a short kimono of orange and black hanging off his tan shoulders and exposing his soft, delicate stomach and thighs as he glided into the room. Six scars adorned each cheek, and Arashi could see the beginnings of a tattoo showing where the obscenely loose kimono was pulled together towards his midsection, in a mock show of modesty. Black and gold bangles hung from his wrists and ankles, and a long, gleaming silver flute was clutched in dainty fingers that were lacquered black, matching his nimble toes. His eyes were lined with black kohl, bringing out the sharp, innocent, sky blue irises.

He inhaled sharply, staring at a younger, slimmer version of himself; and nearly cried when those eyes turned to blink at him curiously.

Eyes that were identical to his own.

“Arashi-sama… that boy…”

Of course, now the Uchiha speaks.

Arashi jerked his gaze away from the boy oozing fake innocence and turned, shaking, to Orochimaru, “What… is the meaning of this, Orochimaru?”

The man smiled a cruel smile and motioned the slave to sit on his lap, which the boy did without hesitation, much to Arashi’s horror, “Interesting, isn’t it, Arashi-san? I found him in the village about two years after you left… he was just a toddler then, living with a mother… that didn’t have a husband. Odd, isn’t it? She was a pretty thing too, it’s a pity she had to be burned… but, you know how our society goes… and what happens to bastard children.” Orochimaru paused to run a hand down the boy’s slender neck, “I trained him myself; I think I did a fine job, don’t you?”

Arashi’s fingers tightened around the delicate glass until his knuckles turned white, “You… You knew he was…”

“Was what?” Orochimaru drawled, attempting to look innocent, “All I know is that his mother was a common whore, no one knows who his father was… she refused to give up his name, oddly enough. It’s quite romantic, really.”

Fire flashed in Arashi’s blue eyes and he made to stand, but the stoic and glaring Uchiha held him back firmly, shaking his head in warning.

“It always did strike me, however…” Orochimaru drawled, planting a single kiss on the compliant boy’s neck, “How much he resembled you… odd isn’t it?”

Orochimaru pushed the confused blond away, and he fell to the floor with a thud, cheek hitting the fake marble and his slim silver flute roll away across the room. Naruto pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, looking back at his master, blood trickling down his chin from his bitten lip. And the fingers holding the enraged Uzumaki released their hold, allowing the vengeful man to lunge at the bastard that had sought out and stained his estranged son.

Itachi swept forward and pulled the surprised blond away from the floor and the fighting men, walking swiftly to the door, which he locked when he and the boy were safely outside. He stood guard at the heavy oak barrier, and Naruto was reminded of a knight guarding a king’s chambers as the black-haired man dutifully stopped anyone from getting in to help their master... not that anyone moved to aid the pale man in the first place. Naruto tipped his head to the side in confusion as he listened to the yelling and crashing from inside the room.

Eyes drawn away from the door, Naruto looked up at the raven haired man and shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

After a moment’s time, the blond haired man exited the room, bloodied hands gripping his wine glass and Naruto’s dainty flute.

Naruto attempted to peek around him into the room to see his master, but the knight quickly shut the door before he could see the carnage within. Frowning slightly, Naruto looked back up at the men, curiosity written all over his face.

Blue eyes met blue eyes and Arashi smiled warmly down at him, placing a blood stained hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Naruto, right?”

Naruto nodded meekly and took the offered flute, allowing himself to be lead away from the banquet hall, where the scent of blood was wafting from the crack below the door. Arashi smiled, hand still gripping Naruto’s shoulder protectively, as he lazily tossed the wine glass behind him where it shattered against the stone floor.

End Chapter One. nn