Summary: Orochimaru x Kimimaro, OroKimi, drabble Kimimaro never, ever complained, through the good and the bad. Even to the point of death.

Rating: T, but sometimes I feel like I might make it M. Two very very very quick line scenes. It's so vague that if you read it too fast you might miss it.

A/N: Wow… Er. Yeah. Welcome to a very simplified drabble. If you're here for complex sentences and a warm happy feeling, please leave now. I never expected to put this up, but this is my last one-shot before I try to settle down with my AU idea. Enjoy more of my OroxHarem crack.

He fought. His movements were effortless and precise, no energy wasted. Kimimaro's blows dealt out a cold, yet quick justice. On this battlefield he could feel life and sing. He was not a caged bird. But who was he singing for?

He never complained.

He was perfect, Orochimaru told him. The man desired him for his graceful movements, for his eyes, for his strength… Orochimaru told him he would take him out of this world without purpose and make him his. And he did.

He never complained.

The seal was placed on his chest. Kimimaro, a boy who was mostly feared, had never been given this kind of attention before. The bite almost scared him if it weren't for those poisoned words and those heated caresses. He shut his eyes for the duration of the technique, and when he opened them he saw it there. Beautiful, wasn't it? Orochimaru said. Keep it there for all to see.

"Now I can be a part of you."

He never complained.

The first time Orochimaru took him, Kimimaro was completely unaware. He had been called to his private chambers, and unlike others who had been summoned there, he was completely calm. Kimimaro never got into trouble, especially not with Orochimaru. He was his shining star, and nothing could make that go away.

For a moment, he saw nothing. But just a second later a single candle was lit, casting shadows upon his and Orochimaru's features. Kimimaro's heart beat rapidly, pounding through his chest. Why did he feel this way? This was not something he had ever experienced, not even in the heat of battle. The shadows shifted as Orochimaru glided forward, eyes as round and bright as a cat's.

"You're mine, aren't you?"

"Yes, Orochimaru-sama."

"Will you give me everything? Will you be my container when I change my body?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in his answer.

The first stroke shook him, but when he felt Orochimaru's breath he was calmed, just as he was when he was given the seal. Each new thing was brought up slowly, but Kimimaro still stumbled here and there. But there was one thing he didn't act like a novice in. The moment he felt Orochimaru inside of him he needed no instructions on how to react. His voice sang out in the air, piercing through the cold stone walls. This was pleasure, wasn't it? He could feel life and sing. Sing for Orochimaru.

He never complained.

The taste of metallic blood was alien. No one had ever wounded him enough to make him taste it. The medical bed he was given was hard and unforgiving, definitely not the warmth that Orochimaru's provided. Orochimaru ordered Kabuto to find a cure. Kimimaro could only hoarsely apologize as sharp needles were stuck in. He could only shut his eyes and hope to get out soon as steel monitors were hooked up.

Orochimaru was not there to comfort him as he did before, but Kimimaro could sense when the ex-Sannin was around. He could feel it, or at least he thought he did. Surely Orochimaru still desired him as much as Kimimaro did, but they could do nothing. He was useless.

He never complained.

He broke his restraints once. He made his way down the hall, bare feet pattering an unsteady rhythm against the cool, smooth stones. Orochimaru was surprised to see Kimimaro enter his room, but he didn't send him back. He instead embraced the other.

A sharp pain shot through, but Kimimaro gritted his teeth to prevent crying out, not wanting to startle Orochimaru. The snake sannin continued on, his fingernails tracing eloquent crimson designs in the other's skin. It stung like the needles, but they were so much better than that. He was in Orochimaru's arms.

The room was dark enough that no one noticed the blood that came from Kimimaro's sickness, and not from their acts.

He never complained.

Kimimaro was aware of someone else in his room. His footsteps were different from Orochimaru's and Kabuto's. His breath was heavy with alcohol. He strained against his life-giving, yet restraining cords. The monitor flashed red as it lost the connection with the receiver of his pulse. Yes, there. The alarm would go off…

This intruder merely cursed and moved to the monitor. His deft fingers typed in a code. Kimimaro's head spun, but he tried to get up and off of the bed. He was instead greeted with a swift blow to the gut. The bitter crimson liquid filled his mouth, and Kimimaro was so preoccupied with spitting it out that he did not notice his pants ripped off.

He wanted to scream, to push him off, to beat him! But with the lines gone, Kimimaro was weak, a thing he never was before. He could only pant, blood trickling out of his mouth as the other assaulted him. His mind flashed red.

It was over soon, but the stench of sperm and blood filled the area. Kimimaro was still trying to stop his shaking when heard Orochimaru come to his side. "Kabuto, turn the lights on."

His heart froze. No, he couldn't do that. Orochimaru couldn't turn on that light to see this. He didn't want the other to get mad. He just couldn't.

But what he heard wasn't what he expected. "Clean him up, Kabuto," was that cold, yet utterly smooth voice. That… Kimimaro blinked a few times, adjusting to the light so he could look up at Orochimaru. He only saw those gleaming eyes. They were as emotionless as the face of the person who unlocked his cage all those years before.

It scared him.

He had expected Orochimaru to be angry and to immediately search for the intruder. Kimimaro --even though Orochimaru's lapdog-- disliked the other's fury as much as anyone else. However, now that he was greeted with something totally different, he wasn't sure which one was better. Either way, there was no soothing words, nor warm touch.

He never complained.

There was talk of Uchiha Sasuke, a boy who surpassed the still figure on the medical bed. He was perfect, and Orochimaru desired him for his graceful movements, for those Sharingan eyes, and for that strength.

When Kimimaro inquired more about him, Kabuto merely shook his head. "Kimimaro-kun, you know you are no longer fit to be Orochimaru-sama's container. Your job now is to get better."

Kimimaro grew sad, but with those feelings he managed to conserve an odd strength. When Kabuto mentioned that the container would take some time to come, Kimimaro lifted his now weak voice. But even though weak and now betrayed, it still sung for Orochimaru.

"Let me get him."

He never complained.

He fought. His movements were effortless and precise, no energy wasted. Kimimaro's blows dealt out a cold, yet quick justice. On this battlefield he could feel life and sing. And he could sing for Orochimaru, at least for this last moment.

"Orochimaru's brain-washing, is it?" that boy said. "How empty you are."

When Kimimaro was imprisoned under the sand, he thought about those words. Orochimaru had done no such thing! It was he who failed the other, falling to a weakness he could not control. It was he, someone who could be the sole survivor of a clan after a battle against an organized village, who failed in his attempts to throw off the unknown assaulter. There was no brain-washing there. Orochimaru had given him all that he could have given… right? All that he deserved?

"How could you possibly know?"

Kimimaro rose up, prepared to strike Gaara. But that taste flew up into his mouth. It was not very alien anymore. He was scared, as there were no poisoned words and heated caresses to comfort him. There was only the image of Orochimaru's disappointed face.

Useless.

"Kimimaro doesn't matter anymore."

He never complained.