Disclaimer: Masashi Kishimoto holds rights to Naruto, but the ideas in this story belong to me.
Accepts: Reviews, Flames (for my marshmallows), Suggestions, and etc.
Warnings: Yaoi (male/male relationships); Smut(?) themes.
Author's Note: Revised, edited, and EXPANDED for your reading pleasure. (Combined into one chapter, instead of the dual one-shots I originally posted; also, switched the title.) [06.19.18 Update: Rating lowered until future chapters]
Malicious Shadow [Possession]:
"Your victory infuriates my anger.."
[Uchiha Madara x Orochimaru Yaoi FanFiction]
Ravens soar into the sky, black feathers cascading into the darkening atmosphere. Shades of scarlet progressively consuming the vanishing glimpses of serene blues and evident glimmers of sunlight. In the distance a gleaming red moon casts a maleficent shadow over the fleeting presence of reality.
Someone is coming.
A figure, adorn in the same eerie colors, manifests from within a shroud of mist and scattering birds. Caws of the disbanded ravens exhaust any sense of tranquility; their clamoring breaths matching the frightening intensity of their watchful gazes atop their distinct perches.
Nevermore.
The unspoken verse seems to whisper in the cadence of a somber poem, of a foreboding promise, from those animalistic observers. However, soon their mindless utterances temper back into hushed obedience as skilled hands raise wittingly skyward. Pointed beaks mimic the commanding motion as an obsidian cross springs forth from the hazy waters nearby in response to the demand of their master.
Echos of dripping water reverberate against the surface of the smoky river, the reflection of the crimson heavens above painting an eerie portrait similar to the cascades of blood guaranteed to fall into their murky depths. Beyond the cultivated scene, sharingan eyes fixate upon the towering cross ensnaring the captured pale wrists in inky tendrils seeping out from its charcoal form.
"Welcome to your trial, traitor," The matchless figure announces levelly, a warning hum emphasizing the ending utterance purposefully.
A drooping curtain of silken strands opens to empower menacing amber hues to meet with spiraling crimson eyes mirroring their own brazen umbrage. Pointed teeth, elongated like fangs, grind together in a furious sneer as ashen wrists struggle against the obscure substance binding them.
Such blatant defiance is met with disapproval as lips, sealed in a thin line, curve into an unimpressed frown as powerful hands reach out to encase the pallid throat of the imprisoned individual. A tone, deceptively gentle and tolerant, follows the vindictive act:
"Orochimaru, my patience is wearing thin. I've allowed you to survive for this long, and still you haven't learned any respect. Or—do you simply enjoy the rough treatment?"
Strained gasps vibrate underneath the grappling touch, the shockingly warm sensation offering just enough pressure to ensure the precise measure of response from its victim. Suffocation would be too mundane of a demise for the unscrupulous serpent currently in his possession, yet the mere action succeeds in advising the necessary caution.
However, soon the chorus of tormented breaths moderately lessens as serpentine hues temporarily vanish behind closed eyelids; calmer, more calculated gasps, settling the tension coursing throughout his veins and providing him with a moment's reprieve to mauling over his immediate predicament. Yet, in this perverse mental chess game, there are merely two of his pieces remaining to prolong this dance of wits; an insignificant rook safeguarding his queen's impending demise.
From the second those molten red hues transfixed upon him—overwhelming him within this ability capable of ensnaring its target in a nightmare of illusions—all his esteemed cunning and cleverly masked deceit crumbled to pieces. Every move, every attempt to turn the tables in his favor, delivered him further into the other man's conveniently placed traps. His fruitless struggles simply position himself on a silver platter before such relentless strategic genius, but he didn't dare praise the man any further. For he will not be brushed aside so casually!
Releasing a nasty hiss, the white serpent bares his fangs again, shouting his outrage:
"Don't toy with me! Just get to the point of all this, Madara!"
Burning eyes witness this pitiful show of defiance in silent fascination and irritation. In response, more pressure squeezes that ashen throat as smooth lips move in dangerously close to mutter a fluid reply to the captive man:
"Isn't it a bit humorous, Orochimaru? These eyes you covet will be the very means for disposing of your pathetic existence. Doesn't it make you seethe inside?"
Madara's heated breaths sizzle against the shell of the serpent's ear; those vicious teeth, peeking from behind his satisfied smirk, racking across the outer exterior to merely insult the man further. Typically, he wouldn't become so invested in such a simplistic game yet he has always found Orochimaru to be somewhat fascinating. For a man of his intelligence and power to be so consume by his lust for immortality that he'd make such maddening sacrifices for so many painstaking years, but actually forget his true reasoning for desiring it—is absolutely laughable.
However, he remembers. He knows exactly what the pitiful serpent craves and that notion alone keeps him invested in continuing their games until he can pompously whisper all those secrets into serpentine man's ears and break him. Until that time is upon them, he would use that body and mind to fulfill his personal agenda. Orochimaru can slither away and hide, but he will never be free from him.
"Do you intend to tear it off?" Hisses into his mind, breaking him from his musing unceremoniously.
Blinking hints of confusion from his unseen eyes, Madara quickly realizes the slight taste of blood dripping into his mouth and releases the man's ear from his aggressive nips. As his thoughts consumed him, somehow in his subconscious attention he had continued his ministrations and broken the skin a little. The damage would heal in no time but, for some reason, the more he glanced at the wound he felt compelled to do more. If Orochimaru is going to flee from his clutches then why not leave a mark? Something to remind him of where he will ultimately return to?
The deviously smirking man retreats backwards, offering a show of licking his lips egotistically, while shifting his trained fingertips up to grasp the glowering man's chin. The spinning wheels of his Sharingan eyes accelerate, invoking a sudden paralysis to halt any impending resistance, as he maneuvers his unoccupied hand to the side; flicking his wrist to banish a hidden weapon.
Damage to one's form within this illusory plane of existence still causes harm to the actual body so, perhaps, there is another way he can mark his clever little snake. He would tease him a degree more though, then give his eyes a rest; they could continue this particular game another time.
Smiling in a manner that sends shivers coursing up the snake charmer's skin, his menacing tone commands the atmosphere once more:
"You've started to bore me again, Orochimaru. You don't seem to understand what I am after, what purpose I am warning you to acknowledge. Or—shall I remind you of the position you're in?"
Scheming crimson hues narrow mockingly as a trained hand swiftly maneuvers the blade's steel edge to rest against the incapacitated man's stomach. Leaning forward, mere inches from that deceitful mouth, Madara lowers his tone to a deceptively sympathetic whisper:
"You cannot defeat me. You'll only end up getting eaten."
Following those words, a mocking bite pierces into those tender lips savagely; tearing the initial layer of skin and causing a meager trail of scarlet to escape the incision. An invading tongue ghosts across the surface, lapping up the fleeing traces of blood and devouring them with a pleased hum; equally satisfied molten hues observing the parade of emotions locked within auric orbs greedily.
Venomous fury mixing with disbelief and hesitation stare back at him, daring him to release the imprisoned animal presently at his mercy. And how could he simply deny the ferocity being directed at him; being given sentience from the influence of his vigilant manipulation? No matter how many times he tries to warn Orochimaru of how futile his resistance is, the man continues to challenge him; to test his tolerance. And the sheer ridiculousness of their every exchange amuses him to no end, yet he somehow craves the absurdity. Something about the serpentine man just makes him want to—ruin him; to strip him of everything and leave him powerless, over and over again.
Or, perhaps, he is becoming too lenient these days...and beginning to genuinely fancy something more uncharacteristic? Something more befitting of those scandalously effeminate features and vivacious limbs.
No—entertaining such an outrageous notion as desiring such a pestilent man is nonsensical.
This discussion is exclusively business.
"Devour me then."
The outright inference of those few simple words penetrates his swaggering composure, wrenching an undeniable groan from his throat. Blood-soaked hues darken into measurable slits before practiced movements mutilate and fracture deep into layers of skin and bone; the glinting steel of his blade disappearing into the alabaster folds of the serpent's stomach and further unleashing the monster residing beneath. His intimidating control wavering again, granting freedoms once sealed away to return to his prisoner, as he indulges in the sweet resonance of wayward screams echoing into the distance.
Eventually, a dull semblance of calm returns; pain and anguish divulging into open-mouth gasps and choked displeasure. Satisfied fingertips release the other man's chin, challenging those infuriated hues to flee, as he caresses the tender skin in a painstakingly slow ascent to the mass of silken strands; yanking a collection of them into a tight fist. Once more he is moving, jerking the serpentine man's head backwards, as sharp teeth graze against the pallid flesh before the velvet tone of his voice burns like acid across the sensitive area:
"You'll come to regret those words but—itadakimasu!"
Immediately alabaster skin is quivering then breaking from the force of teeth savagely tearing into layer upon layer of sensitive, protective tissue. A miserable howl, reverberating within hints of erroneous pleasure, thunders in his ears in response to his purposeful ministrations causing him to smirk around a mouthful of vital fluids and torn flesh. The taste is, strangely, pleasant and nearly sweet with a trace of something else he cannot quite distinguish. He should have realized the unique flavor earlier but, perhaps, that is the unspoken reason why he can continue to brutalize and scar this form and not harbor any lingering revulsion.
He is becoming accustom to those seeds of misery and pain, and to those shameless screams burning straight to his loins. And, as such thoughts consume him, a yearning for a deeper sensation tempts him; spurs him to venture away from the punctured skin and forcefully devour the unabashed shouts tickling his senses.
Ah, even better...
Traces of blood and gore mingle into their conjoined mouths as a demanding tongue slips passed the remaining defenses keeping him from further savoring the essence of the serpent's unique venom interwoven with the sweet coppery taste laced within his own. Aggressive fangs snap at his advance yet he is undeterred and continues to ravage every nook and cranny with a pleased hum.
The sheer inferno and onslaught of naked resistance spurs him on, urging him to swallow every muffled shout greedily. He can see the unmasked emotions, rage and confusion parading hand and hand within a sea of dimming amber, yet the resistance is weakening. With each stolen breath the deeply wounded man is teetering on the edge of consciousness and quivering in his grasp. Eventually, the form simply becomes unresponsive as the exhausted serpent passes out.
Smirking triumphantly, Madara draws away and releases the binds pinning the other man. For a brief moment he considers leaving the traitor to plummet to the ground below but instead snatches the snake charmer into his arms. Their time has expired, and soon he will have to reflect upon what has transpired between them. Various lines have been unceremoniously crossed, and he is gradually realizing the implications of what he has cultivated here yet, he cannot deny, things will definitely be far more—interesting.
Checkmate.
Shades of scarlet immersed in black quiver, phantom ravens soaring out of focus, until everything disappears. In a gradual shift, like waking from a dream, the encompassing illusion retreats out of focus. Slowly the dawn of calming blues and gentle rays of sunlight return as a visage of fauna and wildlife claims the foreground surrounding them.
Black, black hues are gleaming forward into the distant sky as powerful arms continue to hold the serpentine man unconsciously laying in his arms. In a hushed whisper, the war-ridden Uchiha speaks; a misleading smile plastered onto his countenance:
"Change of plans, Orochimaru. You won't be running from me again..."
The nightmarish distortion of the contorted illusions once ensnaring Orochimaru's mental scape dissipate into budding awareness, yet permanent scars of torment and malice remain etched within his body and mind. Apocryphal landscapes, sights, and sounds may have faded into nothingness but some elements persevere to vigorously penetrate his senses.
Akin to traces of the scarlet pool now coursing in a smooth descent down the corner of his lips, the metallic taste spurring the callous reminder of what transpired in seeming the blink of an eye. Or black garments, much like the charcoal feathers of those vulturous ravens, embracing him possessively in their heated intensity; cloaked arms binding him paralyzingly in place by the sheer will of their controller. Or the trenchant resonance of escalating zephyrs of wind transporting the bane of his tormentor's voice to echo relentlessly against his eardrums.
Unrelenting reminders of the game undoubtedly ending in his defeat, and of the circumstances binding him further to the obnoxious Uchiha constantly mocking his whole existence.
Yet—the universe is just as ruthless and unkind.
Beautiful white clouds drift across the heavens above as warm sunlight spreads across the lands. The sweet nectar of flourishing plants and flowers dancing outside of his reach. Each tranquil element tempting his muddled awareness with promises of a dynamic escape, yet the nuisance imprisoning him is not so effortlessly cast aside. Every minute, every second, lapsing by is an endless stinging reminder of the oscillating affliction ravaging his form. The black cross binding him to its cold surface may have vanished but the invisible scars remain, their maddening ache remains.
He remains—far too close for comfort.
"How much longer do you intend to fake unconsciousness, Orochimaru?" A voice questions; inadvertently shattering the lingering nightmare plaguing his thoughts. "You are powerless against these eyes, but you know that already so...why don't we make a bargain? I'm sure you won't refuse..."
Tremors of a sudden undeniable itch travel up his spine, as an indignant scowl claims his features. Serpentine amber hues gleam murderously in response to the callous statement. He covets those extraordinary eyes so obsessively yet all his efforts leave him grudgingly hearing that same tiresome line over and over. Every individual in that clan must truly be laughing at him while staring pompously down upon him from their narcissistic pedestals; insulting his ambition for capturing such a magnificently impressive ability.
However, their taunts and snide comments won't pressurize his schemes forever. Someday, an impeccable opportunity is destined to trespass into his lair and fall victim to his poisonous fangs. He merely has to persevere forward, continuously plotting and experimenting, until the appropriate solution kneels before his genius.
A truly heinous creature may have limited his freedom for the moment, but there is still breath in his lungs and energy burning in his veins. What makes him a force to be reckoned with is the fearsome cunning nature of his mind and his attention to details. Reality or illusion, the chains can be broken just as easily as releasing one's spiritual energy to dissipate the ocular manipulation. For now, he smiles coolly and recklessly presses away from the cloaked arms squeezing him against the Uchiha's chest while offering a snide retort of his own:
"Is that all? I've never known one of your clan to be so generous to traitors. Or—have you grown to like me, just a little bit, after chasing after me for so long?"
Fingertips, much like claws, rack down his scalp immediately while yanking at silken strands with no regard to the dangerous hisses escaping their owner's defiant demeanor. An amused chuckle, laced with hints of sadism, follows the violent response as soulless ebony hues pierce into him; the towering man muttering an uncharacteristically suggestive retort to challenge his thoughtless attempts to bide for time.
"Now, now, is this the scheme of your new tactic? And here I thought I wasn't your type. I'm a bit of a dead-man, so don't make me stomp on your feelings anymore than I already intend to squash your pride."
A pained groan escapes from beyond his clenched lips, causing his glinting hues to darken considerably as he answers:
"An immortal body such as yours would suit me perfectly, but what do you fear? You're already claiming victory when the fight isn't even over. How like your other methods of doing things. I bet you think the world will roll over and just accept your reign."
The world is littered with interesting characters and his adversary, Uchiha Madara, is absolutely one of them. That scorned shadow is a deeper threat to him than Uchiha Itachi. Where the latter is a bland shell with a brother complex, the former is vengeful and manipulative—like the serpent himself. Plus, the depths and limitless range of their mental capabilities leaves him captivated yet extremely wary of the unpredictable strategies of the war-trained man.
"Oh, your fangs are showing, Orochimaru. It's actually a bit of an enticing sight. I might respondto it."
Madara chuckles darkly, as he releases the glowering bundle in his arms unceremoniously before pinning the man with the imposing weight of his heel before continuing:
"The world, as you say, and its inhabitants of every country won't have a choice in the matter. When the nine-tailed beasts are under my control, their power rightfully mine, there will be no greater protection in the world than that which I can provide. Even if you manage to escape death long enough to burrow beneath the earth and hide, eventually your enemies will locate your whereabouts and who will you slither to for protection? I will be your only option."
The slightest hint of a blush colors the alabaster cheeks of the serpent, as the impact of the man's teasing words wash over him. The thought of Uchiha Madara responding to anything involving him seems too unbelievably funny that the mirth is replaced with something else. Something being a strange sensation creeping into his system and forcing him react unnaturally. And yet, the few seconds of bizarre reaction are blatantly tossed aside as more pain leaves him choking on air.
Just as usual, the man is insufferably unpredictable and sinister.
"And why would I belittle myself enough to seek aid from you? The one who wants me dead the most IS you, if I recall correctly?" Orochimaru grits out slowly before grinding his teeth in wordless curse. "Unless, this is—perhaps—some manner of confession? Are you really adverse to someone touching me besides you? I feel so special."
Never missing an opportunity or faltering, like the snake did previously, Madara merely lowers his head in wild laughter; releasing a fiendishly unsettling sound. He may despise traitors with a tremendous passion but Orochimaru definitely is the most intriguing of them all. He is endlessly safeguarding his fear and speaking so haughtily as if nothing can destroy him or stand in his way. But a creature like that is one asking to be disposed of slowly, piece by agonizing piece.
And who better to chop him down to size?
Kneeling down on the serpent's stomach, shoving the impact his knee heavily into his mid-section, Madara quells his mirth and grins widely. "A confession? Should you really be baiting me? If we cross that line...you'll never escape my possession. And you should know I have far more malicious quirks than exhibited towards your pawns."
An answering, though painfully twisted, smirk flashes on Orochimaru's face as his serpentine tongue ghosts over his lips. "You'll have to show me these quirks. Since I really don't think you have what it takes to top my record of sadism."
Reaching a hand out to violently yank the serpent's collar, Madara lowers more of his weight onto the glowering serpent; breathing warmth along the shell of his ear in an unspoken warning. Soon the legendary Uchiha responds in a velvety tone laced with cunning seduction:
"Very well, Orochimaru. Let's see if you can truly satisfy me but, if you can't—"
A single ashen finger settles upon the Uchiha's smirking lips, beckoning him to cut his threat short. Shrouded raven hues narrow at the audacious action, yet strategic words race to appease him:
"If I can't...I'll agree to the original bargain."
Madara smiles confidently in agreement, then moves to securely fist long blackened tresses in his hands as he crashes their mouths together in a bruising kiss. No matter what lines they may cross from here on out, the fact remains, Orochimaru cannot runaway any longer and—he will lose.
He will not be conquered by the advances of a pathetic snake.
A/N: Phew, you made it to the end. Thank you for reading, because it truly means a lot. I hope you will leave a review with your thoughts and feelings regarding the story but, if not, then please enjoy your day. \o See you soon in future installments or stories! -arigato-