A/N: I promise, 'What He Wanted' shall get done, however I'm not feeling inspired to write angst. But rest assured, I do have a new chapter in the works.
I have the urge to write something twisted, and I shall probably fail miserably. But, here goes… please tell me what you think! Flames are accepted, but please tell me why my story sucks, not just that it does. And suggestions on how to improve would be very welcome.
Naruto and all characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto. Except for the test subject. She is my own creation.
Warnings: Gore, shonen-ai, mistakes made with medical terms, minor alteration of canon. Implied (very slight) het.
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Alive
He thinks that he was seven when he first killed. It had been the academy bully (tall, strong and muscled), who always cornered him (short, weak and slender) after class in that dark alley.
The white haired boy was not sure what had caused him to snap, but he had sliced the boy's throat with a chakra blade. He had been about to leave, and return to his next class, but something made him pause. Slowly, he turned back and crouched by the corpse, before clumsily forming his first chakra scalpel. It was by no means perfect: the shape was irregular, the lines weren't smooth and his hand kept shaking – but it worked. Kabuto sliced through layers of skin, flesh, and bone, until nothing remained but a mangled carcass. Gelatinous, light grey matter was splattered across the walls of the alley, sliding down to mingle with the vivid red pooling around the body.
Nine years later, he stood in the cold, dark dungeon, his Master overseeing his first live autopsy. The subject was paralyzed with curare, a common substance used pre-anesthetization that left the mental state unaltered, yet relaxed the muscles and vocal chords to the extent that the subject was unable to move or speak. No anaesthetic had been administered.
A small intake of breath as icy cold lips descended on the medic's heated skin.
"What now, Kabuto-kun?"
The lips were moving up his neck, kissing along the jaw line, and making it increasingly hard to concentrate. Yet Kabuto maintained focus.
A perfectly formed, glowing blue knife made from pure chakra descended towards the paralyzed victim. Her eyes were wide open, a terrified light dancing. The blade continued, cutting through the first layer with precision – clothes. She was dressed in a lone garment (probably the only thing she could get in the cells full of future test subjects). A worn, fraying, oversized t-shirt was all she wore, and it came down to mid-thigh. The knife ran downwards along her torso, then across her shoulders. Kabuto lifted her frail body from the table gently, allowing him to pull of the tattered remains of cloth that hung from her. He set her back on the cold metal table softly, the stood back to observe her bared form.
She was too thin, and obviously malnourished; a common symptom of being a captive in sound. Her knees were larger than her thighs, and her hip bones jutted painfully from her side. Her waistline was non-existent, and her once ample chest had long since diminished. One of her stick-like arms was bent at a strange angle, and the wrist was swollen to grotesque proportions. Her face and hair were grimy, and crusted blood ran down her chin and matted her dull brown hair.
The pale sannin chuckled, and withdrew his arms from the slim waste of his medic, before stepping forward towards the gurney. The girl's grey eyes widened in obvious fear, and Orochimaru extended one arm towards her head, and started to stroke her lanky hair in a gesture of mock comfort. With his other hand raised, a single, slender, icy finger traced the line of her hideously prominent clavicle, running down the length of the valley between her small breasts, skimming over the concave stomach and coming to rest on a hip-bone. A sadistic smirk formed as he pulls away, and once more he stands behind Kabuto, yet does not encircle the slender waist with his arms, allowing the medic freedom of movement for the next stage.
The silver haired teen nodded to himself, and once more formed the blade from his chakra. He made shallow cuts (just enough to break through the layers of skin) leading from the outer edge of each clavicle diagonally to the top of the sternum, and down towards where the ribs ended. Dispelling the self made tool, he reached towards the splits in her skin and peeled them back like they were flaps. The girls breathing grew laboured and he could see the increased swell of her lungs when she breathed, the two large organs glistening red from beneath the ribs. Digging his already bloodied hands in even further, he grabbed hold of the ribs at the base of her torso, and in one swift motion, snapped them both. He continued this pattern again and again, forming a rhythm as he went. After nine snaps, he lifted the sternum from the centre of her chest, careful not to let any of the shards of her shattered ribs pierce the lungs.
Once more Orochimaru was pressed against his body, hips grinding against Kabuto's ass.
"Kill her for me." He murmured softly into the medic's ear. "Let me see you take her life." And with this, he resumed his earlier treatment, kissing up the teen's creamy throat, and nibbling gently on one lobe before sinking snake-like fangs into the juncture between neck and shoulder. Kabuto moaned into the cavernous room, back arching into the pain provided.
The girl's heart was pressed by lungs on either side, and Kabuto had to manoeuvre bloodied, tapered fingers around the vital organ, and squeezed it slightly to get a firm grasp. The subject's breath hitched, and her eyes became pleading. But it was too late. In a single, quick movement, the Nin had yanked her heart from her chest, tearing it from the network of veins and arteries surrounding it. Grey eyes became clouded, and the rasping breaths stopped.
He was spun around to face Orochimaru, and a heavy, bruising kiss was given to him.
"You did well, Kabuto-kun."
"Thank you, Orochimaru-sama."
He still remembered how the pulsating muscle had felt in his grasp.