A/N: Written because this pairing needs more love! Orochimaru in general needs more love. So many of the fics about him are non-con... or het, ew.
So if you don't mind angst-ridden/saccharin romance between what should be two hated enemies, this fic is for you~~
I remember the first time I saw Orochimaru.
It was in a book of powerful ninja; outdated, listing the man as an ally of Konoha. The small, blurry picture intrigued me—I knew already that this Sannin had become one of the village's greatest enemies—but even without that knowledge I could tell that the man had goals and was not willing to compromise them, just from looking at his eyes in that tiny picture.
Years later I found out the details about Orochimaru's betrayal of Konoha, that he had abandoned the village after his terrible experiments had been discovered—dark, twisted experiments, on hundreds of ninja, even children. I feigned revulsion in front of my peers, but when I went home that night I found his picture again and spent Lord knows how long just staring at it. I memorized every detail—moon-pale skin, black hair (longer and fuller than mine), and above all, those yellow, snakelike eyes. They hypnotized me, I think, because that night the thought of that piercing gaze brought me to climax, alone in my bed. It was the first of many times.
For the following months I researched him, through books of forbidden jutsu, through casual questions asked of people I knew—never the same person twice, and always in the least conspicuous of ways. One memorable day I even found a scroll with much bigger (and clearer) photo of him. My mental image of him grew more and more detailed; my nighttime fantasies more and more explicit. In my mind, he would bind my hands and feet with snakes, strip me bare, and explore my body with his hands and that long tongue before entering me. Depending on my mood, he could be the most tender or most sadistic of lovers. I dreamed of meeting him; longed to see him in person and compare the real person with the sexual god I had created in my mind.
I never thought I would actually get this chance.
But I did.
I knew the Akatsuki would be an assortment of the most powerful missing-nin from every nation. I'd expected such; it was the reason I'd sought to join them after massacring my clan. I tried to tell myself that the main reason was to keep an eye on those who might hurt Sasuke, but that sounded silly in my own head and I did not believe myself. Sasuke was the least of my concerns. My true reason was much more selfish: I did not fear anyone particularly, but the notoriety from my actions was bound to bring at least a few bounty hunters with intents on my life, and I thought it prudent to ally myself with powerful and equally notorious ninja.
I hadn't expected Orochimaru to be among their number; it hadn't even crossed my mind that the legendary snake shinobi, one of the great Sannin, would interact with anyone other than the very gods. Perhaps I was being naïve; I knew deep down that though Orochimaru was a formidable ninja, there was no reason to believe that he would not form alliances with other formidable ninja, the same as me. But the world was large, and of course Orochimaru's movements were unknown to me. And how could I compare myself to him?
My idol and I, united under the banner of the Akatsuki? Preposterous. I never saw it coming.
And I was floored when it did.
I didn't realize it at first, so unexpected was the encounter, but after a nearly violent double-take I recognized the face of my obsession. He was hiding near the back of group at my induction ceremony—well, "hiding" isn't the right word for it. It was akin to a hunter stalking its prey, and as I locked eyes with him for the first time, I understood immediately that I was the prey.
The thought thrilled me.
I took a closer look at him, aware that he was watching me, mirroring my observation. Though his body was hidden beneath the long robe that was the uniform of the Akatsuki, I could see his face plainly enough, and I was struck by how similar he was to that practically ancient picture I had first seen. I supposed he was using some sort of jutsu to alter his appearance, but it didn't look at all unnatural; to me he was immortalized in that moment, similar in every way to the pictures I had come to cherish, and it didn't matter that he might be manipulating his own appearance because this was simply the way he was supposed to look—anything else would be strange. At that point, seeing him as a mortal human—aged and changed by the years—might have crushed my desire for him, and things might have turned out very differently. However, he was still the picture of youth and beauty, cementing my idolization. Everything—from the luster of his hair to his smooth unblemished skin to that delicious smirk—all of it was the same as in my dreams.
I wanted him—right there, in front of all the assembled members of Akatsuki—I didn't care; I would have thrown myself at his feet and begged for him to take me. But there was playful danger in his eyes, both warning and promising. I held back, withdrawing into myself once again; no one seemed to have noticed our silent exchange, or my lapse in control. I turned my gaze away from Orochimaru to address the other Akatsuki, and when I looked back, he was gone.
No longer enthralled by the attention of the snake-eyed Sannin, I was nevertheless slightly distracted as I was shown to a set of rooms: basic but well-outfitted, consisting of a Western-style bedroom, bath, and kitchenette. I would have preferred something more traditional—I was used to the antique feel of the Uchiha main house—but I settled in quickly enough. I didn't really have possessions to speak of; even clothing was provided for me here.
I was called back out to the main hall for an explanation of the Akatsuki's operating policies—I had known them before joining, and everyone knew that, so at this point it was nothing more than idle chatter anyway. The gist of it was that other than missions, I was essentially free to do as I wished, so long as it didn't endanger the Akatsuki or any of its goals. Much more freedom than I was used to in ANBU—there, nearly every move I made was closely monitored by one party or another. I was looking forward to having time to myself for once.
I told myself that I would be using that time to ensure Sasuke's safety, just as I had told myself that I had left him alive because I cared for him. Both ideas sat oddly in my head; I wasn't actually sure what had stayed my hand—Sasuke didn't deserve to die, he was innocent, but that had never stopped me in the past. All I knew was that, when faced with the prospect of killing the distraught child, some part of me held back—and it had been a calculating, planning part of me, not a part that cared for the boy's well-being. I wasn't sure that part even existed. No, I had simply had a strong sense that I would need Sasuke one day, for Lord knows what, and that this was not his time….
In any case, the Akatsuki didn't care why I had joined; they cared that I was powerful and willing to follow their rules.
Feigning weariness, I excused myself from the shark-man who was apparently my teammate and in charge of my orientation. He didn't seem to mind having his information stream interrupted; in fact he seemed relieved to be able to stop talking. I wasn't ready to form an opinion on him yet, and I had pushed him out of my mind long before I reached the door to my rooms.
Orochimaru was waiting for me.
As I closed the door and sealed it with chakra, a snake as thick around as my wrist slithered out of the shadows and twined up my leg. I froze with one hand still on the door, mostly from excitement and anticipation, but also wary—Orochimaru was, after all, noted for his erratic behavior. Or so I had heard.
"Alone at last, Itachi-kun," he said, though I could not yet see him. The voice issuing from the darkness was so obviously his that though I had never heard it before, it slid right into the category of Voice – Orochimaru, easily replacing all of my speculations. The voice was dry and hissing, but somehow seductive, hypnotizing. I savored the sound of my name on lips, letting my eyes close for just a second, allowing my mind to fill with that voice.
I snapped back to reality almost instantly, however. "Show yourself," I commanded in a steely tone, turning to face the empty room. I shivered as the snake slithered ever farther up my leg; it was now passing my knee and beginning to wind its way slowly towards my erogenous zone.
The Sannin chuckled; a thrilling, menacing sound; and stepped into view. The room, lit only by a banked fireplace, seemed unable to contain the force of his presence as his golden eyes bored into me, filling me, devouring me.
"Now now, Itachi-kun, no need to act so cold," he chided teasingly. He moved closer, and I was able to make out green glints in his yellow eyes that I hadn't been able to see in the photos. As he tilted his head slightly I noticed he wore dangling metal earrings. I wondered absentmindedly if he wore them often.
"I noticed you watching me earlier, Itachi-kun," he whispered, closer to me than I could fathom, so close that, had I the courage, I could have reached out and touched him. I loved hearing him say my name over and over again; he seemed to savor it, using it every chance he had, and the way he caressed the syllables left me breathless. "If it's power you're after, I'd be glad to help you…"
Power? I blinked. I had enough power. I didn't need more. Was that what he had seen in my gaze? A lust for his power? And why would he be so facilitating in that case…?
"Perhaps we have misunderstood one another," I stated. The snake that was coiled around my leg was now inches from the apex of my thighs. I wouldn't be able to suppress my reactions for much longer. "I have no desire for power." I have a desire for you, I lust after you, I added silently, praying he would hear me this time.
By the mercy of the gods, he seemed to understand, and he closed the gap between us, pressing his lithe body close to mine. "Oh? Forgive me, Itachi-kun. I have grown so used to people pursuing me for my power that I'd quite forgotten what it felt like to be pursued for…other things. Unless…I've misunderstood again?"
I answered by kissing him forcefully, my hands going to his shoulders like they had always longed to do. He responded with equal force, pulling me close by my hips and slipping his tongue into my welcoming mouth. I didn't even try to fight for dominance; we both knew he had the upper hand, and he took full advantage of my submission.
By the time we broke apart several moments later, we were both panting and half-aroused. He ground our hips together and I moaned softly, knees nearly buckling. The snake around my leg seemed to have abandoned the scene sometime during the kiss, so nothing was in the way of our bodies pressing flush against each other—except, of course, our clothes, which we lost on the way to the bed.
That first time was magical; somehow Orochimaru knew exactly where to stop, exactly how much I could handle, never moving too fast or too slow. He even played out some of my milder fantasies without my asking; using snakes to tie down my wrists and penetrating me with his tongue—that was the first time I climaxed; with his hand pumping me to completion and his tongue filling me to the brim, hitting my prostate with perfect accuracy. The second time, his fingers curled and probed inside me as he allowed me to thrust wantonly into his mouth. He smirked as he swallowed. The third and final time, I needed no assistance from hand or mouth; I came powerfully from the feeling of him inside me, pounding relentlessly against my inner walls. That time, I screamed from the pleasure and he quieted me with another thorough kiss, before hissing and releasing deep within me.
Some time passed as I lay there with him, panting, basking in the afterglow and his presence. I may have lost consciousness; I don't know for how long, but Orochimaru stayed there with me beneath the sheets, instead of leaving. I was happy to realize this, and nearly ecstatic as he pulled me in and nuzzled my cheek, murmuring sweet nothings. I had dreamed about something like this happening—a tender moment after lovemaking—but from the very beginning I had not imagined that a cold killer such as Orochimaru would actually behave in such a loving manner.
Eventually he shifted, sitting up. "Let's go clean off now, Itachi-kun," he purred, and I nodded before trying to follow his lead. My muscles seemed drained of any strength however, and it was only with Orochimaru's help that I was able to follow him to the bathroom.
In the shower, he held me from behind, hands roaming slowly over my body, cleaning and exploring. He traced old scars with his fingers, lovingly, tenderly, and smoothed his palms over the planes of my torso, rubbing soap into my skin, caressing every inch of me. Never had I felt so beautiful, so appreciated; I longed to return the favor and express my fascination with him, but I was too relaxed, too blissful, and I was afraid I'd scare him away with the depth of my passion. There would be a better time, I reassured myself.
As he cleaned my nether regions I reached half-hardness, and he smirked against my neck but did not comment. I leaned back against his smooth chest, and the water pulled a lock of his long silky hair down over my shoulder, and inky rivulet that I lazily gathered and twisted around a finger. He finished washing us and turned off the water.
"I love your body, Itachi-kun," he told me, his mouth moving against my ear. I shivered. "So beautiful and powerful." He pulled me out of the shower, toweled us both dry, and before I knew it I was back beneath the covers and drifting off to sleep, his laughing golden eyes gazing at me possessively.
tbc
