There was a package. It all came together with a little bow on top saying, 'You kill me, you kill him. You let me live, you let him live.' And that package was possibly the most damnable one; ever.
The two in the package were completely opposite—one caring, considerate… the other cold-hearted, cruel. One with no mercy. One with knowledge of a specific category that has gone unchallenged.
Two Nins of completely different fighting levels, one drowning and choking in sin, the other, for the most part, untouched, unsullied… yet a dark demeanor hides underneath that supposed 'innocence.'
One that hid behind facial masks—not physical masks, but calm and collected masks of demeanor. The mask that could not, or maybe it just would not, be ripped off but could certainly be broken, in one way or another. A mask that could be chiseled away at until it finally fell, even if in the slightest. No one knew his suffering or pain… no one understood. Not even the other man in the set.
Another that hid behind physical masks, masks that were taken off only to show the man's true beauty. The beauty he was willing to show off to the rest of the world, universe even, that crazed beauty he took great pride in. The faces that he used to trick and deceive, the face he used to seduce.
"Sometimes I wonder if our Lord can even feel pain," a familiar voice, one that was clearly female, echoed through the musky corridors of the spacious though it did not feel spacious—it felt like a cage, a dungeon hideout.
He stopped walking, not caring in the slightest bit that he was, more or less, disrespecting the couple's privacy by listening—if it was about his Lord, he had all rights to listen to it. His eyebrows furrowed, his face clearly in one of distaste; he did not like, at all, when people gossiped and spoke about his beloved Master with the innuendo of disgust.
Another voice, one much deeper and clearly male, snorted in an odd, disapproving tone. "Hnn, our Lord? Pain? That man doesn't give a damn about anyone other than himself. He feels no pain. I would bet my life that it's physically impossible for him to feel pain."
"Ooo, but what about psychological pain, hmm?"the female voice cooed in response, a light, yet malicious giggle added at the end. The girl was clearly smirking behind that voice. "I wonder what could break him…"
The man the woman was conversing with laughed, the equally malicious snicker echoing off the walls, slamming the eavesdropping man in the heart, giving him the sensation of being pulled down into suffocating pools of thick, deep waters, unable to resist. Like gravity was working its way on his insides, pulling his organs down and twisting them out and morphing them in distorted positions. He felt like he would vomit just from listening to the painful conversation.
"Losing his precious Sasuke-kun,"—a mocking tone was dripping from the words 'Sasuke-kun', making him even more nauseous—"…would just upset him. He wouldn't have access to either Uchiha if that damned brat were gone. He'd just use Kabuto-san," – more mocking tones—"… if that happened."
Gravity let go of his stomach, the acetic burn and powerful burst of vomit spurting from his mouth and onto the unclean, grungy stone floor. He fell to his knees, small droplets of tears forming in the edges of his eyes. He had not eaten anything in at least two days, the burn of the fresh bile seemingly tearing the flesh in his throat viciously like a hot iron rod.
"Damn," the girl hissed. "As fun as this conversation is, Kimimaro, I need to go or else Sakon and Ukon will be utterly pissed at me for being late for this meeting. Meet me for lunch today, hm?"
Kimimaro…?! He was shocked—completely shocked. Kimimaro would dare to speak badly about… I can't believe him. He had thought Kimimaro was loyal, that he would never say or do anything that his Master would disapprove of. Apparently his observations hadn't been quite accurate.
He spat in disgust, the thick drops of saliva mixing intricately when it hit the vomit on the ground, the saliva bubbling lightly from the acid.
"Of course, Tayuya," Kimimaro replied softly, a slightly seductive innuendo hidden in the words. "Same place as usual…"
He heard the sound of a kiss, making icy tremors rack through his body violently. He had to speak to their Lord… to Orochimaru…
Almost immediately he pushed himself up with his hands, standing on his feet more steadily, though his legs nearly gave way once more do to his slightly uneasy stomach. He would deal with the mess on the ground later.
He walked speedily through the corridors, having memorized every twist and turn of the castle at hand. The Nin-Sandals on his feet slapped against the cold stone of the throne, the sound echoing through the place loudly.
Albeit later though it felt like forever to him, he stood, though slightly shaking from the anger he still felt from the earlier conversation, in front of his destination. He knocked lightly on the doorway as to check to see if his Master was present in the room. He was.
"Come in…" a breathy, ghastly voice called out.
He opened the stone door, the steel hinges of the doorway creaking in an unpleasant screech as he did so. Silently he slid into the room, shutting the door and cringing lightly when he heard the screech of the doorway once more once the door was latched once more.
The room was lit by only about seven or eight cream colored candles, the perfume of the sandalwood tainting the air. The burning wax of the candles slid violently down the wick, dripping off of the stick and sizzling lightly when it slapped against the icy floors.
In the center of said room, sprawled out on a large, glossy, marble chair in a lazy yet still elegant manner, was Orochimaru. His long legs were sprawled wildly about, his left leg thrown over the left arm of the chair, his other leg spread apart to spread his hips in an enticing manner. His left hand was perched upon the juncture of his stomach, his head resting on his right arm as it propped itself up on the right arm of the chair.
The snake's full, midnight hair was perfectly straight, the hair on the right side of his face tucked behind his ear, the rest fanning around his face wildly. They shone in pure shimmering sheen. His glittering golden snake eyes stalked him, piercing through his very soul, searching for the real reason why his most trusted companion was here. His lily white, porcelain skin was given a slightly warmer tone to it from the delicious candle light, the lilac colour surrounding his eyes looking incredibly surreal against that sharp whiteness it had been placed upon. His crimson kimono was thrust around him wildly, the intricate yet delicate gold designs adorning the expensive fabric glowing in the smooth light of the petite fires lit on the wax.
A pink coloured tongue snaked out from between his lips, licking the tender skin of the outside of his mouth lightly before sliding it back in. His lips glistened lightly from the remnants of saliva in the wake of the tongue.
"They were talking about you again."
He saw the snake man smirk, a clearly amused expression adorning his porcelain face. "Ah, Kabuto-kun… how many times must I tell you not to worry about such things?" he inquired, a mischievous yet seductive look powdered on his face.
Kabuto head hung, looking albeit guilty, like he had done something terribly wrong. "Gomen, Orochimaru-sama," he whispered, the silver locks uncontained by his hair-band framing his face beautifully, some casting deep shadows over his eyes. The Medic's head was turned to the side, his glasses resting on the tip of his nose, his hands clasped together loosely behind him, the fingers on those two hands interlacing each other.
Orochimaru then frowned, pouting lightly and his eye brows furrowed in displeasure, a slightly concerned look set within his eyes. "Kabuto-kun…?"
Kabuto swallowed, the disgusting remnants of his vomit lingering in his mouth, not enough saliva being formed in the man's mouth to be swallowed, the bile having greedily drunk all of the thick liquid. "Hai, Orochimaru-sama?" His voice was cracked, sandy and broken like clay that has become too dry to work with, when it's too far desiccated to be revived.
"Come closer," Orochimaru instructed with his silky voice, the cream candles flickering around him in, giving him a more feral beauty than before.
Though hesitantly, the Medic did as instructed, not looking at his Master once. His head turned back, though it still hung in front of him pathetically like a beaten stray. He stood in the shadows of the fire, allowing as little of the luscious flame's light to hit him.
"Even if I demanded you to look at me, you would not do so—it's rather evident. Why so, Kabuto-kun?" He continued pouting.
"Please do not add 'kun' to the end of my name, Orochimaru-sama. I would prefer if there were no formalities."
Kabuto's disheartened visage was breaking down the Sannin's composure, the invisible mask he always wore dissipate. "Why so, Kabuto-kun?"
"Please, just… drop the formalities, please, Orochimaru-sama." Kabuto's voice was becoming less steady by the second, the boy's own composure quivering, the pathetic aura radiating from him taking a toll on his voice. "I beg of you."
Orochimaru's eyes softened further, the mask nearly broken. "Again—why, Kabuto?"
Kabuto swallowed again—still no saliva. "I…"
"Kabuto?"
"It's… hard to explain."
The Sannin rose gracefully, the smooth movements making him radiate the impression of a ghost. He walked closer to the silver haired Medic, placing a hand on the other's shoulder. "Tell me."
"They were speaking about you again…" the Medic repeated, seemingly in a trance, the mechanical voice stony, his head still hung in the same air of hurt.
"I am aware. You have told me this already," Orochimaru snapped impatiently.
"They said something that irked me."
"They always say something that irks you, Kabuto."
"More than usual." He shifted uneasily, the crawling tension making him regain his earlier nausea. "They said you couldn't feel pain… that it would only upset you if you lost Sasuke-kun…"
"There's more to it, isn't there?" Orochimaru interrupted. "They said something about you and I, didn't they?"
Kabuto was shivering now, his vision blurring in and out of focus as salty liquid gathered in his eyes. "Y-yes…"
"Do you doubt my trust in you, Kabuto?" Orochimaru whispered to him in the ear that was facing towards him, the naturally seductive voice almost intimidating. Though he did not notice the hurt look on Kabuto's face.
"Of course not, Orochimaru-sama…" He shivered at the feeling of the burning breath that was purely his Master's against his ear and the smooth areas of skin above and below it.
"I don't believe you," the snake hissed viciously, the breath against him burning more than before.
Kabuto winced again, his vision blurring more than before. "Do you care about me?" His hazel gaze still did not meet the golden ones.
Orochimaru was slightly taken aback by the sudden question, his eyes squint in a movement that could only be described as concentration. "Of course I do, Kabuto," he answered in his ghastly voice, though Kabuto was not convinced. "You are my most trusted companion, my second-hand man."
Needles were clawing at his heart, ripping and shredding it, the heavy pains in his chest reaching the very epitome of his being. "If Sasuke were to be… killed… would you… use me… instead…?" It came out as a meek whisper.
"No," Orochimaru stated. "You are too important. I would be lost without you, Kabuto. Do you not realize that? I trust you more than anyone else."
"Is that… the true reason?" Kabuto whispered in the same pathetic tone as before. The mask was shattering, a few tears dripping down his pale face.
Orochimaru was shocked yet again when he saw the two tears make a glimmering path down Kabuto's cheeks. "Why do you so suddenly doubt me, Kabuto? What drove you to believe this madness?"
Kabuto couldn't bring himself to say it, instead harshly biting down onto his lower lip, pricking the delicate skin until heated blood trickled down the bite mark. He was quivering, his composure almost completely obliterated.
"Kabuto! Speak to me. If you can't do that, then at least look at me." Orochimaru sounded exasperated.
Kabuto did not respond verbally or physically.
His patience finally lost, he harshly grabbed the other man's head, whipping it painfully toward him, the glasses on the other man flung across the room and shattering into thousands of particles from the ruthless movement.
A sickening snap was heard as well as a stifled cry from the Medic.
His lilac-rimmed eyes widened as he noticed crimson blood leak from the latter man's neck. An invisible panic spiked through him. "K-Kabuto?!"
"I'm fine…" he whispered, his cracked voice nearly inaudible.
"Kabuto, I did not mean to do such a thing," Orochimaru said softly. "Please believe me, Kabuto." He removed his long fingers from the other's throat, allowing his hands to rest on both of the Medic's shoulders.
"I wish I could, Orochimaru-sama." His voice was a few octaves higher due to the increasing amount of tears flowing down his face, his voice cracked more than it had been before. "Orochimaru-sama… do you hate me?"
"Kabuto!" Orochimaru screamed, having finally lost all patience with the other man, his grip on the other tightening ever so slightly. "Would you stop asking me these ridiculous questions?! I do not hate you, I do care about you! I care about you very much!"
"But do you love me?" the Medic asked shakily, his eyes growing slightly wider in terror, immediately regretting it the moment the words flew from his mouth.
He had not meant to say that. Though Kabuto had wanted to ask Orochimaru that question for a very long while, he did not want his Master to answer—it would be too painful for him to know.
A thick silence followed, the only noises that could be heard were the sound of the flames' graceful dances, though that was not enough to cover the subtle sound of Kabuto's tears falling to the stone floor.
"Please, do not answer that," Kabuto whispered after a few minutes, deciding to break the excessively uncomfortable stillness. "I did not mean—"
"Kabuto," Orochimaru whispered, the harsh tone having completely vanished, his voice back to its natural ghastly, seductive tone, his left hand ghosting up Kabuto's right cheek and resting there in a soothing manner.
The tears were being formed at a more rapid pace, dripping down his face as pain chewed on his chest, the organs there seemingly filled with cement. "Please, Orochimaru-sama, it would be too pain—"
"I love you, Kabuto." His voice was serene, soft, soothing, assuring.
The Medic's eyes widened. "N-no… you don't…" he stuttered, choking on his words. There was no way the sole person he loved could return those affections—he was not good enough for love.
"I do love you, Kabuto," Orochimaru whispered. "I love you more than anything else. You are all that matters to me." With the hand that was resting on Kabuto's cheek, he moved it to place the silver haired man's chin there, raising his tear-stained cheeks. "I know what you are thinking, Kabuto, but this is the truth. I am not saying this to you to make you feel better in any way. I really, truly love you." This is it. With that, he leaned forward to place a chaste, love-rich kiss upon Kabuto's lips, his invisible mask falling and shattering on the ground in a pile with Kabuto's glasses.
Kabuto's tears immediately morphed into those of happiness, kissing the other man back even more passionately, winding his arms around Orochimaru's neck. He was stunned at the response he had managed to unintentionally coax from the man, but that certainly did not mean he was displeased. A light smile was drawn on his face from the new sensations, a smile that he could not force to vanish.
He had destroyed his mask. Kabuto knew this, that after all those years of relentless work to build up that barrier, it had finally been turned into tiny sediments of plaster.
Orochimaru could do nothing to prevent the small smile the forced its way up, the feelings flooding out, the ghastly demeanor having been a barrier for these things that welled up inside of him. He deepened the kiss further, snaking his arms around Kabuto's lower back and pulling him towards him, settling him down on his lap on the throne.
This was the thing he had wanted for so long. The thing he had lusted for even more than having Sasuke, than destroying Konoha, than murdering Sarutobi. It was to have Kabuto—to possess him, to own him in every way possible, even more than he did so already.
From that moment Kabuto had no doubts left, he now knew fully that Tayuya and Kimimaro had been wrong. That he could feel pain and that he could love just as much as anyone else could.
No more words were needed to be spent between the two, both knowing already what was going through the other's mind, knowing that they both loved each other and needed each other.
It felt so right being in his arms, kissing him so sensually and deeply, the way his arms held him in securely to him, the way their chests pressed against each other as Kabuto kneeled in Orochimaru's lap, the snake's legs in between his. The feeling was so maddening, the slick feeling of the other's long tongue twisting in his mouth, tasting every bit of him.
It felt so erotic, every bit of it, driving both parties mad with lust, the two having denied their attraction to the other's sexual appeal for far too long. No matter how forbidden this was supposed to be, it did not change a thing. They're age gap should have prevented this from ever happening, should have been able to prevent either from harboring, or even blossoming, these feelings for the other. It was taboo for them to lust each other, to love each other in this manner. It was so sinful that one could just drown from it—of course, both parties were wallowing in so much sin already it likely would not make a difference.
And even through that, Kabuto wouldn't have had it any other way.
--FIN--