Orochimaru does not need a wand to do magic. Molding chakra is a basic skill everyone who wants to become a true shinobi must master early on. Magic is no different. Orochimaru can feel the new force moving through his very blood. He can feel its centers, its paths. He knows where it eddies and where it twines about his chakra.
Orochimaru demonstrates his refined control when he performs his first spell ever: the Imperius Curse. He does this wordlessly and without a wand. His gestures and his intent are enough. Once affected, his specimen for the night stands stiffly waiting for orders while Voldemort's jaw drops.
Orochimaru very much doubts anyone else has seen him like this.
It is one thing to know something is possible and quite another to see it enacted, he thinks. A kind of giddiness fills him, drowning out his amusement at Voldemort's expense.
His companion has recovered now, but doesn't say anything. He simply watches Orochimaru with something like respect in his gaze. It's one of the strongest emotions Orochimaru has felt from him.
He smiles and sends his orders through the vibrant mental link he and his specimen share.
"Crucio," the man says, his wand pointing at himself. Orochimaru lets him crumple to the floor and twitch.
"Small mercy." Voldemort reads his open intent to have the man keep casting it on himself until he expires. "He'll be dead by morning."
"Oh, now. We must be more specific than that."
Voldemort does not sneer at the stopwatch dangling from Orochimaru's fingers. If there is one thing Orochimaru has taught him thus far, it is to keep an open mind.