It didn't surprise him that his wrists were chafed. Painful. Bloody. Too much straining against the bonds that held him was taking its toll. Just the way he liked it. He reveled in the pain. Perfect.

This time, though, there was a new twist. Unexpected. Detestable. That wonderful, beautifully versatile tongue of his was being forcibly contained. Muzzled along with his animalistic groans. There would be no blissful tastes of blood gleaned from his own wounds tonight. Agonizing.

A piece of cloth obscured his vision. Blinded. Trapped. He couldn't glare properly at the man - no, the boy - hovering over him. Not that it mattered. Somehow, the sight of Kabuto's knowing smirk as he moved above his superior always ruined the moment, always revived the blood lust he forced down for these occasions. Bastard.

It never ceased to amaze Orochimaru how easily he lost control in these battles of superiority. One of these days he would have to take that insolent pup into hand - but not today. Definitely not today.