Haha. When I pulled out the two names...Orochimaru and Anko…I laughed. The only stories I've read of them have just been incredibly angsty poems filled with yelling and betrayal. The others creep me out to much to even open. :3 I knew this story was going to be creepy, though—this is Orochimaru we're talking about! Evil guy! If it's not creepy…what is it?

So, yeah. This takes place while she's still his student…I don't know how old she is, and I'm not sure I want to (like I said, this is Orochimaru…ehehe). I seriously considered putting in something about the curse seal, but decided to leave it without...I don't feel like working on it anymore. :3

Just please don't take the word "touch" in a dirty sense or anything, I'm talking about nothing more than simple physical contact.

I've never really written anything like this, and maybe that's a good thing…?

- kina-chan

Touch - Orochimaru x Anko

He doesn't touch anyone else, as far as she knows. He's not like the other jounin, who clap each other's backs in greeting and firmly shake hands when they part. Her master scorns such unnecessary contact. He does not join in their frequent sparring sessions, either. When her master fights, he fights to kill.

Which she has seen him do countless times—too many times. In some ways he's like her when he kills. She would prefer to play with her target, taunt them, tease them, remain just out of reach until they're so vulnerable she can't not finish them off. They are similar in that respect until the very end. She chooses the quick and painless route to end the lives of her prey. He delights in his victims' agony—their stupidity of dying. Then he calmly wipes their blood from his hands. They are nothing more than pawns in his deadly game for power.

The only person he voluntarily touches is her. Standing behind her, he reaches around and places his cold fingertips on either side of her face. They remain there, stationary as he breathes onto her skin his designs for the future, his conquests, his goals. His frigid palms slither like snakes on the exposed area of her neck. The arms encircling her are not an embrace; they are merely closing her in. These simple touches send waves of ice up and down her back, sinking into her veins.

And his hands are always cold. As she feels them on her scalp, a sort of delicious chill seems to settle itself throughout her body. She does not know why these appendages of his are always frozen, just as she doesn't know why she's the one he chose.

Only one time when he touched her, his hands were warm, still dripping with blood from the battlefield. When he made contact with her before anything else, she knew that was the closest her master had ever come to needing to touch someone.

Mneh. Can't wait (though scared) to start next one. :3 As always, review, please.