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Lemniscate Lykomancer “Ah, Sasuke-kun…” One hand automatically resettled his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, and he glanced at him from the corners of his eyes. “It’s unusual to see you down here. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?” Sasuke tipped his head toward Kabuto, smiling back through heavy black lashes. “Hn. Don’t act stupid. It’s insulting.” He unfolded his arms and dropped the leg he’d had kicked back against the wall down and stretched slowly, muscles rolling smoothly under his skin, and the older ninja’s amusement only increased as he watched. “As you’d like.” Sasuke raised a brow, then sniffed quietly, rounding on Kabuto slowly with a newfound predatory grace, studying the other nin’s face intently as though trying to see past the pleasant persona to something he could latch onto, something real— some resentment or jealousy toward him for his skill, for his complete appropriation of Orochimaru’s time, attention, and for what passed as his affection; some interest in his body, the desire to stamp his own claim on the body his superior claimed for his own; some curiosity or anger or need…something, anything, besides his inscrutable sweet-faced charm, a façade that Sasuke detested and had wanted to shatter only days into the chuunin exam, long before he’d realized who and what Kabuto really was. He wanted to tear down that mask, and if there was nothing more under it than another, he’d rip through them all. He wanted to take the older shinobi down a few pegs— much as Kabuto wanted, he was sure, to do the same to him. It was one of the few things which Sasuke was sure about Kabuto. “It’s not the only thing I’d like.” The younger nin cut forward suddenly, nearly too quick to be seen, and then his hands twined in the loose collar of Kabuto’s clothes, pulling him down, his teeth showing in a vicious little smile. The medic rolled the movement smoothly and naturally, a low chuckle vibrating in his throat as he captured Sasuke’s lips with his own, and oh! the boy’s skin was soft and sweet and so warm, flush with vigorous life, and for a moment all he could think about was rush of hot blood through his veins, the rawness of vulnerable organs…and how easy it would be to cut this cocky little prat into pieces right now with his bare hands, sharp-edged chakra slicing through fibrous tendons and tough muscle, disconnecting nerves... There was an intimacy in dissection that completely outstripped that of sex and he took pleasure in his work and his own ability to create and destroy, as close to those he touched as their own blood, their own chakra. To control the flesh was to control the ninja… Sasuke’s tongue slid into his mouth insistently, and he reached up rake his nails through the neatly ponytailed hair, pressing hard against the older nin, and his touch was rough, demanding, leaving no space or time for even a breath of refusal. He tasted bitter metallic, like old well water, like blood, and Kabuto laughed again in recognition, slowly stroking along the boy’s cheek and down his throat as he allowed him to deepen the kiss, tracing the cord of muscle from jaw to clavicle and then under his high collar and over the curve of his shoulder to the dark trefoil burned into his skin— the outward manifestation of an inner corruption. A brand of ownership. “Come on.” Sasuke growled, still licking at his lips between words, though he loosened his grip on his clothes and folded his fingers around Kabuto’s free hand, using him to complete the seals; he wasn’t going to let go even long enough to get them someplace more appropriate than the hallway outside the laboratory, and it’s just that kind of impatience, Kabuto thinks, nosing the boy’s chin up to bare his throat for open-mouthed kisses, that drove him here, so eager to gain power without having to work for it that nothing else mattered to him, not even his own eventual fate. Sasuke was shoving him backward before he even felt solid flooring under them again, a low snarl bubbling on his lips as his kisses turned savage, more teeth than tongue now as he nipped and sucked bruises down the medic’s neck; his fingers clawed the thin strip of leather binding his hair free and buried his hand in the pale strands and his other arm clamped firmly around his slim waist, his grip tightening inexorably as he tried to bend the other to his own will and desire. “Now, now, Sasuke-kun…” The breathless bemusement in Kabuto’s voice earned him an angry bite to the crook of his shoulder and dark eyes flashing crimson in warning, and the older shinobi’s gentle laughter evaporated into a low groan. Strong fingers hooked his collar and pulled hard, fabric splitting easily, and Sasuke’s mouth, hot and wet and so damned eager, slammed down against the exposed flesh. “Shut…up…” Kabuto leaned against the cold wall behind him, eyes narrowing to slits as the boy’s hands and lips roamed his skin with ferocious intensity, and his fingers threaded into the messy black hair as Sasuke slid down further and further… “Just shut up…” It wasn’t the initial scrape of teeth that sent a jolt down the medic's back nor the slick heat of Sasuke’s tongue lapping at sensitive flesh that drew a heady moan from his lips; it wasn’t the sight of the beautiful, prideful Uchiha on his knees in front of him, one hand wrapped around his hip to steady him and the other squeezing his buttocks like a kneading kitten, that made his face flush. It wasn’t the forceful, aggressive way that the younger nin’s mouth worked around his cock that made it twitch and ache. What caught Kabuto’s attention and made him arch back wantonly, gasping and writhing under Sasuke’s attentions, was the figure reclining in the chair in the corner of the room— the lips that curved up in a wicked smile as sharp and dangerous as a razor’s edge; the pale hand that drifted up with lazy grace to push the dark silk curtain of long hair back behind an ear; the slitted green eyes that watched them hungrily, glittering in feral amusement and as bright as gems even in the dim lighting. “O-Orochimaru-sama…” The name dragged on his tongue, ached on lips swollen and tender from rough kisses, and the Sannin chuckled raspily upon hearing his name spoken in such a tone; he didn’t have to touch his subordinate to arouse him. “Oro—“ Kabuto cut himself off as he sucked in a sharp, jagged breath, mouth twisting suddenly. “Sasuke-kun, please don’t bite so hard…” “I told you,” came the muffled answer in broken puffs of breath and swipes of tongue that eased away most of the burning sting from his teeth, “to shut up. Twice. Maybe you’re the one who needs something to occupy your mouth.” Orochimaru licked his lips slowly, smirk broadening in appreciation of the suggestion, and a hard shiver worked its way down Kabuto's body until it slipped into his groin, tension twisting tight there like a serpent in his belly, its coils squeezing in rhythmic ripples, pushing his breath from him in unsteady gasps as Sasuke’s mouth slid down, all the way down, slow and sweet and sinfully delicious. The boy seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and Kabuto didn't have to strain his imagination to guess how he gained his experience, though he was more than a little curious how quickly the younger Uchiha prodigy learned this particular trick and if he'd justified this, like everything else, by telling himself that perhaps if he played along and pandered to Orochimaru's whims for now, he'd convince the Sannin of his loyalty and devotion, or his willingness to go to any lengths to get the power and revenge he was so hungry for. To that end… Kabuto's shoulders suddenly quivered with laughter, and he bared his teeth in a grin, his grip on the boy's hair suddenly turning cruelly iron-fisted as he thrust hard enough into the pretty mouth sucking him to feel the younger nin's throat tighten reflexively . To that end, Sasuke whored himself out so completely and so willingly that it was almost pathetic; his desperation and frustration undermining him and eating away at his strength until all that was left was the empty shell of crumbling arrogance. The remaining Uchiha were both psychologically broken, and the medic wondered as he thrust again- smiling gently down at Sasuke's furious glare which had lost much of its threat when the boy gagged again and tears overspilled his narrowed dark eyes, clumping his lashes- if it was possibly because they were the final products of generations of in-breeding. The crimson whirl of the sharingan was a recessive mutation of the Hyuuga byakugan, and while the hard life of the shinobi culture encouraged genetic change and favored beneficial adaptations, the limited pool that became the Uchiha clan could not originally have been larger than the dried-up puddle it had now dwindled to. Poor ignored little brother...so desperate for the strength to regain his brother's attention that he was on his knees begging for it, his mouth employed not in language but in a totally wordless plea, and so starved that, despite his cool disdain for the med nin, despite his own high-bred arrogance, despite the ache of his dry, spasming throat, the front of his shorts bulged with his straining erection. Kabuto forced the dark head back, wincing a little as teeth scraped over sensitive flesh again; blood-colored eyes, red and savage as an angry polecat's, glowered up at him, and if this sport hadn't been Sasuke's from the start, then Kabuto might have worried when he saw that and felt the boy's chakra suddenly ramp up sharply, the electric aura prickling the fine pale hair on his arms; instead, it was erotic, and the medic grabbed at Sasuke's dark shirt and whirled sharply, reversing their positions to slam the younger shinobi up against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from him. "Sasuke-kun..." The tip of his nose brushed against his in a slow tease, and his soft lips, already healed from Sasuke's earlier franticness, captured his in an almost polite kiss-- he had more control than the younger nin, and there was no reason to rush, none at all; he could savor the taste of the boy, the taste of Orochimaru still lingering on the back of his tongue-- and his hand dropped down his chest, blue-fire chakra slicing through the fabric so delicately that the skin underneath was unmarked and then flickering out easily as he reached under Sasuke's thigh and hitched up to pull it around his hip, settling between his bare spread legs and shifting close. "I'm going to enjoy making you scream for me." "Go ahead and try it then." Sasuke still managed to smirk confidently and wiggle his hips in the cage of Kabuto's fingers, but the med nin couldn't miss the way that the fire-bright eyes flicked over his shoulder briefly toward the man sitting silent behind them watching their play appreciatively, and that single quick glance was infuriating, arousing-- this was a game, a farce, neither of them really wanted it, both were hungry for something else, someone else, someone more than each other, something different and dangerous and sweetly perverse... It was that little glance more than anything else that made Kabuto need to have the boy, to take the body his master claimed for his own right in front of him, and he rocked forward, pressing into him slowly, deliberately; his gaze never dropped from Sasuke's face as he pushed up, savoring every trace of discomfort that the cocky Uchiha couldn't manage to suppress- the tightening of his pretty, pouty lips and weave of fine black brows, the deepening flush that fanned across the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks. "Does it hurt, Sasuke-kun?" Kabuto's smile was sweet as he hilted himself with one final hard shove that scraped Sasuke's back on the wall and made his face go pale under his hectic blush, and he suspected that if the boy had the angle and leverage to lean in closer, he'd be bitten again for that calmly amused little inquiry. Blunt nails raked down his arms, drawing red-beaded lines that gleamed on his skin even after the cuts healed shut, but that wasn't real resistance, not considering the power that trembled in the air around the younger nin like the heady rush of cool ozone scented wind fronting a thunderstorm. Kabuto half-closed his eyes, lazy like a pleased cat, back curving gracefully as his hips worked in a steady rhythm between firmly muscled thighs; the kid was tight, tight all over, tight like a virgin on the wedding night...though his attitude was anything but virginal. It hurt; it had to hurt, taking a full-grown man without even any lube, but he was hard against the medic's belly, his still underdeveloped cock twitching as it was rubbed between their bodies, and each stroke made the boy's breath hitch jaggedly, his mouth hanging open, lips lusciously pink and moist, his face rosy; his eyes were still the trademark scarlet Uchiha pinwheels, and he stared at Kabuto as through burning his gaze through him, and Kabuto wanted to laugh, delighted by the wanton display of masochism. Then slowly the dark head shook in negation. "N-no... No... D-doesn't hurt..." Sasuke's voice had dropped into a lower register, deeper and huskier than a thirteen year old boy's should have been- changes in respiration and bloodflow, and the relaxation of his throat that altered the tension of the vocal chord cartilage, the medic knew-- and then he shuddered, red eyes rolling and a strange sound dropping suddenly from his lips as something dry and cool tentatively touched his ankle and then wrapped around it, all strong muscle wrapped in scaled skin smooth and fine as silk. The snake coiled up his leg effortlessly, its belly scales grating against him as it climbed; it slithered through the narrow gap between the small of Sasuke's back and the wall, draped around his hips like a sash, the broad, bluntly triangular head weaving curiously toward Kabuto. The older shinobi groaned when the reptile touched him and clutched Sasuke harder, fingers digging into the boy's buttocks as he pounded into him. Another serpent, larger than the first, curled around the med nin's feet, sliding in and out around his shins in infinity, looping endless figure-eights around his limbs as it surged higher, the heavy length of its body rubbing him in a lover's caress as it wound up around his sweat-sheened torso, squeezing his chest in rythymic pulses and nuzzling at his neck and ear delicately. He tipped his face against his shoulder to fumblingly push his glasses up and prevent them from slipping off his nose, but more than that, to bare to the predator wrapped around him the vulnerable column that communicated oxygen and electrical pulses from his brain down to the rest of his body, exposing and offering his life, his body, blood and bone. To control the flesh was to control the ninja… Rough hands combed through his loose damp hair, calloused palms scratching against his cheeks, and Sasuke bucked unexpectedly, his eyes closed and brow furrowed down as he lost himself to pleasure and his own dark interior world, as he shut out the sight of the poorly-lit room and the pale-haired man fucking him and their silent observer, groaning low in his throat as though he was in pain, bleeding from the inside out, though the tremblingly anxious little snaps of his hips as he rode the older nin's cock were rough and eager, and he pulled hard to bring Kabuto's mouth down to his own, nibbling and suckling on his lower lip and panting faint broken whispers of a single word over and over, voice escalating as he jerked and shuddered in climax. "Mmm... Br- Brother... Brother!" The soft cacophonic laughter that sounded from behind him in response to the boy's moans was the last little nudge needed to shove Kabuto over the edge. He curled around Sasuke tightly, locking the lovely young body in an uncompromising, bruising embrace, and rocked him back against the wall as the hard spasms shook his whole body, gasping deliriously into his ear. The large snake coiled around him hissed and struck the crook of his shoulder twice, its needle-fine fangs digging into the bulge of his trapezius, and Kabuto finally cried out, trembling down. His grip on Sasuke slackened and he pulled away, and the dark haired boy dropped down to the floor in a cat-like crouch, looking up with eyes like ruby drops. Kabuto struggled to catch his breath, lips twisting in a merciless smirk. Brother, was it? He didn’t even think the boy was aware of what he’d said; he’d been so wrapped up in himself, fingering the figurative shards of emotional glass embedded deep in his own heart and mind in shameless psychological algolagnia… But then, it all made perfect sense to the medic; though Itachi had only spoken of his family's slaughter once that Kabuto had heard, and he'd never once mentioned his vengeful younger brother, and more than anything else in the world, Sasuke resented being ignored, brushed aside contemptuously in dismissal; Kabuto had seen that in the set of the boy's eyes and aggressive stance when he'd thrown down the gauntlet in front of him during the chuunin exams, the way that he put himself between his teammates and someone he perceived as both a threat to their success and a challenge to his own abilities. His need for strength and validation wasn't for himself, wasn't for his dead clan, wasn't for his village or teammates or teacher; it was all for his brother...who kept Sasuke scrambling frantically after him simply by turning away. Itachi, more than his useless deadweight, overly-emotional teammates. Itachi, more than anyone else. "Kabuto." The voice was too close to his ear, rasping syllables caressing his skin like sandpaper, and a cool, long-fingered dead-white hand slipped around his waist and another grazed knuckles across his face. A long, agile tongue slithered across the still bleeding gouges on his shoulder slowly, the tip exploring the deliberately unhealed wounds, but Kabuto didn't have to look to know that the serpentine eyes were focused on the prized pet watching from the floor, not on him. "Orochimaru-sama?" The Sannin laughed again, his hand splayed out across his subordinate’s stomach and than stroked downward possessively; his elegant head dipped down to suck the blood and sweat from the med nin's skin, his long sable-silk hair clinging to his shoulders like strands of seagrass on damp sand. The dark patterned snake lazily strung around him in lieu of clothing nosed at him again, rubbing the side of its face against his ribs, and from what Kabuto could tell, watching hazily through slitted eyes, the constrictor around Sasuke was doing much the same, though its body dragged lower, scales buffing his lower belly and the insides of his thighs; the boy twitched at the caress, but his gaze didn't waver from the point they were fixated on, just above Kabuto's shoulder. "It was...lovely." A shudder trembled down the medic's spine at the praise. "But I don't remember giving you permission to touch that which is mine." Sasuke's lips suddenly curved into a wicked little grin and his eyes flared brighter, dancing like candleflame, and Kabuto recoiled from the younger ninja's expression as though struck-- the little bastard had played him like that deliberately to...? "B-but Orochimaru-sama...!" Orochimaru chuckled into his ear, a low throaty vibration that shot straight down to his groin; he was dazed on a cocktail of endorphins and adrenaline, pleasure and sudden prickling fear, and he felt unexpectedly vulnerable, caught off guard for the first time in years. "Questioning me? Your punishment just doubled." Kabuto's undignified half-strangled noise of shock pleased the Sannin, and his smile broadened even as he knocked his medic down to his proper place on the floor and half-turned away. It would be too much of a reward from him to personally discipline his subordinate, and this would be good experience for both of his favored underlings, and would serve to remind Kabuto which end of the leash he was on. "Sasuke-kun, since he seems so...enamored with you, please, entertain yourself with him as you'd like, but do try not to kill him." The boy's smile had never seemed quite so arrogantly malevolent. "My pleasure." |